#and then suddenly someone tried to come in through the bathroom door

[ravenslvt]

fucking your ex boyfriend in the bathroom of a party.

☆ multiple x f!reader ☆

cw: smut, mirror sex, public sex, rough sex, hate sex (sort of), tension, alcohol, oral f! receiving, v fingering, spanking, pet names, praise, sex with feelings, unprotected sex

you don’t know how your bestfriend managed to rope you into coming to this party, all you did know is you wanted to get plastered while she found someone to hook up with.

you held onto her for dear life as you made your way through groups of people. mostly strangers, but you saw some familiar faces. you started to feel a bit nervous when you noticed some eyes roaming your outfit. maybe you should’ve worn a longer skirt…

your bestfriend’s eyes immediately spotted a pretty girl across the room, she gives you an apologetic smile. you roll your eyes.

“just go” you sigh. at least someone would be getting some action tonight. you make your way to the kitchen where there were bottles apon bottles layed out on the counter. you grab one of the disposable cups, pouring yourself a mixed drink before downing it. the liquor bringing a comforting burn down your throat.

suddenly, you felt a cold chill in the room. you look around, there were no windows or doors open. until finally, your eyes immediately draw to a pair of familiar ones. oh great, he’s walking over. you turn around, pretending you didn’t notice him, hoping he’ll walk past you.

“oh, c’mon. acting like you didn’t see me?” he leans against the counter next to you, a drink in his own hand. fuck, he still wore the same cologne. the smell almost made you dizzy. he was wearing an unfamiliar jacket, it looked new.

his name rolls off your tounge in a harsh greeting, taking another swig of your drink. he gives a lopsided smile. “still mad at me, pretty?” he takes your empty cup, refilling it for you the way he knew you always liked it. you give him a glare. he puts his arms up in defense. his body looked bigger, more defined. he was clearly working out more since you two broke up.

you snatched your cup back. if you were going to be forced into this conversation, you might as well be drunk.

“why are you here?” you ask, your eyes never leaving his own. he was drawing you in without even trying.

“i was invited. why are you here?” he pokes your shoulder with his pointer finger.

you just point to your best friend across the room, who was now making out with the cute girl from earlier. he huffs out a small chuckle. “that girl never rests, does she.” he comments. you just shake your head, “no she does not.” you sigh, another swig.

his eyes go back to you. more specifically, your outfit. you had a new top on, he’d never seen it before. he’d have remembered seeing such a pretty shirt on you before. and of course, you wore your favorite mini skirt. the one he always loved you wearing.

“this is cute, wear this for me hmm?” he smirks, his fingers playing with the bottom hem of the skirt. you swat his hand. he was the one who bought it for you. almost fucking you in the dressing room when you tried it on after doing a little spin for him.

“no… i just had nothing else to wear.” your face flushes. you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from the fact you were both thinking about the times you’d sit on his lap in this skirt, panties off while you bounced on his cock.

god, he loved that skirt.

you could feel yourself clench around nothing just thinking about it. he gets a little closer when he notices your flushed state, his fingers drumming against the table filled with alcohol. his damned fingers that knew every part of your body.

ok, you were definitely a little drunk, or maybe you were just stupid.

your back slams against the door of the bathroom, the blasting music muffled from the small enclosed room.

your lips met in a hungry, bruising kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. his large hands gripped your waist, your head forced against the wood. he moves one of his hands to shove between your thighs under your skirt, his fingers digging into your panties, making you whine into his mouth when he pinches your clit.

“fuck, this wet already? missed me that much, sweetheart?” he mumbles into your mouth, pulling away to pull the flimsy fabric down your legs with his free hand. of course you wore your favorite panties, the ones he bought especially for you. the sight made him groan.

“i’m not your-“

“i wasn’t talking to you.” he stares directly at your slick pussy. great, now he was talking straight to your cunt.

you look at him with glossy eyes as he kneels down, kissing down your thighs. you hook your fingers into the waistband of your skirt, but he gives your thigh a slap. “keep it on. i wanna see you get fucked in this pretty little skirt again.” he practically growls as he gives your thighs a few more kisses and bites, marking you up.

“want everyone to see you still belong to me.” he sucks marks into your upper thighs, placing a few where your little skirt couldn’t cover.

you mewl his name when his tounge delves into your sopping pussy, his fingers pulling your folds apart to get more access. your hands grip his hair for some stability as he laps you, his tounge switching from flicking your sensitive clit to prodding at your tight hole.

he replaces his mouth with his fingers, pumping two into your cunt as he suctions his lips onto your bud, making you bite your lip to prevent yourself from screaming out, almost drawing blood.

“fuckk!” his long fingers hit deep inside of you, his digits shifting between thrusts and curling inside. your legs shook, hands gripping his hair for dear life. giving him a particularly hard tug, he groans into your cunt, the vibrations making you let out a moan.

the mixture of stimulations had you on the edge, he knew you were about to cum.

time almost seems to slow as he feels you clench around his fingers, your eyes flutter shut, gripping his hair for dear life as pools of fire seep low in your abdomen. his fingers continue to pump into you as you cum, wetness dripping down his chin and wrist.

it was probably obvious you hadn’t fucked anyone since you two broke up the way your pussy responded so well to him.

still, he doesn’t pull away, addicted to the taste of you. he was completely lost in your cunt until you pushed at his head, whining his name. he reluctantly pulls away, giving your cute clit a few more kisses before parting.

you both pant, his face glistening in your slick. you almost moan at the sight.

“you taste even better than i remember, baby.” his hands sooth down your thighs.

“don’t call me that.” you heavily breathe. he just chuckles, standing up. his firm hands grab your ass, giving it a firm smack, making you yelp.

“face the mirror. wanna watch you take my dick.” he pats your hip, encouraging you. you obligated, finally seeing yourself in the mirror. your lip gloss was completely smeared, making you pout a little. until your ex boyfriend comes up behind you, his hard on pressing against your ass. his hand wrapped around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder as your eyes meet in the reflection.

his other hand reaches to wipe the smeared lip gloss, cleaning it up for you. his fingers tap your lips impatiently, seeking enterence. your eyes never broke contact. you open your pretty little mouth, his two fingers sliding in. you groaned as you tasted yourself on them. he grinded himself against your rear, hiking your skirt above your hips.

“gonna let me fuck this messy pussy?” his fingers enter deeper into your mouth, almost making you choke. you nod, swirling your tounge around his digets.

“mhmph” you mumble around them.

“gotta tell me how much you missed me first.” he teases, removing his fingers to slowly undo the button of his pants. you roll your eyes.

“just fuck me-“

smack

your ass stings, you were sure there was gonna be a red mark the size of his hand. you whimper.

“what was that, pretty? use your words.” he purred into your ear, biting your earlobe gently, nibbling marks down your sensitive neck.

“fuck, i missed you so much, i need your cock so bad-“ you whine his name. “-i touch myself thinking about it- but nothing is as good as you.” you shamelessly confess, a smirk growing on his smug fucking face.

“good fucking girl.” he growls, taking his raging cock out from his briefs, his hand pressing down on your back so you bend over the sink to give him easier access.

you mewled as his leaking tip pokes through your enterence.

he slowly sheathes himself in, savoring the feeling of your hot walls contracting needfully around his cock. “god, it’s been so fucking long. it’s like she’s sucking me in.”

your fingers gripped the counter in front of you, your eyes focusing on his own. the way his face scrunched once he was burried balls deep inside of you. his deep breaths, the way his hair slightly stuck to his forehead from how much he was sweating.

you’re about to speak, but your words turn into moans of his name as he thrusts in and out of you, his hips slapping against your ass. your head rolls down to rest against your arms on the counter, but he doesn’t allow that.

his hand that isn’t wrapped around your waist goes to grip your throat, pulling you back against his chest.

“watch yourself get fucked by your future husband.” he grunts, his thighs burning from all the rutting, but he’d feel that pain forever if it meant he could be able to fuck you like this again.

you watch as your tits bounce through your shirt in the mirror, drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. the mirror was big enough that you could see his dick pumping into you. obscenely wet sounds coming from where you two meet.

“o-oh fuck, feels s’good, don’t stop!” you moan out, staring at him in the reflection. he was so focused on the way you felt around him, he had almost forgotten you two broke up.

“oh god, baby. i fuckin' love you, need your pussy every day, can’t live without it.” he bites your shoulder, hard, making you groan. his hand moving from your throat to grope your tits through your top. his hips only slapped into you harder and harder, your vision going blurry when the head of his cock hits your soft spot. you let out chants of his name, your arms reaching back to grip his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

you stared at yourself in the mirror. the way he slid in and out of you with ease made you squeeze around him, prompting a groan from him. your hair was out of place from his rough treatment, marks down your neck and thighs. you couldn’t even think about having to explain this to your friends later.

“squeezing me so good. so perfect for me. gonna let me fill you up, hmm? walk around with my cum dripping out of you, let everyone know you’re fucking mine.” he thrusts with a bruising pace, your whole body rocking with the rolls of his hips.

“p-please yes! need it so bad!” your mind starts to blank, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pulsing inside of you, threatening to spill at any minute.

“touch yourself, baby.” he pants, his thrusts getting sloppier. he was so close, but there was no way he was going to cum before you. you nod, bringing a shaky hand to your ruined pussy, rubbing and pinching your clit the way you liked it. your mouth fell open at the overwhelming pleasure taking over.

“m’gonna cumm!” you whine until the only thing you can say is his name, over and over. just how he always loved it. he whispers dirty praises into your ear, talking you off the ledge. you force your eyes to stay on his own in the mirror. you hated how fucking hot he was.

waves of intense heated pleasure start to roll over you, moaning as your vision gets blurry with tears of ecstasy. “s’good!” you scream, tightening around him, making it hard for him to move. he curses as you grip his cock so tightly, milking him so hard he cums inside of you.

you pant as his thrusts get lazy and eventually slow to a halt. he didn’t want to pull out, but he knew he couldn’t just stay in here with you forever, no matter how much he wanted to.

he pulls out hesitantly, the mixture of your release dripping out of you making him let out a harsh breath.

you finally come down from your orgasm, completely fucked out. oh how much you missed his cock. and him too you guess.

he turns you around, giving your cheeks kisses before enveloping his mouth with your own. your tounges gently roll over eachothers, contrasting in comparison to how he was just fucking your brains out.

your phone lights up on the counter with a text from your bestfriend. you squint, reading the message.

‘bitch i’m leaving. don’t think i didn’t see you guys btw -_-‘

he wraps his arms around your middle, seeing the message.

“gonna come home with me?” he leaves even more love bites down your neck, making you sigh.

“…yea”

GETO, gojo, SUNA, atsumu, leon kennedy, toji, kuroo, dick grayson (sorry not sorry), your fav ;)

masterlist

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, domestic violence, abuse, suicidal ideations, suicide attempts, accidental murder, death

gn reader

You should have never fallen in love with someone so brash, but you like seeing the good in people much to the abuse of your own. Still, rough around the edges as he was, you’d never thought he’d become such a monster.

The first time he slapped you, you were so shocked you’d ended up the one who apologized—all the way convinced you must have deserved it. And ever since then, you’ve only accumulated more bruises in areas you can’t explain.

You’re in the bathroom now. The door’s locked, but you don’t think it’ll keep him out for long.

“Open the door, babe—I didn’t mean it.”

You don’t even know if he has himself convinced of that or if he’s just saying it to soothe you. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that your wrist and rib are broken. You’re so terrified you think you might end up dying from the fear alone, sitting in the bathtub just waiting for the inevitable.

You don’t have a phone—it was taken when an old boyfriend had texted. You’d share his from then on, he said—better that way so he can keep track of you. It’s strange, but somehow, you believed it was rather romantic. 

You were going to leave this time. It would be so simple. He was at work, and you’d just leave everything and walk right out the door. But there was an incident at the office which made him come home early only to catch you red-handed heading out the door you know you’re not supposed to open without him.

You’d been so panicked you’d tried running—but there was really no chance. His arms caught you hard, and the floor he threw you back on met you even harder—hence the snapped bones.

Still, you’d managed to scramble to the bathroom with just enough time to lock it behind you.

And now you were left all out of options.

“Open the door, we’ll talk. Maybe I misunderstood.” His voice had calmed down now. He’d been at it for a while—he sounded more airy, teetering on frantic, and it only served to scare you even more. “I know it can get pretty cramped in ‘ere all alone. Maybe you were just getting some fresh air, is all?” He left the question a couple of seconds worth of breath before sending his fist into the door. “Come on, answer me!”

You were sobbing. He might actually kill you this time. God knows you’ve thought he would other times with both his hands wrapped tight around your throat, stringing you up, making you lose voice for days.

You thought about it—the razor blades in the drawer. It seemed like the only option left. Better you than him, right? He’d make it painful. Or worse, he might not go through with it at all, and you’d be stuck living with him forever.

That really did seem worse than death, you thought, sitting on the floor while holding the shiny metal piece to your wrist. Which way was best to cut again? Right. It’ll be quick, and then it’ll be over.

You don’t even hear the door breaking down before he’s on you. You don’t even realize you’ve cut before you see the red. You don’t even know whose blood it is before he gags on it—before it splutters from his mouth upon your face and the slice on his neck splits upon and gushes out like a waterfall all over your clothes.

He drops to the floor with a heavy thud a moment later.

The blood is so warm you don’t even understand how he’s dead.

You even think about stopping the bleeding for a moment, but then it suddenly settles. And then along, shortly after, the understanding that you’d killed him.

The razor hits the bloody tiles with no sound—it’s all so thick it splats before sinking, disappearing slowly. You swallow once, but you’re throat is all but dry. Even the tears had stopped in the shock.

You spot the phone on the floor, having slid from his pocket—moments away from drowning in the blood that seems to just continue seeping and spreading forever. Something within you grabs it before it can.

“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”

“Hi! Uhm… I’ve just killed my boyfriend.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Enji, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ DS – Akaza, Inosuke, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[chatsukimi]

ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

gojo satoru rarely takes his glasses off. in his own world of infinity, you suppose real life is somewhat boring.

you couldn't be more wrong.

you're sitting across from gojo, a jacuzzi separating you. he has dipped his feet into the pool of clear water, the ripples cascading to your legs. noticing them, he looks up.

the first thing he thinks is woah.

the sight of you in a bathing suit stuns him temporarily, his heart clattering faster. but he musters up a cocky smile before strolling forward, putting on his black sunglasses, imitating one of those old men in sunnies staring down at you.

"arrived early, did we?"

you hum, craning your head up. your hand finds his neck, pulling his lips onto yours with a smile.

"you got me." your fingers catch his lightless specs and pull them from his ears. "let me see you."

you don't know what you're doing to him right now. he chuckles, rubbing his nape with a hint of awkwardness, when all he wants to do is take you in right there. he's never been in a relationship before, so he doesn't know if he can check you out so freely.

"you miss me so much?" he teases, though on the inside he's screaming.

goddammit, why did you take his glasses? he forces his gaze on your face- breathtaking, yes, but hardly the only thing that's begging his attention. he tries to keep his stare minimal, yet his lips part unconsciously. he stares at the only partial alternative to satiating his want: your lips.

noticing your boyfriend's gaze, a devilish idea pops into your head.

after geto and shoko arrive, the four of you talk casually in the relaxing hot water. gojo resumes his usual cocky self. an hour or so passes before you decide to switch to the living room.

"gojo, do you know where's the bathroom? i wanna shower."

wet feet plopping in tow through the winding hallways, you feel his gaze boring into the back of your skull. but as you enter, he stops by the door. you turn around, feigning oblivious.

"can you grab me a towel?"

ever eager to please, gojo quickly strides down the hallway for a towel, while you strip and enter the shower. when he comes back, listening to the sound of water, he waits by the door.

"gojo, pass the towel," you call.

he's so glad you don't have the six eyes right now, because he can feel his cursed energy spiralling. "w-what?"

"i said, pass me the towel."

his eyes widen. hovering over the doorknob, he swallows his other thoughts, shuffling into the bathroom, one feet after another, gaze pasted onto the floor.

your hand comes out, waving as though you have no idea where he is. he shoves the object into your hand before you step out, towel wrapped around you. with that, he immediately turns to leave, but not before noticing the devious little smile on your lips, possibly from his reaction.

fuck him, he thinks.

suddenly fingers enclose on his wrist, his limitless shut off from the distraction.

"can you dry my hair?" you say, polite, and in that soft tone you know he can't say no to.

his hands stagger over your head, gripping another towel, drying this part then the next. clunky. he's never touched someone else much before, and it shows.

what entertains you most, however, is the way he's forcing his eyes on his hand and nowhere else, focusing like it's his lifetime.

"done," he mumbles.

at last, you look up at him. he's wearing an uncharacteristically stern face, clearly holding himself back.

you ask, "do you want to say something?"

fuck. him. he lets out a shallow breath. how could you stand there batting your lashes like nothing's wrong, when you're making his hands run over you, yet not in the way he wants to.

"you demon woman. you know what you're doing."

you appear to be pondering, too, what you might be thinking. one of your hands tap at his chest, the space above his heart.

"tell me. what am i doing?"

his hand holds yours, keeping it against him. "you're tempting me."

you tilt your head to the side and you swear, he chokes a little. "and who's holding back, hmmm?"

