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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Seventeen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, DARK THEMES, Sexual Harassment, Asshole!Berkshire, Extreme Depictions of Violence, Blood, SMUT, PIV, Virgin!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Dom!Mattheo, Sub!Reader, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasm, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Emerging from the closet, you and Mattheo shared one more fleetingly charged moment, your eyes locking in a silent exchange laden with unspoken emotions. With a subtle nod, you both returned to your seats, seamlessly slipping back into the roles you had mastered--the poised Ravenclaw and the bad, rebellious Slytherin. The transition was flawless, but beneath the composed exteriors, a storm of emotions raged.

As the game progressed and the night drew on, your eyes locked with Mattheo's from across the circle more times than you could even begin to count--and as the rest of the room remained blissfully unaware, you were acutely attuned to the dance of hidden desires, an intimate connection that thrived in the shadows.

The game of truth or dare continued, growing more wild with each passing round, until most people involved became to tired to continue. In the midst of all of this, Emily and Tom seemed to hit it off, engrossed in their own conversation which seemed to have started before you had even returned from the closet with Mattheo--and as much as the sight was slightly confusing, you were profoundly grateful for the unexpected friendship between them. It undoubtedly relieved the pressure of having to engage with Tom.

As the night wore on, exhaustion settled deep within your bones. Berkshire, thoroughly intoxicated, was gently escorted to his dormitory by Malfoy, his usual disgusting arrogance now replaced by a drunken stumble. Despite the lingering adrenaline from the evening's events, weariness tugged at your limbs, pulling you towards the comfort of your dormitory.

While Emily and Tom remained engrossed in their conversation, you seized the opportunity to excuse yourself quietly. With polite smiles and casual goodnights, you bid farewell to the remaining members of the circle. Each step you took felt heavier than the last, your energy waning with every movement. The echoes of laughter and conversation faded into the distance as you navigated the familiar corridors, the subdued glow of torchlight guiding your way.

Taking a moment to escape the confines of the castle, you stepped into the tranquil courtyard, leaning against the railing and seeking solace under the vast expanse of stars. The night air embraced you, carrying with it a soothing whisper of tranquility. Breathing in deeply, you let the cool breeze wash over you, attempting to shed the lingering tension from your bones after the intense evening you had just endured.

And in the midst of your attempts to find serenity, the peaceful atmosphere shattered like fragile glass, stumbling footsteps making their way toward you. As you glanced over, you watched an inebriated Berkshire stumble his way into the courtyard, bringing himself dangerously close to you, his usual arrogance magnified by the influence of alcohol. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, fixated on you with a disturbing intensity.

"Shit...what do we have here?" he slurred, his words laced with drunken confidence. "A little bird all alone in the night...don't you know it's fuckin' dangerous to be out here all by yourself?"

Your disgust was palpable as you shot him a withering glare. "Save your pathetic lines for someone who cares, Berkshire," you retorted, your voice dripping with disdain. "The only thing dangerous is my dwindling patience at the mere sight of you."

"Why're you such a bitch, huh?" he slurred, his words carrying the stench of alcohol. His proximity was uncomfortably close, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be 'cause you secretly like me, right?"

Your jaw clenched, a mixture of annoyance and disgust bubbling within you. His words were as repugnant as his alcohol-laden breath. The tension you had been trying to relieve was now replaced by a different kind, a sharp pang of frustration at having to deal with his inappropriate behavior.

"I suggest you find your way back to your dorm," you retorted, your voice firm despite the rising irritation. "Your delusions won't make your company any more welcome."

Berkshire's drunken persistence grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, his obnoxious confidence seeming to inflate with every word you uttered. Before you could process it, he closed the distance between you, his movements erratic, invading your personal space. His clammy hand shot up, gripping your jaw with a force that made your teeth clench, forcing your eyes to meet his in a cruel display of dominance.

"Why won't you just admit it, huh?" he slurred, his words punctuated by the reek of alcohol on his breath. His bloodshot eyes bored into yours, his arrogance seemingly impervious to your clear discomfort. "You can't deny the attraction, sweetheart...I see it in the way you look at me when you think no one's watching."

Your patience snapped like a taut rope. Anger flared in your chest, hot and searing. With a swift movement, you pushed his hand away from your face, your voice cutting through the night with icy precision, a steely resolve in your voice that should have been enough to ward off any sane person.

"Let me make this abundantly clear, Berkshire," you said, your tone as sharp as a blade. "There is no secret admiration, no desire, and certainly no fucking attraction. You're nothing more than a nuisance, and I have no patience for your delusions. Now, back the fuck off before you regret testing my tolerance any further."

Despite your unwavering stance, Berkshire's drunken laughter reverberated through the courtyard, a disturbing echo of arrogance undeterred by your resistance. He jeered, taking another step toward you, his movements unsteady but determined. The cold, unforgiving metal of the railing you had been standing in front of pressed into your back as he cornered you, his breath reeking of alcohol and menace.

Panic clawed at your throat, but you refused to show weakness, your eyes meeting his with a defiant glare. "Berkshire, what are you-"

Ignoring your words, he advanced further, backing you up against the railing until there was nowhere left to retreat. Your heart thundered in your chest, the weight of his aggression bearing down on you. And then, in a moment of terror, he grabbed you, his grip surprisingly strong, squeezing tighter than you had ever expected. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers dug into your arms, pain flaring through your limbs. The situation had escalated far beyond your control, and the realization struck you like a physical blow.

"Let me go," you demanded, your voice strained but resolute, despite the fear tightening your throat. But Berkshire only tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your skin, his drunken gaze wild and unpredictable. "Enzo, fuck, stop..."

"Shut the fuck up," he growled, he breath grazing over your neck as he pressed himself against you. "You're such a fucking-"

Before Berkshire could finish that sentence, a familiar voice--one usually somewhat smooth and composed, cut through the air with a terrifying intensity.

"Berkshire…if you don't get your fucking hands off of her," the threat in his tone was unmistakable, a promise of unspeakable consequences if ignored. "I fucking swear-"

But Berkshire, lost in his drunken rage, remained heedless, his eyes glazed over with a dangerous mixture of anger and entitlement. “Shut up, Riddle…she fucking wants me…”

You caught Mattheo's eyes from over Enzo's shoulder, ones that once held a glimmer of restraint now blazed with an uncontrollable anger that seemed to ignite the air around him. His usual composure shattered, replaced by a raw, primal fury.

In a heartbeat, Mattheo closed the distance between him and Berkshire, his movements fluid and almost supernatural. His hand shot out like a striking serpent, fingers wrapping around Berkshire's throat like an unyielding vice. The grip was tight, a clear message of the danger Berkshire was in.

“I warned you,” he hissed, and with a swift, powerful motion, Mattheo ripped Berkshire off of you, sending him crashing onto the unforgiving stone ground, a stunned gasp escaping his lips upon impact--Mattheo’s throat was shredded with anger as he growled, “I fucking warned you…”

You stood frozen, your lungs burning as you desperately gasped for air, your vision swimming with a heady mix of fear and relief. Mattheo, his eyes ablaze with fury, descended upon Berkshire like a vengeful deity. His arm darted out, fingers clenching Berkshire's collar in one hand while the other transformed into a merciless fist.

“Stay the fuck away from her…you don’t fucking look at her, you don’t even fucking breathe near her…do you fucking understand me?” Mattheo didn’t wait for a response, the first punch landing with a sickening crack, the sound reverberating through the courtyard like a thunderclap. Mattheo jostled Enzo in his grip, practically spitting his words against his face. “No one gets to fucking touch her…no one except me…fucking no one…”

A momentary pause hung in the air, a fleeting heartbeat of stillness, before Mattheo struck again. And again. And again. He was possessed, every punch a release of the pent-up rage that had been simmering beneath the surface, each blow fueled by a primal instinct to protect, to defend, to punish the one who dared to harm you.

Berkshire's face transformed into a grotesque mask of crimson, his features distorted by pain and fear. The courtyard seemed to pulse with the rhythm of Mattheo's anger, the sound of his blows drowned out by the rapid thudding of your heart--and it wasn't until Draco Malfoy, his normally composed demeanor replaced by wide-eyed shock, entered the fray, that Mattheo's onslaught finally came to a halt.

Malfoy, his strength surprising for someone so slender, managed to pull Mattheo off Berkshire, the latter struggling like a wild animal, his rage still burning brightly, his chest heaving with exasperated fury.

"What the fuck happened here?" Theodore dropped to his knees next to his fallen friend, a mixture of concern and disbelief etched on his features as he met your stunned eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I..." you stammered, your voice barely audible, your mind struggling to comprehend the violence that had just unfolded before you. The shock had rendered you speechless, your throat dry and constricted, words caught in the whirlwind of your emotions. "Yes...I'm okay..."

While you attempted to spit out words, Mattheo's heaving form, still seething with raw anger, ripped himself free from Malfoy's hold. With a voice that carried the weight of his fury, he spoke on your behalf, the words sharp and cutting through the air.

"Berkshire thought he could lay his fucking hands on her is what happened," his voice was cold, each word laced with contempt. "After I warned him...I warned him how many fucking times..."

Mattheo's aura, once magnetic and enticing, was now a tempest, an embodiment of wrath that crackled in the air around him. The atmosphere seemed to vibrate with his intensity, as if the very stones beneath your feet could feel his fury. It was a chilling reminder, mostly to you, that beneath the composed facade, there was a force to be reckoned with, a protector who would stop at nothing to shield you from harm--and that thought did inexplicable, disgustingly shameless things to your fucking body.

Draco Malfoy, his usual cool composure momentarily shaken, stepped away from Mattheo, his eyes assessing the situation with a discerning gaze.

"Let's get him to the hospital wing," he suggested to Theodore, his voice cutting through the tension. Nott, too, recognized the need for immediate action, nodding in agreement, before briefly meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry about him...there's no way he hasn't learned his lesson now...fuckin' sorry little prat..."

You nodded in response as the two of them lifted Berkshire, supporting his battered form between them. As they glanced between you and Mattheo, it was as though a silent understanding passed between Draco and Nott. Their glances met, a knowing look shared, acknowledging that there was something more beneath the surface of this situation. They sensed the unspoken connection, the invisible thread that bound you and Mattheo together, but they chose not to pry. Instead, they respected the unspoken boundaries, allowing the complexities of your relationships to remain your own.

Meanwhile, Mattheo turned his attention back to you, his eyes a tumultuous blend of emotions, the storm within him slowly subsiding as he registered the shock lingering in your eyes. With a soft yet determined expression, he stepped closer, his presence becoming a comforting shield against the aftermath of the confrontation that had left both of you shaken.

"Raven, I'm so fucking-" he began, his voice thick with regret and unspoken apologies.

"I'm fine, Mattheo." You cut him off, your heart pounding in your chest, the sight of his breathless, bloodied and dishevelled form doing dangerous things to your cunt--and you knew, more than anything, you just wanted to be alone with him. "Please just take me back to your dorm."

His brows furrowed in confusion, but the desperation in your eyes didn't leave room for questions.

"What-" he started to inquire, but you took a step closer, your neck arching slightly to catch his dark, penetrating gaze.

"Take me back to your dorm," you repeated. "Please."

Upon hearing the raw desperation in your voice, Mattheo nodded, his fingers gently finding yours as he immediately led you down the hall and through the empty corridor to his dorm. The moment he pushed the door open, allowing you to step inside, it felt as though the temperature in the room had increased to a million bloody degrees. The air was thick with unspoken tension, a potent mix of fear, desire, and the undeniable pull that had always existed between you, intensified now by the events of the night.

As you cautiously stepped into his dorm, your eyes were drawn to the familiar sight of the astronomy book lying open on his desk. The memory of the last time you had been in his dorm flashed in your mind--the same book, sitting untouched on his desk, an odd object in the midst of his carefully curated chaos.

"Why do you still have this out?" you questioned, your voice laced with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Mattheo hesitated, his stormy eyes locking onto yours in a moment of vulnerability.

"Can't a man indulge in the mysteries of the stars whenever he fancies?" he retorted with a smirk, attempting to deflect the gravity of the situation. His voice carried a hint of playfulness, but the tension beneath the surface was palpable. "Or perhaps stargazing is an art reserved solely for beautiful little ravens, hm?"

"Is it because of me?" Your stare bore into him, a mix of curiosity and suspicion flickering in your eyes. “Is it because of me that you have this book?”

He didn't deny it; instead, after a long, silent moment, he simply nodded, almost impenetrably, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a silent admission, a confession that hung heavy in the charged atmosphere of the room. In that moment, the undeniable pull between you became almost tangible, the invisible thread connecting your hearts growing stronger, defying the boundaries you had desperately tried to impose.

You stepped toward him. "Did you miss me, Mattheo..."

Mattheo met your gaze, his expression enigmatic yet stoic, a mask of his usual arrogance and charm slipping back into place. His silence lingered for a moment, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Then, in a voice that held a depth of emotion he was trying to conceal, he replied, "Maybe I did, Raven..."

You moved closer, the air crackling with need as you closed the distance, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally stood before him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you dared to reach out, your fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin was warm, and beneath your touch, you could sense the subtle tremor that betrayed the restraint he was exercising. Your breath caught in your throat as you tilted your head, your lips hovering just millimeters from his.

"Don't be shy, Mattheo..." you murmured, teasing him with your fingers as you trailed over his jawline. "Why don't you show me how much you missed me..."

