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'a Flyer You Pick Up Off the Ground'
Tag adventure!! There's an adventure in the tags! Haha
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shy!popular!reader sleeps with eddie after smoking with him (it was their first time smoking and they were scared to do it alone), eddie wakes up thinking it was a one time thing, but reader is all soft with him in the morning 🥺 (bonus of reader was a virgin and the weed gave them the confidence to make a move on eddie)
aaaaaa i love this!!! thank you for requesting 💕
18+ mdni. cw: oral (f receiving), breath play, overstimulation, fingering. slight angst, allusions to smut, virgin!reader, fluff, smoking.
his lighter flickers, igniting the small flame that lights up the end of his cigarette. a sizzling sound tickles his ears, and suddenly he misses your gentle laugh.
but he doesn't want to disturb you. not when you're clad in one of his blue öyster cult shirts, chest rising steadily as you swim in the ocean of slumber, eyelashes fluttering at the dream you run around in. you look peaceful, and you always have been.
eddie thinks of last night. when you'd knocked on his door, flustered and nervous. not because you're talking to eddie 'the freak' himself, but because you're friends had asked you to buy weed for the first time—using their repulsion for him as an excuse for their lack of courage.
you looked pretty. a gentle blush coating your cheeks, where he didn't know if it had been the small make-up ones, or the cold weather that nipped at your skin, or if you were just really shy despite the prominent reputation you (accidentally) harbored. eddie thinks he might have been hallucinating seeing you on his doorstep with nothing but stuttering words and a bashful smile.
do you sell the...thing? you asked. like the word 'weed' was taboo, especially with your conservative family who you worried was lurking around everytime you left your home. but he's amused. yes. he said. i do sell the thing.
but when you gave him the twenty dollars despite his protest ("new customers pay fifteen," lie. "especially when they're pretty girls," truth), you stood in the middle of his living room, frowning at the ziplock of the smelly marijuana, before you looked up at him with balky eyes and a twitching mouth that fears disappointment.
"do you wanna get high with me?"
he'd stopped dead on his tracks and fiddled with the fifteen dollars in his fingers. at first he thought you were joking, or it was some freudian slip, but you looked so eager with a curious glint in your eyes. and of course, with someone as pretty as you offering to get high with him, how could he say no?
you told him it was your first time (and it was also not the first time you told him that). that you wanted to know how it worked before you went back to your friends to spare yourself the embarrassment. eddie had gladly instructed you with a mischievous forethought. "put that in your mouth, sweetheart. ohh, that's it. then you suck— inhale, sorry. ah-ah-ah, keep it in. you feel it in your lungs? yeah, you can open your mouth now baby— holy shit..."
when the whites of your eyes had turned pink, mouth parted to let out the jokes you'd been afraid to tell your so-called-friends and you'd loosened up to the presence of notorious 'cult leader,' you'd slipped up the fact that your girlfriends kept on talking about virginities and sex and their ever loving boyfriends with semi-big cocks. and you so brazenly told him that, albeit you feel so revolted with the jocks you hang around with, that you'd been jealous to be the only one who's yet to be defiled.
and it's what's making eddie maudlinly reminisce last nights events behind the crooked cigarette.
how sweet your moans had been when he fucked you with his tongue and ring covered fingers; brought you your first orgasm that hadn't come from the pillow you humped. the taste of your sweet cum that still lingered on the tip of his tongue. then your tight, virgin cunt wrapped around his indelicate cock as he gently split you open with slow strokes that had you mewling at the feeling.
how the lewd sounds of your squelching sounds of your cum and your arousal that made both your thighs disgustingly sticky. and how blissful he felt spilling into the rubber as you cried beneath him.
it had been over too soon. but hey, at least you slept beside him on his bed without any judgement whatsoever, right?
he exhales the suffocating smoke of his cigarette and taps it thrice, letting the cold air that seeps through his ajar window nip at his bare chest that still had the red scratches of your nails on his opalescent skin. eddie hopes you sleep for a bit longer, just so he can stare at you without any worries whatsoever.
but much to his dismay, your breathing stutters and you slowly wake up. eddie's hand lowers from his mouth, watching you untuck your hands from beneath your head to cover your mouth as you yawn.
"well good morning, sleeping beauty,"
you blink, the tears of your yawn dampening your dried eyelashes and eyeballs. eddie smiles fondly, the faint scent of your bergamot perfume mixing in with his boyish musk of cheap cologne and dirt. he debates on keeping its scent like that; refusing to wash it just so he could smell you (non pervertingly).
"hi," you stretch an arm. "how long have you been awake?"
"a couple of minutes," he answers. "how'd you sleep?"
eddie lets his eyes wander to the tangled strands of your hair, thinks of how silky they'd been when he ran his fingers through your hair. how the rich scent of apples from whatever shampoo you used invaded his nostrils. he blushes.
"it was okay," you grunt. "i had, um, fun," you don't look at his eyes. you look at the intrepid tattoos. you're too nervous, embarrassed maybe. worried he didn't enjoy it as much as you did.
"you did?" there's a lilt of surprise in his voice; the bewilderment that sets his pitch just a bit higher that almost makes him choke on the smoke in his throat.
of course you did. eddie had been gentle. something you hadn't expected from his intimidating vogue. he was kind and patient, told you all the things you expected. and he made you feel safe—something those jocks had never made you feel when you were with them. you didn't think of running away, or sinking down in his couch to escape his intense stares, or sneak up to call the cops.
eddie made you feel free; his reverent fucking had buzzed a paroxysm of ecstasy that ensnared your senses and brought you to seventh heaven. he made you feel better than the weed you'd consumed, and the itch in your heart makes you crave for more of him.