...

2 years later

"gojo satoru, where have you put my towel??" your voice screeches from the shower.

leaning beside the bathroom door, the most annoyingly handsome man croons, "i've got it right here."

"give it to me. right now."

he shakes his head to himself. you still haven't learnt your lesson, it seems. he saunters over to the shower with the fluffy white towel in his grip. your hand pokes out. he clicks his tongue.

"baby, come on out."

an automatic groan claws its way from your throat and he chuckles, finding part of your unspoken shyness endearing.

"it's nothing that i haven't seen before," he adds, as though that'll make it better.

you feel your cheeks grow hot even with the excess steam. you know if he wanted to, he could step right into the shower and join you, but satoru seems to be in a lighter mood today.

regardless, you don't anticipate the effortless way the towel encases you as you step out. he wraps the cloth around you with care, the motion simultaneously tugging you closer to him. you let out a small gasp in comfort. to that, he snickers quietly by your ear, which provokes a half scowl from you. you look like a bunny in that oversized thing.

you mutter under your breath, "how did i get stuck with you..?"

he hums in response. "you're just too lucky."

he uses another towel to dry your hair. a thought courses through your brain- it's not like it matters much, but gojo satoru is really good at what he does. once he has experience in something, it's like the talent in his body simply activates, and the smooth sensation on your scalp dissipates.

this time, however, he doesn't announce his completion. instead, he tugs you casually against his chest. his hand skilfully cups your jaw, holding your gaze against his.

it's unfair, how the sight of his blue eyes send a seering level of need into your system. your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself and the towel begins to fall.

"wanna see you," he says, his stare roaming over you, unabashedly ravenous.

and finally, with experience, he does.

[last-starry-sky]

let it out pt. 1 - 141xreader

(aka - the unhinged fivesome fic i've had cooking for ages and decided to finish for my stupid mental health)

[NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS - MDNI: 4.9k, alcohol/drinking mention, implied past misogyny, smoking mention, everything from here on is dub-con (this is your only warning): kissing, nipple-play, biting, dry humping, mmmf foursome (sorry, someone gets left out in this part 😔), also, possibly the worst cliffhanger i've ever left a chapter on.]

You knew you should have locked the door.

“What in the hell’s gotten into you?” Soap shouted, more drunk than loud, blowing right through the door. Didn’t even bother to knock. 

Not that it mattered. The room was still mostly empty, with only your duffel thrown in the corner to mark it as any different from the hundreds of others. If you were lucky, you would all be leaving again in a few hours, and this ugly, anonymous, concrete box of a base in the middle-of-nowhere would be nothing but a hazy memory. One in a long string of others that would soon fade back into nothing. A boring footnote at the end of a frustrating mission.

You sighed as you rolled to face him. You had been staring at the ceiling on your shitty little bed, arms crossed and still fully clothed, minus your boots. Those you’d kicked off once you’d returned to “your” room, letting them crash into the corner not caring what they took with them. You’d thrown yourself down onto the thin mattress with a huff, intent on stewing in your anger for the rest of the night. Maybe in the morning you would be able to face your “teammates” with more than a forced smile. 

Soap stood over you, hands on his hips, dark eyebrows pushing a thick crease into the center of his forehead. His cheeks were still slightly blushed from the first few rounds of celebratory, post-mission drinks with the team. The ones you had just skipped out on. 

What should have been a relaxing evening to bond with your teammates had felt like a joke. You had quietly sat at the table with the four other men, sipping your beer while they laughed and animatedly told stories. Soap had even thrown his arm around you more than once, usually at the point his story where you had tried to do something. Tried.

“Can’t leave out the part with Medic!” he had said, “She’s the only reason any ov’ us made it out in one piece!” 

You’d answered his friendliness with a terse, cold smile. It’s like he had gone on a completely different mission from you. You’d made an excuse to visit the bathroom while Price and Gaz had gone out for a smoke, making a break for your room.  

“Nothing,” you lied, jaw tight. The short nails digging into your skin as you turned away. “I’m fine. Just don’t feel like drinks tonight.”

“Ah, you’re a shit liar, Medic,” he said, a playful edge to his harsh tone, as he pointed at you. He moved to the side of your bed, his blue eyes able to keep boring down into you. 

You chose ignore him, rolling over to your back to stare at the ceiling again. Fuck him. He didn’t outrank you. He let out a frustrated huff and sat down on your bed. The frame creaked loudly as he did, rolling you suddenly against as his weight dipped the mattress. 

“Come on, Medic. Talk t’ me,” he pleaded, his voice low and soft. The crease in his forehead remained. “You’re not acting like yourself. What’s wrong?” 

“Don’t know, Soap,” you said letting out a breath as you continued staring at the water marks in the tiles above you. Anything to keep your eyes from wandering to his face. Those sad, puppy-dog eyes of his would have cracked your resolve instantly and you knew it. “Just don’t understand why I was even needed on that mission.”

His concerned face came into view as he leaned over you. 

“The fuck you mean by that?”

You sat up and backed away, averting your gaze pointedly away from him as you pulled your knees to your chest. You didn’t want the image of him hovering over you to get too comfortable in your head. Thankfully, he moved to let you sit up. You were over your little pity party anyway. You were ready to talk like an adult. 

“Don’t act stupid, Soap,” you said softly with just a little bit of petulance left in your tone. “All four of you did the same thing all mission.” 

While he continued to stare at you: open mouthed and confused, you moved, throwing your legs over the side of the bed to sit at his side. You tried to put some distance between the two of you, but you had scant room left as he was already in the middle of your tiny mattress. It forced you to press your knees and thighs to his. You could feel his warmth bleed through his jeans. How that man could run so warm was a medical mystery, one that made you shiver. 

“What?” he asked, turning to you with eyebrows raised, all the more concerned. “Wha’d we do?” 

You rolled your eyes and shot an exasperated look his way. How could he be so dense? Did he not even realize how the whole team had been treating you for the past month? 

“What did you do?” you answered him mockingly. “You spent the whole mission making me feel useless! Anytime any of you got injured you were pushing me away! Me!” you said pointing at your chest. “I’m a medic, Soap! Your medic. That’s the whole reason I’m here! I’ve been doing this job for years! I’ve been on multiple special forces teams before this. What more do I have to do to prove to you I can do my job?” 

Soap was silent, which concerned you. He stared down at his hands between his legs. You could feel he was holding something back, something he didn’t want to tell you. A tear rolled down your cheek. You had a feeling you knew what the root of the problem was.  

“Is it . . . is it because I’m a woman? Is that why?” you asked, wiping at your eyes. It was painful to even say it. You’d faced this before, you weren’t stupid. Some, no, scratch that most, teams were a boys only club, and you just had to grit your teeth through it until you were reassigned. “You know, if you want a man-”

“No!” he yelled, interrupted you, grabbing for your hand as you wiped away your tears. You snatched it out of his involuntarily. 

“Then what is it?” you snapped back, still in no mood to dick around. If you needed to talk to Price and get your bag packed tonight, then so be it. You’d rather take care of this sooner than later. 

Soap wrapped his arms around you, surprising you. He held you to his chest for a moment, running his hands down your back. You tried to push yourself away, shoving at his unyielding stomach and squeaking out his name against his chest, all to no avail. He was just too strong. 

“Calm down, hen. Calm down. Don’t fight me,” he said softly in your ear. “Give me a chance to speak m’ piece, hear?” 

You complied with a groan, ceasing your struggle. This wasn’t professional, obviously, but you couldn’t find a reason to fight it anymore. You let him hold you for a moment, the constant thrum of his heart pounding in your ear. He was so warm too. You wished you could give in, just melt into the surrounding heat of his arms and chest. You knew it was just because you were stressed and hadn’t been touched in, fuck, it had to be months now, but still. 

“You’re right. Sorry. Sorry we treated you like that,” he confessed. 

His hands slid over your shoulders, releasing you from most of his steely grip. You didn’t try to wrench away this time, but you did rest your hands on his chest. The feel of his pectoral muscles, even though they were softened by the cotton of his shirt, made you tremble. This was terribly dangerous territory to be treading in. 

“Didn’t mean to. Honest. We’re all just . . .” he trailed off, letting his head cock to the side as he flexed his hands on your upper arms.

You pulled away, just enough to look up at his face. You didn’t want him to hide, not now. You were teammates after-all. You actually wanted to stay teammates for once, not get bounced from team to team, from one group of assholes to another every six months. The wear of never being able to put down roots, let alone connect to the humans you were keeping alive was starting to fray your psyche. Some days you felt like little more than a sentient med-bag. 

With the 141 though, it felt different. You didn’t want to lose that. You’ve been together through the standard life-and-death situations and made it out alive. You’d slept side by side in the gravel, shared cold MRE’s in the dark, even tended to each other’s wounds when they’d let you. There was no need for him to hide the truth from you. Besides, you’d been weak for Soap from the moment you met but managed to keep it professional, barely. You’re pretty sure the cocky bastard knows it too. As much as you wanted him, you valued your job and position over any selfish need for sexual fulfillment. 

“We’re scared shitless ‘a losing you,” he continued with a pained sigh, leaning in to press his lips to your eyebrow, strong, calloused hand gripping your bicep. 

Oh. His words made your brain flat-line. Well, you thought. This was . . . new? A team that actually cared about you?

His hand cupped your jaw; warm, rough fingers smoothing over your cheek and neck. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, partly from pleasure, partly to suppress any embarrassing noises. There was no way was this happening. 

“We all are,” he continued, warm breath fanning across your face. “Know you can handle yourself. It’s just . . . anytime it gets hot and we start getting hit, something in me . . . all of us . . . just wants to protect you.”

You smiled, lip falling out of the grip of your teeth. No one had ever said something so caring to you before, least of all a fellow soldier. 

“That’s a dumb fucking reason, Soap,” you said weakly back to him. 

You thumped a fist on his chest once, trying to cover your wavering voice and vulnerability with sarcasm. You wished he would take the bait like others had in the past, but he didn’t. He sat there in silence, still holding your face, waiting for you. You sighed as he pressed his hand to the small of your back. 

“Do you know how stressed out you guys made me?” you finally let out. Tears piqued in the corner of your eyes again, hazing your vision. “Like everyday? Your lives are in my hands and you wouldn’t-”

“I know,” he interrupted you with a groan, hand moving up your back to stroke at your neck. You sighed, leaning into his hand as he massaged you. “‘s not right. I’ll talk to the guys later about it, if you want. Doan think we don’t want you, because we do. Honest.” 

He looked down at you with those blue eyes, practically glowing with emotion, and . . . how can you refute him when you can read him so plainly? His eyes spoke sadness through that stare in a way that words failed. There was also something darker there: a drunken, feral hunger that’s blowing his pupils wide as he cradled your head. It’s eating those precious blue irises until there’s nothing left but a dark pit of lust. Your hand clutched tighter on his shirt, pulling the collar enough to reveal his collarbone. It’s a pit you’re both precipitously close to falling over.  

“I would . . . appreciate that,” you sighed as his thumb stroked over your cheek. 

You tried to keep your eyes on the scar on his chin, but it only drew you to his lips and that delicious dark stubble. He had been back on base for less than a day, but he still hadn’t shaved post-mission. You wondered if he had taken your half-joking comment about how men are more attractive with facial hair to heart. You broke your eyes away, not wanting to countenance that line of thought. At least not while he was still tenderly cradling your face. 

“Would rather be there to say it myself, though” you continued airily. 

Soap drew his fingers out over your face, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip. You let your eyes fall shut again despite yourself. You felt his hoppy breath waft over your face as he tightened his grip on the back of your neck. 

“Get it all out . . . in front of everyone,” you said, finishing your thought with a struggle.

“Yeah,” he said, his nose nudging yours. “Let it out.”

Before you can stop him - fuck, like you wanted to stop him now - he pulled you into his lap, slotting his mouth over yours for a kiss. There’s no warning. No gentleness or confessions. Shit like that fell fast to the wayside in the military. It had made you sad at first, the loss of intimacy inherent in building a romantic relationship, but fuck it. You need this. You give into his lead completely: the desperate way he forced himself into your mouth, all passion, teeth and tongue. You balled both your hands in his shirt and hold on for dear life.

He hummed, pleased with himself, as he broke away to kiss down your neck. You’re no better though. You’re moaning right along with him, telegraphing loud and clear how well he’s breaking you down, how much you want him. He doesn’t waste time as he sucks hickies onto your throat, rucking up your shirt to paw at your bra at the same time. Alone time is another one of those luxuries the military makes you ration: never knowing when someone will burst in the door to call you away. He’s obviously hungry to get your tits out and he’s not letting a second go to waste. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” a gruff voice said flatly behind you. 

Both you and Soap looked up in shock at the large, masked, black-clad figure filling your doorway. You didn’t even hear the door open. Wait, fuck, had Soap left it open this whole time? You tried to wriggle away, pushing at Soap’s shoulder, not wanting your Lieutenant of all people to see you like this: shirt half off, face flushed with fresh, wet bites coloring your neck. Soap held on to you though, his full strength holding you to his body as you tried to kick away. He simply tucked back into your neck, continuing to blindly unclasp your bra. 

“Medic’s stressed, LT. Wanna help?” Soap mumbled playfully, giving up on getting under your bra, switching instead to pulling your shirt up off your chest. 

Soap is putting you on display for your superior officer: a present with the wrapping peeled off the corner, just waiting to be torn in to, tempting the other man to join. Your eyes are wide, pleading silently with Ghost to take even the smallest amount of mercy on you. Your brain is racing to concoct some plausible story to get both you and Soap out of this mess with your jobs and it’s not looking good. 

Ghost continued to lean against the wall, arms crossed across that broad chest, masked face passively observing you and Soap without a hint of emotion. Soap managed to peel your shirt off of your chest, forcing your arms off of him for a moment to push it up. It’s Ghost, however, that grabs it from behind, guiding it up off your arms, tossing it behind him. It sends a shiver up your spine how silent he is. You didn’t hear him approach, but you can feel energy radiating off him as he stands behind you. 

Soap does away with your bra with those practiced, nimble hands of his once it’s exposed. Once you’re fully bare, he’s pushing you off his lap to kneel on the floor in front of you. You stare down at him as he kisses his way across your chest, his hands stroking up and down your ribs while pressing your breasts together at their peak, mostly so that you aren't forced to face Ghost in this state. A gasp catches in your throat as Soap finds his prize. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and you can’t help but screw your eyes shut and let out a high-pitched whine. You’re silently glad it wasn’t his name. 

You feel Ghost’s gloved hand scrape along the back of your neck: thumb on your spine, long fingers curled around your artery. Your skin prickles underneath it.

“Gotta plan, Johnny?” Ghost asks him, deep voice rumbling gravel-rough as he tests his fingers against your skin and you whimper. You know he’s strong. Know he can snap necks with those hands. You’ve seen it. Fuck if it isn’t making your pussy clench at how gentle he is, how rough he could be. 

“Fuck, LT. Stayin’ right here,” He says breathlessly, breaking away only long enough to answer your superior. 

Soap cups a breast in each hand, gently squeezing as he moves to lay an open mouthed kiss on your sternum. He tweaks your wet nipple with a moan, absorbed already in his own pleasure. Soap always was too loud. Too vocal. 

“Ain’t she fuckin’ beautiful, Ghost? Doan be shy. Join in.”

Ghost’s fingers flex on the back of your neck again, breaking your stare away from Soap as he works kisses over to your other breast. You weakly wrap your arms around Soap’s shoulders, finding comfort in holding him, something solid in this tumult you’ve been thrown into. He’s at least obvious with what he wants. Ghost is a variable, an unknown. You still aren’t sure what he’s going to do even as he closes his fingers deliciously around your throat; weak moans falling from your mouth. 

He could easily turn on his heel and have the both of you court marshaled by morning. You know it. You know he could read the fear in your eyes when you first saw him. He’s seen it before. It’s life and death. The fear of whatever decision he makes, it may change both Soap and your lives forever. His eyes are as dark and unreadable as Soap’s are bright and expressive. The flex of his gloved fingers on your neck and the subtle shift of his hips in his tac-pants makes you bite your lip. A swipe of his thumb over your lip, pulling it out from your teeth, tells you his decision without a word. 

That’s when Soap finally locked his lips around your other nipple. He sucked hard, teeth scraping over the sensitive bud. Ghost’s hands kept your head locked, eyes boring down into you, standing over you, keeping you beneath him, powerless. You closed your eyes, locked your fingers into Soap’s mohawk and moaned, throwing your head back as you let it out. 

Ghost let go of your head suddenly. He walked in awkwardly large steps around Soap as he rounded your bed. 

“Keep that mouth quiet then,” he said, an order to himself. “Can’t have the whole base showin’ up.”

You felt the mattress sink behind you a moment later, followed by Ghost snaking his arms around you. One hand on your stomach, one on your jaw, locking you in place. You shuddered, leaning into the cold, rough texture of the gloves on his hands. You could feel the buttons on his shirt as his chest pushed flush to your back. 

Fuck, he’s so big. So strong, you thought. Not that you had much time for that. The hand on your stomach left to pull up the bottom of his mask before quickly falling back in place, his other hand tilting your head back to slot his mouth over yours.