Mattheo's jaw clenched under your touch, his dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that matched the simmering desire between you. You sighed when his hands, strong and possessive, found their way to your hips, pulling you closer with a magnetic force that left you breathless. His restraint wavered, the barrier between temptation and surrender growing thinner by the second.

"Salazar fucking save me..." Mattheo's voice was a raspy whisper, a plea and a challenge rolled into one, his vulnerability veiled behind a facade of arrogance. "Who the hell are you..."

You leaned in, your lips hovering dangerously close to his, your eyes locking onto his with a daring intensity.

"Sorry to break it to you, Riddle," you purred, your voice a seductive melody that echoed in the charged space between you. "But I'm afraid not even your maker could save you now..." a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your breath mingling with his. "Better start counting your blessings..."

"Blessings, huh?" Mattheo's lips curved into a half-smirk, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'd much rather count the seconds until I can taste those sweet fucking lips of yours..."

His words sent a jolt of desire through you, your heart pounding in response to his brazen confidence.

"Gods, you really are a changed man, aren't you?" You murmured, fighting your smirk as his fingers tightened their grip on your hips. "You were never one to wait for permission before..."

"Raven," his voice was a low, raspy whisper, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter. "You're really testing my fucking patience here...and you should know I'm not a patient man..."

Your smirk grew, heat flushing your cheeks, your fingers tracing a tantalizing path along the underside of his jawline, now, teasingly slow.

"Maybe I enjoy testing your limits…maybe I want to see how far I can push you..." you muttered, your voice laced with playful defiance. "Or perhaps I just like watching you squirm, Riddle...perhaps I want to hear you beg for me..."

Mattheo's patience snapped like a taut wire, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and desire.

"Look at you, huh...all fucking smug..." he growled, his voice edged with playful frustration as he peered down at you. "You've kept that pussy from me for over two fucking weeks and now you want to tease me like this? Did you forget how bloody fast I can make you crumble for me..."

Your defiant facade began to crack under the intensity of his gaze, a shiver running down your spine.

"Gods, maybe I did..." your voice barely above a whisper, the defiance replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "Maybe I need you to remind me..."

"Shit...there she is...there's my good fucking girl..." he murmured, his tone a mixture of reverence and desire. "...tell me what you want, Raven..."

A sigh of satisfaction slipped past your lips as his hands tightened their grip, his touch searing into your hips as though he was trying to hang on to his last shreds of willpower. With a trembling voice, you met his dark, penetrating eyes, wetting your lips as you let yourself drown in their depths.

"You," you whispered, your voice a husky admission. "I want you."

He exhaled. "Then fucking have me."

In a whirlwind of desire, his lips crashed onto yours, sending your senses into a frenzy. Your eyelids fluttered shut as both of you inhaled sharply through your noses, trying to catch your breath amidst the electrifying kiss. His hands, strong and possessive, tangled in your hair, pulling you closer with an urgency that matched the racing beat of your heart. Your lips parted in a soft groan of surrender, inviting him in, and his tongue slipped between your teeth with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

His lips moved over yours, claiming every inch as though he needed you to survive, and your fingers found solace in the dark waves of his hair, gripping them tightly. Mattheo responded with a primal sound, a low grunt of satisfaction that resonated between your entwined bodies. With a swift motion, he spun you around, his lips never leaving yours, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees met the edge of his bed. The kiss deepened, his mouth exploring yours with a deliberate slowness, his fingers continuing their sensual dance through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer, melting the space between you.

Mattheo's tongue danced a tantalizing dance inside your mouth before he withdrew, leaving a lingering connection between your lips. In that moment, silence enveloped both of you, rendering you nearly motionless, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what to say, think, or do. You felt the undeniable hardness of his arousal pressing against your belly, causing a flicker of anticipation to ignite within you. Your hands instinctively moved towards the hem of your shirt, but he halted you with a gaze as hard as stone.

"No," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Let me."

A flush of scarlet painted your cheeks, but you nodded in silent consent, your throat tight with anticipation. His fingers bunched the fabric of your shirt, lifting it up and off of you. As you raised your arms, granting him permission to undress you further, he completed his task with deliberate care. The fabric landed on the floor with a soft rustle, discarded and forgotten, while his eyes roamed over every newly exposed expanse of your skin.

It was a ritual you knew you’d never tired of, the way he looked at your body as if it was a masterpiece, a gift he hadn't been prepared to receive.

Under the intensity of his gaze, a cascade of warmth flooded through you, your skin tingling with awareness. His hands skillfully moved behind you, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He pushed it off your shoulders, the fabric gliding down your arms, his fingers skimming over the surface of your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question, before gracefully sinking to his knees in front of you. His warm breath ghosted over your belly, holding your stare as to ask for permission before he hooked his thumbs under the rim of your pants and panties, peeling them down your thighs, revealing your sensitive sex to him--inch by torturous inch.

A shiver rippled through your nerves, sending a thrill down your spine as his molten-gold eyes held yours with hunger that seemed to consume everything in its path. His gaze didn't waver for a single moment, even as he expertly removed your shoes and tossed them aside carelessly. As he rose, his palms trailed over the contours of every curve, his touch igniting a trail of electric sensations in their wake. He towered over you, a commanding presence that left you breathless, and one of his hands delicately cupped your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip with a gentle intensity that sent your heart racing.

"Lie back," he murmured.

Your fingers quivered with anticipation as you nodded, succumbing to the electric tension in the air. Slowly, you eased yourself back onto the mattress, adjusting your position so you could lie flat against the soft bedding.

Mattheo prowled around the perimeter of the bed, his intense gaze scorching your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Each step he took seemed deliberate, his movements exuding a raw, primal energy. After a moment, he paused, his fingers deftly working on the buttons of his bloodied dress-shirt. With a fluid motion, he peeled off the fabric, revealing the chiseled contours of his chest. His pants followed suit, dropping to the floor until he stood before you in just his boxers.

From this angle, the sight of him made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch in your throat. The raw masculinity and confidence he exuded was both breathtaking and overwhelming, leaving you yearning for more as he loomed over the bed, the outline of his throbbing cock straining the fabric of his boxers doing unspeakable things to your body--the sight of it against the background of hard, tense muscle made you clench, and you bit your lip to hide a moan that was sneaking its way out of your mouth.

And even though you knew he noticed, he said nothing, even as his knee dropped into the mattress, even as he shifted, crawling over you, until he hovered above you, looking more fucking angelic than he ever had before, looking like a man filled with devotion, passion and need.

"Mattheo..." fear was mixing with the pull of lust. You'd never seen him like this. "Matty, I--"

"Shh," he said, pushing a strand of hair away from your temple. "Relax for me, princess..."

You drew in a shaky breath, and nodded--and his lips pressed into yours, plush and wet, before he moved, leading a tingling line of kisses down your cheek, to your jawline, to your neck. Leaning in, he caressed your throat with his warm mouth and you gasped, back arcing into him. In response, Mattheo purred, laying layer after layer of soft, wet marks on your sensitive flesh. One large hand slid down your arm while he kissed his way to your breast, nuzzling his cheek into the valley of your chest before drawing a nipple between his lips.

A cry escaped you, your hips bucking into his abdomen. "Oh, Gods..."

"Shh," he said again. "Relax, angel..."

The nickname he called only made you want to writhe more. Your mind internally fucking screaming with need. Taking a deep breath, you nodded anyway.

"My angel," he repeated, planting slow, soft kisses on your stiffening bud. "My fucking sweet little angel..."

He took your nipple into his mouth again, moaning while he suckled it swollen, his hands painting pleasure on your swathes of naked, aching skin. You whimpered, nibbling on your lip to silence any sound, hands slowly slithering their way through his messy, yet beautiful fucking hair. As you tightened your grip on his strands, a groan slipped past his teeth, and he flicked the tip of your peak with his tongue before releasing it, mouth making a hot trail along your navel, his hands massaging up and down the outside of your thighs.

"You're doing so well," he whispered into your stomach. "You're so fucking beautiful..."

"Matty..." you whined, his words creating a storm of bliss in your chest. You didn't know what else to say.

"Keep being good for me..." he kissed his way to the mound of your pussy, holding a rumble in his chest as his lips grazed the top of your slit. "Are you ready?"

Are you ready? He just fucking asked if you were ready. As you gazed at him, his pink lips glistening with saliva, eyes smoldering with desire, the answer became crystal clear.

"Yes," you said. "Yes, I'm ready."

Without further hesitation, Mattheo lowered his head between your legs, your entire body jolting in pleasure as he licked a broad, flat band up your sex, feeling your fingers twirling in the curls of his hair. His mouth was hot and eager as he showered your folds with deep, heavy kisses, sending shivers of delight throughout your entire being. Mattheo's hands held your thighs in place as he slicked his strong tongue in between your slit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your core. Your eyes were fixed upon him, unable to look away from the sight of him worshipping your cunt with his mouth.

"You taste incredible," he cooed, leaving soft kisses along the crease of your thighs. "You know that I thought about this little pussy everyday, don't you?"

Your breath hitched. "Y-you did?"

"Mmhm."

He returned to working his tongue along your inner-folds, gathering your juices along the tip, humming while he swallowed--he was deliberate, taking his time to memorize every bit of your pussy, to draw as much cum from your core as he could. You whined, your clit desperate for attention.

"Matty..." you pleaded, "please..."

Mattheo's gaze met yours as he hummed, sealing his lips around your swollen nub. The intensity of the pleasure collided into you, causing a wracking sob to escape your lips as your eyes closed in ecstasy. His grip tightened on your thighs, tugging you closer to his face. As he sucked on your clit, he gradually built up the pressure, block by block, pushing you towards the peak of orgasm.

Your hips relentlessly rolled into him, urgent moans filling the air as you fell further and further toward overwhelming bliss. "Fuck, Mattheo...Gods..."

His hands left your thighs, exploring your body, gripping and kneading any inch of flesh they could find, until they finally rested on your breasts, thumbs tracing small, gentle circles on your hardened nipples.

"Oh, fuck," you said, "fuck, fuck..."

As the intensity of your pleasure peaked, any words leaving your lips devolved into incoherent wailing. You teetered on the edge, straining against a wall of unrelenting bliss that threatened to overtake you completely. Then, with two hard sucks, Mattheo eased you over, drawing out your climax long and slow against his mouth. Ecstasy consumed you, numbing your skin as your limbs shook and trembled. Every sensation was intensified as he pulled you through wave after wave of pleasure, groaning as your juices coated his lips, your core throbbing and pulsing at his chin.

It felt like an eternity before he finally released you, dragging his tongue up the top of your slit as he panted and gasped for breath alongside you. The aftermath of your intense orgasm left both of you struggling to regain your senses.

Your head rolled along the mattress, lids fluttering open, hands petting at his hair. "Fuck, Mattheo...that was..."

"Shh." He licked his lips, gaze liquefying your center, and returned his focus to your belly, kissing a steady path to your sternum, his hands still stroking at your skin. "I need you to know how much I missed everything...and I mean fucking everything..."

"Oh," was all that left your mouth, teeth pinching your lip when it began to tremble.

"From your perfect fucking tits to your filthy little mouth..." one hand started to palm at your breast, the other still gliding up your side as he inched forward. "From those delicious fucking thighs to that pretty little pussy..." he was at your neck, now, rasping into it, the heat of his body enveloping you. "Every inch of you is fucking perfect...fuck the drugs Raven, you are my insatiable goddamn addiction..."

Every syllable that escaped his lips seemed to caress your very soul, igniting a wildfire of longing within you. His words were like a spell, weaving around your heart and wrapping you in a cocoon of desire. You craved him in a way that transcended the physical, a hunger that went bone-deep. It wasn't just the touch of his skin against yours that you yearned for; it was the merging of your essence, the melding of your souls into an ethereal dance of passion. You wanted to dissolve the boundaries between you, to lose yourselves in a realm crafted solely for your bodies, where every touch and sigh was a symphony of fervor.

And as you met his gaze, there it was, in his eyes--an unnamed emotion that pulsed between you, an unspoken truth that bound you together in a way words could never encapsulate. It was a force beyond reason, an irresistible pull that drew you closer, time after fucking time again.

"You once called me a plague but fuck...you have no fucking idea..." his voice, raw with desire, clawed its way out of his throat. "I haven't even fucked you, Raven...how the fuck have you done this to me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, fingers instinctively curling in his hair. "Do you want to?..."

Mattheo hesitated, as if time itself hung suspended. His eyes searched your face, seeking the truth in your words, and then, he answered, his voice a low rasp,

"Of course I do..." he breathed. "But after what happened tonight-"

"No," you cut him off, your body moving restlessly beneath his. "After what happened tonight, I only want you more...I've never fucking wanted you so fucking badly, Mattheo...it was you who defended me, not Tom, not Zabini, you...it's always been you..."

Mattheo's jaw tensed, his eyes darkening, his chest heaving. "You want me to fuck you..." he said, as though he was trying to make himself believe it. "You want me to take your virginity..."

You nodded, a silent confirmation of your desire, but Mattheo's fingers found their way to your jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle, yet firm. He held your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation, any uncertainty.

"Say it, Raven," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "You know I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to take your virginity."

Your breath caught in your throat, his proximity overwhelming your senses. With a shaky inhale, you met his intense gaze, your voice coming out as a mere whisper, "I want you to take my virginity, Mattheo."

"Fucking hell..." he breathed, the desire in his tone making your core scream. "You know that means-"

"I'm yours." You cut him off. "Even though all of this could fuck up my entire future, I don't care...I'm yours...I submit my sanity to the disaster that is sneaking around with you, Mattheo...I don't want the safe option, I don't want soft or subtle...I want dangerous, I want messy, I want sins...I fucking want you..."