"yeah," your voice of gentle susurration makes him smile. you eye the lit cigarette in his hand. "it was amazing,"
but his doubt gets the best of him. the last few women who he'd reduced as his stress-reliever fuck had always told him that they wanted to forget something ever happened. and if he were being honest, he felt the same way for them. but you were different. there's a small devil on his shoulder that whispered his insecurities in his ear, and eddie says, "look, um. about l-last night. you, um, we can just forget that all of those ever happened,"
you don't expect to be frowning early in the morning with something twisting your guts. "what? why?"
"because," eddie laughs sardonically, gesturing to himself. "you're you and i'm...eddie."
his lips curl. "what do you mean 'and?'"
"so what if you're eddie?" you whisper, tugging on your fingers. suddenly eddie feels guilty, your bottom lip jutting out in disappointment and he wonders if you think it's your fault. (you do. but eddie knows it's not your fault)
"well. i mean it's not like we can talk in school, babe. your friends are gonna judge you-"
"i don't care," you furrow your eyebrows. "i don't judge them for dating jocks who are so stupid."
eddie twists, a hand tilting your head to look at him. the simple touch makes you forget what he said for a split second, the comfort of his thumb wiping any imaginary tears. "well, sweetheart, i'm not a jock. i'm-"
"don't say it," you snap, threatening him. "i really liked last night. and i- i'd like to do it again..." your eyes soften, hand coming up to wrap around his wrist. "...with you. obviously,"
his heart palpitates. a swarm of bats circling around his belly. "yeah?"
"well, for the record," he brushes the hair out of your face. "i really liked last night, too,"
you smile, and his temptations are fed.
for the first time, he kisses you. eddie kisses you with excitement buzzing in him; fervor burning with anticipation. he hadn't kissed you last night—something you've made an agreement with seeing as kissing was...passionate. but now he kisses you with a cigarette mouth and an eager tongue that invades your mouth when you moan slightly against him.
the taste of him sends heat down your core, dampening your panties. eddie quickly detaches himself to your lips and kisses down your neck, where he sees the light marks he'd left. he plants a kiss or two, a sacrilegious aid. with his cigarette balanced between his index and middle fingers, he uses the other to slither down beneath the sheets and cup your heat.
"christ," he grunts against your neck, swallowing your quieted moan. "wet already?"
"not my fault," you push the covers away, throwing it aside, almost falling off his bed and eddie slots himself between your legs, knees raising to dig on his waist. "you- you kiss like a wh-..."
eddie smiles in levity. "i kiss like a what, baby?"
you whine, eyes fluttering shut when he digs the heel of his palm on your clothed cunt, cheeks flaring in embarrassment. it's too vulgar, you think. but you're not in the place where your parents are, and you say, "like a w-whore."
he pushes your shirt up beneath your chest, his teeth biting softly at the small bow on your panties before he digs his nose right at the indent of your wet slit. you whimper, legs spread wide by the guidance of his hand. "mm. right. like i'm the one who's wet."
eddie pushes your panties to the side and wastes no time pressing the flat of his tongue on your dripping hole. you jolt, the sparks of sore sensitivity makes your eyes water. but he doesn't care—not when your hair shoots to clutch tightly on his hair, eliciting a baritone hum that vibrates against your blushing clit.
he puts the cig back on his wet lips, his tongue coating it with your slick and his saliva before he lets the nicotine evade his mouth. you pant, lifting your head to take a look, watching as he removes the cigarette that you greedily take from him.
salaciously, eddie blows the smoke onto your cunt. it was hot, a harsh kiss that mimicked the rigid waft of winter that caressed your skin. but it felt good—ticklish, but overwhelmingly good. and the smoke has barely withered into the air when he wraps his lips around your swollen clit and sucks on it, gathering all your arousal into his mouth.
you moan, the heel of your palm pressing on the sweat at your forehead, the cigarette on your hand still burning and waiting. eddie chuckles. "you liked that, didn't you?"
"yeah," you place the cigarette in your mouth, just when he fucked his fingers in. you almost choke, plucking it out to cough the smoke and bring forth a croaked moan. "jesus!"
you give up and toss the cigarette on his ashtray beside the bed, seeing no use anymore.
but his strokes are gentle, his fingertips pressing on your velvety walls, scissoring them slowly before he parts them and spreads you open. your hand is tight around his tangled curls, admiring the thick muscle of his pink tongue flicking at your clit.
"god, baby, you taste amazing," his own eyes roll to the back of his head, his cock hard and straining but it's not what he's focused on right now.
you taste like nectar found from the waterfalls of heaven, after he'd climbed back up from the pits of hell. the nicotine on his tongue made everything better, letting you drip onto his mouth before he swallows it all up.
"e-eddie," you cry. "i'm gonna cum,"
"cum then," he nips at your folds. "be good and cum on my face, honey,"
and everything felt like you're in an abyss of deathless pleasure. the sensitivity from last night twists the coil tighter, and eddie's fingers move faster. the squelching sound of your arousal glinting brightly around his knuckles, so much that it had almost been a mirror for you to use. he sucks and laps at your folds, prodding his nose at the hood of your clit, until you explode and cum on his face.
your legs fall to the bed, catching your breath as eddie plucks his fingers out on a wet slosh, putting it back in his mouth to suck your juices out of his limbs. you smile lazily in the afterglow of your morning orgasm, and eddie can't help himself but lean down and capture his lips with yours.