It sent your mind into another galaxy. This shouldn’t be happening, your closest teammates: Soap and Ghost, both pawing over your body, touching, kissing, pleasing you. You were all beyond unprofessional at this point. Never mind how much you’ve been fantasizing about this, about all of them. 

It had been a tortuous downward spiral ever since you swore you would be right behind them, ready at a moment's notice to put them back together, to put your own body on the line to save them. That was your promise, your personal mission: to get them home alive. You wondered if that was what triggered this protective attitude of theirs. Not that the in’s and out’s of how you all ended up like this really mattered. The reality of the situation was: If Price ever found out you were all dead.

Soap’s hands brace on both of your thighs as he begins to kiss down your torso, a new goal in mind. 

Ghost, your god damn lieutenant, of all people, always so cold and calculating. You felt he should have been the last person listening to Soap’s crazy ideas to crawl into your bed. He shouldn’t be holding you like a china doll, petting your face as he peppers gentle, unsure, little kisses over your lips. You shouldn’t be demurely shying away from the skin he’s revealing to you, but here you are. You lay your hand over his on your hip and he breaths a silent groan across your mouth. He just stays like that for a moment, holding and listening to you as Soap lays messy kisses south of your navel, tickling you with his head and facial hair. 

“Ghost,” you moan, gripping his gloved hand, hoping it goads him into what you want: kissing you deeper, as Soap pops open the fly of your pants.

It does. He obliges immediately, pushing himself into your mouth, swirling your tongue with his. Your cry covers his whine. It all feels too good, too much. The rain breaking loose over the parched desert soil. It didn’t matter anymore, the consequences. You just wanted this. You were ready to take as much as they could give until the flood swept you away. 

“Woah,” a familiar voice called from the door. 

Fuck. You know that voice. Gaz. 

Ghost’s hand on your jaw kept you from breaking away. He wasn’t done with you yet. You feel Soap turn away from working your pants off. The door creaks partially shut behind Gaz as he enters, sticky bottoms of his boots squeaking against the clean floor. 

“Came to check on Medic,” he continued, far too cool and collected. “See if she’s okay. Didn’t, ah. Didn’t expect this.” 

He isn’t backpedaling out of your room. He isn’t apologizing or telling the other men to break it up. Fuck, he’s walking farther in.

“Coam on in mate,” Soap said to Gaz cheerily, his accent slurring thick. “Workin’ on cheerin’ her up right now. Room ‘nough for all of us,”

Soap looked up at you, shit eating grin plastered across his face, as Ghost finally broke your kiss. He pulled down your zipper: hands slowly pushing away the fabric at your waist, peeling your fly open to reveal your underwear. 

You heard Gaz whistle as he walked up to the bed, just the same as Ghost had. Gaz hummed as he approached the three of you, stopping to observe like you were a blushing nude in a piece of art and not a human being. If Soap had been emotional in his approach, and Ghost had been careful, Gaz was hungry. He wasn’t interested in wasting time asking questions. He was here, this was happening, and that was all that mattered. 

“Where you want me?” he asked, eye flicking between Ghost and Soap. 

“Stayin’ right here, sergeant,” Ghost said against your lips, absently commanding the man. It should have concerned you how easily they talked about you like you weren’t even there.

“Can’t even steal a peck?” he said cheekily, leaning down so that the brim of his blue hat tickled your temple. 

“One,” Ghost said, releasing you with a growl.

Gaz’s hand gently turned your head toward him. You breathed a sigh as he leaned in to press your sensitive, kiss-bruised lips to his. He moved slowly and sweetly, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to test it, but never breaking away. Each of them kissed so differently and it drove you mad thinking that all of this had been right here just waiting for you. 

Ghost wasn’t one to wait for his turn. Your lips were his. He’d claimed them already, and Gaz, as much as he liked the man, was testing his limits. He pressed his face into the crane of your neck, mask jutting into your jaw awkwardly, sinking his teeth in to what skin he could reach. The first bite shocked you enough to make you pull away from Gaz with a gasp, leaving Gaz grinning at the man behind you. 

“Nice play,” he said nicely, smiling with his teeth barred. 

He knew it was better to play fair in a situation like this and let his superiors take the lead. They were his brothers, not his enemies, after all. Besides, you had so much more to offer him. Like those beautiful tits, nipples still shiny with Soap’s spit, just begging for attention. He took off his hat, tossing it around the metal post of your headboard, and set to work.

“Cheap though,” Soap mumbled against the skin of your hip. 

Ghost grunted in response, continuing his line of bites down your neck as you whined in his grasp. 

Gaz didn’t respond, or even seem to mind. He’s humming around your nipple, flicking his tongue across the very tip. A trail of sparks shoot up your spine. His fingers gently petted across your breast, squeezing with just a bit of pressure as he reached your nipple. 

You gritted your teeth together, suppressing a moan. With all three of them working together, it was just too much. If you didn’t stop yourself now, there was no telling what wanton, stupid things you would say.   

“Harder, Gaz,” Ghost commanded. His voice rough, breath hot and ragged down your neck. 

Gaz obeyed, teeth testing the nipple in his mouth, pinching the one in his hand. You bowed back as much as you could in Ghost’s grip, a whiny moan ripping from your throat. 

“Beautiful,” Soap whispered, nuzzling at your pussy through your pants. He cleared his throat. “LT. Need yer help ‘ere,” 

You feel Ghost lean over your shoulder, looking past your exposed body down to Soap between your trembling legs. Soap’s bright eyes avoid your pleasure-drunk gaze, focusing entirely on the massive man behind you. He cracks a wide smile as their eyes lock. 

“What y’ need, Johnny?” Ghost asked, his gloved hands gripping into the flesh of your torso. 

Soap dug his fingers into your cargo pants, his smile on the edge of manic. 

“Lift ‘er up. Get these off,” he answered, throat bobbing as he spoke with denial, anticipation, lust. 

“On three,” Ghost responded, wrapping both his strong arms around your chest, locking you into place. 

Gaz had only a moment to pull off you before the count began. When Ghost reached “one”, he lifted you off the bed easily, allowing Soap enough room to pull your pants down to your knees. 

Ghost set you down, this time onto his lap. You blushed and he groaned, realizing he was now holding you down with both hands against his brutally hard cock. 

Soap was already stripping your pants off fully, throwing them with a flutter behind his back. His eyes were blown wide, blue irises fully consumed by his pupils. His chest heaved, struggling to catch his breath, as he held your legs wide enough to push his way into the drenched gusset of your panties. 

“Fuck,” he said, running his thumb up the slick-soaked fabric. 

You turned your head out of the crook of Ghost’s shoulder, struggling in vain to catch your breath. Gaz was right there, unfortunately. He caught your lips again, pushing his tongue into your mouth to quiet your pitiful mewling as Ghost rolled his cock into the plush of your ass. Gaz’s  hands cupped your breasts again, grazing alternately at your nipples just enough to send that delicious tickle down your spine. 

Soap huffed a hot breath against your clothed cunt, making you shudder against the hands containing you. 

“Ca’ wait t’ taste that pussy,” Soap moaned, his nose grazing your clit through your panties as he pushed his face fully against your leaking core. 

Ghost groaned at Soap’s words, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You cried into Gaz’s mouth, making him break away. Ghost pulled away as well and looked over at Gaz. 

“Gaz,” Ghost asked, suddenly devoid of  emotion. 

“Hmm?” Gaz answered, looking away from you as he pet at your face, wiping away your tears. 

“When you left, where was Price?”

Gaz thought for a moment, pausing to look down at you with eyebrows knit together. 

“Cap? Not sure. After I left to find-”

“You just left him?” Ghost interrupted him tersely, leaning over into Gaz’s face, jostling you around like a doll. Soap grumbled as your pussy was wrenched away from him. Ghost wrapped a hand in Gaz’s collar to pull him close. 

“Yeah?” Gaz answered, nerves trembling his voice. “Why-”

“Because he knew I’d follow you here. Just like the rest of you did,” your Captain’s dull, almost disappointed voice answered from the dark just outside your door. 

A spike of fear shot down your spine. Oh, you were all so screwed. 

a/n: yes, part three of Girl's Night Out is still coming! consider this an extra anniversary treat dedicated to everyone who sent kind messages while I clawed my way out of this bout of depression. (✿◠‿◠) ❤️ part two to this thing . . . idk when y'all want it??

[entitled-fangirl]

It's like heaven.

Felix Catton x reader

SMUT

Summary: Felix can't keep his hands off his angel at the party. Smut later in the story.

Words: 1,676

Warnings: p in v, cursing, Oliver being a perv

Author's note: This is from an ask! Y'all are so creative, I love it!!!

Masterlist

18+ please!

.......................................................................

He was utterly speechless.

When he saw her, he was speechless.

She had wanted to surprise him, of course, shooing him from their bedroom when he was finished getting ready for the party so she could get dolled up.

Now, here she stood in a somewhat scandalous piece feeling beautiful, a halo placed on her head for the theme.

He simply stood in the doorway, his jaw dropped.

She saw him in the mirror, whipping around, "Felix! I said to wait until I was done!"

He shook out of his stupor, moving towards her with a smirk, "I forgot my angel wings but JESUS am I glad I came back." He placed his hands on her waist, "I mean, look at you, pretty girl…" His eyes held a look of admiration and lust. 

She stepped back with a giggle, "Not yet. I'm not done. Shoo, Lex…" She then turned around, moving back to finish her eyeliner in the mirror.

He pulled her towards him again, her back hitting his firm abs. His lips began to trace her neck as he looked at her in the mirror, mumbling, "…what is there left to finish, angel?"

She stood when she was satisfied with the eyeliner, turning around in his arms. "…just my shoes. And… I'm no angel."

He smirked leaning down to give a kiss, his voice a slight growl, "you're my angel."

The kiss was sweet and held a lot of emotion, considering how it was soon going to become something more. She pulled away, placing a hand on his chest, "…Lex."

He pulls away with a groan, "Forget the party, beautiful."

She laughs, "No! I got ready for this, Lex. Even if you don't like the birthday boy, we still have to go!"

He would always give in to her. 

He smiles, leaning in towards her again, hands beginning to wander before she stopped him, "What's going on with you tonight?"

"You're just so fucking pretty. My pretty angel. Can't keep my hands to myself."

She reaches down, taking her hand in his before she pulled him out of the bedroom and towards the party.

…

She was sat on Felix's lap when Oliver opened the door.

Felix was sitting on the small table of the overly-crowded bathroom, the pretty angel balanced on one of his thighs. He sighed when he saw Oliver.

"Felix, can I talk to you for one second?"

She looked at Felix to gauge his reaction, seeing that his eyebrows was slightly raised. He then ignores Oliver's question all together, lighting a cigarette, his other hand on his girl's thigh.

Oliver cleared his throat, "You can't ignore me forever."

He immediately rebutted, "I can try."

"Felix, we need to talk." When Felix didn't move, Oliver became insistent, "Felix, come on!"

He sighed, reaching up to place the cigarette between his angel's lips. She gladly accepts, "Look, man, I tried to be nice, but can you fuck off and bother somebody else?"

The others in the room chuckled at the interaction as they did lines off the table and floor.

Oliver stood in the doorway for a while in thought, his eyes now falling to the angel on Felix's lap. He observed her. Watched her watching him. He then turned, leaving the bathroom.

"Who was that?" Someone asked.

…

"C'mon, Lex. I wanna dance!"

She pulled him through the crowd by his hand, his wings getting hit as he passed by people, muttering quick apologies. 

"Yes, angel, yes. I'll dance with you. Anything to get you close to me."

The music was blaring, the lights overstimulating, but they didn't care. They were two college kids in love, and nothing would stop them.

He pulled her to him, their bodies pressed close together as they began to dance. 

A frown suddenly pulled to her face.

He leaned down, trying to whisper but having to yell to communicated, "Angel? Are you alright?"

She nods, her eyes staring at something in the distance. 

He turned, following her gaze.

Oliver sat at the sidelines, hoarding a bottle all to him, drinking his problem away.

But it wasn't working.

Because he wouldn't quit looking at them.

And now they noticed.

Felix frowned as well, leaning down to her once more, his eyes not leaving Oliver's, "Fuck him. Don't let him ruin this for us."

She turned back to look at him, "I don't know…"

He laughed, "You got all pretty for me, angel! Let me enjoy it for the night, yeah? No need to worry about what's tomorrow's problem!"

She nodded, letting him pull her back to him.

As his hands began to wander, so were his thoughts. 

God, she was pretty. He was blessed by the gods above for sending an angel so pure and kind as this one. His own little pretty girl. His pretty angel.

A song ended, and Felix reached down, grabbing her hand. He started to pull her away, and she wouldn't resist.

…

They walked out towards the maze, holding hands. They exchanged giggles as the alcohol kicked in. 

When they neared the entrance, she stopped, "Do you know what you're doing, Lex?"

He nodded, "'Course, angel. Wouldn't take you here if I didn't." He kissed her head, pulling her once again.

They both entered the maze, happy and in love.

What they didn't know, was that Oliver had entered too.

…

What felt like hours later, and too many turns to count, the two lovers were now in a passionate kiss, their hands wandering over each others bodies. 

He pulled away just enough to speak, "…you want me, angel?"

She nodded, "please…"

He pulled away completely, holding her jaw in his hand, a grin on his face, "I need to hear you say it."

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, her voice soft, "I want you, Felix. Please."

That was all he needed.

They began to pull at each other's clothes, anything that would separate the two from each other. 

She reached up to pull off her halo, but his hand grabbed her wrist, "Don't."

She smiled into the kiss, pulling at his tank top.

Now, maybe half dressed, Felix pulled her up on to the base of the statue, holding her in place. Their kiss never broke as he began to move his fingers further down her body.

Her mouth opened slightly in an intake of breath as his gently pressed a finger into her core.

He smiled, his voice soft, "You can take it, angel. Feels good, yeah?"

She could only let out a whimper as he began to gently pump it in and out of her.

He whispered in her ear the entire time, his voice slightly gravely with lust, "Good… doing so good… stretching you out for me, baby… sweet girl…"

When two fingers were added, she pushed her head into his shoulder to avoid making too much noise.

He found it all amusing, watching her eyes close in concentration as her throat made small noises in pleasure.

When she was finally considered ready by his standards, he gently pulled his cock out. It was already hard at this point. It had been almost the entire night after seeing her in the outfit. 

He grabbed at her jaw again, "You're very sure, angel?"

She was a begging mess, her mind already mush, "please, Lex. Make me feel good, please…"

He smiled, "Anything for my angel."

He gently pushed his cock into her, both letting out a small hiss. 

She grabbed his biceps tightly, her eyes strunched a bit, trying to relax herself. 

His hand were on the bottom of her thighs, giving himself leverage, "… doing so good for me…"

He stopped when he bottomed out, giving her a moment to collect herself and adjust. He used this moment to kiss her neck softly, "God, being in you is like heaven."

And he began to thrust.

She let out small, soft little grunts and moans, her hands moving over his body in search of where to find relief. One hand eventually found his hair, pulling slightly as he let out a small, "oh, fuck."

Only the sound of skin pressed against one another was heard throughout the heart of the maze. 

"You're my angel… such a pretty little angel, aren't you?"

She whimpered, his cock hitting her g spot just right. 

"You're gonna cum for me, aren't you… ugh… good girl… cum for me…"

Her voice was barely heard, "…Lex…."

He grinned, his lips still kissing at her neck, "C'mon, pretty girl. You can give me one-"

Oliver's voice came from the bushes where they entered, "Felix…"

Felix stopped, staring at his sweet little angel, whose eyes were wide with fear. He sighed, "Oh, Jesus Christ!" He pulled his pants back to their original position, zipping them up. He turned around, covering her body with himself, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you?"

She placed a hand on Felix's back, her head peering over his shoulder, "Were you spying on us?"

"No, I wasn't." He began to walk forward. 

Felix stood a bit taller, continuing to block Oliver's view. "Mate, let the fucking lady get dressed. You sick fuck."

Oliver held his hands up, turning himself around. 

Felix quickly turned, helping his angel get redressed. 

Once done, he pulled her to him, gently kissing the top of her head. He leaned towards her, whispering in her ear once more, "…go to the bedroom. I'll be there."

She nodded, her eyes filled slightly with tears. She walked forward, going to move past Oliver.

Oliver reached out a grabbed her wrist. He pulled her to him, "May want to fix that." He straightened the halo on her head, watching her nervous reaction, "Wouldn't want people to think you're naughty, do you?"

Felix stepped forward, his voice dark and threatening, "Oliver…"

Oliver let go of the girl, a slight smirk on his face. 

She left the maze to go to the bedroom, having no idea Felix would never see his angel again. 

........................................................

[zph]

he can’t sleep without you. | roommate!scara x gn!reader.

in which you are both are roommates (gasp). and he cannot seem to have a good’s night rest without your warmth.

notes: clingy scara!!, profanity, mutual pining, one mention of innuendo but still sfw, scara is sort of like a cat that waits outside of the bathroom door, not profread

roommate!scara small hcs: here | masterlist

For someone so adamant about getting all his 8 hours of sleep, he sure as hell was too willing to lose it so easily.