"Salazar fucking save me..." he breathed after a long moment of staring at you, shifting himself to pull down his boxers, his throbbing cock springing free, smacking against his belly. "You really are a little fucking devil..."

You clenched at the sight of his dick, head glistening with precum, twitching insistently as he shifted, looping an arm under your neck and cradling your head, his face nestling into your neck while his other hand directed the head of his dick against your wet folds, slicking itself along your wetness, your entire body tensing at the foreign sensation.

He was so fucking big...you weren't sure if, "are you even going to fit...you're so fucking-"

"Shh, Raven." Mattheo huffed against your neck, angling back to meet your eyes, that devilish smirk plastered across his lips. "I'll make it fit."

At his words, you clenched again, unable to deny the intoxication of his primal arrogance, his eyes fixed on your face as he angled himself at your core now, the anticipation radiating off of him only fuelling your hunger, sending thrills through every inch of your body.

"Relax," he breathed, eyes boring into yours, the hand behind your head keeping you in place. "And look at me...I want you looking into my fucking eyes as you feel yourself stretching out for me..."

With a nod, you held his stare, and slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself inside of you, inch by inch, letting you gasp and wince while his thick length stretched you open, until he was fully sheathed within your tightness. The sensation was overwhelming, stretching you to your limit, beyond anything you ever thought possible, and Mattheo only seemed to grow harder with each gasp that left your lips. With him completely seated inside of your cunt, you felt him pulsing at the hilt, felt his already urgent need to cum inside of you. But instead of moving right away, he jerked you closer to his chest, his lips softly grazing yours as he brought his hand to cup your jaw.

"Are you okay?" His voice was torn, shredded, nearly unrecognizable.

You nodded, holding his eyes. "I'm okay."

"Shit, Raven..." a deep groan left his chest as he exhaled, pulling out and plunging back in as slowly and carefully as he had the first time. "You're so fucking tight...fuck..."

You mewled--between the passion in your chest and the newfound sensations between your legs, your head was spinning, something was close to bursting. His skin was so hot against you, and you gripped him tighter, another moan leaving your chest, chin shaking beyond your control, the pleasure and pain commingling in your mind as you surrendered to his skilled touch--Mattheo stared at you through it all with gleaming eyes before he smothered your lips with a kiss, burning and short.

"Is this what you wanted?" The low thunder of his voice melted in your ears, and he murmured your name. "Tell me..."

Your fingers dug into his skin, your voice torn between gasps. "Yes, Mattheo..." you mewled. "It's all I've wanted."

He leaned forward, lips feathersoft on yours, kissing you, still easing his cock into you with careful rolls of his hips. The grip at your head soothed your scalp--and you could feel it, could feel yourself blending with his body as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you, could feel your pulses pounding in pace, could feel the unspoken, intangible harmony coiling in your blood.

"Who else can make you feel like this, hm?" His embrace constricted you, now, stilling you while he rocked deep into you, stuffing you full, his free hand travelling down your belly, grazing over your clit--and you choked, whimpered, limp in his arms. "Tell me who this tight little pussy fucking belongs to..."

The pleasure was overwhelming, earth shattering, entirely all encompassing. Your lids fluttered, your brain spinning. "Oh, Gods...oh my fucking-"

"Look at me, Raven..." he ordered, voice torn. "Look at me or I'll stop."

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, nails biting into his skin, heart pounding in your throat as you felt your sanity dangerously fucking close to shattering, your entire body encompassed in a pleasure that you've never known, a pleasure that only Mattheo fucking Riddle could give you, one that burns you from the inside out, one that shatters every inch of your resolve, leaving you bare before him.

"Tell me..." he whispered, his fingers twirling your clit. You could tell he was close, too. "Fuck...fucking say it…”

"You," you mewled, lost in the melted chocolate swirls of his irises. "It fucking belongs to you, Mattheo...fuck...only you..."

"Shit..." he groaned your name, sucking at your shoulder, tongue leaving hot lines on your neck. "You love being dirty for me..." his fingers whirled your clit faster. "You love being my nasty little slut, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, Mattheo..." you wailed, body trembling beneath him. "I love it..."

"Fuck--" A feral kiss bruised your lips, his cock splitting you with long thrusts. "That's it..." he muttered your name against your mouth. "Cum--cum for me, let me feel you..."

You shattered. "Gods--Matty! Fuck..."

Euphoria rended you wide, tearing at the seams of your sanity, and you fractured, convulsing with the sheer strength of your climax. Your walls spasmed around his dick, milking him hard, and Mattheo held you, mouth meeting yours as he came, hips hitting you with every rush of rapture as he quickly followed after you, spilling his release inside your cunt. This seemed to last for minutes, the aftershocks of bliss rippling through your bodies at once while you remained there catching breath, still connected.

You were wilted, spent, a collection of skin and cum and sweat, and when Mattheo finally pulled out, he slumped down on the mattress beside you, pulling you back into his chest, nothing but the collective sounds of your exhausted panting filling the air, neither of you willing to move even though you knew you couldn't stay here all night--but your drooping lids didn't care, your body succumbing to slumber without giving you a choice.

And as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but question how a boy who once had been the bane of your fucking existence, had now become the centre of it.

———————-

Find eighteen here->

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halfvalid · 8 months

Note

Hey! Since your requests are open, may I request opla!Zoro x reader (established relationship) where the reader has a lot of self doubt (not only in their looks, but their abilities and their place in the crew) since it’s, unfortunately, been shoved done their throat by pretty much eveyone they knew, even their parents, that they would never be good enough? Maybe Zoro figures out that they have sort of been spiralling lately and they have a talk about the readers past and the problems they’re facing and he comforts them? Maybe it ends sort of spicy or turns out full on spicy, if you’re comfortable with that!

daybreak

ABOUT

alternate title: some fluffy established relationship hurt/comfort to save my soul

rating: teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k (short; sorry!)

description: zoro notices you've been seeming off recently, and you confide in him your insecure feelings of self-worth. he comforts you.

tags: strawhat!reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, kissing, no use of ‘y/n’, soft zoro, ridiculously stupidly absolutely horrifyingly fluffy.

author’s note: thank you so much for the very lovely request! i hope i did your prompt justice; i ended up not writing any spice at the end (just slightly suggestive) since i didn't think it fit the story but i hope you like it anyway ^^

it feels slightly ooc, but i also wrote it in the span of two hours at 1:00 am so can you really blame me.

It was morning on the Going Merry, and you were cleaning up the wreckage that had been scattered along the deck in your last battle. The crew had gone up against some other pirates; it’d been late at night, and the attack had come suddenly, what you’d thought would be a peaceful docking turning combative quickly.

You barely remembered the fight. One moment, the warning bell had sounded, and the next Zoro was rolling out of bed beside you, grabbing his swords and darting out of your bedroom before you could even register what was happening. The fight had gone in the Straw Hats’ favor, thankfully; Zoro, Luffy, and Sanji had fended off most of the threat, and you were back on the open sea, safe from enemies for at least a little while now.

You let out a sigh as you swept shattered glass into a dustpan, shaking out the collected trash into a nearby empty barrel. None of the men usually bothered to start cleaning up—typical—so you’d pulled yourself out of bed as early as possible to get the ship looking a little more like normal.

Zoro had left some corpses on the deck for you to deal with, and you’d had to toss them overboard, a grimace tugging at your lips as blood stained the white of your blouse. No matter. You’d finished sweeping, at least; all you had left to do was mop, right as everyone else was waking up.

You filled a bucket with warm water and soap, and were just grabbing the mop from the closet when you heard footsteps. You glanced up, surprised to see Zoro heading towards you, one hand grasped loosely around his sword handle as always. “You’re up early,” he said, casual as ever. “Woke up and you were gone.”

“Figured I should get a head start on cleaning,” you answered quickly, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you dunked the mop into the bucket. His brows creased as he watched you start mopping, pushing the handle along the deck to wipe it clear of bloodstains.

“How long have you been doing this?” Zoro asked, after a few seconds of delayed silence. You shrugged, dunking your mop again before going for another few swipes. “We can help clean too, you know.”

“It’s the least I can do,” you protested. You moved past him, trying very hard not to meet his eyes—but Zoro didn’t let you pass, one hand going out to grab the mop rod and stopping you in your tracks. “What?”

“What do you mean, least you could do?” Zoro asked blankly.

“I mean—” you shrugged, muscles limp like your entire body was sagging you down. “You and the others were the ones to deal with the pirates, so I figured I could at least—”

Zoro still looked confused, brows pulled together, forehead taut with a frown. “I distinctly recall you throwing a pirate twice your size overboard. Unless I was imagining things.”

You sighed. “Not what I meant.” You tried to push past Zoro again, but he didn’t let you, hand still tightly grasped around your mop handle.

“Okay, what did you mean, then?”

“Nothing. Will you just let me finish cleaning so there aren't blood stains all over Luffy’s ship?” You sighed again, even as you attempted to keep the sound inside—but you couldn’t help it. It was like there was an anchor stuck inside of you, pulling everything from your feelings to your body down, the weight of gravity tugging at your features.

“Luffy’s ship?”

You shrugged. “The Straw Hats’ ship. Whatever.”

“Our ship,” Zoro said. There was a certain twinge of something in his words; still blankness, but laced with a dawning realization that you weren’t sure you liked. “You’re upset.”

“Nope.” This time you really did manage to get free of Zoro’s grasp, yanking your mop out of his grip and starting back on cleaning the deck. The acrid smell of iron hit your nose as you scrubbed the dried blood off—you’d have to go back in later with a sponge to get all the cracks and crevices, but for now this would be okay.

Zoro followed you, unceasing with his interrogation. “Yes, you are. I know when you’re upset, and you’re upset. What happened.” It was more of a statement than a question—Zoro didn’t often doubt himself, really, which was one of the many things that’d helped make you stumble into falling for him. “Was it about last night? You know the cook's just making fun when he keeps a counter, right? It doesn’t matter if he brought two or five more men down than you.”

“It’s not about that,” you insisted.

“So you admit you are upset.”

You groaned, finally turning to look Zoro in the eye. He’d stopped walking, the dawning sun glinting hazey gold onto his skin in the early hour. There was still an overcast of blue from the night in the sky, and it made the heavens look ethereal, watery and glittering.

“Come on,” he urged. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s really nothing you need to be concerned about,” you attempted, but your voice was weak now. Zoro stepped closer to you, gently pulling the mop out of your hands. Your fingers let go easily. “It’s silly.”

Zoro gave you a look. “Out with it.”

“I don’t know, I just—” your fingers clenched, like your hand was trying to find something to do now that Zoro had rid you of your mop. “Comparatively I just don’t do much. So I want to help out as much as possible.”

“Who said you don’t do much?”

“What?”

“I don’t think I need to repeat myself,” Zoro said. He let the mop fall to the ground, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Who said you don’t do much?”

“I mean, nobody. It’s just true.” You shrugged, distinctly uncomfortable with the way Zoro was looking at you—all attentive, like he was trying to strip you raw with his eyes, uncover whatever secrets might be hiding in the pores of your skin and the gaps of your teeth. “Luffy’s the captain, we wouldn’t be able to do anything without Nami, you and Sanji are the fighters, and Usopp’s everyone’s favorite. I’m just kind of… filler?”

The more you spoke, the worse your words got, your tone turning more desperate as the sentences fumbled out of your mouth. Zoro’s eyebrows raised higher as you went on, and you flushed, red prickling all over your skin.

“First of all,” he started, “Usopp is not my favorite. That’d be you. And—where are you getting this from?”

You shook your head, trying to backtrack. “Nothing. Nowhere. It’s not that import—”

“Yes, it is, and we’re talking about it.” Zoro pulled a nearby barrel by the side of the ship, plopping himself down atop it and gesturing for you to sit. You didn’t, but you did move over to the railing, hands curling around the painted wood. “Speak.”

“I have nothing to say,” you tried. Zoro just shot you an unimpressed look, and you squirmed. “Fine. I don’t know. I joined last, so I just figured… you were all kind of already set without me, right?”

Zoro shook his head. “We’re a crew,” he said, voice strong but somehow still gentle. “You’re part of us for a reason. What, this entire time did you think you were—expendable?”

You fidgeted uncomfortably, weight shifting from one leg to the other. “No.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Last night—I only got, like what, two guys? And you reacted way faster to the situation than I did,” you started, words flailing around on your tongue as they rushed out. It was indelicate, for certain, and you yourself couldn’t make sense of most of the words—but once you started, you couldn’t stop, even as they slurred together. “I was still getting out of bed and grabbing my weapon when you’d already dealt with half the enemy crew.”

“Don’t compare yourself to me,” Zoro said with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair. I’ve been training since I was eight. It’s different.”

You huffed out an exasperated breath, trying not to let your frustration get the best of you. “I can't help it sometimes. It’s a bad habit.” You loosened your grip on the ship railing, staring out at the golden clouds hovering over the sky. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Zoro answered. He didn’t say anything after that—giving you a space to talk, you supposed, in case you wanted to. But his hand did reach up to press against yours, pinky brushing against your finger as he held onto the railing beside you.

“I guess I just always had these standards back at the village,” you managed out eventually. Your island had always been one of the more traditional places in the East Blue, and there were plenty rules and guidelines abound. One of the many reasons you’d left the place in favor for Luffy and the Going Merry, really. “So I just… always want to do more. It’s not that bad.”

“Right.” Zoro’s pinky looped around your finger, now, holding it close in a soft kiss of the hands. You sighed.