"had fun up here?" he cocks a brow, taking your hand into his and kissing your knuckles, his damp fingers lacing around yours.
you suck your cheeks in and offer him a shy smile. "i'm definitely gonna come back here later,"
reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3
Dipping my toes in the ‘oblivious Eddie has no functioning gaydar which results in mild miscommunication’ genre of the Steddie experience, hope you enjoy!
Ao3 extended version
“My, my, are my eyes deceiving me? Steve Harrington himself has graced these sinful halls?”
Instead of a sneer Eddie’s been expecting, Steve’s face lights up with a smile. He lifts his hand to wave at him with much more enthusiasm than expected. Which is… weird since they have maybe talked once when the guy picked up Eddie’s new freshmen from Hellfire. Well, almost as weird as meeting a Harington in a gay bar itself.
A little dumb-founded, Eddie waves back weakly, his eyes catching the sight of Robin Buckley at the bar behind them. Ah, so there’s the reason Harrington’s here.
“You’re here as an ally, I presume.”
“Uhm, yeah I guess so?” Steve pouts, confused, before smiling again. “You too, then?”
“Sure, let’s say that.”
“Hey, you should sit with us,” Harrington grins as if that’s actually a good idea. Before Eddie manages to think of an excuse, he’s being dragged towards Buckley by the sleeve. “Come on.”
“Munson,” Robin nods at him in greeting, something akin to a mischievous smirk on her face. Why, he doesn’t begin to understand.
“You look good, by the way,” a deep voice whispers into his ear as they set off towards the tables and Eddie has to do everything for his soul not to leave his body. Steve… is being way friendlier than expected. But that’s what it is, he has to remind himself before it gets too dangerous, just guys being dudes.
The ‘us’ in question turns out to be more than just the bizarre Harrington-and-Buckley duo. There’s Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers and some tall guy with the best hair he’s seen, not counting Harrington of course, bless his hair-sprayed soul. They don’t seem all that surprised he’s here at all which - fair enough, but also that he’s here at this table and that he doesn’t know how to explain. Nancy Wheeler, though, ever the enigma keeps shooting him loaded glances. He’s pretty sure she sniffed out his embarrassing crush on, ugh, Steve Harrington and she’s- Jealous maybe? Probably? As if there is a universe where he, Eddie Munson, poses a threat to someone like Nancy fucking Wheeler.
Steve sits himself closest to Eddie, maybe because he’s feeling guilty - as he should be - about throwing him into a table full of basically-strangers or maybe for a different, Harrington-unexplainable reason. The point is, he’s close, Eddie can smell his aftershave and cigarettes and it’s the best and worst thing that’s happened to him.
He keeps talking, too, asking Eddie questions about DnD (and isn’t that a head-scratcher in itself) and what conditioner he’s using because he really likes his hair (as if Steve wasn’t the embodiment of every shampoo commercial ever made). The gin-and-tonic Eddie’s been sipping must’ve been stronger than he thought because he swears he hears Steve saying something like ‘I don’t know, I think you’re really pretty’ at one point.
Eddie is starting to wonder if Harrington, perhaps, has been replaced with a pod person.
There’s a few more attempts at small talk from Steve but Eddie’s too confused and trying so hard to not be hopeful because a second edition of a pathetic crush on a straight dude (Steve, his mind supplies helpfully) is going to be too painful. Harrington seems kind of down afterwards, sliding off his chair and towards the bar which leaves Eddie with an infamous Buckley glare. Followed by an aggravating assault to his shin.
“Ow, Jesus, what the fuck is your problem?”
“My problem?” Robin is quick to retort. “What’s your problem? I thought you had a crush on him! It’s frankly kind of fucking obvious.”
Okay, whoa, rude.
“I don’t,” Eddie sneers back but falters when she levels him with a blank stare. “Fine, I do. Whatever. Way to kick a man when he’s down.”
“Dingus, he’s been all over you for the last hour. He’s been flirting like crazy and you, for some reason, keep shooting him down, what the hell?”
“But-” But he’s straight. Right? He turns to see Steve at the bar and - oh, there’s some guy with curly hair touching Steve’s arm and Steve’s smiling and blushing and- “What?”
That won’t do.
“Go get your man,” Robin says, practically shoving him off his stool to emphasize her point. Eddie scrambles from the floor, ignores the intense looks from the rest of the table and marches towards the bar.
“I’m coming, Stevie.”
first base; eddie munson
prompt: going steady with eddie munson meant a lot of thing, but you couldn't have guessed his version of first base.
word count: 1.8k
warnings: perverted, filming sex, teasing including name-calling, domination and submission, fuck machines, let me know if i missed anything :)
an: sooooo this was written in one sitting after seeing the amazing @mypoisonedvine drabble, and it's a top tier kink for me so i figured i'd take a stab at it :p feedback is always appreciated
“You want me to do what?”
Going steady with Eddie Munson meant a lot of things. It included going to his band's concerts, learning more about Dungeons and Dragons than you ever thought you would, and dealing with his outlandish personality. All these things made you like him even more.
The decision to take it slow wasn’t a vocalized one, but you guys had been together for about 3 months and hadn’t had sex yet, with a lot of just making out and fondling that lead to frustration on each end.
While you knew Eddie had a bit of a perverted mind, you had come across his stash of magazine cut outs and a few pornos, but this wasn’t something you were expecting, not opposed to though.
“Does that sound fun to you or…” He questioned, sitting on the bed, fiddling with a packet of cigarettes. You stood still as the question rang through for a moment, “Was wondering if I could tie you up and toy fuck you, maybe even film it?”