With one hand begrudgingly wiping away the drowsiness from his eyes, he clenches the blanket closer in the other, shivering as the breeze hits his puffed cheeks and loose top that he carelessly slipped into the night before.

Scaramouche felt the heaviness weighing on his movement; his hair was no doubt disheveled, and his dark circles were already starting to pull underneath his bottom eyelids. Miserably, he tried to run his fingers through the strands, only to struggle when he was met with a particular knot...

In other words, he felt like complete shit.

…

Just where are you right now?

Squinting at the faint light peering through the corridor, he hears nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and the shuffling of footsteps behind the bathroom door.

Tossing his legs over the edge of the mattress, he briefly weighed his options:

Either pass out on the cold, hard ground

Watch the lost hours take a toll on his plummeting mood as he waits for you.

Neither which seemed possible nor pleasant to him.

God, are those his only alternatives? He drags a hand down his face, slipping on some fuzzy cat sandals (a gift, courtesy of you after convincing him that it was well worth the price only to see him lap around rocking cute merch, much to your amusement).

And his mind reels back at the thought of you.

…

A normal and sane person wouldn’t limp his way out of the bedroom; a normal and sane person wouldn’t take the time dragging his dwindling patience and weary feet towards a conveniently placed bathroom door; a normal and sane person would instead, hog the blankets and fall back to sleep...

…

Despite this, Scaramouche found himself at the mercy of the blazing light at the aforementioned conveniently placed bathroom door.

He scoffs. ‘A normal and sane person.’

With his blanket draped across the wooden tiled floor, his hand dug out from under the duvet before landing swift knocks on the wood.

1 knock.

Then 2.

Then finally, 3.

Scaramouche clenches the makeshift coat closer, shivering as he shoots glares at the door.

“Are you done?” Scaramouche grumbled before plummeting his head onto the door itself; a sense of exasperation flowing through him and by god, he hoped you could sense his desperation too. “Come back to bed, it is too cold.” His sense of shame would come back in the morning once he was more lucid. But right now, he just wanted to sleep.

And unfortunately, he also wanted you.

—

It started as a simple movie night: hiding within the cozy sheet of a small blanket, huddling closer for warmth, pressing up so close against each other. Even with the screen blaring on his face, the clear exhaustion from a movie marathon, he still found comfort in the way your fingers gently roamed and traced down his back then up to brush the hair sticking out from his neck. While his head rested comfortably at your shoulder, humming slightly to the background static.

This was becoming a regular occurrence:

You suggest a movie after watching him fumble around with his work, eyes nearly drooping after painstakingly looking at a computer all day, with coffee prepared in those branded ‘Best Employe of the Year’ mugs his company loves parade around. With one quick glance at his sad form, you were already coaxing him onto the couch for ‘just a few minutes’ until suddenly, he was cozied in pajamas and the blanket wrapped around him like some sort of makeshift hostage situation.

More and more, until he finds himself cuddling close to your form, his arms wrapped under the fabric of your waist, and your leg lifted onto his hip.

More and more, until he is the one to instead force you out of your chair and into watching a horror movie with him, sliding snacks he knows you’ll indulge in when he doesn’t see.

More and more, until he feels you wrap the blanket around him the next day, gently whispering a quick ‘good morning’ before quickly making a beeline to the bathroom in order to prepare for work.

But in your absence, his hand reaches out after you, eyes flat on the door: a fleeting acknowledgment and the longing to get you back into his arms.

It was maddening.

..So, this was no different.

Another excuse to press close against each other; the cold chill from that busted heater leaving you to fend for yourself with the only pair of a heated blanket until the next morning—bringing you to offer another movie.

This time, childhood classics.

“You know, we should sleep together,” you suddenly say, the rumbling from your chest awakening him.

He pauses, his head lifting from his spot. “Excuse me?”

“Like bed-sharing. Cuddling. Horizontally lying on a mattress. Together. Ever heard of the concept?” you chuckled. “What were you thinking about?”

He makes a face. “Absolutely nothing.” And he turns on his side, his back to your chest, away from your stifling laughter. “…Why are even asking in the first place?” comes out after a moment.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the way you stretched your arms out to release some of the tension from your body, then leaned your head on his shoulder. “We’ve been doing this for a while, yeah? I don’t know, heater is still kinda busted and I kinda don’t want to be alone right now.”

There was an extended pause in his reply.

Truthfully, there were little reasons to hate the arrangement and even fewer reasons to refuse it. In fact, with the way your chin comfortably sits on his skin, his mind was reeling with warmth despite the bitter cold biting his skin.

“No worries, the deal is still on the table so don’t feel pressured,” you smile up at him, taking his silence as a refusal. “I can go out to get-“

Then he cuts you off, huffing with amusement. “Sure, do what you want.”

And he leaves it at that, already scooting closer to your chest and comfortably making room in your arms.

But soon, he feels you gently intertwine your hands together, pulling the back of his to your lips. With your eyes glinting with fondness, you breathe in. “Thanks.” and before he can react, you were already pressing your face into the curve of his neck, contentment rolling off on you in waves.

…You were maddening.

—

For a moment, there was no other sound except the hum of the air conditioner and the shuffling of footsteps behind the bathroom door. Scaramouche sighs.

From being habitually conditioned into only sleeping by your side, he finds that the aftermath led up to whatever state he is in right now.

3:12 am. He checks once more. You were taking long. He embraces the cool chill, the blanket already half shallowing his body at this point, spilling to the bottom like some coat.

He probably looks ridiculous standing in front of the bathroom, tapping his foot, impatiently waiting for your return.

Like a cat, he could hear you say.

And as if you heard his increasingly humbling pleas, before long, the door peers open, shedding light on his poor eyes and through his rather tense squinting. Barely stepping foot into the room, you jump at the sight of your roommate—who, he would have guessed from your dumbfounded gasp and prolonged stare, you weren’t expecting to be up at this hour.

“…How long were you standing there?”

He only regarded you with the tilt of his head, his eyes narrowed at your form. “Long enough.” he murmured.

With your eyes doused with concern, he watched as you took one step towards him, reaching out to tug his hand back into your room. “Sorry, had to use the bathroom.” That was until you seemed to catch the odd blush on his face, dimmed light exposing his visage. He could almost sense your glee the moment you decide you weren’t going to pity his poor self. “Did you miss me by chance?”

Firmly, he quickly tugs you closer, landing his head on your shoulder and pointedly ignoring your comment. “Just shit faster, I need to sleep.”

Scaramouche didn’t comment on how you sucked in a harsh breath, lips parting as he hugged you tighter. Buried into your neck, he fought the smile that crept up on his face and the raging heat coaling in his cheeks. He heard a soft laugh echo into the air before a lightweight softly hit his head, humming a gentle: “Missed you too.”

He wasn’t sure if it was pounding in his ears or the thumping of your heartbeat, but as your warmth wrapped around his cool body, his composure ever so slightly weakened and lulled into a quiet hum. Gathering all his aches in a single embrace, he can’t help but desperately tug onto your shirt, demanding a resemblance of dignity — only for it to fail terribly as he leaned in closer, his body already weak to the kisses you press against his temples.

And that was enough for him.

(That was enough for his mind to come to a rest.)

So yes, you were revolting in every sense of the word. And yet if he were to choose, Scaramouche would willingly suck up his pride than ever pull away from your warm embrace.

[wonijinjin]

in sickness and in health

author’s note: please take care of yourselves everyone! being sick is not fun. dedicating this to my dear @babyleostuff <3

synopsis: when you get food poisoning cheol is ready to sacrifice his night to take care of you.

word count: 1.0k | genre: fluff, comfort | pairing: cheol x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of throwing up, being sick, fever, exhaustion, bad mental health

it was around 12am when you realised something was wrong; you never really got sick, but you could feel it coming before it even happened; head pounding and shivers crawling up and down your spine, making you anxious. after a bit of panicking about why you felt this bad you calmed yourself down and went back to scrolling through social media on your phone, scared of waking and troubling the man next to you. seungcheol was already asleep by that time, being extremely tired from working since 3am, having been to several music show recordings and dance practices. you found him so peaceful as he slept and you were so glad to see him rest after many days of hard work. however as the minutes went by while looking at your phone you could sense an increasing nauseating feeling in your stomach, not being able to focus on the blogpost you were reading anymore, being too occupied with trying to make it stop and squirming under the blankets of your cozy king sized bed to make it more bearable. as if on cue to the peak of your struggles cheol stirred in his sleep next to your helpessly thrashing form, turning to you, his sleepy frame trying to process the cause of your distress. “what’s wrong, my love?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “don’t worry, nothing. go back to sleep.” you tried to sound as convincing as you could. he didn’t buy it. “love, i know something is up. tell me, please?” he begged, more alert when he saw how your protests were interrupted by a weak sob. “i think i am gonna throw up cheol.” you mumbled with a terrified look on your face, trying to stay perfectly still so your upset stomach could get some relief. seungcheol first thought that you were trying to pull a prank on him since you never got sick, but when he looked at your features closer he realised how pale you looked, and how sweat was glistening on your skin. “you sure? like right now?” he sat up in no time as the question left his mouth, ready to take you to the bathroom to let out whatever was making you feel so miserable. you didn’t have time to answer him whatsoever as you bolted towards the mentioned room, getting to the toilet just in time for the agonising pain and suffering of the next few hours to begin. in your hurry you had a hopeless attempt to lock the door in order to shut cheol out; you hated if he saw you in any other state than your most perfect one, if he saw your imperfections, how you felt unwell sometimes or how you struggled with life from time to time. he always scolded you for thinking this way, but you couldn’t stop it; you wanted to be his strong partner, someone who he could rely on whenever he needed to. “i am coming in.” you heard him say and suddenly you felt a warm hand on your back and another one taking your hair out of your sweaty face, snapping you out of your feverish daze. “i am here, you are okay, love. breathe for me please. that’s it, good. let it all out. don’t worry i am here.” you could hear cheol’s voice through your eardums, blood pumping in your veins with much more speed than ever. seungcheol held you close to him as you spat in the bowl one last time, making sure you were really done before placing you on his lap, your knees no longer hitting the cold tiles of the bathroom, only feeling his warmth surrounding you. “my poor baby.” his voice was low and hurt while he kissed your forehead, frowning upon sensing how your skin burned under his touch. “you are burning up. you definitely have a fever my dear.“ he announced, but you could barely register his voice and words; you were utterly drained, barely able to keep your head up straight.

cheol of course took note of this, gently guiding you to lean into him even more while he got comfortable on the floor, cradling you into his chest. “i know you don’t feel good my love. do you know how did this happen?” he wondered with concern laced in his words. you slightly shifted in his arms, looking up at him. “i think i might have food poisoning, cheol.” he cooed at you, kissing the top of your head, rocking you from side to side as you whimpered in pain. “it’s okay love. it will be over soon i promise.” he chanted softly in an attempt to calm you down as exhaustion took over you, the high temperature making you shake with chills no matter how close seungcheol kept your body to his. “love, you with me?” he questioned after a few minutes of silence, but didn’t get a reply; you fell asleep fast, totally knocked out from the sudden wave of late night sickness. he was relieved to see that your immune system was trying to get that much needed sleep to heal, although he was concerned about the effects of not taking medication before your slumber; he didn’t have the heart to wake you so he let you rest anyways.

he never stopped holding you through the night, not even when he moved you to the bedroom and got a cold towel to put on your head, moving a trash can beside your bed just in case, or when he stayed up all night to watch over your distressed form, wishing that you would get better by the morning, kissing your cheek from time to time to let you know that he was there, that he was gonna take care of you no matter what.

[kira-dofc]

Gojo and Geto x Nerd! Male reader

Notes: Currently experiencing writers' block, so this is js a random hc I made for these two 😔 I live for possessive Gojo and Geto, so I gave you all what I wanted 💖 also ik I said no threesome, but this is an exemption I had nothing to post I'm desperate (Also I live for these two men) 😔

Word Count: I don't know

Warnings: Smut! Threesome, High-school au, double pen, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, double stimulation, overstimulation, smutty smut smut

-

It was mid-afternoon, with the golden hues of the setting sun beginning to paint the sky outside. Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was thick with the quiet concentration of students engrossed in their quizzes. You tapped your pencil rhythmically against the desk, your eyes flitting over the questions. Though your mind wandered, you effortlessly penned down the answers, the quiz more a formality than a challenge for someone of your intellect. The questions, simple as a child's puzzle, felt like an exercise in tedium rather than a true test of knowledge.

The soft orange rays filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow that danced across the rows of desks and illuminated the faces of your classmates. The air-conditioning, a gentle whisper against your skin, provided a cool contrast to the warmth of the sunlight. The chill of the conditioned air brushed over your skin, a subtle reminder of the modern comforts that cocooned you in this academic fortress.

You were well-known in the school, not just for your academic prowess, but also for the silent feud with your two sworn enemies, Gojo and Geto. These two were the epitome of what it meant to be popular and untouchable. Their presence was a constant irritant, a source of countless headaches. With their charm and seemingly effortless charisma, they could sway teachers and students alike, getting away with behavior that would land anyone else in detention. It was an infuriating dynamic, made worse by your desire to stand out in a different way, to impress the girl in your class who occupied your thoughts more often than you'd like to admit.

The room was silent, save for the faint scratching of pencils on paper, when suddenly the door swung open with a force that sent a shiver through the classroom. The abrupt interruption shattered the calm, drawing all eyes to the doorway. There stood Gojo, his white hair almost glowing in the afternoon light, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Excuse me, where is Y/n?" he called out, his voice carrying a casual authority that silenced the room.

Every head turned toward you, the air thick with curiosity and a touch of apprehension. You felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks, the attention unwelcome and uncomfortable. Trying to maintain your composure, you stood and made your way to the front of the room. The teacher gave a curt nod, granting permission for the interruption. You met Gojo's gaze, your eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"Come with me," Gojo said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand and began to pull you toward the hallway. "H-hey, what are you doing?!" you exclaimed, stumbling slightly as you tried to keep pace with him. His grip was firm, and despite your protests, he continued to lead you through the corridors, his expression a mix of seriousness and something unreadable.

The hallway was cooler, the air-conditioning more pronounced here, as Gojo steered you toward the bathrooms. As you rounded the corner, you saw Geto leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed, a lazy smile on his face. The scene felt almost surreal, like stepping into a different world, far removed from the quiet confines of the classroom. The afternoon light, filtered through narrow windows, cast long shadows that added an edge of drama to the encounter.

"What do you want now?" you scoffed, planting your hands firmly on your hips in a defiant gesture. The air was thick with tension, the echoes of your classmates' hushed whispers still lingering in your mind. Gojo, ever the instigator, exchanged a knowing glance with Geto, who stood up straight, a smirk playing on his lips. "Gojo, do it," Geto commanded, his voice calm and almost bored.

Before you could react, Gojo's grip tightened around your wrist, and his other hand quickly muffled any protest you might have voiced. "Don't make this any harder for us and be a good boy for us two, yeah?" he whispered in your ear, his voice low and husky, sending an unsettling shiver down your spine. The vibration of his words seemed to resonate within you, leaving you no choice but to comply. You followed them into the bathroom, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh, cold glow over the tiled walls and floor.

Geto positioned himself in front of you, his eyes glinting with a predatory gleam as he reached out, his fingers tracing the lines of your face before moving to your hair. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a softness that contrasted starkly with the firm grip Gojo still maintained on you. "Be a good boy, and we won't punish you as much," Geto murmured, his breath warm against your skin, his lips curving into a smirk that sent a jolt of anxiety through you. He then kissed your neck, the sensation both tender and electrifying, before biting down gently, marking you with a small bruise that felt like a brand.

The bathroom stall became a confined world of its own, filled with the sounds of labored breathing and the rustling of clothing. You found yourself straddling Geto, his body beneath you a solid, unyielding presence. Gojo stood before you, his hands deft and experienced as they explored your body, heightening your senses with each touch. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat and arousal, creating a heady, intoxicating atmosphere. They were both thrusting in and out of you, leaving out grunts and whimpers with every thrust. Gojo panted as he played with your dick, twitching every time he touched the tip, slick in precum. He then stroked lazily, seemingly trying to focus on how your hole sucked both Geto's and his dick so good. You moaned, "Gojo...." your hands covering your mouth as you bent your back, resting your head in Geto's shoulders. Your skin rubbing against Geto's make you feel good, too. The way he moans and groans through your skin as it vibrates. The two cocks inside you kept pulsing, making you let out louder moans.

The rhythm of their movements became more intense, your senses flooded with the heat and pressure building within you. Time seemed to stretch, the moments blending together as you lost yourself in the raw physicality of the encounter. Your body trembled with each thrust, your voice rising in pitch as the pleasure mounted, the walls of the bathroom stall echoing your cries.

You three were there for almost 1 hour and 30 minutes, your hole now stretched and burning. Their precum now used as lub as it slid through your wet walls. Your muffled moans turned to echoed ones every time they hit your sweet spot. They soon came inside of you, wetting and knotting your walls as you screathed the back of Gojo. Endless streams of semen flowed through your tired hole as you hugged Gojo tightly. Gojo then let out his cock as it rested to your stomack, painting it white. Geto, on the other hand, stayed inside you after his organs, making your stomach flutter in pleasure. You then heard the two panting as you yourself came. Gojo placing his hand behind your back, and Geto kissing your neck and giving soft bites. Your body aches, everything aches, "You took us so well, baby." Gojo flirted as he huffed in front of you. The bell soon rang, and suddenly, you blacked out after your orgasm.