“My parents were kind of rough on me, I guess,” you tried, sneaking a glance over at Zoro’s face to see if it satiated his curiosity at all. His expression remained as steel as ever, so you just continued. “They wanted me to be the best I could. But their standards were too high, even when I was little.” You found yourself rubbing circles into the back of Zoro’s hand with your finger, more so to comfort yourself than for any other reason. “Just normal stuff, like being upset about my school grades or my combat training levels being too low. Nothing that terrible.”

“But…?” Zoro asked, tilting his head up to look at you. You smiled, but the action didn’t reach your eyes—it was all mouth and jaw, cheeks lifting but eyes glinting with the same glazed stare.

“It just affected me a lot, I suppose,” you answered. “Always trying to get better. Never satisfied. And I guess now—I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough.”

“For?” Zoro asked. His voice was low, soft, all hollow and empty inside. There was a tinge of roughness lacing it, like he’d forgotten to clear his throat, and the scratch of his vocal chords had surfaced up along with the words.

“Myself. My parents. Luffy. You.” Your lips tightened into a line. Vaguely, you could feel the warm pinpricks of tears starting at your waterline, and you tried to will them back, letting out a little laugh. “Everyone, I guess.”

Zoro’s hand had come to hold yours fully, fingers woven in between yours, thumb pressed firmly against the joint of your thumb. Somehow, that one motion managed to force the last of the words out of you—all wet and soft, eyes glued fiercely to the horizon in fear of seeing what was etched on Zoro’s face.

“We do arranged marriages back at home,” you started, trying very hard to keep your voice from trembling. it worked only marginally—there was a tiny quaver in your tone, but it was soft, not noticeable unless you were really listening hard. “And my mom used to tell me I’d die alone. Because I wasn’t pretty enough, or smart enough, or anything enough for any of the boys there.”

“Oh,” Zoro said. It was quiet; barely a whisper. You tried for a wry smile.

“I like helping, though. I don’t mind cleaning up or whatever. It makes me feel more useful.” You tried to tug your hand out of Zoro’s grip, but his fingers tightened, keeping you in place. A nervous laugh escaped your throat. “And I know I’m part of the crew and all of this is just silly. So it’s really fine—”

Zoro tugged your intertwined hands to his chest, causing you to stumble and glance down at him in surprise. His expression was nearly unreadable. It’d darkened, and there was a contemplative gaze in his eyes, lips parted with invisible words perched on his tongue. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, and your stomach dropped, the nervousness that had gathered inside during the conversation tightening up into a hall. “Don’t say it’s okay or that it’s not important. If it’s making you upset, then it matters.”

“I guess,” you tried, and Zoro’s gaze lifted to fix you with a glare. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just…” Zoro shook his head. “Look, whatever your parents used to tell you, whatever you have ingrained in your head—it’s not true. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more, but… you don’t have to do it. You’re enough already.”

Your gaze softened, lips falling open to say something, but Zoro wasn’t finished yet. “You shouldn’t come out here and force yourself to clean up just to make up for your—waste of space, or something. You’re not a servant. And you’re not wasting up any space. I think everyone would agree that you’re a very important and vital part of the crew.”

“Thanks,” you whispered. Zoro’s hand was warm around yours, and you felt the threatening droplets of tears start to rise up at your waterline, ready to fall at any moment now. Zoro just nodded.

“You’re a great fighter, and way smarter than what you give yourself credit for,” he said firmly. He raised your hand to his mouth, then, leaning over to press a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. “And the boys on your island have to be blind, because you’re pretty enough. You’re more than pretty enough.”

He whispered the last words, all soft and sacred on his tongue. “You’re beautiful.”

That was enough to drive your tears over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the flow as the warm sensation of liquid streaking down your cheeks began. Droplets caught in the crevice of your lips, and at the hinge of your jaw—Zoro brought a hand up to wipe them away. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah, I just, um.” You shook your head, sniffing. “Thank you. That… helped. I think.”

Zoro bummed out his response. “Of course,” he said easily. “You’re my girl. It’s my job to cheer you up.” He kissed your knuckles again. “And you can talk to any of us. I’m not really the best at this, but everyone else…” he shrugged.

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him. Zoro nodded, tugging you down until you finally took a seat on a crate beside him. “I think it’s just been worse lately.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re better than the waiter,” Zoro said. You just laughed.

“I think you’re biased, but thank you,” you said. “Here, I, um, I promise I’ll let you know if I’m feeling down, I guess. If you don’t mind.”

“Definitely don’t mind,” Zoro answered. This time he placed a gentle kiss on your neck, somewhere at the bottom near the back. “Leave the mopping for someone else. You’ve already done a lot.”

“Okay,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as Zoro kissed the rest of the way up the back of your neck. He placed a final one right below your earlobe. With that, Zoro stood up, sweeping one arm under your legs and hoisting you up. You cracked open an eye to regard him with a blank look. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing you back to my room,” Zoro answered. “You didn’t get much sleep tonight. And I doubt anyone wants to watch me kissing you on the main deck anyway.”

That was fair enough reasoning, so you didn’t complain, letting him carry you all the way to his cabin and gently lay you down onto his bed. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your lips—you could still taste the saltwater from your tears from before. “Want me to stay?” Zoro asked.

“You don’t have to,” you said automatically, and Zoro raised both his eyebrows. You let out a sigh. “Okay, I get it. Yes. Please stay.”

“All you had to say,” Zoro said, shedding himself of his shoes and swords before leaning over the bed to watch you. He didn’t slip under the covers or anything, just propped an arm up on the mattress, kneeling beside the bed. There was tender silence for a few moments before Zoro spoke again.

“I love you,” he said abruptly, voice rough but somehow still soft. Your heart beat too fast in your chest, ribcage squeezing in on the organ and making it skip. His hand slid along the mattress to find yours, and you took the offer, fingers clasping around his palm.

“I love you too,” you whispered back. Zoe leaned over, then, the hand not intertwined with yours tilting your jaw over just so to allow him better access to your mouth. He kissed you full-on, tender but firm, mouth working against yours in a way that unraveled you entirely. Your grip on his hand tightened as he deepened the kiss, a soft sound emitting from low in your throat. Finally you broke apart, heaving for breath, exhales mixing together midair. An exchange of souls, you’d heard once, somewhere.

“Come on,” you murmured, tugging Zoro closer to the bed so he got the hint. He slipped beside you onto it, turning your head again to meet you in another kiss. His hand drifted down to your waist, holding you securely in place.

“I don’t think anyone should need us for a few more hours, right?” Zoro asked, and you laughed. He swallowed up the sounds with his mouth, tongue licking languidly into you as he rubbed delicate circles into the skin of your waist. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and then he was kissing you again.

You let him siphon the soul out of your lungs, knowing you were getting his right back.

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #opla #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla zoro x reader #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #kiki writes!

1K notes · View notes

evie-sturns · 29 days

Text

fall - Chris Sturniolo

summary: where your boyfriend chris accidentally hurts you, he spends the whole rest of the night trying to make you feel better.

contains: crying, fluff, comforting, minor injury

------------------------.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.----------------——

With a small grunt I attempt to reach on top of the fridge for the wine glasses, after a bad day at work the only thing I wanted was a glass of red wine.

"Chris!!" I call out, finally realising I can't reach. He doesn't respond, I'm pretty sure he has his headphones on in our room.

Admitting defeat I get off my tiptoes and jog over to the dining table, I drag one of the flimsy wooden chairs across the room back to the fridge.

I sink my top teeth into my bottom lip as I bend over, grabbing the back of the chair and stepping up onto it,

Just then chris walks into the kitchen "you okay?" he asks, walking over behind me as he looks up at me.

"Yeah! I'm just trying t-" I start but I get cut off by Chris's foot slamming against the leg of the chair

bang.

He knocks it out from under my feet, my feet give out, slipping against the wood. "oh my god-" he raises his voice as i fall sideways,

the whole left side of my body slams against the tiles of the kitchen floor, my head slightly making Impact as well.

I lay in shock for a couple seconds before the pain hits, shockwaves of heat shoot up my side, my head throbbing.

I burst into ugly sobs, "I'm so sorry! Shit-- are you okay?" chris gasps, leaning over and picking me up effortlessly, he cradles me in his arms. I can physically hear his heartbeat, his hands trembling as he runs his hand over my head.

"my hip!" i cry, Chris runs over to our bedroom and sits down on the bed, he holds me close to his chest.

"where does it hurt- tell me where it hurts" he rambles frantically, I point to the side of my body and chris nods understandingly,

“is your head okay? it’s not bleeding” Chris try’s to stay calm but I don’t think me sobbing into his shirt is helping

“please don’t cry i’m so sorry.” chris sighs shakily, rubbing my arms and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“lers get you changed baby, you can’t be comfortable in your work clothes, you think!” Chris try’s to lighten the mood, I nod.

Chris carefully moves me off his lap, as if he touches me any harder i’ll shatter. He jogs over to the closet and looks back at me with a sorry expression

“what- what would you like to wear?” Chris squeezes out, I shrug before wiping my eyes

“that’s okay! are we feeling hot or cold?” He asks, scanning over my face which is drenched in tears

“hot” I mumble, my voice cracking halfway through. Chris nods before searching through the closet drawers quickly

he pulls out a small white tank top and blue striped boy-shorts. “is this okay?” he asks, I nod.

Chris walks over to me and picks me up from under my arms, standing me upright on my feet.

“does it hurt to stand up right sweetheart?” Chris asks, his voice laced with concern.

Truthfully it does hurt to put weight on the right side of my body, but I don’t want to tell him that and panic him more than he already is

i shake my head, “that’s a good sign!” chris force’s enthusiasm, he doesn’t cover up his emotions that well so the undertone of his sentence is fear.

he taps my arm, “and… arms up” chris says, trying to concentrate. I force back my tears as I put my arm up, my right arm won’t comfortably go up.

“oh baby.” chris sighs, rubbing that arm. “do you want to try put it up just for a second? I’ll be really quick getting your blouse off.”

I raise both arms with a wince, chris pouts slightly as he swiftly pulls my shirt off. “you’re doing so well” he whispers, grabbing the white tank top from behind him and pulling it on over me.

“and arms down!” chris says, my arms fall back down. i give him a small smile, tears still flowing down my flushed cheek.

chris reaches down and unbuttons my mini skirt, before tugging it down to my ankles. he hooks his fingers under the waistband of my panties before pulling them down and off.

He picks me up from under my arms again, lift in me out of the skirt which is bunched around my ankles before placing me back down on the carpet. Chris grabs the shorts and pulls them up.

He looks somewhat proud of that effort of getting me changed.

Chris picks me up again and lays me down on the mattress. “how are we doing?” chris asks quietly, i look up at him “I’m okay- i think”

“If you’re not feeling sleepy yet we can grab my laptop and put on a show, or if you’re tired we can go to sleep?” He suggests,

Unironically i yawn when he’s halfway through his sentence, “that’ll answer my question” he laughs, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall down, he walks over to the closet, picking out some pyjama shorts and throwing them on.

he takes off his shirt and discards it on his desk chair before walking back over to me, Chris crawls over me and lays down, tugging the covers up over me.

I lay my head on his chest with a small sniffle.

“i’m genuinely so sorry, i really didn’t mean too.” chris whispers into my hair.

“it’s okay.” I say, “if you’re still hurting tomorrow morning we’ll get you to the doctors okay?”

“thank you chris, i love you.” i smile, he reaches his hands up and wipes my eyes.

“oh- chris what about the wine” I instantly remember the fact there’s a spill of red wine spread across the floor.

“you want wine right now? if it’ll make you feel better i’ll go get i-“ he starts, I cut him off

“noo chris! the spill” I laugh, “oh it’s okay, it’ll be fine i’ll clean ‘her up in the morning” Chris replies casually.

“you sure?” I ask, “it might smell really strong of wine in there for the next couple weeks if we don’t get it now”

“i’ll get it out, i have my ways” chris giggles stupidly, earning a scoff from me.

——

8:23am the next morning

The morning sun burns into the side of my face, with a small husky groan i sit up, chris is wide awake next to me laying on his back, his gaze slowly drifts over to me

He’s got dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, his skin pale.

“What happened to you? You look like death” I laugh tiredly

“I don’t think I slept once” Chris groans

“Why? what happened- was I on top of you again like the first time we slept in the same bed- sorry.” I ramble

“no no- it wasn’t you” chris laughs,

“i was just really worried.. about you, and i felt awful for hurting you and making you cry—“ chris says quietly

“oh chris.” i say with a sad smile, i lean down and press a kiss to his lips, holding both sides of his face with my hands.

“i’m okay- i promise sweet boy” I whisper,

“now get to sleep, i’ll be in the living room” I laugh,

chris whines- holding up his hands and tugging my shorts, pulling me towards him

“you know i hate sleeping alloonee” chris groans

—————

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts s @333michelle @h3arts4harry y @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 4 @ecilphttlunar @pkfferroo @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle

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baby-yongbok · 5 months

Text

I Promise

Han Jisung x Reader

▹Genre: Angst - the type that makes you shed a tear

▹Summary: Jisung finally realizes what he's been putting you through and he vows to fix it.

▹Word Count: 1.8k

▹Warnings: Description of a panic attack

▹This One shot was Inspired by the song Til u say i go by NIve

✧ Masterlist ✧

“Stop saying that. Stop saying that this isn’t working, why are you giving up so easily?” The vase of wilted roses on the dining table shook as Jisung’s tightly closed fists banged lightly against the mahogany. You feel something like the roses in front of you, what was once a beautiful and vibrant gift from the lover sitting across from you is now a wilted reminder of what once was. You’re tired, burnt-out.