It was almost like he thought you wouldn’t hear despite being a mere foot away, but you couldn’t lie, the thought was enticing.
A twisted grin decorated his face as he stood, grabbing you to push you on the bed. You watched as he grabbed the pair of handcuffs from his wall, whistling absentmindedly as he opened his closet pulling out an odd machine with a dildo attached.
“Don’t even worry about it, this is like my version of first base.” He beamed, but you rolled his eyes at his comment, in what world would this be first base.
“Eddie! What the-” The words fell off as you sat up, shocked at his gadget that he was positioning at the end of the bed, “Where did you even get this?”
“I got real bored in shop class.” He remarked, watching you wince against his sheets, licking his lips already.
“You’re such a perv.” You whispered, his hand coming to your head to lean back, planting a sloppy kiss on your forehead.
“But I’m your perv.”
Once he helped get your clothes off, the first time fully seeing you naked, he groaned. You laid on the bed as he put cuffs on your hands to his bed frame, stretching you out. Your body was on fire with nerves at this exposure still foreign to your relationship, but even he could see how wet you were getting.
“Be a good girl and I won’t have to tie your feet down.” He taunted, grasping his new video camera with his left hand, sauntering towards you. You remembered how excited he was to get that, had he been planning this for a while?
His eyes turned soft as his face went closer to yours, kissing you gently, “Let me know if it’s too much, okay? Say the word ‘grapefruit’.”
You nodded, giving him one last peck before he stood up straight, strutting to the end of his mattress. You were all spread for him, the plastic cock just a few centimeters from your wet pussy, he was a bit jealous the material object was getting some before he did.
His finger flicked the machine on, beginning with long and slow strokes, a gasp falling from your mouth at the intrusion. The camera beeped as he turned it on, focusing on where you connected to his old project.
“You’re fucking dripping already, look at that.” He gawked, seeing how the toy shined when it would leave you. You whimpered at his words, forcing your eyes open to watch the fully clothed man shove the lens near you.
He backed up, using his right hand to turn it up a notch, watching it bounce faster. He smirked at your already withering demeanor. You were always put together around everyone, but he knew by the end of this, you wouldn’t have an ounce of composure.
“Such a good girl for me, hm? Letting me play with you before we even have sex?” He cooed, trailing the recorder up your frame before he cupped your cheek. You attempted to look away from the red light, but he kept his palm firm.
“Tell me, sweetheart. What does it feel like?” He interrogated, hand leaving your face to palm the growing erection under his jeans. The toy was then upped a notch by Eddie, camera still near your face as you inhaled sharply.
“It feels good, thank you.” You stuttered as it hit your deepest point with a loud moan. He went back to the foot of the bed, turning it up again as you whined, feeling your legs jitter. You could feel his gaze on you along with the silver camera, documenting your every move.
You threw your head back as the plastic tip prodded at a certain angle, wetness trailing down your lips. His finger danced across your navel before combing through your tuft of hair, yanking gently to make you jolt. He laughed at your reaction, pulling on the coarse hair again to hear your pained whine.
“Look at that cunt, you’re taking it so well. Almost want a taste.” He declared, using his free hand to push your thighs further apart, feet planted on the opposite sides of his lower mattress.
“Please” You begged, clit throbbing at the idea of his mouth anywhere near you. You had spent night after night imagining Eddie destroying you to tears, fucking you gently then hard, but you couldn’t have guessed that the little pervert wanted to see you fucked by a dildo first.
“Is that what you want? Want my mouth?” He was met with a drawn out cry before inching closer, stopping right above your throbbing bud. He breathed hot air onto it, making you shiver with anticipation and tug at the metal holding your hands up.
He put his tongue flat against where you needed him most, holding the camera at an awkward placement to get your face in frame as you weeped tearlessly. Managing to reach his other hand beside him, he turned it up two more notches, pulling away to see it thrusting in and out at an intense speed.
He sucked your bundle of nerves, letting his spit help him glide across the already silky skin. The toy occasionally grazed his skin as he adjusted his mouth, making him wish he had extra hands to stroke his cock at the sight.
He rose to watch you convulse, giving an insincere pout as he watched your hip flick up in the air.
“You still need your clit played with, baby?” He cooed without an ounce of compassion, just pure arrogance as he watched your eyes haze with need. You nodded quickly, spreading your legs even further by bending them at the knees.
Mimicking your moan as he rubbed your clit, exaggerating his face to further embarrass you, shoving the camera closer to your flushed face.
“You’re so greedy, you can’t just accept getting fucked, can you?” He taunted, keeping his fingers at the same speed as the toy, the coil in your lower stomach blossoming. The way he was speaking to you should have made you angry, but it only made you more soaked.
He pulled his fingers up and slid them in your mouth, watching you suck them. He moaned, the same hand going to palm himself through his pants again.
“Eddie.” You cried, watching himself grasp his cock made your mouth water, which didn’t go unnoticed.
“Awe, you wanna see my dick?” He teased, unbuckling with one hand and shoving his pants down. Once his length was in your sight, your back arched as you got closer.
It bobbed against him as he turned up the device again, making your orgasm feel on the tip of your tongue. You began babbling incoherent pleas as he stroked himself, watching the precum gather at his tip.
He walked to you wordlessly and spat in your mouth, “Are you gonna come, all because I’m jerking off? You’re so pathetic, tell the camera, tell it how you're just a pathetic slut.” He commanded, shoving it in your face as you forced your eyes to stay open.
“I’m a pathetic slut, I’m a pathetic slut.” You quivered, body shaking as you approached your finish. Your mind began to get cloudy as it cusped, but you yelled as he turned it up even higher. You could hear his laughter at your distraught state, making you finally orgasm. But it felt different, it was more wet than you had ever experienced on your own.