[the-offside-rule]

Daniel Ricciardo (RB Visa) - Lover

Requested: yes

Swift Series

Prompt: Daniel and international popstar Y/n accidentally get married in Vegas

Warnings: nope

Daniel woke up in his hotel room with a pounding headache, groaning as he tried to open his eyes but being blinded by the sun coming through the windows each time. He turned around, cursing to himself before his eyes widened. Y/n, the Y/n lay beside him, in just a bra. While they had met several times before and hung out with similar people, this was the last person he expected to see in his bed the morning after a race weekend. He began questioning what had happened? What had he done? Or more importantly, who had he done? Whilst Daniel sat thinking about what to say to her when she woke up, he ultimately decided to order room service and go to the bathroom to actually think.....and maybe throw up.

Y/n was awoken by a door closing quite loudly. She jumped up, looking around, her eyes had grown wife as she realised that she wasn't asleep in her room, she was in someone else's. She heard footsteps coming and turned to see who it was. "Uh... morning?" Daniel croaked, his voice scratchy from the combination of dehydration and excessive partying. Y/n grabbed the bed covers and pulled them up over her chest. "What the fuck happened?" She mumbled to herself. "Yeah, I said the same thing."

Daniel scratched his head, replying, "I wish I knew. It's all a bit of a blur." Suddenly, his eyes widened as he noticed a shiny object on his finger. "You don't think this would have anything to do with it?" He lifted his hand to show Y/n, before she looked down, spotting the matching ring. "I got married in Vegas." She was so unbelievably angry with herself. Since she was a child she dreamed of this big extravagant wedding and now she just got married in Vegas?

She looked over to Daniel as he burst into laughter. "Well, you can't get rid of me now." Daniel chuckled, his Australian accent making the situation even more absurd. "Daniel, this is not funny, I'm going to get into so much shit!" Y/n said. Daniel turned to open his big bottle of champagne as Y/n continued her rant. "You're having champagne? At this time?" Daniel walked over to the bed with a glass and sat down, handing it to her and pouring her a glass. "Why are we still here? We should go get divorced!" Y/n implored him. "You need to know where you got married first." Daniel replied, drinking the champagne from the bottle as Y/n looked on. She downed the glass quickly before grabbing the bottle from Daniel. "I need more than a glass." She mumbled, amking Daniel laugh. "I don't know why you're so upset, I'd make a great husband."

"Daniel, can we just think about what happened and then we'll get down to the details of whether or not you're a good husband?" Daniel nodded before Y/n began to think. "So chief, what happened last night?" Daniel asked, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache. Y/n shook her head, her expression mirroring his confusion. "I don't really remember much. We were at that bar, right?" Daniel nodded slowly, bits and pieces of their escapades starting to trickle back into his consciousness. "Yeah, we were celebrating... something." He lifted the champagne tp his lips once more before handing it over to Y/n. She frowned, trying to recall the reason behind their impromptu celebration. "Was it the points you scored? Maybe my new song got number one?"

"Maybe we just got fucking wasted." Daniel shrugged, before Y/n slapped his bare chest, making him wince in pain. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry." Y/n said. "I vaguely recall a dance-off and a questionable karaoke rendition of 'I Will Survive.'" She ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh, great," Daniel chuckled. "Classic Vegas moves." As she continued on with the possibilities, Daniel looked at the crumpled looking paper on the night stand. Daniel unfolded it tentatively, his heart sinking as he read the words scrawled across the page: Marriage Certificate - Daniel Ricciardo & Y/n Y/l/n - Las Vegas, Nevada.

Y/n's hand flew to her forehead as the reality of their situation sunk in. "Oh my God... we actually got married." Daniel let out a chuckle laugh, his mind oscillating between disbelief and amusement. "I know. I would have actually gotten you a nice ring. Maybe an expensive one?" Y/n slapped his chest again. "Yeah, it's still sore when you do that."

"Sorry, but you need to stop joking about this. It's serious!" She said. "It's really not. No one even knows." She looked to him. "We were clubbing with other drivers, surely one of them were there. Daniel went to turn on his phone, but it was dead. "Must have been to occupied to charge my phone." Daniel joked. "Yeah, getting married." Y/n replied, charging her phone. "I was thinking of starting our honeymoon." He gasped. "Are we going to have a baby Ricciardo?"

"No!" Daniel arched a brow. "Excuse me, but you would be lucky to have a child with my genes." He said, pretending to be hurt. "Yeah, and your humour." She rolled her eyes. "See? Dream team." They sat in silence for a few minutes. She expected a call from her manager at any given second. He was going to kill her. Daniel noticed how tense she was getting and turned to Y/n, holding out his hand. "Well, at least we've got one epic story for the grandkids." Y/n chuckled, taking his hand. "Yep, and a marriage certificate to prove it."

"If our managers don't call us in the next hour, they won't know and I say we go get divorced." Y/n thought about it for a moment. "I mean, if they don't know why bother? The point of us divorcing is so they get off our backs. Plus, it's broad daylight. If people see us going to the Chapel, people will find out." Daniel nodded. "So we're staying married?" Y/n smiled. "Of course. You're like the best husband I could have asked for." Daniel squeezed her hand. "Well, I say we head to the airport and get out of here." Daniel suggested, getting up. "Or we could enjoy our honeymoon with some movies?" He chuckled and sat back down, grabbing the remote control and turning Netflix on. "Sounds good. Can I?" Y/n nodded, allowing Daniel to wrap an arm around her as she leaned into him. "You're coming to Abu Dhabi, though." Daniel said. "Duh. You're going to go to the last race without your wife?"

[lionneee]

Little Princess

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: PIV, kissing, taking of sexual themes, smut, age difference.•

Current part -> Next part

Modern!Father’s!Best!Friend!Aemond x Fem!Reader

“Shh, sh… Be quiet, princess. We don’t want your father to hear us, do we?” He smirked as he looked at your face through the mirror as he kept pounding behind you, pressing you harder against the sink every time. “Oh look at you. You’re so pretty like this.” He chuckled as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging your hair back to get a better view of you.

“So fucked up…” I hummed as he kissed your shoulder, his pace never relenting, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He groaned as he felt you squeezing around him, sucking his cock in your walls tightly, securing him inside you.

“Oh, that’s a good girl. Keep doing it baby, you feel so good —“ He moaned. “So tight.” He pressed his forehead against your temple, his nose pressing on the side of your face.

“Aemond —“ You breathed out. “Oh — God, Aemond…” You moaned, closing your eyes as your jaw went slack.

“Shh, shh, princess…” He let out a choked moan, looking down at your ass, looking how his cock disappeared inside you.

We heard some steps over us, probably someone walking in the bathroom upstairs, since you were occupying the one on the main floor, just a couple of rooms from the dining room, where your father with some of his other colleagues as friends were still laughing and eating.

It’s been a while she’d you two had been here, running off the dinner for a quick fuck.

To be fair you didn’t plan this. You just had to go to the bathroom real quick to check your hair and make up, but when you looked at the mirror you saw your father’s best friend locking the door behind him, looking down at you with a gaze that said it all.

Then you found yourself wrapped around his cock, moaning like a mess as Aemond tried to shush you.

But now you’ve been there too long, and you had to be quick, or someone would have started to look for you.

“Come.” He ordered you, his pace getting suddenly more fast and hard, intense, enough to take your breath away. You gritted your teeth together as you felt your climax building fast and intense.

“Aem-“ He put his hand over your mouth, shutting you up as you started shaking, your walls clenching around him repeatedly as you came undone, falling forward. Aemond let go of your mouth, and you gripped the sink tightly as he gave his last furious thrust, bringing himself to the orgasm as well. He panted as he pressed his forehead on the back of your head, guilt filling your chest as you looked at him through the mirror.

“We can’t do this anymore.” You breathed out as you tried to stabilize your breathing.

“You say that every fucking time.” He growled.

“I mean it this time.” You tried to say as firmly as you could.

“Whatever you say, princess.” He sighed and pulled out, leaving you empty, and with a sense of void. You looked down at the sink as you listened to him fixing his breeches, then unlocking the door to get out.

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

You looked utterly fucked.

“Kid, I’m going on a trip with Aemond, he’s going to advise me on a potential business deal. Do you want to come?”

“No, dad, thanks. I have to study.” You smiled as you looked at him, shifting your attention from the book to your father.

“Alright. Do you need me to leave you some cash? Cook you some food for the days?” He asked as he took out his wallet, leaving in the table some cash.

“Dad, I’m 22, I can cook my own food.” You chuckled. “But thanks.” You smiled as you saw him walk to you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Alright, kid. Have fun, but not too much, alright?” He smiled and grabbed his bag.

“Yes, dad. Have fun too.”

“Your daughter is not coming?” Aemond asked as looked at the house from his car, as your father sat on the passenger seat.

“No, she’d die of boredom.” He chuckled. Aemond hummed and glanced at the house one last time before driving away.

“She’ll have her friends come over, surely.”

“You’re not worried about it?”

“No, she’s a good girl.”

Oh, he knew that.

“She’s gonna have boys too?” Aemond asked, trying to hide his jealousy. Much to his surprise, you did stick to your words, and nothing happened again between you two, but he knew it was just a matter of time.

“Probably, but I trust her. She never gave me any reason to worry about anything.” His father said confidently. Aemond hummed and nodded.

Get him out of your head.

That was the plan. Get drunk, make out, maybe even hook up. 

You were getting ready with your girlfriends, make up and hair products all over the floor of your room as you chatted and smoked. They were supposed to sleep at your house after the party at another friend’s house.

None of your friends were aware of your ex relationship with Aemond. Sometimes you were happy about it, to avoid any questions, but other times you kinda wished they knew, so they could help you with the situation.

But what situation? You wrote an end to it.

Once you were all ready, you all got in the car of your girlfriend, singing the whole trip to the house.

“It’s… enormous!” Your friend shouted as you stepped out of the car, looking at the immense house. You all chuckled and ran inside, the loud music and a mix of perfume and sweat filling your senses, the lights making the place more confusing.

“Let’s go grab something to drink!” You said as you all walked where the alcohol was. Happily, you found the vodka-jelly, your favorite way of getting drunk was definitely by those jelly. You grabbed a little glass, sucking the jelly in your mouth, grabbing another one and another one during the night.

You danced happily with your friends, sucking another jelly in your mouth with a laugh, feeling the dizziness of the alcohol finally reaching your head.

“Your tongue is red!” A guy on your side yelled at you to overcome the music.

“What?” You yelled back as you stopped a moment. The guy chuckled and spoke closer to your ear.

“Your tongue is red!” He repeated. He put a hand on your cheek, turning your face towards him.

“Let me clean it up for you, pretty one.” He smiled and kissed you tight after.

Damn, he didn’t lose time.

At any other time, you would have pushed him away.

But not this time. The guy looked good, and you were desperate to forget about another man, so you would have taken any chances. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. The hands of the guy immediately flew to your ass, squeezing it.

Aemond would have held you by your waist, then slowly moved his hand on you ass, squeezing it lightly, then harshly, pulling you closer to his body, raising you a bit to rub you against him.

Stop it. 

No Aemond.

You closed your eyes shut and kissed him deeper, trying to forget Aemond’s face, Aemond’s touch, Aemond’s everything.

You whimpered as you pulled him closer, kissing him desperately, trying to get yourself used to not being kissed by Aemond.

He was a great kisser.

Stop. It.

You groaned and grabbed his hand, and started dragging him upstairs, searching for an empty room.

Get Aemond out of your head. 

They guy walked in the bathroom with a grin on his face, immediately pressing you against the sink, kissing you again as he started lifting your dress over your thighs. You watched as he quickly grabbed a condom from his wallet and you turned around, finding yourself face to face with your reflection.

Your cheeks were flushed, but it was the alcohol.

Your hair was a bit of a mess, but it was the dancing.

Your eyes slightly narrowed, but it was dizziness.

“You’re such a slut.” The guy chuckled as he rolled the condom around his cock, bending you forward as he pushed your panties down. “Ready?” He chuckled again before filling you.

Filling you? Not quite.

He surely was not Aemond. 

The guy quickly set a frenetic pace, your skin slapping against the other.

It felt good.

But you’ve felt better.

“Ah…” You forced out a moan as you looked down at the sink. You didn’t feel like looking at the mirror, knowing that you won’t find Aemond behind you.

“That’s it. Such a slut.” He smiled as he slapped your ass, gripping your hips immediately after as he thrusted harder. You groaned and moved your hand between your thighs, drawing small circles around your clit.

“You’re going to make me come.” He warned, so you started moving your fingers faster.

“Yes…” You bit your lip, trying to bring yourself to the edge before he came, knowing fully he wouldn’t take care of you if he finished before you.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus.

“That’s it, princess.”

“You’re squeezing me so good, so eager to keep me inside you?”

“I won’t pull out until you scream, princess.”

You moaned as his voice in your head seemed to do a lot more than the guy currently behind you.

“Come for me. Show me how good you feel with me inside you.”

“Come, wet my cock.”

“I want to see you come, princess. You look so pretty when you come.”

You gasped as you moaned again, your fingers quickening the pace on their own accord as you felt yourself almost to the end.

“That’s it. Oh, you’re such a good princess…” 

“Yeah, baby. God you’re so perfect. Perfect little princess.”

“You’re so good for me.”

You had to bite your lip to not moan his name, even if the orgasm that washed over you made it almost impossible.

“That’s right, baby.” The guy let out a choked moan before coming in the condom, leaning towards your back as he panted.

Oh, how you wished it was Aemond.

Though, if he were, you wouldn’t be already done.

You pushed yourself up as the guy slipped out, uncaring of being gentle or do it slowly, making you hiss slightly. You quickly pulled your panties up and lowered your dress, practically running out of the bathroom.

You wished you felt better.

But you only felt worse.

The void Aemond left you the last time he fucked you now seemed bigger, deeper.

And the only way to cure it seemed to be the only thing you refused to do.

Crawl back to him.

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95

[steddiehasmywholeheart]

Just thinking about an no-Upside Down au. Teacher!Steve, escort!eddie, SFW, both mid-twenties. Never met Eddie.

Steve has trauma from the way his parents treated him, and nightmares from the mall fire he was in. He usually manages this by hanging out with Robin and having sleepovers once or twice every week as long as she's single, or her coming over for evenings and keeping him safe for a few hours while he naps. It's not the best sleep in the world, but it gets him by.

But then one day, he realises she's going on holiday. For 2 weeks. And he has no idea how he's going to sleep. He can't won't take any medication because of a bad experience, and nothing but someone he trusts being there ever helps him get a good night's sleep. Even if he tried to get a casual fuck over the weekend, the chances are he'll have a nightmare and scare the shit out of them. That's happened one too many times and he refuses to do that again.

He's watching TV one night when the characters on screen start talking about escorts, and suddenly, the idea doesn't seem too crazy. Fast forward a few days, and after a lot of research, he finds himself making the call. He knows it's a lot of money, especially on his salary, but if it helps, it helps, and he knows he hates going a week without some decent sleep, let alone 2. He's bound to get a migraine, and he can't afford to miss work for that.

So, he books in with a male escort, voice shaking and hands sweating, but determined all the same. It's his only hope of surviving.

The week Robin leaves is exactly as hard as he expects it to be, and by Friday he's almost too tired to be nervous. But when he gets home from work and showers, some jitters return, getting much stronger when there's a knock at his door, 7pm sharp.

The guy standing on the other side of the door is utterly gorgeous. Tattoos, leather jacket, messy long black hair, and just a hint of a self-confident swagger that Steve is sure he's muting in an attempt to be professional. Steve just stands there, trying not to let his jaw hit the floor or his eyes pop out of his head. The guy's - Eddie's - smile, isn't helping.

Initially, Eddie flirts a little, trying to put Steve at ease. And it should work. But for some reason, it doesn't. Maybe it's because this is a guy that Steve would fuck, but tonight, he just needs to sleep, and somehow that feels even more vulnerable. But Eddie quickly picks up on it and backs off, talking to him in a soothing tone, and Steve quickly feels himself unspooling, settling into having Eddie in his space.

The rest of the night passes easily. They eat takeout, chill on the sofa, chat, and before Steve knows it, it's 10pm and Steve's eyes are burning. Eddie just lets the conversation settle, smiling gently and letting Steve make the first move. Letting Steve know he's still in control.

Its nerve wracking to go through his evening routine with a stranger he's paying to be there (though for what he still hasn't decided. He'd told the agency cuddling, but that seemed such a big ask right now), waiting in his bedroom for him, but Eddie makes that easier once again. When Steve emerges from the bathroom, he's met with his metal attire neatly folded on a chair, wild hair now tied up in a messy bun, and the man himself in sausage dog covered pjs. He can't help but laugh, Eddie's triumphant grin sending flutters through him.

They settle into bed, and Eddie does ask what Steve wants, but the words don't come. So, Eddie just holds his arms out, and with Steve's consent, gently guides him into his chest. His large, warm, safe chest.