“You think this is easy for me? This is the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do but I’ve had more than enough time to think about this. I’ve had more than enough lonely nights to know that I am sick and tired of this desolate feeling in my chest.” You rise to your feet quicker than you intended, you turn away from the man in front of you as tears well up at your waterline.

“I’m doing what I can, you know that I’m doing what I can. You knew how this would go, you knew that I’d be busy, that my schedule would be packed. I promised you that I’d come home when I can and I have kept that promise -”

“ - you’ve been at the dorms more than you’ve been in this kitchen. You’ve slept there more than you have ever slept here, I’m sure that you have more clothes in your closet there than you do here, so are you really keeping your promise?” The exasperated sigh that falls from Jisungs lips as your feet lead you through the threshold leading to the living room is all the answer you need.

“You’re not being very fair. You know how busy it’s been, I only just got back to Seoul today, we’ve been all over the place, I’ve been all over the place.” He stares at you from the same threshold that you crossed moments ago. “I wasn’t aware that you felt so…”

His wide eyes meet your glassy ones as you allow the tears that you’ve been holding back to spill over your puffy lids like a glass filled to the brim. He steps towards you and with each pitter patter of his bare feet against the hardwood you feel that overflowing glass inching closer to the edge of shattering.

“Tell me.” You allow him to cup your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb wipes a stray tear as he continues to whisper. “Tell me everything that you’ve been keeping in there.”

His other hand rests over your heart for just a second before the palm finds a home against your other cheek. You can feel his faint trembling against you and it’s only now that you notice the erratic pattern of his breathing.

“Do you know how long the nights feel when I’m in that big bed all by myself?” Your lids flutter shut at the sound of your own whisper and you can feel it all coming up, word vomit with an untitled emotion, it's right at the back of your throat. Too thick to swallow. “I’ve stopped making the bed at this point, I stopped buying groceries to accommodate your presence because you’re never at the dinner table anymore.”

Your voice starts to settle into a steady yell as you continue but you can’t stop it. Everything's coming up at once. All of the nights sleeping alone, all of the tears you’ve shed, all of the times you’ve needed the support of a partner that is never there, that can rarely ever pick up the phone. It all comes pouring out in shouting syllables that leave Jisung stumbling back with tears of his own trailing down his cheeks.

“I called you, I called you last week and I needed you, I needed to hear your voice but all I heard was your voicemail. I didn’t even get a text from you that night, I waited hours for you to call me back. I waited and I waited but there was nothing and here we are six days later and you still haven’t asked me why I called.” You choke on your own shout as you take an inhale so sharp that it could’ve cut your larynx. Your throat tightens at the memory of last week. You sat in front of your phone for as long as you could just waiting, just hoping that Jisung would return your call but he never did. You waited and waited until the face that reminds you of him everyday pulled you out of your haze.

Just as you fall to your knees in a choked sob that very face emerges from the dimly lit threshold, Jisung hears the tiny footsteps and swiftly shields your body from her line of sight.

“Mommy, why you cry again?” You sob harder at the sound of her small curious voice. This is all enough to break Jisung, the anxiety in his chest is quickly boiling over into self hatred. The palpable pain lingering in the air is all the proof that he needed to know that you’re right, he didn’t keep his promise. “Appa, is mommy okay?”

“Mommy is- mommy is going to be alright. Appa is trying to fix it, okay?” The brown hair girl hugged her stuffed animal closer to her chest as she took a step towards her father. Jisung was fighting for his life as he did his best to hold back the sob that was rattling against his ribs.

“Come on, let's go back to bed so that I can help mommy, okay?” Jisung’s voice is barely above a whisper but it was enough for the little one in front of him to agree as she held her arms out towards him. He scooped his daughter up and held her close as he made his way down the dimly lit hallway, leaving you and your sorrows to seep into the dark wood beneath your knees. He could nearly hear the heavy tears spilling onto the flooring, he’s sure that the residue of your deep despondency will stain the flooring. His heart aches with sadness and regret as it all sinks in and he swears that what ‘s left of his resolve breaks when his daughter grabs him by his face and kisses the tip of his nose. A sweet whisper leaving her lips as her hopeful words loomed over his head.

“Please fix momma.” That’s when he knew that he would never be able to make things right. Once he heard the latch catch on your daughter's bedroom door the latch holding the emotion trapped in his chest broke open and he sobbed so violently that it made no sound. All that he could hear was panicked ringing as he sunk to the ground and hung his head. His tears soaked into the soft denim of his jeans as all of your words echoed through his head.

His breath caught in his throat and his hands raked through his hair aggressively until they grabbed at the roots and pulled as hard as they could. Time seemed to slow down as he realized what’s been happening. While he’s out in his own world the one that he built with you is crumbling. He got too comfortable, he allowed a thick frost to cover his lens and when he couldn’t see through them anymore he filled in the blanks with the answers that he wanted. He told himself that you were fine, that you’ll understand and that he was barely even missed. That frost was so thick, so blinding that he fooled himself into hurting you.

“Han.” Your hoarse panicked tone is what snaps him out of his thoughts. He blinks a couple of times, trying his best to clear his blurred vision and concentrate. “Jisung, breathe, please.”

It’s only then that he notices the burning in his chest, he sucks in a harsh breath but it’s not enough. He coughs before trying again, the feeling of your soft hands rubbing against his clothed thighs grounds him quicker than he could manage to do by himself. Before he can fill his lungs completely his arms are around your waist. He pulls you into him as he rests against the pale painted wall of the hallway, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him against your chest as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

“I’m so -”

“- I know, Ji.” He takes a deep inhale and your soft scent makes his muscles tense before relaxing a bit too much. He’s missed this, he’s missed you.

“I- I know that I hurt you. I haven’t been here for either of you but if you please, just please give me a chance to fix this. I’ll take time off, I’ll adjust my schedules and I’ll come home no matter the time. I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I’ve been so absent I didn’t think that-”

“And what happens when you run out of days off? We’ll be a happy family for a month or two and then I'll be sleeping alone again?” He pulls away from you, watery eyes staring into yours with so much sincerity, so much passion.

“I won’t leave you alone again, I’ll do what I can, I’ll do more than they let me. I’ll find a way, if you just let me stay, if you let me try again I promise that I will make up for this pain for the next million years, Jagi, please.”

“Ji...Jisung if this doesn’t work then -”

“Then I’ll leave, I’ll pack my stuff and I’ll give you anything that you need to live a comfortable life without me but that won’t happen. If you give me this chance I will stay by your side until you tell me to leave. I’ll stand by you every day until you scream and yell and beg me to go but please give me the chance to fix what I’ve done.”

“You can’t promise me that everything will change.” Your eyes wander down his frame, a forlorn glint in your eyes. Jisung’s hand takes its familiar position on your cheek, pulling your attention back to him as he takes a rigid breath.

“I can and I will.” His eyes search yours as he tries to grasp onto the hope that’s flying away from you. Maybe he’s making a promise that’s bigger than himself, maybe he can’t do it, maybe he can’t fix you and he’ll break his daughter's heart but he has to try. He has to.

He leans into you and you welcome the feeling of his exhale clashing with yours, his blushed lips brush against your soft ones before he presses the softest kiss to them. It’s loving, it’s hopeful, it’s Jisung and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. He whispers against your lips between kisses, his words are airy and desperate but he means them and they mean everything to you.

“I promise.”

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rafeandonlyrafe · 7 months

Text

obsession

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, reader and rafe are both crazyyy, toxic relationship, rafe being a murderer but its canon, rafe breaks into readers house

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

the noise has you sitting up suddenly in bed, ears straining for the same sound that pulled you out of a deep sleep. you sit there for a minute before letting out a breath and laying your head back against the pillow. maybe it was a raccoon knocking over your neighbors trash can, or a car backfiring.

either way, you think you're in the clear to head back into dreamland, until there's that noise again. glass shatters and this time you know it's not at your neighbors house, it's at your front door.

you sit frozen in fear, heartbeat pounding in your ears. it isn’t until the sound of your front door opening reaches you that you spring into action. you jump up out of bed, from under the safety of your covers. your eyes briefly scan the room as footsteps ascend up the stairs, like they know exactly what their target is, exactly where you are.

your choice is between under the bed and the closet, and when your doorknob begins to turn, your throw yourself onto the rug and roll under the bed. you cover your mouth as your door opens, heavy boots entering the room. you watch as they move right up to the bed, throwing the covers onto the floor, letting out a low curse you can barely make out when you’re not there.

you watch as the boots head over to the closet, ripping the doors open. you keep your hand over your mouth, afraid to breath too loudly. you watch as the boots move closer again, until a hand is suddenly clenching down on your arm, yanking you out from under the bed.

“there you are.” rafe says, smirking down at you from your spot on the floor, your back against the rug.

“rafe!” you say, half in fear, half in relief.

“get up.” he commands, but doesn’t even give you a chance to do it yourself, reaching down and tugging you into a standing position.

“wha-what are you doing?” you ask, pressing your hands against his chest, but not pushing him away. you and rafe have a confusing relationship. half the time his is head over heels infatuated with you, and the other half he is pretending like you don’t exist, like acting as if you're not there can quell his obsession. it breaks your heart, only for him to come back in a few days and put it back together.

“god, i’ve missed you.” rafe says, pulling you tight against his body, even as adrenaline causes you to shake, your mind going over what just happened. rafe broke into your house, because he missed you.

“rafe.” you pull yourself away from him, even as you find comfort in his hold. “you broke in!” “because i need you baby!” he says loudly, looking at you like you’re the one being unreasonable here. “and i’ll buy you a new door and get someone to install it tomorrow.”

“next time just knock, please.” you say, taking his face in your hands. “you scared me.”

“i’m sorry princess. can we cuddle, yeah?” you see the look in rafes eyes, a crazed look, that he’s not in his right mind. you’re not sure if he’s been taking drugs again or if he’s just in a bad mental state.

“yeah, come on.” you gesture to your bed, not sure what would happen if you say no, not that you ever deny rafe. he lays down as you pick your covers up from the floor. you snuggle up next to him, letting your breathing return to normal, wishing you didn’t feel the peace that you do when in his arms.

“what happened?” you ask, rubbing your hand over his chest.

“i-i did something terrible tonight.” rafe says, hand squeezing your hip. “i really fucked up. this is why i need to leave you alone, fuck. you deserve someone better than me.” “hey, hey, shh.” you say, giving a kiss to rafes jaw as he starts to get worked up again. “i can help fix it, if you’d just tell me whats going on.” “no, i can’t. you can never know, you’d never look at me the same again.” rafe says, the emotion in his eyes replaying the horror of whatever happened.

“come on rafe, it’s not like you killed someone.” you say with a chuckle, but rafe is quiet. far, far too quiet.

“what the actual fuck, rafe?” you sit up in your bed, looking down at him as a tear falls down his cheek. “rafe, fucking talk!”

“i did it to save my dad.” rafe says, rubbing his hand over your thigh. “i had to, okay? and i need you to trust me about that.”

“rafe, who did you kill?” you ask, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly.

“sheriff peterkin.” rafe mumbles under his breath, but you make it out clear enough.

“you killed the fucking sheriff?” you scream, moving to get out of bed, but rafe stops you, pulling you back against him. “rafe, let me go!”

“shh, shh, baby, let me talk, okay?” rafe says, caging you tight against his body, restricting your movements. you stare up at rafe expectantly as he presses you into the mattress. “i had to. i didn’t want to. i had to. or she would have shot my dad, okay?” “why would peterkin shoot your dad?” you ask.

“it’s a long fucking story, but i need you to trust me, baby girl. i can’t have you hating me too. okay? i love you too much, so you’re gonna just be fucking calm. you’re not gonna scream, right?” rafe asks. you give a little nod. you know it’s stupid, you shouldn’t trust rafe, but you do. maybe it’s your foolish love for him blinding you to his flaws, or what they’ve awakened inside of you.

rafe lets go of you, flipping so he’s lying on his back. you curl on your side next to him, placing a hand on his stomach. “i’m scared, rafe.” “i know. this is why i try to force myself to leave you alone.” “you hurt me even more when you do that.” you say with a frown, thinking of all those times, after weeks of being happy together, of getting along, when rafe will suddenly ignore you at a party or stop answering your calls.

“i’m so sorry.” rafe takes a deep breath. “i need your help though. i need you… i need you to tell the police i was here all day, with you. they would believe you.” “okay.” you say in a whisper, “i can do that for you rafey, just no more secrets, no more trying to push me away.” “promise, princess.” rafe pulls you in so he can give you a soft kiss on the lips. “it’s us against the world now.” “i love you rafey.” you tell him honestly.

“oh, my perfect girl.” rafe rubs your side, hand slipping under your pajama shirt. “i don’t deserve you.” “stop, don’t say that.” you say, eyes fluttering clothed as his hand moves up and down against your bare skin.

“it’s true, i don’t. you’re too perfect, too forgiving. you’ve let me hurt you so much and then still take me back.”

“no more hurting, then.” you say, moving so you’re straddling rafe. “no more hurting me. you wanna be with me, you have to let me in, stop pushing away.” “promise.” rafe says, looking up at you lovingly. you’re not sure if you believe him. he’s never once proven that he can stop hurting, stop betraying, but you’re willing to give him another chance, and another and another.

“now let me take care of you, yeah? apologize for giving you a fright and for hurting you.” rafe says, placing his hands on your hips, rubbing and squeezing them.