He set the device upon the machine, getting your whole body into frame
“Look at you,” He growled, yanking your hair up so you looked into the lens, “You fucking soaked my bedsheets, squirted, all cause you’re such a whore who can’t control herself. I do something nice and you do this.”
You wept as the speed maintained its intense pace, the lewd noise of the fake balls hitting your soaked skin filled the room. He reached his hand down to smack your clit, watching as your release shot up at the friction.
“What? Can you not handle it?” He scoffed, grinning nonetheless as he saw tears come down your cheeks, “Awe, crying about it? Just a dumb baby?”
You agreed, aches cascading against your frame at the overstimulation, “I’m a dumb baby.”
Pleased by your response, he stood again, backing out of the frame and getting off. He bit his lip as you squirmed from pleasure and pain, he felt his own finish reaching, making him pause. He glanced at your swollen cunt, watching it clench, knowing you were almost there.
“Alright, pretty girl, let it out.” He encouraged, turning the knob up all the way as you screamed, chest heaving at the pace. He quickened the hand on his cock, mimicking the intensity he was witnessing, muttering random words.
The band snapped as white ropes covered his hand with a moan making you finish again while bawling, seeing his release slip to the floor. Taking a moment to clear his brain, he was snapped out by your yelp. He shut off the camera and then the machine, pulling you off and placing you in his lap.
Sitting across, he tucked you in his chest and rocked you with soft hushing. Your body buzzed with the aftershocks, feeling so empty after being so full.
“You did so good, I’m so proud of you.” He praised, stroking your hair as you thanked him, looking up to kiss him.
Remaining seated until you calmed down, he eventually got you dressed and put all his equipment away. You insisted you could walk, but he carried you to the couch to rest while he changed the sheets.
“I didn’t even know I could do that.” You divulged while he placed the soaked bedding in the washer, he smirked and slammed the door shut to start it.
“I’m just that good.” He boasted, flopping next to you and pulling you in his lap.
“You’re still a perv though.”
“Yeah, but I’m your perv.”
an: oooo this makes me nervous to post lol, enjoy weirdos, dont judge
@steeldaisies @meaganjm @masterofmunson @downbythebay4 @wicked-wordy-witchy-witch @femalefilmaker @wiltedwonderland @yourthebrokengirl @jessyballet @iheartyouyou @gloryekaterina @missscarlettangel @variety-fangirl @wigglywoos59 @imsuchafriggensimp @thegirlblogstuff @lovelyladymayyy @strawwberrry @ktjmac @dovesnrosesnreblogs @fknemily @spn-obession @diaryofthedoll @imagine-all-the-imagines
Idk if you have answered an ask like this already but please feed me some possessive/ jealous Ghost hc or whatever bc that man is 10 times sexier while jealous and possessive.
Pls just imagine jealous sex with this man omg…
he would not know how to handle himself i'm pretty sure. sorry to sabotage your thirst anon, i just love me a repressed man :) anyway, this is for the same mc in cigarettes out the window (reader with the call sign 'scout') but it can be read entirely separate! so, without further ado
here's some jealous ghost
He's colossal, a force composed of pure brawn and unfathomable depths. Talk of Ghost illustrates him as a norse warrior to end all, the nightmare fuel of enemies who can't help but pale at a skull face. Wholly a reputation founded on that tactical precision; charcoal eyes, half-lidded to contain the ire that bubbles like magma. It's all physical. You'd just assumed that strength extended to his emotional conviction as well.
But he gets quiet sometimes, eerily so. The type where he embodies his name and dissipates like shadow on you. You don't see him for days.
It definitely depends on the stage of your relationship. Catch him jealous before the six month mark and he'd choose to abandon ship. It's that instinctive fight or flight, the choice to back down and reassess before he loses another one of his men. But you're not the enemy; your hands are soft and supple when they cradle his face, never seeking to add to his scars. You're gentle when you tell him that it's him, always will be; no one can ever compare to the behemoth you'd surrendered your heart to.
It takes a lot of time to get Simon to the point where he allows himself to be possessive. The first time, it goes something like this:
Some bar in France, cleared out for their obligatory drink post-mission. Johnny had held him up, pulling him off to the side to start on a tangent about his makeshift bomb that ended up saving their lives. His eyes stay fixed on you, edging to his peripheral where you're caught up in a rather funny conversation with Gaz.
You muffle your snicker behind a shaking hand. Simons' own squeeze into fists.
While your relationship with the Lieutenant has yet to be defined, the men of the 141 recognise the silent claim that curls over your shoulders. It was written in your sleepy sigh, dewy skin gleaming with contentment, that night they'd woke at a safe house to find you three inches closer to his mattress. It was the first of many, many hints.
Garrick isn't flirting with you, not by a long shot.
But he is making you laugh. Perhaps harder than Simon ever has.
He can't really describe what overcomes him. It's a rib-shattering heartbeat, working overtime to supply his vision with brimming red. A deeply vulnerable pit bottoming out in his gut; that fear, still there, that you're only temporary. He only acts on the former so he won't face the latter.
He leaves Soap with no more than a clap on the back. The sergeant takes it for what it is, a promise to continue later.
"Price wants you on reports."
"Does he?" You shoot him an incredulous expression, shifting back and forth from his blank stare and the captain, who huddles near Laswell over a game of gin rummy.
"Affirmative." The response comes out faster than he'd like it to, clipped with full-bodied aggression.