For the briefest moment, Steve remains tense, breath not coming as easily as he'd like. But then he's melting, fingers curling into Eddie's soft pj top, a sound dangerously close to a whimper threatening to crawl up his throat. And Eddie just holds him tighter (though not too tight), murmuring softly in his ear, his voice low and ever so slightly raspy, sending shivers down his spine.

Steve doesn't want it to end. It's perfect. With Robin gone, he hasn't been touched intentionally in a week, and even before that, it's more likely that they're sitting on each other's laps or something. He can't remember the last time he was just held.

"Easy, big boy, I've got you," Eddie murmurs as Steve clutches onto Eddie's shirt even more tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

He knows he's delusional from the lack of sleep, because right before he drifts off, he thinks he can hear real concern and care in Eddie's voice.

[gabgabwrites]

COACH | Art Donaldson & Patrick Zweig

summary ⇝ Patrick decided to drop the bomb that Art has never eaten a girl out before, and being the loving best friend you are, you agreed for him to use you as first.

warnings ⇝ swearing , smut! oral (F), somewhat 3sum, bodily kissing, hair pulling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum eating, some secret gayness, mdni

this is also just porn no plot

++ okay I have now one more Challenger fic, then I will start with my other 101 ideas for other characters.

You don't remember how you got here. One minute you were walking through the door of their shared room with snacks in hand and the next you were staring wide eyed at Patrick. The room stilled, Art's throat bobbed and his fingers fidgeted as they both waiter for your response. "What?" Tumbled from your lips.

"I mean it's perfect right? Art has never eaten a girl out before, so he can practice on someone who he knows and trusts, like you," Patrick has popped the idea that the film on the TV about some ditzy woman and the scary monster go at it, perhaps it wasn't a film you should watch with your friends, perhaps it wasn't a film you should've watched at all.

"Oh god," you ran a hand over your face, a labyrinth of emotions weaved through you. You shook your head before standing up, the gears in your mind turning, still trying to process Patrick's question.

Art called your name. "You don't have to, it was a stupid idea, sorry," You briefly nodded at his words before turning to find the nearest bathroom.

You shut yourself inside, pressing your back against the door. Your mind was swirling with the possibilities, if you agreed, it could result in an awkwardness thereafter between the three of you, if you didn't, well nothing, Art would just eat a girl out with little to no knowledge of how.

Your bottom lip was sucked between your teeth that chewed on the flesh. You hadn't exactly had sex, or anything close, in a while. The sweltering heat did nothing to help. It especially didn't help when you unwillingly started having small scenarios flashing in your head about either of your best friends. You remember waking up in such guilt, guilt that nestled itself in a puddle in your underwear.

You ripped open the door and basically flew to the two boys. "I'll do it," you blurted before you were able to have any regrets. A smile grew on Patrick's face at your answer.

So that's how you finally ended up, shirt off on Patrick's bed, Patrick's hands on each of your knee while Art sat on his and watched. Patrick explained how he would do it first, then Art would reciprocate. His hands felt like fire on your knees, burning hot into your skin.

Then, they pushed down, forcing your legs further apart and for your skirt to rise an inch above from where it lay. "Firstly, Art, if you're the one undressing the girl, you gotta do it slow, builds up the anticipation," Patrick spoke. "Maybe caress her thigh." His knuckles brushed your thigh, slowly to the more ticklish spot.

When Patrick's fingers brushed the hem of your panties, a gasp got caught in your throat. His two thumbs snuck underneath the waistband of the lace and began to pull it down your thigh, you quickly moving your hips up so they slid off, now of full display. Your skirt somewhat hid your pussy, but with little effort, Patrick could very well see it.

He pulled them off your ankles. Out of your peripherals, you saw him tuck the fabric into the pocket of his jeans. His eyes flicker down to between your legs, suddenly bashful, you tried your best to squeeze your legs together. Patrick's thumbs were pushing hard into your skin, slowly peeling your legs apart. "Art, come look at her."

"This is embarrassing," you mumbled, hands snaking down to tug your skirt down. Your eyes went as wide as saucers when Patrick let go of your left leg and snatched your hand up, yanking it away.

"Stop trying to hide your pretty pussy," He scolded. "Now behave." Patrick shifted to the side for Art to take a step, now having two pairs of eyes staring at your heat, you can't lie and say it didn't make you the least bit aroused.

Art swallowed hard when he made eye contact with your most private part. This felt a little too intimate, you were his best friend, yet the boner that began to grow in his pants said otherwise.

You let out a louder gasp when Patrick's fingers were running through your folds, spreading the slick that oozed from your fluttering hole, even pressing his fingers against your clit, making you whine at the touch. It swirled around the bud, hard enough to have you squint before his touch disappeared.

Patrick popped his fingers into his mouth to taste your arousal, a grumble of a moan rumbling through his chest. He let his fingers fall out his mouth and back onto your thigh. "Then, start kissing around the area, let her know what your lips feel like."

Patrick began to leave open mouth kisses, from the back of your knees to the middle of your thighs, not once did his eyes leave yours. "Patrick, please," you begged, Patrick was slow with it, lips only on the middle of your thighs, never going higher nor where you needed them the most.

"Quiet," he hissed, his teeth nicked your skin before his tongue was smoothing over the barely visible bite.

A pout formed on your lips, eyes going to Art whose hand cupped his aching erection, thumb caressing his balls through his red shorts. His eyes trained on your glistening and disregarded pussy.

Patrick took in a breath, before his tongue fell from between his pink lips, and flattened against the span of your arousal. You let out a long sigh, allowing for your shoulders to relax as you were finally getting what you wanted. "Have a little taste of the pussy," Patrick said against you.

His tongue tensed, it weaved down until it found your drenched hole, pushing in. His lips pursed as he sucked your juices into his mouth, a combination of salty and sweet, and slightly bitter, but it all tasted like a pure gastronomic delight, like nectar made by the dandiest bees.

Patrick could count the times he's fisted his cock on two hands, and even his feet, to thoughts of you. He didn't feel as guilty as you or Art though, shamelessly jerking off in bed, in the shower and one time at the beach, when the three of you had decided to go on a small vacation, a towel over his lap while his fingers were wrapped around his cock, you and Art to busy splashing in the waves, he remembers how your bikini was a little too snug, and when you bent over to get your sunglasses, how the fabric creeped into your ass.

Chin now shiny in your slick, he lifted his head before spitting out a fat glob of saliva right onto your clit, making your thighs jerk. Patrick spoke while he watched his spit slowly run down. "When you know she wants it, go ham."

"How do you know when she's ready?" Asked Art, voice scratchy from arousal, his fingers still massaging at his erection.

Patrick just stick out a finger, and flicked at your clit, once, twice, before your hips jerked up and a meek moan left your lips. "That's how."

His face dove between your legs again, this time, with no mercy. His head jerked left and right while his tongue was on your clit, the sensation slowly but surely having your toes curl, and for you to feel warm and mushy down there.

Patrick recalls a conversation you had with him, it started out with him talking about this situationship he had with a girl, who told him she didn't know how to please herself, when you innocently piped up, saying how you like to do it.

How you preferred to have your underwear completely off, fingers slowly touching yourself to get you wet, momentarily bringing your fingers to your lips to gather spit on there before using that as lube to your already wet pussy, before you rubbed, side to side.

He remembered every single fucking detail that poured from your lips so he could rush to his room that night, fingers flying on his keyboard as he typed up solo porn videos of girls doing what you explain.

So he was doing everything you told him, from the get go. He watched your eyes scrunch up, an almost pained expression gracing your features, but he knew it was you getting lost in the bliss.

Forget teaching Art, who was letting out small gasps as he felt his balls slowly fill with seed, nearing his high. Right now, it was just you and him. He'd alternate from practically motor-boating your pussy, getting his chin and your thighs wet, to sucking on your swollen clit, to sticking his tongue and far into your pussy as he could.

"Don't...stop...Pat..." your words were barely incoherent as getting them out your mouth was proven to be difficult. Your hips rolling up, onto his face while your fingers clenched around the sheets, and your skirt.

"You should hear yourself, god, you sound pathetic," he chuckled, earning a weak slap from you to his forehead.

"Don't be a dick," you managed to get out before your brain shut down. Your eyes screwed shut, hiding the fact that you began to get cross eyed. Your tongue pushing past your teeth, but not sticking out your mouth as you whined and begged, pleaded and whimpered until your back arched, without warning, cumming straight onto Patrick's tongue.

For his sanity, Art's hand ripped away from his crotch, not wanting to cum his pants as he watched you orgasm, riding out your high on Patrick's face, who just slurped it all up.

By the end of it, you were panting, face flushed and pupils blown, hair sticky with sweat. You winced when Patrick detached himself, your cum staining the collar of his shirt. "Your turn."

"What? But 'm too tired," you whined, arm thrown over your eyes to shroud your vision in faux darkness.

"Isn't that too bad," Patrick slid down next to you, before his arms hooked under your back, bringing your shoulders to his chest. With some manoeuvring, he had your back against his chest and his hands cupping the back of your knees, lifting them so only your heels lifted off the bed, spreading your sore legs apart. "You'll be good for Art, right? I mean, he's waited so long to taste you, isn't that right?"

Art nodded, slowly walking to stand at the bottom of the bed, a meter away from where he yearned to be. He slid a knee onto the bed so he could hover over your legs. "Let me know if it feels good," he said and you nodded.

You sucked in a breath. "O-Okay."

He bent at the waist, his lips attaching onto your thighs where they pecked at the skin. Art being much more delicate than Patrick. His arms hooked under your thighs that were sill lifted up by Patrick, his fingers cool under your touch. You watched his head bob as he gave you more kisses, leaving a pathway to your pussy.

Then, his lips found your clit, placing one soft peck before his eyes found yours, looking for any signs, whether it be hesitation or pleasure, he found the latter. He saw your eyelashes flutter, already being so sensitive down there that it didn't require much to get a reaction from you.

He dared to stick his tongue out, and lick a stripe, a strangled moan reverberated from your throat. "Y-Yeah, continue that," Art felt reassured by your words and lapped more vertical stripes, tasting your previous arousal and the faintest hint of Patrick's spit.

He then felt your hips push down onto his face, thinking it was you pushing him away, his tongue stopped, but once seeing how your head was tipped back, resting on Patrick's shoulder, he continued.

His lips now added to the pleasure, top lip resting on the spot a centimetre away from the crevice of your pussy, leaving big open mouth kisses, sucking your clit in as well. The kisses got more feverish the longer it went on. Art even sticking out his tongue, drooling onto your pussy.

"Art," you sighed his name in ecstasy, mouth falling open as his kisses had your knees jerk. "That feels nice."

Patrick's hands slipped under your bra and was kneading at the flesh of your breasts, palming them and feeling your hard nipple graze his skin.

Art kissed and kissed, drooling sloppily all over your folds, his saliva, tampered by your arousal, dribbled down your ass and settled into the bedsheets.

But Patrick was having none of it. He ripped one hand away from your breast, it flew until it landed on Art's head where his fingers curled around his blonde curls, and yanked, hard. "Fucking eat her pussy, not make out with it," Patrick snapped.

Art winced at the harsh tug, Patrick shoving Art's face deeper into you. You felt Art's teeth graze your folds, though you didn't mind. Especially not when feeling his tongue everywhere, on your clit, in and around your puckering hole, swirling around your folds. "That's better-r," you moaned, your own fingers finding solace in Patrick's forearms, where your nails dented his skin. 

"Fucking thought it'd be," scoffed Patrick. "I know how to make a whore feel good."

"N-Not a whore," you choked.

"Mmm, yeah? Then why do you have your two best friends eat you out?"

"Fuck off," you scoffed.

Patrick just chuckled, continuing to watch the boy ravish you. The two boys made eye contact, neither of them broke it. There was some misplaced intimacy about this moment, how Patrick and Art stared at each other while one ate you out, and the other toyed with your breast.

Patrick's hand let go of Art's hair and went back to your unattended breast. His fingers pinching your nipples, having you flinch at the pain, but no complain.

"Ah-h, gonna cum, gonna cum!” You chanted, each time, your voice got higher and and louder before your stomach flexed as you came, Art not so skilled to catch all of it, hand it partially in his mouth, and on his chin.

Art sluggishly removed his face, about a few inches away before he felt Patrick's finger slide over his chin, his cum and drool covered chin. He watched with swelled pupils as Patrick placed his finger in his mouth, letting out a hum and giving Art a grin. "Just as sweet as I remember."

With a sigh, Art got off the bed and walked to the bathroom to clean his face while you lay there, barely conscious in Patrick's arms.

He mumbled your name, making you hum in acknowledgment. "Don't think this is the last time either of us use our dear best friend, m'kay?"

[tyunniez]

tired already?... kuroo x bottom male reader

!!.. amab reader, semi-public sex, kuroo loves to tease, bokuto almost caught the both of them lol, biting and marking, creampie, both characters are 18...

a moan resonated through the empty bathroom. the setting sun outside peeked its way into the many stalls yet the fluorescent lights overpowered it.

" k-kuroo.. finish already! w-what if someone comes in... plus i don't think i can hold myself up anymore! " you whined, trying your hardest to hold yourself up using the stall's door.

meanwhile, kuroo only got more excited at the thought of someone coming in. them being able to hear your slutty moans. how loud you were begging just for some sweet release. maybe kuroo would let them take a peek too.

" hah, bet you would love that right? " kuroo grinned and trusted into you harshly, making you choke a bit on your own spit.

how did you even get here?

" bokuto! " you yelled out at your best friend, him already running and making his way towards you.

kuroo noticed this however it was too late.

before he could even react, you already set the ball towards bokuto who was already mid-jumping. the ball spun in the air, everyone's eyes towards it.

bokuto raised his left hand and winded back his right, preparing to hit said ball. kuroo tried jumping to stop the ball but it was too late.

the moment he began jumping, the ball hit the floor with a loud thud. the sound echoing throughout the audienceless court.

a moment of silence passed by with everyone processing the victory which now belonged to the fukurodani's players.

screams of happiness broke the silence, shaking the empty court. " yeah! let's go! " you screamed out, hugging your sweaty best friends bokuto and akaashi.

the three of you hopped around in happiness after winning the game, your teammates also happily cheering around you.

the nekoma players all congratulated you upon winning the practice match, both players shaking each others hands.

a whistle interrupted you, " yn, nice save earlier! " kuroo, your close friend approached you and sat down next to you.

" oh hey kuroo! thanks heh, you were pretty awesome earlier too! " you compliment him back, sipping the last drop of water in your bottle.

he hums in acknowledgment, appearing tired from the match. " oho what's this? is the great nekoma captain tired already? " your teasing voice earned you a slight jab from him.

" ugh im not tired yet! c'mon, let's go grab some drinks at the vending machine. " kuroo got up first, leaving you to follow him on your own which you did.

your mind wandered off as you trailed behind him, thinking of what to drink to get at the vending machine. what you didn't expect though was you being pulled to the bathroom by kuroo and getting your back blown by him.

" tired already? weren't you the one who was teasing me about being tired earlier. " kuroo laughed at your face as he held you up with both hands, slamming you up and down his cock.

" now look who can't even keep himself up. "

you could only moan while grabbing onto his shoulder, your own cock already leaking and smeared with cum. " i'm close, keep going kuroo..! " you managed to moan out, clenching him harder and harder.

kuroo's cheshire smile stretched itself on his lips, clearly enjoying how dumb you were from his cock alone.

you were so so close to cuming till..

" yn? kuroo? are you here? " bokuto's cheerful voice suddenly echoed in the bathroom, causing you and kuroo to stop your movement entirely.

bokuto looked around the bathroom, shrugging when he found neither you nor kuroo. he decided why not take a quick bathroom break while he was here, completely unaware of what was going on in two stalls next to him.

he sat himself at the first stall, one stall away from him having a front-row seat to hearing you get your ass pounded.

you looked up at kuroo in fear, afraid that even a tiny squeak could make bokuto a bit too curious and start to investigate the sound.

however, kuroo on the other hand looked down at you with a sinister look in his eyes, it being pretty obvious about what he was about to do.

you shook your head at him while covering your mouth to which he turned a blind eye.

he slid you up and slammed you down on his cock harshly, the sound itself making bokuto look around, but the sound that escaped from your mouth was what made him realize what was going on.

a high-pitched moan escaped from your mouth, the sound being an obvious giveaway of what was going on in one of the stalls.

your eyes rolled up to the back of your head at the sudden sensation of being full.

your release immediately came out of your cock. the cum that was seeping out of your ass hole and dripping down onto kuroo's thigh was also just making the situation more messy.

but kuroo wasn't done yet.

he picked up the pace and began thrusting into you, the feeling of your tight walls making him go overdrive.

tears rolled down your face as you tried your best to keep quiet, afraid that your own best friend might hear you getting dicked down.

you buried your face into the crevices of kuroo's neck, bitting and sucking on his neck in an attempt to hush yourself. kuroo on the other hand enjoyed the feeling of your teeth against his skin, leaving mark after mark on him.

bokuto quickly finished his business and rushed out of the bathroom, leaving the both of you alone again.