“yeah.” you nod, eyes fluttering closed as he presses you down, against his abs. rafe knows the way to truly calm you down, to truly get you to forgive him.

“look at you.” rafe laughs as you begin to grind yourself down against him. “already cockdrunk, silly baby.” “c’mon.” you say with a whimper, wanting what rafe promised, wanting him to take care of you.

rafe flips you suddenly, hovering over you with a laugh. rafe pushes your shirt up to under your chest, the sensitive skin of you stomach on display. rafe drops down, kissing along your skin. “i love you so much.” rafe says.

“i love you too.” you whisper, tugging rafe up so he can give you a real, proper kiss. your lips connect, and you instantly moan into his mouth as his mouth dominates yours. “please fuck me.”

“let me eat you out first baby.” rafe nuzzles his nose against yours, but you pout.

“you can eat me out in the morning. i want your cock. now.” you demand, usually not pushing rafe like this and going along with whatever he says, but he owes you right now, so he works his pants down his legs while you take off your pajama bottoms, revealing you’re not wearing underwear. rafe smiles, the wetness on your pussy shining in the low lighting.

“take this as my apology for scaring you.” rafe pushes his cock inside of you, making you cry out from the stretch, briefly regretting not letting him open you up more with his tongue or fingers until he starts to move, his warm cock searing your insides.

“so good.” you whine, spreading your legs to give rafe more room to move as he begins to snap into you. you look up at your man, a look of concentration on his face, and your heart beats faster knowing what he just confessed.

it’s not like you ever thought rafe was a good guy, at no point in your relationship did he hide the darkest parts of himself, the jealous, devious parts that contracted your good girl exterior, but what rafe never expected was to bring out the dark side in you as well.

you push rafe off, not wanting to look at his face anymore. maybe then you’ll get a sense of decency back, your morality about not letting a murderer fuck you right after confessing, but you turn on your hands and knees and present your ass for him, and you know there’s no going back.

rafe quickly repositions and enters you, his hands tight on your hips as he lets out all of his frustrations, the loud smack of his skin hitting your ass ringing out in the room.

he moves so quick you feel like your entire body could catch on fire as your high builds, needing that final touch on your clit that you know rafe isn’t going to give until he’s ready.

“so good for me baby, this is why i can never leave you.” rafe moans, tossing his head back as he pumps himself inside of you, keeping a steady rhythm as you squeeze your cunt around his cock. “i tell you i killed someone and you spread your pretty legs for me, let me in this perfect pussy.”

rafe bends over your back so his mouth is right next to your ear. “you’re a dirty fucking slut, but you’re mine.” he growls.

your arms collapse under the pressure, rafe straightening back up as your cheek presses into the mattress. rafe thrusts even harder now, determined to utterly exhaust both of you so you can pass out and worry about the consequences in the morning.

“perfect. fucking. girl.” rafe groans, accentuating each word with a thrust. you moan indeterminately, letting him know just how good it feels as his fingers leave bruises from how tight he’s gripping your skin, yet another mark that rafe cameron is going to leave on you, not all of them visible, but you wouldn’t trade back the trauma for anything if it means being with him.

you muster up all the strength that you can, forcing your body to move even as it cries out to give in, to give up, but you push yourself back up, making rafe lose balance as he falls back on the bed.

you turn so you can see his face as you sink onto his cock. “you’re mine too.” you remind him, bucking your hips as you ride rafe, ignoring the burn in your thighs. “don’t fucking forget it.”

you bend down, using your entire body to move back on his cock, bouncing and grinding in a frantic rhythm. “and never leave me again. never keep shit from me.” rafe looks up at you in awe, reaching a hand to tangle in your hair as he pulls you into an intense kiss, a clash of biting teeth and slipping tongues.

“i fucking love you.” rafe groans against your mouth as you clench around him, feeling his cock swell inside of you, signaling he’s close.

you sit back up, bringing a hand to your pussy, working your clit with two fingers as you keep bouncing, letting yourself go when you feel rafes hips push up against yours, releasing his cum inside of your heat. you slump forward as you climax, moaning into rafes chest.

“baby, you are something else.” rafe rubs a hand over your back as you come down from your orgasm, keeping sat on his cock, not wanting to give it up just yet.

“mmm, you brought out something in me.” you say, turning to press a kiss to his chest. “and you can’t just take it back now.”

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lethalchiralium · 7 months

Text

Mirrorball | John Price x F!Reader

a/n: me?? posting??? in this economy?? unheard of. this is definitely not me writing needy price whaaaat

warnings: mentions of injury, trauma

summary: You’re trying to sleep, but someone wakes you up with a long awaited phone call. OR, John’s outside of your door, begging for forgiveness.

It was a work day tomorrow and someone had the audacity to call you in the middle of the night. Your eyes tried to blink away the murkiness of sleep as you answered the call, not even paying attention to the ‘Unknown Caller’ blinking at the top of the screen.

“Hey.”

Your head fell back into your pillow, your hand holding your phone to your ear.

“Yes, John.”

“Don’t be that way.”

Your hand gripped your phone a little more, now that you were waking up more.

“Well, seeing that it’s…” You pulled the phone from your ear, looking at the time on the screen, “2:45 in the morning on a Tuesday, you’re only calling ‘cause you’re bored.”

There was a scoff on the line. “Why can’t you just accept that maybe I’m worried about you?”

Your eyes were still closed, your eyebrows furrowed and you mumbled, “Tell me what you want or I’m hanging up.”

There was silence. Just the warmth that flooded through your chest every time you heard his low breathing; a signal, a waypoint, your reminder that no matter how much you want to turn away, there’s no escape from your desperate need for John Price. Your fingernails dug into your pillowcase, tears that have broken glass now soak the silk underneath your head. You could almost smell the rich tobacco that seemed to envelop his clothes and his worn skin - he was the feeling of sunlight reflected on shattered glass. Shining just for you.

You could imagine his hand curling your hair behind your ear, his soft lips pressing kisses into your hairline, your shoulder, your spine. You had memorized the way his hand would gently graze over your side, featherlight movement as he would whisper his promises, his mantras, but ignore your desires.

“M’here.”

Even in your half-asleep state, you felt a rush of confusion.

“You were in Afghanistan last night.”

“I lied.”

“You seem to do that often, John.”

Silence again. Your eyes opened to your dimly light room, the small light plugged into your wall helped you make out everything in your room. The jacket of his that still was tossed over the back of your favorite chair, most of his clothes hung in your closet - deep browns and dreary grays that were pressed against your bright blues, greens, and yellows. His breathtaking fiancé dressed in all of the colors that made you feel happy - but all were a farce, a lie wrapped up in a fairy tale. You weren’t happy. How could you be happy when your whole world decided to break your heart?

“Tell me what you want or I’m hanging up, John. I mean it.”

Silence. You could hear the quiet bustle of Liverpool outside your window, the street lamp’s warm light hidden by your dark curtains. Curtains he used to move at this time of night to open your window, he would burn the end of his cigar and watch the city lights.

Now, he stood outside your front door, without even a knock.

“What I did to you wasn’t right, I knew that then and I know that now. Screaming at you and telling you I never wanted to see you again was the biggest mistake of my life. I love you. And love isn’t supposed to be like that. I-I was… I was scared. I am scared. I’m scared of what you think of me, I was scared of what almost happened to me, I’m terrified to lose you.”

“Stop.”

“Please. I’m here.”

“What do you want, John?”

“I want come home.“

Another pause.

“Please let me in.”

Your stomach lurched.

You hated that you sat up, lethargic body dragged behind your mind as you silently made your way to your front door; cold phone pressed to your ear. He was a warm light, you were like a late night moth - hearing the familiar hum of one John Price.

“I’ll do anything, love. Please.”

You stretched your arms as you stood on your tallest tip toes, it reminded you of spinning on your highest heels, just for him. You could remember his hands, gentle on your hand and waist as he had laughed deeply in that ballroom all those years ago. The way his touch never differed from anything gentle or soft, even as he held your hips in late nights, pulling loud moans and cries from you as he fucked you passionately. The way he whispered your name like gospel as you sobbed into his chest. It was impossible to forget what he’s done for you - and what actions he made that caused you pain.

He was made of a broken spotlight, his light reflected on you. Your mirror pieces had fell long ago, your fingers still bleed from picking up your shards, from pressing them into place so when he came around, you would reflect his slowly dimming light just like a mirror ball.

Your hand pulled open the door, gazing at the man you so painstakingly loved - face dirty, scarf disheveled around his neck, beanie snug on his head. You didn’t care that his rough hands gripped your hips, metaphorically pressing in the glass shards like always. He pulled you to him, your face landed in his scarf as he wrapped you in his freezing embrace. You moved to rest your chin on top of the scratchy wool, your lips right next to his ear.

“Are you hurt?”

He walked both of you into the apartment, skillfully kicking the door closed as he held you tighter. A fist on your lower back, a steel grip on your shoulder as his nose was firmly pressed into your (bonnet/hair). You could feel his chest, how it didn’t dare expand - he was holding his breath. As if he let you slip, that the mirrorball he adored would shatter into a thousand pieces. Your hand pushed into the back of his ribcage, moving in soothing circles.

“Breathe, John.”

You expected a harsh exhale, something loud in your ear, but all you received was a soft sigh through his nose. The freezing clothes that clung to him began to warm, his heartbeat erratic - you could feel it in his back, right behind his heart.

“Are you hurt?” You asked again.

He didn’t answer, silence was his weapon of choice now. He was full of words on the phone, telling you things you wished to hear earlier - oh shit, your phone. The phone you dropped on the floor before opening the door, hopefully it wasn’t broken. You had so many of him on there. So many photos of him hanging off your arm, lips pressed against your soft skin, eyes gazing lovingly at you.

“What do you need?”

You need me. I know you like the back of my hand.

That’s when he let go, pulling away from you to show fresh tears on his flushed face. Your eyes widened with concern, you tried to reach his face but his hands intercepted yours - holding them with a firm grip.

“I don’t need you to forgive me.” His voice was melancholy, a melody of grief and fear that you had never heard before. “I am an awful man. Rubbish. I hurt the one good thing in my life because I thought you hating me would be easier for me to die with.”

Your stomach coiled up into a knot, tight and uncomfortable.

Your fiancé held back a sob as he spoke, “I got hit. I almost died, all I could think about was how much you would hate yourself because I made you hate me. I don’t want that. I want to be by your side forever, I want you to put me in my place, I want you to take everything from me because I am not worthy of anything without you.” His hands squeezed yours. “I want to lay beside you for as long as I live. I want to only know you for the rest of my life. I want to do everything you ask of me.”

“What do you need, John?” Your voice softer than ever before.

He blinked away tears. “I need you to teach me how to truly be a better man. I need you to guide me. I need you to love me. I need you.”

You had told yourself a thousand times that he would never crawl on his knees to you, that his pride would destroy you, that he would never show weakness to you - but here he was. Showing his belly, giving you the chance to deliver the final blow.

You supposed he was waiting for it. Waiting for your teeth to sink in and rip him apart like a chew toy, scream at him until your voice ran hoarse, push him away until he fell onto his ass. But… you couldn’t. You were ready to walk away from him ten minutes ago, but now it’s… terrifying. Walking away from the one thing keeping you whole.

You squeezed his hands. “Marry me, John Price.”

His eyebrows furrowed, he was about to question you. But you spoke again. “Marry me today and show me that all that you said was a promise.”

He didn’t nod for long as he let go of your hands, grabbed your face and kissed you - pushing your head backwards as he pressed his entire body to you. You didn’t care anymore if he cut himself on your glass, you were sure he would fix the edge just to keep you happy.

Keep you spinning like his favorite mirrorball, shining just for him.

#lethalchiralium #keri writes #call of duty #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #john price x female reader #john price x f!reader #captain price #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain price x f!reader #captain john price x female reader #captain john price x f!reader

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teatreeoilll · 5 months

Text

Hollow (Gojo Satoru X Reader) - [Part I (RED)]

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w/c - 1.3k content - fem!reader, not proofread (I'm sorry it's just soo late rn), child!reader (in this part), horrible parenting, mild swearing I guess?

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When you were four years old, Gojo Satoru, despite being only two years older, looked at you for the first time with nothing but disdain in his cold blue eyes.

As a result, enraged by this look, you furrowed your brows, pointed a finger straight at his face, and fearlessly labeled him, "Asshole."

"Where'd you learn that word?" Your mother shrieked behind you as she yanked on your ear, twisting it enough for a sharp pain to follow suit. "You will apologize to the heir of the Gojo clan." She demanded through gritted teeth. "Right now, you hear me, brat?"

So you did, with your mother pushing your head down in a deep bow before the uninterested boy, ignoring how your tears stained the walkway leading to the Gojo estate. "I'm sorry," you sniffled, managing to raise your gaze just enough to see his indifferent expression mocking your suffering, causing you to mutter asshole over and over again under your breath.

Only two years later, your mother's relentless determination secured an invitation back to the Gojo estate. You resisted, knuckles turning white from clinging to the car door while your mother's patience wore thin, "You'll go in and make friends with him, you ungrateful child!"

Everything inside the estate was too grand, too expensive, and about as warm and welcoming as the glass of a museum display.

You sat and watched your mother's behavior change acutely in the presence of the older Gojos, engaging them in polite conversation over the dinner table while the heir himself caught your gaze, holding a boiling teapot in his hand.