"Right..." Licking your lip, you take a moment to match your scrutiny to his. Simon thinks he sees it, the glint your pupils take when you finally catch on. It combats the spite that courses through him, pooling down to fill the weight between his legs. Clever girl - you know him, probably better than he knows himself. "And I'm assuming you need to consult me on something regarding that?"
"Yes." It's all the indication you need.
"Well." You look to Garrick. "I'm sorry to cut this short, mate. Remember to tell me about Serbia some other time."
And Simon doesn't miss the odd look the sergeant gives you, lips curled downwards in an acknowledging humour. He doesn’t like that he’s comfortable enough to give that much.
But you follow him, smaller footsteps matching his as he finds a secluded hallway near the bathroom. It’s a good thing, he – rather, his internal monologue that sounds too much like your voice – echoes.
"Gonna bring up what's wrong, or will I have to force it out of ya. Hm?"
"Didn' appreciate the way he was lookin' at you, pet."
Your breath hitches, clumped lashes fluttering as you take him in anew. If this were anything else, Simon would credit your grin to a cruel sadism. As it stands, though, he lets it guide the flow of his plastered heart. He's on the right track.
"And how was he looking at me, Si?"
The growl that leaves him is untamed, the feral rip release of a hand grenade. A large hand clamps over your jaw, pressing inwards so your lips pucker out at him. The other pushes your torso to the wall, skimming past the hem of your shirt.
It's new. It's thrilling. It's a wildfire turned eternal damnation, fuelled by a fatal sin that forever trumps envy. Lust, bubbling poison to his insecurity - practical headway into something he's good at. Words were never his forte, but he can fuck you like no one else can, thrusting deeper between your velvet walls than thought possible. It's always been enough to spur breathless awe.
"Like he could ever amount to me."
$ DOUCEUR ! eren jaeger
pairing : jaelous! eren x fem! reader
contains : established relationship, nsfw content, fingering, creampie, use of language, smoking, slight degration.
word count : short drabble
jaelous!eren who hates how they look at you, how they always try and make an attempt at talking to you, getting your number even. it annoyed him how jaelous he was. not like he had a reason to be, you paid them no mind. and eren knew that, what really made him upset was the fact that they thought they had a chance.
jaelous!eren who would always roll his eyes when a guy came up to you, watching their lame attempts as he held a cigarette between his fingers. you were completely oblivious to most of these encounters so therefore you just took it as them being kind. but eren always knew their intentions.
jaelous!eren who makes sure to leave multiple hickeys on your neck for when you two go out, just to let everyone else know you were his. kissing your neck and teasing you in public to make a point.
jaelous!eren who teases you by slipping his fingers in your pussy from under your dress at a party, it was too dark for anyone to notice anyways, and if they did he didn't care. pumping two fingers in your now dripping cunt as you tried your best not to moan by all these people. you tried to ask him if you both could move but he refused, cupping your chin while you cum all over his fingers from under the table, smirking as you hid your face in his chest out of embarassment.
jealous!eren who fucks you sensless in the bathroom after he found you being a little too friendly with jean. thrusting his hips at a speed you could barely handle, you gripped the edge of the counter as you moaned his name again and again. he leaned over to kiss your neck and whisper praise into your ear. "thats it ma, let everyone know whos fucking your sweet pussy. taking me so fucking good." he rambled, not caring that the door remained unlocked. feeling a familiar knot in your stomach you cried out, letting eren know you were getting close. in response he moved his hand to start rubbing your clit in a circular motion. "go ahead baby, you deserve it." he sucked hickeys onto your back as you came, eren soon after. dropping your head onto the counter you could feel eren move his hands from your clit to your chin, lifting your head up. "get yourself cleaned up, ill be in the car." he said pressing a kiss to your cheek before fixing himself up and walking out of the bathroom.
𝐧𝗼𝐭𝐞 : ntm please i wrote the last bit half asleep ..
work on you (m)
+ featuring ... manager!taehyung x idol!reader
+ summary ... when your manager, kim taehyung, decides to avoid you after a massage turned sexual, you are determined to kill two birds with one stone: get him to talk to you again by fucking him.
+ genre ... smut, fluff
+ wordcount ... 12k
+ warnings ... fem!reader, possessive/jealous!taehyung, dom!taehyung, perv!taehyung, brat!reader, a lot of dirty talk, orgasm denial, objectification, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk, cumplay, cum swallowing, exhibitionism, public fingering,
For much of the night, Kim Taehyung is quiet. He rests on the crème couch, cat eyes observing you through the mirror. Outside, pink skies fade to indigo and crickets popcorn beneath the underbrush; the pattering of your feet against the practice room floor accompanies it. It has been hours since workers have clocked out and the last buses have run, but he knows this.
Your manager of two years is not known for the saccharine politeness of his peers nor the pedantic nature of his seniors. Instead, he is blunt. Reserved. An intrinsic part of your life whom you’d grown reliant on as winter faded to summer and back again.
His diligence is not due to principle but rather habit – if it wasn’t for you, he would be watching cable, cigarette ash tainting work clothes he was too tired to change out of. Instead, he waits—regardless of overtime—to drive you to your apartment where he bids you a weary ‘bye’ only to pick you up three hours later. He doesn’t need to, but he does. A habit.
But as entangled as your lives have grown, he has always kept a distance; hence your intrigue when he approaches you post-practice where he would have ignored you altogether.
“You look tired,” he says in the disinterested tone you’d come to expect.
He studies you through the floor-length mirrors as you spread your legs in a stretch. You had been shy once, all too aware of how little your leggings left to the imagination, but Taehyung’s blank stares had assuaged those thoughts long ago.