" mhm.. hahah, you loved almost getting caught by your own best friend, didn't you? " kuroo teased, his relentless thrusting still not finished.

you shook your head while burying deeper into his neck, your tears and saliva soaking kuroo's jersey.

he laughed at you, muttering about how cute you were.

after some hellish rounds, he was finished with his tormenting of you. the both of you walked out of the bathroom with your tracksuit jacket covering the marks all over each other's bodies.

you went back to the almost empty court, trying your hardest not to limp.

" hey hey hey, yn! where were you earlier? " you looked around like a deer caught in headlights upon seeing your two best friends behind you.

" oh uh.. hey! i was just at the store nearby.. " you lied through your teeth, praying that bokuto would buy it.

thankfully he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

he nodded in understanding and began gossiping to you about how he heard some couple getting it on in the bathroom and how awkward it was since he needed to take a shit earlier.

you nodded along, acting as if that couple wasn't you and kuroo.

however, akaashi didn't seem convinced about your lie.

" yn, were you with kuroo earlier? " akaashi suddenly questioned you. your sweat dropped as you tried your hardest to not make any eye contact with either of them.

" huh oh uh yeah.. w-we were just yknow.. eating at the store together. " your voice gradually got quieter the more you talked.

akaashi hummed, as if already knowing what was going on but decided to not pry any further. meanwhile bokuto looked between you and akaashi, trying to figure out why you were so red at the simple question.

" well whatever, im tired and sweaty! let's go home now! " you thanked the world for how dense bokuto was.

you grabbed your stuff and followed behind the two men, already planning to beat the shit out of kuroo for next week's practice.

[eveningepiphany]

go with it | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: your ex boyfriend— someone you never want to talk to again— is searching for you at a party. trying to do anything to deter him or get away, you spot harry, and a plan comes to fruition.

warnings: cheating ex, surprise kiss, sexual tension, partial mentions of sexual stuff, love/hate relationship, protective! h, fluff, cuddling and lots of kissing

a/n: I’m sorry but this gif actually has me in a chokehold. his jawline, his chewing, his FROWN. literally melting 🫠

———

There was never a day you thought you’d be b-lining to Harry of all people.

Especially not with the intention of once getting there, that you would be slamming your lips against his.

However, you already know you’d rather face a pit of blood-thirsty snakes then be forced into a conversation with your asshole of an ex boyfriend.

Who you know is currently seeking you out, because when you’d caught glimpse of him scouring the groups of people inside the kitchen, after coming back from the bathroom— your stomach dropped, and someone tapped your shoulder.

“He’s your ex, right?” The girl had said this with a light scrunch of her nose as she looked over to him. Her face riddled with a sense of disgust you couldn’t relate to more If you tried.

You had nodded, to which she replied, “Well, he’s asking everyone if you’re here and where you are. Going by his personality I’m assuming you’re gonna want to avoid that.”

You’d never wanted to hug someone more then her in that moment.

At the information she’d so kindly shared with you, your first priority was getting out of the house.

The front door wasn’t an option since he is near the only hallway that leads it it. So out through the back patio, where a smaller group of people were mingling by the fire, was easily your best option.

You knew this was where he’d be likely looking next, so you ran out the door. Unsure if you are about to just find a way to jump the fence and make your escape or…

Either way, you knew if he managed to talk to you, you’d be getting an unwanted earful of advances.

He’d beg with his nasally voice for you to give him a chance, and then go on about the same bitter ending you’d both faced. To his own fault, of course.

He was talking to multiple other girls over the damn state while you were together. And once you found out, it confirmed your outlook on his person.

He of course was charming and nice at first. But it was almost in a sleazy way when you think back to it. He’d yelled at you when you bought up his adulterous habits, and you never looked back after that.

Once you were outside, you were considering your options, but you spotted a person on the other side of the decking.

The second your eyes locked on Harry, it was a done deal.

If you were to seem like you were in another relationship, he would be much more likely to back off. Much more likely to never contact or try to find you again.

He was petrified of other men. Always felt so inferior around them. So this would be perfect, if you could just make it work.

All your past with him fell from the forefront of your mind as you practically ran in his direction. Maybe you had argued countless times over college projects and he could be a bit of an ass, but you still knew you could trust him.

He was leaned against the wooden beam of the patio, skin casted with a warm glow from the fire a few feet away, down on the grass.

He had a signature frown. One that creased between his brows and pouted his pink lips. Creating his almost intimidating persona. Protective in a perfect way.

“Harry.” You state frantically, moving at a pace you’re not used to, shoes hitting the wooden decking hastily.

His scowl deepened as he heard his name, being pulled from his intense train of thought.

“What—” He looks honestly pissed off, but when his gaze snaps to you, it softens a tiny bit. Still annoyed, but just a sliver less.

Also confused at your frantic and rapidly approaching frame, which is now suddenly breaching the usual metre-wide distance you both would maintain on any other day.

“Y/N? What are you—“

You plant your hands on the side of his face, and the look of surprise in his eyes is evident.

His cheeks are warm and smooth under your palms, “I need you to just go with this okay? Can you do that for me?”

He is struggling to make sense of the situation, let alone get a sentence out without being interrupted.

“What do you—“

“I— I’ll explain later just—“ you take a final glance over your shoulder, and see your ex inside still, but seemingly headed for the sliding door to come outside.

This drives the final surge of adrenaline you need to tug his face to yours, melding your lips together. His are puckered in tense shock, and a noise of surprise sounds from the back of his throat.

His hands jump to your hips, gripping them like he’s not sure whether to pull you closer, or push you away.

Your mouth moves against his, and he reciprocates with a sense of hesitation.

His own brain is in absolute overdrive. The interaction far to short to go from being people who merely tolerate one another to people who are currently kissing.

And somewhere inside of him he acknowledges the feeling of how warm your lips are pressed to his.

He senses your urgency now though, hands tensing around his jaw at the sound of the access door getting slid open.

Parting his lips, he impulsively drags his tongue over your bottom lip. You sigh a sound of almost gratefulness at his action.

Harry turns his body swiftly, pressing your back into the railing, his lips moving harder against yours.

“Y/N! Are you bloody out here?” A grating voice sounds, and he quickly picks up the pieces of the story he was missing.

The voice also pulls him out of the half trance he’d gotten himself in. Your mouth so warm, he genuinely forgot his own name for a second.

One of your hands slide down to the neck of his black shirt, securing it in an anxious grip.

The pace quickly picks up, him plastering himself to you as close as physically possible. Clashing mouths as he shadows your body with his.

“Oi, mate!” He ignores the yell, and is met with the footsteps of this guy coming closer.

“Have you seen—“

Harry pulls from your mouth, turning his head to look at the dickhead who you’re clearly attempting to get away from. And who just hypothetically interrupted someone’s makeout session— which is just fucking rude anyway.

“Do I look like I have?” Harry scowls, an angry tone over his voice.

The guy frowns, an ugly look casting upon his features, he steps closer, “No need to be a fucking di—“

He moved just close enough to see you, frowning, making sense that you were just essentially making out with someone, “Y/N I—“

“Can you fuck off? We’re in the middle of something here, that you’ve just so kindly interrupted. Read the room you twat.” His sentences come out harsh, and it’s clear he means it.

Your ex tries his luck a final time, “look I just want to talk with—“

And Harry interjects it again, “She’s not interested.”

You stay quiet, and at this he gets a disgusted look. It appalls you that he thinks you owe him anything.

There’s a stare down between the two men. But you can see in his face he’s intimidated. Also humiliated, that you’ve seemingly moved on with someone else, and that he’s clearly got no shot at winning you back.

“Fucking ass.” He hisses, and turns around, storming down the patio and back inside.

Harry turns back to you, shielding your frame with his. A sigh of relief passes through you.

You look a little shaken up, and he loosens the grip he has on you slightly. Both your lips still puffed and shining from the exchange you unexpectedly shared.

“Thank you…” you pant out, not sure if you’re out of breath from the situation or because of Harry.

The reality of what just happened comes pelting down on you both.

And it’s quiet a moment as you both clock over in your brains that you just practically made out. It takes a second for him to break the silence,

“So, stalker? Ex? Random guy who can’t take no for an answer?” He quizzes.

Feeling embarrassed, you purse your lips— but are able to to taste the remnants of his own mouth on yours. “Ex.”

“Ex?”

You nod.

“You sound surprised. Didn’t you think I could land anyone?” You scoff, trying desperately to bring back the usual snarky vibe between the two of you.

“No, not at all. Just that he was clearly batting above his level. He was a proper dickhead, and that’s rich when it’s compared to you.” You thank god he plays back into your banter.

But he pries further, “What exactly did he do to you?”

“Long story.” You attempt to brush it off, but he has none of it.

“Love, y’just came over here and slammed your bloody mouth over mine, and now you’re not going to tell me why?”

“But—“

“No,” he interrupts, still very close to you as he shakes his head, “No buts. Y’said you’d explain after.”

A sigh rattles out of you, feeling a little pathetic you’re telling Harry you got cheated on.

“He cheated on me. Like with multiple girls.”

To this, his face immediately drops.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

He fights the overwhelming urge to go hunt him down and lay a hand into the side of his fucking face. An absolute scumbag.

“What a pathetic excuse for a man.” He scoffs, “Lucky to have even got a pretty girl like you, and he blew it.”

You flush, another brief wave of quiet falling over the two of you. His compliments throwing you.

You quietly speak again, “I’m sorry about the… kiss. Didn’t really get as much consent as I’d have liked.”

You did feel guilty, you don’t usually go forcing your mouth onto unsuspecting men.

“No, it’s okay. You did it for a reason.” He shakes his head at your apology, and in all honesty, he enjoyed it.

Somehow it meant more than many of his others have. And he can’t quite pinpoint why.

“I… I carpooled here so, I think I’m gonna call an Uber and go home ‘cause…”

You had no interest in sticking around, incase your ex comes back— and you don’t want to spend the rest of your night glued to Harry’s side, because you doubt he’d want that.

“You’re not catching an Uber home.” He scoffs aloud, fishing his keys from his back pocket, “I’ve only had one drink, I’ll be fine to drive, so I’ll take you.”

“Harry, no. You’ve already done plenty for me tonight, I’ll be fine—“

He grabs at your hand, lacing them together and beginning to walk you down the patio.

“I’m driving you home.” He states, leading the you inside.

He clutched your hand tight, eyes forward and uncaring of the heads that had turned your way.

You on the other hand had burned up at the curious— and quickly jealous— eyes.

Harry was by no means a whore. There were plenty of rumours of him sleeping with certain girls. Mostly outlandish stories that eventually fizzled out to nothing.

He’d had a few girlfriends here and there, but it’d been a while since. And he’s maybe had one actual fling over the last couple months.

It just seemed he was harder to get. And many women tried their luck around the school. Yet to no avail.

You cast your sight down, walking behind him out the front door. Relishing in the quiet surroundings of the front lawn, free of prying glares.

He unlocked his car that was parked on the side of the road, and he opens the side door for you to get in. Chivalry mustn’t be dead.

Once you’re both in the car, you fight the urge to say again that he really doesn’t have to take you, because it’s clear there is no other option on his end.

So instead, you let out a tiny thank you, and he nods while starting the car.

However, your self restraint only branches so far— matter-of-fact, you weren’t even out of the street— before you blurt out, “Everyone was staring.”

He veers his gaze momentarily to you, then flicking it back to the road. Silence stretches a moment, and he recalls the heat of your lips pressed to yours with no real prompt.

And when he thinks of it, the image doesn’t leave his head. It unwillingly transpires, into something that bubbles into the pit of his stomach.

He had to blink it away, grounding himself when he hears your nervous swallow.

“I— what?” He’s confused at what you mean, while you kissed? When you walked out?

“When we walked out.” You reply, and he makes sense of what you’re talking about.

“People will always stare. They’re nosey.”

“I know.”

There’s another breath of silence, until he laughs, so suddenly that it almost makes you jump.

“Where am I going?” He asks, still chuckling as he realises he’s literally just driving aimlessly.

“Oh.” You sputter out a laugh as well, rattling off the side of town he needs to start driving to.

You wish you had more to say to him. That’s conversation usually flowed easily— filled with the sarcastic retorts it usually is. But now all that sat between you was a thick, hot slab of tension.

It wasn’t bad— not by any means— but it was easy to tell both of you were stuck in your own head. And you fear you’ve fashioned a permanent problem between the two of you.

Your voice only cut through the quiet once you were a few blocks away from your house.

He hummed acknowledgements to your each set of directions, and before you knew it, you were pointing out your house to him.

As his car pulled to a stop in the driveway, he didn’t hesitate to turn off the engine and get out.

Confused, you follow suit anyway, but wondered if he was about to walk you to your door.

And you weren’t wrong. Somehow, the guy who seems hardly like a gentleman, is waiting to walk the maybe 15 steps with you from his car to your front door.

You get your keys from your small bag, looking at him with an undeniably curious gaze as you meet his side.

He follows in sync by your side, hands in pockets. All the way up the patio steps, and he falls to a stop when you do, still next to you.

“Thank you for driving me home…” you smile, and can feel an unwilling red colouring spread over your cheeks.

“Was nothin’. Glad you’re home safe.”

“Were you seriously worried about me?” You frown, yet it’s undeniably endearing his concern for you.

A tiny scoff sounds from him, “Obviously?”

“That fuckin’ twat of an ex you have hardly seems like a good person. And who’s t’say he wouldn’t follow you home from that party and…” he stares off in thought, jaw clenching.

“Harry.” You state, stepping forward, wrapping a single hand around his wrist.

“Thank you.”

His distant gaze was snapped away at your touch. He’s never really considered himself an overly violent person, but your ex was easily about to change that.

And he hardly can pinpoint why. Or not yet.

The only thing he knows he wants to do again in sudden clarity, is kiss you. It almost shocks him, because he hasn’t felt an urge as strong as this in forever.

“Can— I need you to just go with this.” He mutters, being the one now very suddenly invading the gap between you both.

He’s mimicking what you said when you kissed him, yet you don’t realise “I’ll explain later.”

His hand cups the side of your jaw, and he leans to brush his lips against yours, a breath of relief fanning out his nose after finally feeling the contact.

You’re stood on your porch, and Harry is kissing you.

And somehow you’re all the sudden kissing him back.

Not because there’s someone you’re running from. Not because you have to. Because you want to.

He pulls you closer to him, allowing his teeth to graze your lower lip. Causing your hands to card through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You both play a back and forth game. Full of lips against tongue and tongue against teeth.

Until you’re both panting and running out of new places to map out with your hands.

“Care to explain?” You retort gently, stricken of breath.

He hums in the back of his throat, barley a rumble as he trails his mouth along your jaw, and down to the base of your neck.

“Is this enough of an answer?” He asks, sucking the skin between your two collarbones between his teeth.

Your knees almost give out at the sensation, and even the pressure behind his harsh mouth.

A near whimper comes from you, and he licks over the slightly bruised spot before he pulls back.

He cocks an eyebrow, expectant of your answer, despite having such a skilled mouth you’re pretty sure you forgot your own name for a second there.

“I— yes. That was… plenty.” You nod.

“Did it because I wanted to, and y’have an incredibly hot little mouth.” He provides anyway, a laugh coming from him as he pecks your cheek. All gentle, all loving.

You’re lacking for words completely, and can only lean your head against his broad chest. Unsure what exactly you’ve sparked between the two of you this evening, but simultaneously not caring of the future right now.

“I’m also probably not going to be able to stop thinking about it…” he whispers.

“Stay.” You blurt out, and then clarify a few seconds later, “The night.”

He chuckles at this, “Are you trying to get in bed with me now? Moving very quickly, sweetheart.”

You flush, “Not everything is about sex, you fucking addict.”

“So you were inviting me to stay the night so we could cuddle?”

“I was.” You affirm, despite not being opposed to his idea either.

Grabbing his hand, you lead him to your front door. Unlocking it and making quick work of sneaking him inside without the one of your three lovely housemates hearing.

All the others were luckily out at varying parties, and the only girl still home— Grace— sleeps like a log.

“You seem like a bit of a professional at sneaking people in.” He smirks, kicking his shoes off and leaving them in the corner of your room.

With only the lamp turned on, he’s lit with a warm glow, and he looks beautiful.

“Comes naturally when you live with housemates that are like your best friends. They wanna know everything.” You go to your cupboard, pulling out a jumper to change into.

He watches as you pull it over your head, yet managing to unclip your top and bra off underneath it.

“Impressive.” He nods at your easy change.

“I’m taking my pants off.” You state, “and not in a sexual way, perv.”

He lets out a defensive laugh, “I’m not a perv! You’re the one stripping off.”

You unbutton your jeans, sliding them down your legs to change over to sweatpants. His gaze strays around your room and you smile at his respectfulness.

Once you’re changed, you sit on the edge of your bed.

You lock eyes, and he gives a sly smile, not waiting to tug his shirt over his head and unbutton his own jeans.

You cover your eyes, sarcastically scoffing, “yea well, I didn’t plan on getting fully naked, but you go right ahead.”

“No different if we went swimming, darling. Still have my underwear on.”

You don’t get to reply as his hands tap your knee, “Budge up.”

You uncover your eyes, being met with his toned chest and calvin klein briefs.

Obliging silently, as he gets under the covers with you. The two of you rearrange until you’re comfortable.