Mesmerized, you watched as he poured a searing stream of tea over the back of his palm, the liquid slipping off like water off a duck's back, leaving no trace of damage or wetness on his hand.

Seeing this as a challenge, you grabbed another teapot from the table, tilting it hastily over your palm. A cry of pain tore through your lips as you hurled the teapot away, watching the porcelain shatter beneath your feet as you clutched onto the freshly forming burn.

"I am so sorry!" Your mother's muffled apologies filled the room, the size of it giving them a cathedral-sized echo. "Apologize." She ordered from beneath your feet, picking up the porcelain pieces while you stared blankly at the tea dripping between the wooden boards, wondering where it was going.

Your mother loomed over you in the kitchen, wrapping a bandage over your burn, "Why was I cursed with such a useless child? When will you understand it's for your own good? If they don't increase the funds for our company.." A defeated laugh came out of her mouth when you whinced at the tightening gauze. "What am I even explaining to you?"

"I don't know, mama."

"Listen, do you like your dresses?" And you nod obediently, thinking of the floral patterns on the fabrics in your closet, "Your shoes? Your food? The friends at your pompous school?"

"Pom-pous?" You mumble, trying to interpret what the word could mean.

"Do you?"

"I do." You concur, still not quite following.

"Then you'll be nice to that boy, do you understand? Smile when you see him, laugh when he says something funny; hell, do whatever he tells you to."

You sit back at the dinner table, moving the chair so roughly towards Satoru that his eyes narrow at the scraping sound it makes. You sit on the chair obediently, informing him proudly, "Mama told me to do whatever you tell me to."

"Your mama said that because she wants something from my parents." He announces, watching his parents get swallowed back into spewing pleasantries.

"M-hmm," you nod resolutely, "She says she wants an increase of fun." Satoru blinks slowly at your words, and you place your hands on your knees, directing a blank stare at the wall at the far end of the room.

A few minutes pass before the heir finally interrogates, "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what you want me to do."

"Alright," He pulls you by the sleeve away from the table, getting his parents' attention by merely standing up and their approval by lightly nodding his head. You throw a look at your mother, to which she smiles, mouthing 'good girl' before returning to her discourse.

"Where are we going?" You inquire. He had long since stopped tugging at your sleeve, but you followed him out of the estate like a lost puppy regardless, beginning to feel restless at the unfamiliar streets growing dark around you.

"To do something I want to do."

"Takahiro's Con-ve-ni-ence?" you read aloud the letters printed on the shop window, sending a puzzled stare to the boy next to you.

"You like sweets?" Satoru asks, the light from the shop window brightening only half his face; the shadows formed on the other half making him look severe.

You shake your head, "I like salty."

"Then you haven't tried enough sweets." The boy looked almost offended at the shake of your head. The thought of your mother's resentful look had passed through your mind, making you shudder.

"I like sweet."

"Is it sweet or salty then?" The boy furrowed his brows, already halfway through the door into the shop, "Never mind, just wait here."

You watched him through the transparent windows, disappearing into an aisle and reappearing from the other end. Time stretched out excruciatingly as you watched the strokes of the light from the store trying to push away the darkness of the buildings on the other side of the road.

"Girl," a voice muttered, "girl, girl, girl, girl," you swore you saw a twitching figure in a building's window. You looked around, making sure you were, in fact, the only girl in the vicinity.

You pointed a tiny finger at yourself, gazing straight at the window, mouthing, 'Me?'

"Yes, child." The voice wobbled, "Child, child, child."

You cough, your throat sore from the frosty air you'd breathed in while walking, "Do you need help?"

"Yes. Help. Help, help." The voice rasped, louder now. You squinted at the window, the figure still at the same spot, strange hands caressing the cold, slippery glass.

"Where are you?" The inside of the building was pitch black. The light from the shop failed to reach the large doorway, but you told yourself that you should be fine as long as you feel its presence at your back. "If it's dark, you sing, yes? Keeps them away, the bastards." You remember your mother's words, humming a tune under your breath.

"Help. Help. Help, child." But the stairs seem dangerous, and your throat is too sore to keep humming; an eerie gust of wind from a crack in the wall makes you fumble back a few steps before you thump on your behind. The presence draws in, a nightmarish being that engulfs the room whole, a hint of light reflecting on its sharpened teeth.

Footsteps. A pull on the collar of your shirt. A burning sensation on your thigh from grazing the floor. A harsh breath and a word; "Red."

"Red," the boy repeated, "red!" louder now, taking a spot before you, one arm extended before him, "red!" the scream is a desperate plea, "crap, get up!" He turns swiftly, still shaking his arm as if trying to rid it of a bug, "D'you want to be dinner?"

You shake your head, feeling your knees give in, too weak and trembling to hold an entire body, no matter how small. The being still looms over, feeding on the powerlessness to approach.

Satoru grabs your arm, pulling on it harshly to get you on your feet, and runs. You pass the doorway, catching a glimpse of a plastic bag lying outside the building, pieces of candy sprawled on the concrete around it. Your shoe sinks on a chocolate bar, flattening it; you almost lose your balance, close to slipping on the wrapper if not the iron grip on your arm.

Finally settled on a bench beneath a street lamp at the edge of the Gojo estate, you find the strength to inquire, "Your magic spell didn't work?"

Taken aback, Gojo grumbled, "Yeah, but I'll make it work, next time."

"Next time?" you wonder aloud, "Do you see monsters often?"

"Let's get inside, your mother must be worried."

You only see Gojo Satoru again seven years later.

#Gojo Satoru X reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk gojo

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princessbrunette · 6 months

Note

rafe with crybaby reader cause my heart 😍 shes real nervous to leave his room when she’s over even tho they’ve been together for ages but he’s tapping her butt and telling her to be a big girl and to do what she wants. so she goes to get water and little miss clumsy drops something and it breaks. maybe wards been having a bad week or smth so he comes out of his study and yells a little and she just cries her eyes out. rafe would loose his shit I know it ‼️

goddddd this !!!! i relate to this so hard bc i am a huge cry baby :( i don’t think ward would yell but i think he’d be an asshole in his own intimidating, highkey terrifying way.

you cringe as the glass shatters, eyes instantly welling up as you gasp — wanting to slap yourself. you’re a guest in the cameron’s home and you’re already messing things up and breaking things, how ungrateful could you be? almost instantly you hear quick and heavy footsteps, not rafes— no, he didn’t walk like that, you knew what his footsteps sounded like. this was ward.

he stands in the doorway, mouth agape a little, just staring at you like ‘seriously?’ and you wanna sink into the ground.

“i’m so sorry, mr cameron it was totally an accident. i’ll— i’ll buy a new—” you start, jumping into action by squatting and carefully trying to pick up the shards with your fingers. you knew it was dumb, but you panicked and wanted to make things right as quickly as possible.

“just— out of the way please. don’t touch it.” he holds up his hand, cutting you off making your mouth shut quickly. he used a very clipped tone with you, different from the usual welcoming and kind voice he spoke to you in. you stay quiet, stepping aside as you anxiously bite at your finger nail, watching him open a closet and pull out a broom.

you don’t know why, but even though you felt totally guilty you expected him to sweep it up— however he pins you with a stern gaze and holds the broom out. “c’mon, you’re gonna clean it up. okay?” his tone isn’t gentle, leaving no room for suggestion, more threatening if anything. you swallow, nodding frantically and take it from him, sweeping up.

he leans on the counter with his arms crossed watching you as you gather the shards. “you know, i welcomed you into my home sweetheart and this is just… you see how it might irritate me right? i’m not being unfair?” he tilts his head, gesturing that he wants you to look at him.

“no sir, i really really am sorry, i would never disrespec—” you will the tears to stay inside.

“its just… i’m having a rough day, i come home, i gotta listen to my son fucking you for what, an hour straight, with no regard for who might hear, and now i just wanna relax, and you’re smashing my good glasses in the kitchen. i don’t even really know why you were reaching for these glasses, honey, the regular glasses are right there like it’s common sense...” his voice doesn’t raise once, but your lip is wobbling, avoiding his eyes due to how stern and intimidating he was. you had no idea ward could be like this, he seemed so kind at first.

“respect is important, yeah? just try and remember.” he finishes up, running his hands under the tap before sparing you one last disapproving glance and walking to the kitchens exit. at once, rafe appears in the doorway in his sweatpants, coming to see what was taking so long. he glances at you with the broom, and then his dad, brows furrowing in confusion.

“whats going on?”

“just maybe teach your girlfriend some basic house training or respect rafe, i don’t know i’m tired…” he trails off, walking past his son back into the hallway. rafe is quick to react as usual, face screwing up in disgust and swivelling his whole body to follow his dad.

“excuse me? no, the fuck did you just say?” he asks, voice a little raised. you sigh, swiping your tears on the back of your wrists and pouring the shards into the bin before following.

“don’t make this a thing son, she broke my good glass so she’s cleaning it up, go to bed.” he waves him off but rafe storms infront of him.

“are you serious? she’s a guest in our home, what you — you’re always fuckin’ telling me to treat the guests with respect so what— the same doesn’t apply to my girl? fucking… apologise, now.” he demands, making his dad simply scoff. rafe didn’t didn’t like that. he stares him down, pushing his tongue into his cheek before flickering his eyes up at you. “go back to my room, baby i’ll be up soon. clearly i gotta have a conversation with my old man.” he drawls, eyes fixated back on his dads face, beaming with anger.

you do as he says, as always. the tears fall freely once you’re back in his room, sat on his bed, face in your hands sobbing and mewling. all you could do was curse yourself out internally. logically, you knew it was just a glass but it felt like a huge deal to you, never wanting to disrespect anyone let alone your boyfriends father. you hear the familiar footsteps of your boyfriend eventually, and you don’t even try to compose yourself— continuing to cry even when he opened the door and re entered.

he sighs, anger and sadness flooding him at the fact that his father had made his baby cry like this, so soon into knowing eachother. he watches you for a moment, trying to let the anger subside, itching his head before slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of the bed.

“i’m really, really sorry about that baby.” his voice is a warm comfort, slightly soothing your hurt.

“how have i already messed up so bad? he hates me now.” you whine and he shushes you with a frown, wrapping a strong arm around you to tuck your head beneath his chin, cheek to his chest.

“hey, hey, shh. my dads just an asshole… but he doesn’t hate you. he’s just having a bad day and decided to take it out on you for whatever fuckin’ reason. you’re all good. it’s just a glass, right? means nothin’.”

“it didn’t seem like it meant nothing to him.” you pull away to look at him, eyes watery and puffy bottom lip pouted. he sighs once more, both hands rising to wipe his thumbs beneath your eyes, caressing your cheeks.

“and like i said, he’s just an asshole. don’t let him get to you baby. yeah?”

you sniffle. “yeah.”

“good, show me that smile, c’mon.” a hand drops down to your waist, digging his fingers in a little, threatening to tickle. you can’t help it, even just a threat of a smile on rafes lips makes you grin, which only mirrors in his expression. “there y’go. that’s my big girl.”

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb

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flowerxbunnie · 6 months

Note

will you please write chris being a softie but also fucking you in the shower people don’t write about chris being soft enough!!!!

Steam

Chris x Fem reader

Warnings: fluff to smut, shower sex

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

The flannel sheets are tangled around us and I can feel the body heat emanating off of Chris. His hand strokes my hair as we lay facing each other, lazy smiles shared as we blink slowly and breathe in this moment.

Slow mornings with him are my favorite, he makes it feel like the weight of the world is gone. Like every breath is deep and satisfying. Everything is right.

“Your eyes are so beautiful,” he speaks in a low raspy voice still ridden with sleep.

I smile and press my lips against his as an unspoken thank you. He has morning breath, but I don’t even care.

His brown waves are messy and sticking out in every direction. His eyes are still puffy from waking and his cheeks are rosy. The sunlight coming in through the window illuminates every dip and crevice of his neck and collarbones. I can see his steady heartbeat pulsing in his neck.

His arm falls across my shoulder and he brushes my hair out of the way, his fingers tickling my back through the fabric of my sleep shirt. His eyes scan every inch of me, his pupils expanding as they roam from my face to my chest, and all the way to my arms to see the goosebumps that erupt under his touch.

“I wish we lived in the renaissance or whatever. I would learn to sculpt so I could carve you into marble.” He says while bringing his hand to brush up and down my arm.

“You.. learning to sculpt? I don’t think your attention span would allow that,” I giggle, turning over and pressing my back into his warm chest.

His arms wrap around me and his lips press a kiss into my hair before hovering over my ear. “I think I’d manage. Have you seen yourself?”

I blush and close my eyes, feeling comfort under his embrace with his breath fanning over my neck.

We spend what feels like an eternity tossing and turning in his bed. Hands roaming our bodies with a touch so light like we were made of glass, scared to shatter each other. Lips kissing whatever exposed skin we could find. Our love is tangible when we’re alone together.

Chris is always so gentle with me when nobody else is around. He has a way of making my heart swell with his words, something he keeps a secret from the world. With other people he makes himself out to be this silly boyfriend, poking fun at me, goofing off and posting ridiculous pictures of me on my birthday, telling everyone he still thinks “girls have cooties.”

But when we’re alone, he melts into the softest man I’ve ever known. He loves to be babied and cuddled, his head usually in my lap and my fingers in his hair. He whispers sweet nothings to me every morning, never letting me go a second without feeling the weight of his love. He would never tell anyone, but he bought his own camera to record snippets of our days on the beach, our hikes, our picnics at his favorite places.

We wake up a second time together after hearing footsteps shuffling on the top floor. Chris turns over to look at the clock on his nightstand, huffing as he stretches and plops his head back down onto his pillow.