You admit, his ignorance bothers you. He is there, but he is not, with all the presence of drapery that sways only when a window is ajar.
“I’m fine,” you say – and you are, for the most part. “Just a little sore.”
“Where does it hurt?”
You dismiss his verbosity as a sign of your own palpable fatigue. “No, it’s just that my shoulders feel like shit.”
“Do you need help?” His fingers flutter before your face. “I could give you a massage.”
As the sole target of his scoldings, the notion of such a Samaritan action is laughable. “Oh, really? You?”
“Why not?” Cherry-tinted lips twitch. “Can’t have your body breaking down on me before your comeback.”
His tongue pokes his cheek and he cracks his knuckles; the sound draws you to the length of his fingers, callused and long. The kind meant to caress piano keys or draw pleasure from a crooning lover. You think of those hands on you, enkindling a different type of satisfaction.
You are pulled to face the mirror as he stands behind you. “Like this,” he says, the ball of his wrist gliding against your upper back. His hands are rough as he kneads, tugging and pressing on the skin as he would dough, a harshness that should hurt but doesn’t. He moves closer, his pulsing heat a reminder of his proximity.
Sandalwood, you realize. That’s what he smells like.
You breathe it in as if the rest of him would follow. Once, twice. Then exhale as he finds a particular knot between your shoulders.
“Your muscles are so tight,” he says, with all the wispy quality of a fever dream.
It’s wanton to clench at such an innocent usage of the word but you do, thighs rubbing against each other in pursuit of friction.
The siren song of his whisper dallies close to your ear’s cusp. “You’ve really been overworking yourself. I guess this is sort of my fault, huh?” He heaves a great sigh. “It’s only right that I make up for it then.”
You nod, unable to part your lips for fear of the sounds that would surface. Had you always been so weak, you wonder, the tickle of his breath inches from your neck enough to compose your compliance. Comets of ideas, bad and worse, streak past your musings. You pluck one, entertaining the thought of grinding against his length until it hardens between your ass.
You instantly berate yourself though your underwear moistens still.
Your manager. He’s your manager. A person of whom your mortification would be parried, and your chagrin discarded. Such constant proximity would be unbearable if awkward, and Taehyung, as curt as he is, means too much to you to be cast aside due to your own lack of restraint.
Stood before a mirror, there is nothing else to focus on but the reflected image of him behind you. There’s no particular difference in his wardrobe today: a beige cardigan, dark jeans, and pale sneakers, reminiscent of a History major, art connoisseur, or both. Curled obsidian hair drapes along the curve of his eyes, eyes focused on his ministrations against your back. One would expect a more formal way of dress, but considering that most of his job revolves around following your schedule all day there’s no reason to.
He grins when he catches you staring.
You scoff, face burning. “What?”
“Don’t you think you’ll feel better if I massage you while you’re lying down?”
His hands rub your bare arms, coaxing a reply out of your quiet contemplation. You hesitate – not out of wariness, but rather embarrassment that he may find a swift reply too eager. Though he is not one to heartlessly poke fun at another, you attempt as casual a shrug as your nerves can handle.
He leads you by a gentle grip on your wrist to the spacious couch opposite where you’d been standing. The same couch he spends most of his time on while waiting for your practices to end.
He motions for you to flip over and lie down on your stomach with a swirl of his finger. The action combined with your obedience is almost dog-like, but you are so deeply entrenched in his spell that if he told you to bark you would.
Face planted into a pillow, you can hear his shuffling as he kneels atop you outside your thighs. He rubs circles against your shoulders, leaning forward to whisper: “Feels good?”
Below, your core aches like the starved, demanding sustenance.
“Sure,” you say, settling on the least innocuous of words. “You’re like… strangely good at this.”
“Good enough to switch careers? I don’t think the pay would be as good, though.”
“I wouldn’t be there either, so that would suck. For you.”
There’s a playful frown in his tone. “Oh, yes, because how could I ever go about my day-to-day life without you in it?”
He’s joking but you do wonder what he does outside of managing you. If he has hobbies, passions, friends… or a significant other he does this to. To be candid, the thought irks you.
“Are you sore anywhere else?” he asks, having focused on your shoulders.
You respond with a breathless ‘yes’, turning your head to meet his gaze. “My lower back.”
His fingers are a paradox of frigid and warm as he grazes your neck, making his way down your spine, then shoulders, then upper arms. He sits astride your ass, touch gliding against the exposed skin below your top. He digs into your muscles as if trying to see what is buried beneath them.
He’s never touched you so purposefully before.
He’s never done much of any of this before.
Talking. Touching. Tempting.
“Is it cool if I lift your shirt?” he asks. “It’s getting in the way.”
Your breath hitches, your heart races, and somewhere outside the company building the horn of a taxi startles you out of reverie.
“Go ahead.” You nod, helping him help you out of the shirt.
He’s clinical as he folds it and places it on the hardwood flooring. He doesn’t look at your bra—a gray, sporty number—and avoids touching the fabric as he continues.
A few blissful minutes pass when he says that he has an idea.
He gets up, walks to your bag, and (without needing to ask) locates the lotion you keep in a pouch. Settling back down, his crotch nestles between the warmth of your ass. The plastic pump splashes white cream onto your back which he massages into the skin.
“Does that feel better?” he asks, hands gliding across the exposed flesh. It smells like nectar on his hands and feels like ambrosia against your skin. His touch is overwhelming, every caress casting electricity straight to your lower stomach.
“My abdomen hurts too.” The words are a muffled whisper against the throw pillow your face is buried in.