Your head perched on his side as you cuddle into him, arm over his abdomen. His own arm curled underneath you.

“This is… an awfully weird situation we’ve ended up in.” You laugh. Because you’re cuddling in your bed right now, and if you told yourself even yesterday that would be happening, there no way in hell you would have taken it seriously.

“Guess it is.” He shrugs, turned his head to look down at yours.

“Still hate your guts.” You whisper.

“Mm, i don’t think I ever even hated you.” He muses.

You laugh, “Is that so?”

“Seriously,” he nods, “you’re too pretty. And even though you’re annoying, and can’t admit when you get a project question wrong, i think I have a little bit of a soft spot for you.”

“Gross.” You say, but he can hear in your tone— and the way it nearly shakes— that you actually are a little worked up over his minor confession.

“Cmon, you can’t even admit you like me a tiny bit?”

You shake your head, blushing profusely as you try to hide it.

He tugs you further up, so he can look at you properly, “You’re blushing though. Like you always seem to do when I get a bit sappy. Which is my most recent observation of you.”

He doesn’t let you respond as he presses another kiss to your lips again. And you smile into it unwillingly.

He pulls away mid-kiss, letting you whine a little at the abrupt ending to it.

“Admit it, and we can keep kissing.” He says, and it draws an eye-roll from you.

But he somehow knows it will work, because you quickly crack under his ultimatum, “Fine! Yes. I like you— just a little bit.”

To your response he laughs, murmuring against your lips, “I’ll take it, I suppose.”

He presses another kiss against you, and you press back again.

It becomes another makeout session, but despite being the third one of the night, it’s the first time hands can skate against mostly bare skin.

Which his own palms find their way under your jumper, and one cups gently at your breast, flicking over your nipple while his tongue dips into your mouth.

That’s as far as it goes for tonight though.

He kneads the flesh there softly, until you’re panting into his mouth with a heat budding between your legs.

Somehow there’s an unspoken not tonight agreement.

And you know that despite how needy you feel for him, it’s definitely for the best. And you’re still shocked you made it this far with him.

You roll into him further, chest rising and falling quickly as you sigh out to him, “I lied.”

“When?” He sounds completely unconcerned, despite your risky sentence starter.

“Before, when I said I only liked you a little bit.”

He chuckles at your response, “How was that a lie, hm?”

“I like you more than a little bit.”

“You’re sweet, darling.” He strokes his thumb against your ribcage, “so do I.”

To this you smiled. Eyes growing heavy at his rhythmic touches and soothing voice.

And his gentle words are the last that you hear before you fall asleep against his chest.

Both filled with a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time.

———

[teddiesworldd]

muffled moans and whiskey kisses.

is it morally okay to fuck a customer? (2.4k words)

a\n: thank you for all the love on my first posts! i hope you love this one just as much! also, if it wasn't made clear, ghost is wearing a mask with a cut-out for his mouth. enjoy!

pairing: ghost x female waitress!reader

tags/warnings: nsfw mdni!!, just a regular ol' bathroom hookup with the biggest guy you've ever seen, porn with plot, hickeys, a little choking if you squint

it was one of those shifts where the hours just dragged on and on. the day felt like it was never going to end as you wiped down another table and laid out the silverware neatly on top of a napkin. your mind wandered off somewhere else, but you snapped back to reality when you saw 4 huge guys walk through the pub doors and stroll over to the bar. one looked a little older than the others with a thick blonde moustache and cream bucket hat. two of them were a little shorter, a scruffy mohawk on one and the other with tanned skin covered by a blue jacket. however, it was the fella trailing behind them who made your hairs stand on end. he was absolutely giant. he was wearing a tight black t-shirt that showed off the thick, red scars which ran down his massive arms. and just to add to it, his whole face, except for his eyes and mouth, was covered by a worn-out skull mask. you realised you were staring when his dark eyes met yours and you shifted your glance back down to the table you were tending to. you could feel his eyes burning onto you as he walked past.

it was only when all 4 men were seated that you realised your colleague was still out the back and you'd have to go over and make their drinks for them yourself.

no biggie.

you make drinks for people all the time.

you desperately tried to calm your own nerves as you walked over to the bar, suddenly aware of how tight your clothes felt. the sweat on your palms. the loose hairs that had fallen from your ponytail and were now tickling your neck.

not people like this.

you were a confident person most of the time, but this skull-face guy was intimidating as hell. and the way he looked at you like a piece of meat earlier, like he wanted to eat you up. yikes. you pushed the little door open and walked behind the bar, smoothing down your waitressing apron and putting on your best customer-service smile.

"what can i get for you?"

the first three were relatively nice. the older chap was quite charming, really, making polite small talk and asking about your day. the guy with the mohawk tried cracking a few jokes which made you cringe a little but it was sweet regardless. and you noticed the military badge on the blue jacket of the third man, which made a lot of sense as the bar was right next to the military base. you had soldiers and the likes come in often, trying to drink away the stress of their day. but these guys were different. high-ranking, probably. after you had served the three, you moved down towards the fourth and asked the same question. it was only now that you realised how dark his eyes actually were. they were like dark pools of chocolate. like an empty street at night. and his pretty blonde lashes were like the stars. how could someone so big and scarred be pretty? you wondered.

"a whiskey, please."

his voice was so deep, and he had a bit of a manchester twang to his words. something about him, though frightening, was sort of attractive. the way the corners of his mouth turned up when he spoke to you. the way his huge hands rested on the bar, twiddling and fidgeting with his thick fingers and rings like he was nervous. the way he looked at you said otherwise. you wondered what those hands would feel like on you. in you. he didn't break eye contact with you the whole time he ordered, licking his lips with a sparkle in his eye. you poured the drink, then turned back to him and placed it in front of him. he thanked you and sipped it slowly.

the men stayed for a while, chatting about their recent missions and such, laughing and ordering more drinks. but the masked guy kept looking at you, sometimes at your face, sometimes at where your flesh spilled out over the buttons of your white shirt. he wasn't exactly trying to hide it either, the perv. you couldn't help but look at him too, shamelessly. he even caught you a few times looking at the way his muscles moved as he brought the glass up to his lips.

when he excused himself and walked over to the bathrooms, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, the tension between the two of you was almost suffocating. however, this was the complete opposite of a break from him.

he stood in front of the door like, well, like a ghost. his finger beckoning you to follow him. you questioned your life up to this point and scanned around the pub, it was pretty late on a weekday so it was completely empty except for the group at the bar. you put down the glass you were polishing, took off your apron and excused yourself to the three men who remained in front of you. luckily, none of them payed much attention, going straight back to their conversation.

you know what he wanted from you, of course, it wasn't like he was bringing you into the bathroom for a conversation. but still, a part of you just couldn't believe what was about to happen. he was probably a whole foot taller than you, and twice as wide.

he must be absolutely packing. he'd probably spilt me open.

you tried not to think about it.

you pushed the door quietly, your manicured nails tapping gently when they made contact. you barely even pushed the thing open before he was pulling you by the wrist into the nearest cubical, and locking the door behind him. he didn't say a word. he just pressed his lips to yours. the kiss got heated pretty quickly. you could taste the whiskey on his tongue. the way your mouths fitted together - it was like you were made for each other. it felt so perfect. so addictive.

he pulled away and moved his head into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking and leaving dark red marks across your collarbone. you couldn't help the moan that left your lips, earning a quiet "shhhh, lovie" between kisses. his voice was gorgeous. he soon reached your cleavage, planting bites and kisses all over. there was something so refreshing about him. most guys you'd been with didn't care about any of this stuff, they just wanted to be done as quickly as possible. not him, he took his time marking you, like you were something rare and precious. like you were something special. he moved his hand up to undo the buttons of your shirt, looking up at you with lust filled eyes.

"do you want this? hm? do you want me?" he growled.

you couldn't believe he was teasing you already. of course you did. "mhmm" you nodded frantically, trying to speed him up by undoing your buttons yourself, but he stopped you at the first one.

"ah ah, no. be patient, doll. tell me. tell me you want me." he asked nicely this time, waiting for your response.

"please," you whined out, a little more desperately as you intended, trying to retain a little bit of your dignity. you were still fully clothed, you didn't want to seem too needy. yet.

after hearing your response, he placed another kiss to your chest and started undoing the buttons. so slowly. it was like torture. you placed you small hand onto the back of his head, guiding him down, which he must of liked because it made him look up at you with the most devilish glint in his eye. oh, this man was about to ruin you. he hooked his fingers into the waist of your skirt, pulling it all the way off and stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans. what a gentleman, he didn't want your clothes getting all dirty on the floor of the men's bathroom. gross. after spending a second admiring your pretty lace panties and matching bra, he asked you, "you always wear underwear like this, love? what a little slut you are." something about the way he spoke to you made you absolutely wet. he looked gorgeous at this angle, knelt down in front of you, shoulders broad, inches away from your heat. part of you wanted to just pull his face into you, but he was definitely much stronger than you, so unfortunately you'd just have to wait it out.

he kissed the inside of your thighs, then over your clothed clit, making you beg for him again. then he pulled your underwear to the side, finally pressing his mouth to your soaked pussy. he felt amazing. he must be pretty experienced because he knew exactly how, when and where to make you whine and pant at every movement. the way his tongue swirled in little circles around your clit made your head spin. and the way he looked at you, never breaking eye contact, he was intoxicating. you knew if you made too much noise then his friends would definitely hear you - the walls were pretty thin. but it was so hard when he was sending you towards the edge so quickly. and when he pushed two of his thick fingers inside of you, you had to cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet. he curled it just right to hit the perfect spot inside you over and over. just his hand was stretching you out, and hitting spots that had never been hit by your own fingers. you knew you weren't going to last much longer at the brutal pace he was moving inside of you. you hooked your leg over his huge shoulder, and when he started sucking you could feel the knot in your stomach twisting. he knew this too and when you clenched around his fingers he pulled away, leaving you a panting, sweaty mess and depriving you of your orgasm.

"don't worry, doll. i'm not done with you yet," he said, standing up and turning you around so your chest was against the wall with your back to him. "want you to come on my cock, not on my fingers."

you could hear him undoing his belt and his cargo pants dropping to the floor behind you. he grabbed your hips and pulled your ass back towards him, lining you up nicely. you just knew it was going to be the biggest you'd ever taken. his tip prodded at your entrance, and he pushed slowly into you. he was huge. you hissed as he pushed inside, and he immediately stopped, checking if you're okay before carrying on, splitting you open. once you had adjusted, he started moving at a more regular pace, fucking you deep and slow. your tight pussy gripping his dick like a vice. he managed to find that spongey spot inside of you pretty quickly, hitting it over and over and causing you to let out a pornographic moan. he brought his hand over your mouth in response, muffling your slutty noises.

"is that good, lovie? yeah? you like it when i fuck you like that?" he groaned into your ear, bending over to kiss your neck and bare shoulder.

your eyes rolled back in response, bouncing back into him, which he didn't appreciate very much. with a deep grunt, the hand that remained on your hip tightened its grip, keeping you in place as he pounded into you. your head fell back into his chest in pure ecstasy, the pleasure being almost overwhelming. you could feel like knot building inside you again, getting close to your orgasm once more. his hand moved from his hip down between your legs, rubbing your clit just right, causing you to shriek into his hand. your legs began to shake as you were hurtling towards your climax. when you finally came, he had to move his hand from your clit to under your waist, holding you upright as your orgasm rocked through you. you cried out into his palm, tears forming in the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

when you finally fell back down to earth, he brought you to your knees and pushed his huge cock into your mouth to chase his own orgasm. it was the first time you'd managed to get a proper look at it. it was the perfect shade of baby pink, your own juices gleaming on his tip. a thick vein ran down the shaft all the way to his firm, full balls. he had a decent amount of blonde hair that trailed upwards towards his bellybutton and disappeared under his t-shirt. you happily took him into you mouth, taking him as far as you could and stroking the rest with your hand. his hand found its way around your neck and squeezed gently, feeling so small in his massive hand. you looked up at him and noticed how he was biting his lip, trying to keep himself quiet. the way his eyes rolled back when you chocked on the sheer size of his dick was so hot that it almost made you want to turn back around and ask for round two. but before you knew it, he was holding your ponytail in his fist and thick ropes of cum were filling your cheeks and running down your throat. his grip on your neck and hair tightened as he let out a grunt, which was loud enough for the boys at the bar to hear for sure, but you didn't care anymore. this man was truly something else.

he helped you get up, dressed and clean afterwards, returning your skirt and carefully wiping your mouth with his thumb. he smiled at you as he did this, telling you how pretty you were and how he just had to fuck you. you went back into the pub one after the other, as to not raise suspicion. but your makeup was all ruined and he had sort of a pornstar sweat-glow to him, so it was pretty obvious regardless. he finished the last mouthful of his whiskey and left with his boys.

it was only when you'd cleaned up their glasses and locked up the pub that you realised you didn't ask for his number. or even his name, for god's sake.

but you were sure that this wouldn't be the last time that giant of a man would stumble in for a drink on a wednesday afternoon.

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[yan-maid-cafe]

Yandere Upperclassman

Imagine being roommates with a yandere upperclassman...

It was your first year in Angelwood School for Girls a large boarding school your parents had enrolled you in. Trying your best to be optimistic despite now living on the other side of country without knowing anybody.

Moving into your new dorm room, you were introduced to your dormmate, Elyse. She was a year or two above you, due to the school wanting to pair freshmen with older students so that they could adjust to the school better. You were of course lucky enough to be roomed with someone on the more normal end. With most of the other freshmen claiming that their roommates were much more eccentric. By Elyse just seemed rather normal, she was quite cold and distant but still willing to offer you a hand when needed.

But recently she's began acting differently. It was as if she was actively seeking you out between classes. Wanting to walk you to and from classes, sitting with you during lunch, even urging you to join the same club as her. It was confusing. But whenever you brought it up, you'd get one of two responses. Fellow first years would shut down your confusion with envy for having an upperclassman that was so focused on making your adjustment to this new school easy. While those above you wouldn't believe what you said, they'd known Elyse for a while and the thought of her suddenly following a first year around like some kind of lost puppy was impossible to believe. You had to be misinterpreting her intentions, and maybe you were. You didn't know her all that well after all, maybe she was just trying to be a nice underclassman.

But that seemed less and less true as she continued to change. Now it seemed like classes were your only time away from her. After school she would insist on you staying in the dorms with her and whenever you'd try to leave, she'd insist on coming with you. Refusing to take any kind of No for an answer. Insisting on being beside you 24/7, it was starting to get worrying. Yet you couldn't say anything out of fear of upsetting one of your superiors.

It was another late evening in your dorm, sitting on the floor as you flipped through notes and textbooks. Trying to cram before another batch of exams. You were originally gonna host a study group with some fellow freshmen, but all it took was one "No" from Elyse for it to be called off.

Speak of the devil, as you tried to read through your biology notes the bathroom door opened. Elyse stepping out as she dried off her hair with a towel, wearing her usual lavender pajamas. Turning her gaze to your direction, she walked over and sat down beside you. A soft smile on her lips as she spoke to you in a honeyed tone.

"Oh, you're still up. I assumed you would have fallen asleep by now."

Not even bothering to look at her, you just continued. Alternating between reading the various chuncks of highlighted text in your notebook and the textbook in front of you, trying desperatly to decipher your own handwriting. Though Elyse didn't seem pleased with you ignoring her, scooting closer until your legs were touching.

"You could always take a break, you know? You've been studying so hard, I can brew us some tea if you want..."

Looking at your face as she anxiously chewed on her lower lip, desperately waiting for you to answer her. But still, your head remained low as if intentionally ignoring her. Were you? She couldn't help but fidget with her hands as she tried one more time to get your attention. Her voice turning shakey as she looked down at your notes.

"Oh, Introduction to Biology I remember taking that class. I might still have the notes somewhere if you want them. I could help you study a little if you want..."

Her eyes burned into your head as she waited for a response, even a simple "No" would suffice. But still, your eyes remained on the notebook in front of you. You had to be intentionally ignoring her at this point, nobody's tunnel vision was this bad. Finally choosing to give up, Elyse got off the ground and walked into her room, shutting the door behind her.

She couldn't help but let out a defeated sigh as she threw her towel into the laundry basket, throwing herself onto her bed as she buried her face into a pillow. Holding the soft pillow close to her chest as a deep blush settled on her cheek. Her voice breathless as she spoke to herself.

"So now your ignoring me, how cruel can you be? Are you that upset that I refused to let those rats come into our space?"

She buried her face into the pillow as she opened her phone, seeing the typical floral lockscreen before she put in the passcode. Watching her phone open to the photo of you as her background, it was a photo she had found on one of your classmate's socials, though she made sure to crop out the other girl. Letting out a breathy sigh as she ran her thumb along the photo.

"So, so cruel. You can't just make my heart race like this then turn away from me. That's cold, even for you. Is this some kind of game to you?"

Closing her eyes, Elyse held the phone close to her chest. A dreamy, far off look in her eyes. Butterflies in her stomach as she leaned back onto her bed. A love sick smile plastered on her face.

"If it is, I will happily play for as long as you wish. So long as my prize at the end is you..."

A/N: I am so insecure about this one, but I wanted to get it out for pride month. So forgive me if it isn't the best 🙏.