“Guess it’s time to get ready for the day. Got tons of meetings later.” He says as he throws the blanket off of himself, sitting up and throwing his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Nooo, I need more of you before I have to go home,” I whine, reaching my arms out and opening and closing my hands.

“Nick and Matt are probably mad at me already, I bet they’re plotting to leave me here. As much as I’d love to rot in bed with you I really need to take a shower,” he says while digging through his drawers for boxers and socks.

I huff and pull the blanket up to my chin, watching as he moves to his closet and picks an outfit for the day. He opens the door to the bathroom and puts his stuff on the counter before walking back to my side of the bed. He leans down and grabs both of my cheeks in his hands before placing a kiss on my forehead.

“If you want to, you can shower with me?” he smiles with bright eyes and extends his hand to me.

“Hmm, fine. Fair enough.” I concede and grab his hand.

He pulls me to my feet and leads me to the bathroom, both of us squinting as I flip the bright light on. He takes his pajama pants and boxers off, tossing them in the hamper behind the door. I start to undo the buttons on my sleep shirt but his hands grasp mine and pull them away.

“Let me do it,” he whispers.

His slender fingers go slowly, carefully undoing each button as he goes lower. His eyes flick up to meet mine and I can’t help but blush. He returns his focus to his task and eventually finishes, standing back up and pushing the fabric off my shoulders. He slides my shorts down to the floor and picks both of them up to toss them in the hamper.

“I’ll wash them and get them back to you in tip top shape,” he smiles, “you can wear some of clothes home.”

I give him a nod and a smile and he opens the glass shower door, turning the knobs and checking the temperature of the water with his hand. He motions for me to step in first, so I scoot by him and gasp as the freezing water pelts against my skin.

“Oh shit baby, I’m so sorry!” He pushes me out of the way and lets the water hit him instead, turning the hot water knob to the right some more. “It felt warmer on my hands.”

“It’s okay Chrissy, just a little cold.” I say as my teeth begin to chatter softly.

He pulls me into his arms and rubs his hands up and down on my skin to warm me back up, letting the hot water fall onto the both of us. He places three soft kisses to the top of my head before pulling back and looking into my eyes.

“Can I wash your hair?” he asks sweetly.

“Mmm please,” I hum, "I love when you play with my hair.”

He reaches to the ledge on the wall and grabs my shampoo. He always makes sure to keep doubles of my favorite self care items at his house. I move my head under the water, letting it get soaked through as he pumps some of the apple scented shampoo into his hand.

He rubs his hands together to create a lather before motioning his head to tell me to turn around. I follow his instruction and face away from him, sighing as his fingertips begin to knead into my scalp. He massages the shampoo into my roots and scratches my head gently, leaving no spot untouched. I feel his hands gather the lengths of my hair and drag the shampoo down. He’s so attentive and knows I never put straight shampoo on my ends, only the leftover bubbles.

He tilts my head back so I’m looking up, making sure the water isn’t going into my face or eyes. He rinses my hair carefully, massaging my scalp again and wringing out the ends.

“Isn’t it hair mask day?” He asks while already grabbing the container.

I give a light chuckle and nod, appreciating how closely he pays attention to the little details that could so easily be forgotten. He unscrews the lid and dips his fingers into the product before replacing it and putting it back on the shelf. He rubs his hands together again and coats the ends of my hair in the deep conditioner, finger combing it to make sure it’s all coated before twisting my hair and putting it in the claw clip I leave in his shower.

“That good?” He asks as I turn around to face him again.

“Perfect, baby. My turn now.”

I reach around him and grab his sandalwood shampoo as he wets his own locks, hair sticking to his forehead before he shakes it out of his face. I stand on my tiptoes and reach up to rub the shampoo in. His hands ghost at my waist and move to grip my sides, holding me up and leaning his head down so it’s easier to reach.

“Let me rinse it so you can rest your legs,” he smiles as he releases his grip on me and brings his own hands up to his hair and washes it clean.

I grab the loofah that’s hanging on one of the knobs and coat it in body wash, lathering it and bringing it to Chris’s chest. I rub in circular motions and watch the soap glide down his stomach, parting ways as it travels down his v line. He throws his head back as I slide the loofah across his shoulders, allowing me access to his neck. He turns around and I scrub his back, appreciating the muscles in his shoulder blades that flex and stretch as he moves his arms around for me. He spins back around to grab the loofah from me and wash his own legs and feet before rinsing and hanging it back up.

“What, I don’t get lathered down?” I pout, wanting to feel the soft exfoliation of the loofah.

“Yeah, just wanna use my hands.” He shoots a small smirk my way and pumps some of the body wash into his right hand.

“Filthy boy!” I fake a gasp and can’t help but let a small giggle escape my mouth.

He doesn’t say a word, he just rubs his hands together and brings them to my shoulders, rubbing slow circles and lathering the soap onto my skin. His hands glide down my arms, following the trails of the hot water as it flows down to my fingers. He interlocks his fingers into mine, bringing them up and placing an individual kiss to the back of each hand as his blue eyes lock onto mine. His skin is pink from the water beating down on us, and I watch as droplets fall down from his hair onto his cheeks. The look in his eyes is dark but observant, as if he’s studying every pore on my skin.

His hands glide up and rub across my sternum, his gaze following every move he makes. He slips them down over my breasts and I suck in a breath, his rough palms making my nipples harden. He bites his lip as he kneads them, the soap lubricating his hands and making everything slippery.

He removes one hand and grabs the bottle of body wash, hovering it over my chest and pumping some out to land on my breasts.

“Mmm, I feel like I’ve seen this before,” he smirks at his own dirty words and rubs it in paying extra close attention to my nipples, pinching them between his fingers repeatedly.

“Chris..” I sigh out, grabbing onto his arms and squeezing, my body reacting to him just the way he likes.

“I know, I know. Shh..” he whispers, sliding his hands up to my neck and gliding them over both sides.

He brings his hands to the nape of my neck and uses his thumbs against my jaw to tilt my head back. His face inches closer and closer before he presses his forehead into mine, his small breaths heating my face up as his mouth hangs open slightly.

“I can’t help myself, Nick and Matt are gonna have to wait a little bit longer.” He says lowly before hovering his lips over mine, not touching them together yet.

Our lips are begging to collide, both of us sitting there panting into eachother’s mouths beneath the steam of the water. I wish that I could imprint this into my brain, two lovers aching for touch but having the willpower to savor the moment.

“Let them wait, then.” I say.

As soon as the last word leaves my mouth, I feel his hands pull me closer to him and his warm lips against my own. It’s a slow but hungry kiss, the sound of smacking lips and deep breaths echoing off the shower walls. His tongue swipes against my bottom lip and I open my mouth in return. He wastes no time plunging his tongue into my mouth to explore.

His big hands glide down my back and settle on my ass, squeezing it roughly before pulling me against his body. I feel his erection pressing against my stomach, a steady pulse flowing through it and beating into my skin. My core throbs and heats up in desperate need of this beautiful man in front of me.

His kisses trail from my mouth to my jaw, and each one feels like it’s branding me and burning to the bone. He goes lower, first softly kissing down my neck before sucking the tender skin on my collarbones. I let out a sigh, my body falling further into his as my muscle start to go weak.

“Such beautiful sounds, my favorite kind of music,” he whispers against my skin.

The soap now long gone, he licks at the water droplets on my chest, collecting them and slurping them into his mouth. He brings his face back up to mine, staring into my eyes and biting his lip.

“Suck me off, baby. Need to see my pretty girl on her knees.”

I drop down while gliding my hands down his wet body. His dick is at my eye level, and I lick a stripe from bottom to top with my hands on his thighs. He shudders his breath and throws his head back before looking back down at me again, reaching behind my head to take out my clip. My hair is cold as it falls down my back after being kept out of the water for so long. He notices and scoots us into a position where the water falls onto me.

I look up through my eyelashes as I place a slow kiss onto his tip, tasting the precum that had beaded up and licking it off my lips. I can’t help but let out a hum at the taste of him, perfectly salty and sweet. I take his head into my mouth and suck lightly, a groan escaping his lips as he finally gets to feel the warmth he’s been longing for.

“You look so beautiful with a cock in your mouth.” He says as he runs his thumb along my cheek. “Take it all baby.”

I grab onto his base and slowly take his length all the way in, my mouth filling with saliva as his head touches the back of my throat. His eyes flutter as he looks down at me, the most lustful but loving look on his face. I bob my head back and forth, taking him all the out and all the way back in, focusing on sucking extra hard on his sensitive tip.

He runs his fingers through my hair before wrapping the ends around his hands, holding my head still and slowly starts rocking his hips back and forth. A low moan sounds through the shower and he bites his lip harshly. I wrap a hand around his base, twisting my hand around him as he fucks into my mouth.

Seeing his face contort in pleasure and hearing the sounds as they fall past his lips has made me soaked, my pussy throbbing with need. I bring my hand down to my core and start rubbing small circles onto my clit, humming around his cock as pleasure starts coursing through my bloodstream. Chris looks down, his eyes widening and his thrusts getting sloppy at the sight.

“Look at that. My gorgeous girl touching herself with my dick in her throat. Fuck..”

I smile around him and continue pleasing myself as he pumps in and out of my mouth, his eyes flickering from my mouth to my hand. His dick starts throbbing and his hips start to betray him, his thrusts becoming uneven and sloppy before he pulls himself out of my mouth. He sighs loudly and rubs his tip against my lips a few times before grabbing my hands and helping me off my knees. He squats down and places a kiss onto each one, rubbing them to ease the ache of being on the hard shower floor.

He stands back up and immediately flips me to face the shower door, placing one hand on my upper back and one at the bottom, pushing my chest against the cold glass. He places a few kisses down my spine and I feel his hard length run back and forth across my ass. I let out a breath and put my hands against the glass, arching up as best as I can so he has better access to me.

“Can’t believe this pussy is all mine,” he whispers as he spreads me open and reveals my dripping core.

His head rubs against my clit before teasing at my entrance, and I instinctively push myself back, desperate to feel him inside of me. Without warning he shoves his hips forward and they slap against me as he bottoms out. We both moan out in pleasure as he fills me up perfectly, not a spot inside of me going untouched. He grips my hips so tightly I can feel his fingers wrapping around my hipbones.

“You like that, pretty girl? The way my cock fits in your pussy like we’re made for each other?” he questions between groans.

“F-fuck, I love it Chris.” I moan out, pressing the side of my face against the shower door.

I’m so turned on that I feel like I could cum just from him talking. He’s doing such filthy things to my body and speaking so dirty but somehow makes it feel so sweet.

His thrusts are deep and fast, hitting every sensitive spot like he’s committed them to memory. My mouth hangs open and I take deep breaths, my lungs filling up with the steam swirling in the air around us. I feel his left hand travel from my hip to my core, gliding across my skin effortlessly over the water. He uses his index and ring finger to search for my clit, pushing the pads of them down with delicious pressure as he continues fucking into me at an ungodly pace. I can’t help but cry out his name, my body becoming weak and my head swimming.

“Keep saying my name, mama. Fuck.. sounds so sweet coming from your mouth.”

“Chris… p-please Chris.. rub me. I need to cum.” I draw out in a whine.

He does just that, his fingers rubbing across my swollen clit as my stomach tightens and my body is begging to give in to my release. He brings his right hand to my breast to grope and massage it while his lips press sweet kisses onto the back of my neck. I feel his dick throbbing and his breath turns into pants and hushed curses.

“Come on baby, let go for me. Let me feel it.” He says in a strained voice as his thrusts become sloppy.

All the pressure that has built up in my core snaps as his words send me into my orgasm. I clench around his cock and ride through the waves of pleasure, repeating his name over and over like a record stuck on repeat. He continues his movements until he knows I’m done, and then he auickly pulls out and flips me around.

“Let me paint that pretty face.”

I drop to my knees and watch as he jerks himself with a tight grip, his mouth hanging open as he stares down at me. The muscles in his stomach contract as he starts pumping faster. He looks like a work of art, water gliding down his skin and hair as he inches himself closer to his climax.

I bat my eyes at him and open my mouth to let my tongue hang out, and he sucks in a breath before groaning and releasing his warm cum onto me. I feel the white strings falling onto my tongue, dripping down my neck and over my breasts, and splashing onto my forehead. He jerks until he’s too sensitive to keep going, and his body relaxes as he leans against the tile wall. His eyes run up and down my body and a smile breaks out across his face.

“Goddamn, I wish I had my camera. You look so fucking gorgeous covered in my cum.”

His words make my cheeks burn and I look away from him, but he hooks a finger under my chin and guides my face back up to meet his gaze.

“Let’s finish this shower before I get left at home and get in trouble,” he laughs and helps me stand.

I nod in agreement and we soap our own bodies down so we can finish quicker. Once we’re all rinsed and clean we hop out and dry off with our towels, stealing kisses every now and again as we get dressed. We quickly grab what we need before we have to go. We race up the stairs to the kitchen where we find Matt and Nick sitting at the table.

“God, about damn time. We’re gonna be so fucking late.” Nick sighs as he stands up from his seat.

“Sorry, slept in. The bed was too comfortable this morning.” Chris partially lies, we actually did sleep in a bit.

He shoots me a smug grin and places a kiss on my forehead as he pulls me into his warm embrace.

“Drive safe, princess. I’ll let you know when we’re done for the day and we can plan a movie night, sound good?” He asks, his voice rumbling in my ear that’s placed against his chest.

“Sounds perfect.”

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