“Then, turn over,” he says, as if it’s that simple. Perhaps, to him it is. Perhaps, this is all in your head, that lightning-charged static in the air.
He moves up, allowing space for you to roll over.
When he sits down his crotch directly presses against your clothed cunt.
His pinky rests against your chest, moving with the sound of your breathing. It slips slightly beneath the stretch of fabric, poking the flesh. You hold your breath until you can’t– until your lungs demand air as much as your body demands his.
You hold his wrist. “Is my bra getting in the way too?”
His adam's apple bobs, pretty eyes flickering between you and your concealed chest. “A bit,” he shrugs, sliding another finger beneath the underwire.
Your voice is raspy, the way one sounds when in thirst. “Then you should remove it.”
He moves with the grace of a caught deer, watching your face for any sign of hesitation. Your back arches, allowing his hand to slip underneath and unclip it. He slides the straps down your arms, inch by inch, giving you time to say no. You don’t, not able to even fathom the thought of doing so.
He drinks in your chest and the erect nipples standing in the centers of them with dilated pupils and hooded eyes. You imagine that he thinks you’re gorgeous, that it takes all of his will-power not to ravage you on that couch as beasts often do. It is that need to be made into poetry under his gaze that you push your chest upward, seeking his warmth.
He stills your squirming with a hand to your sternum. “Don’t move,” he says, a command you heed the moment it leaves his lips.
The rough pads of his fingers graze your hips then stomach before resting beneath the cusp of your chest. You are hyper-aware of every movement, every stutter, every pulse – if only so that you don’t miss that cataclysmic moment when his hands finally cup the flesh that hides your stampeding heart.
He grips you carefully, digging moon-shaped indents on your skin. Your nipples rest within the crevice of his outstretched fingers, surrounded yet untouched.
“This isn’t a good angle.” He pouts, looking around before finding the tossed pillows. Your back is moved into an arch as he tucks one of them beneath the small of your back, causing your chest to jut out from where you lay. He grins, satisfied.
His hands go back to your chest, working from the outside in circular motions, avoiding your nipples. He then reaches for the lotion bottle, pumping more of the white cream onto you.
“Do you like this?” He asks, fingers dragging around your slippery tits.
“Yeah, it feels really good.”
“Really good, huh?” He laughs when your body jerks at his finger brushing against your nipple. “How about this? Are you sensitive here?”
You groan when he pinches the bud. “What do you think?”
“No one’s giving them enough attention, huh?”
To your embarrassment, you whine when he moves his hands away.
“Shh, you don’t want to be caught getting special treatment from your manager, do you? Unless… that’s the sort of thing you’re into?” He laughs, eyes blown out as he watches you panic. You’ve never seen that look on him before.
“What the hell are you talking about, you dick?”
“Nothing.” He bites his lower lip in an attempt to quell his laughter. If you weren’t insanely horny at the moment then you would’ve been better able to appreciate the rarity of such a display of emotion. “You’re just being really cute right now acting all shy when all I’m doing is giving you a massage. You said you were tired, so I’m helping you.” He squeezes your tits. “That’s part of my job, isn’t it?”
You scoff. “You mean this is you being a pervert. I can feel your definitely average-sized cock hard as hell against me.”
Taehyung gasps as if that was the most insulting thing he’d ever heard. “Okay, three things: one, I’m not a pervert; two, my cock is definitely not average; and three, if you want me to stop then tell me and we can pretend that this never happened. Or, you know, if the pretending fails then we could just die from the inescapable awkwardness. That’d be fine too.”
Trust that he was only ever talkative when he wanted to bother you. You roll your eyes, mumbling: “Well, I didn’t say that…”
His gaze meets yours, dark and tempting. “Then what do you want from your poor, overworked manager?”
You answer by moving his hand back to your chest. “Nothing much,” you say coyly, though what you mean is ‘everything’.
His nails scratch tight circles around each bud, teasing you. He watches your wide-eyed desperation with amusement, alternating between fanning his fingers over the points and holding them between his slippery fingers, squeezing them until they slip out of his grip.
He blows phantom winds against the mounds, hardening them into stalactites. He rocks against you, hips against hips, crotch against crotch, stimulating your clit through the sheer fabric of your leggings. You whine and pant with every motion.
“You’re so noisy. Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” The word leaves you before you can fake nonchalance.
“Then be a good girl and focus on my service.”
Though he’d always been the strict type, you weren’t one to be so obedient: to follow his every command, bend at his will, become a pliable figure; to crave escape through the form of mindlessness. Between his periodic seeking of consent and cautious eyes, you feel safe, safe to drown in his touch and never resurface. You know, even then, that despite the blasé way you were both treating this moment, it was one that neither of you could take back.
He scoots backwards from where he sat on your thighs, moving your feet over his lap. From this angle, he is sure to notice the wet outline of your labia through your leggings.
The soles of your feet are a slight vermillion from having danced barefoot for the past three hours, and he briefly rubs them before moving upwards, to your ankles, your knees, your thighs. It is with an anxious draw of breath that you await his touch at your most sensitive center.
“Where do you want me to touch you?”
“Anywhere,” you say. “As long as you keep doing it.”
“I’m going to need a specific place, sweetheart.”
Head tossed back, you whine. “Just- Come on, Taehyung.”
He kneads your outer thighs, scarcely exerting pressure. “Is this what you want?”
“Please. There. Touch me there. It hurts.”
He chuckles beneath his breath. “Poor baby. I’m sorry, but I don't know where ‘there’ is. Oh, I have an idea. How about you show it to me?” He moves to give you enough space. “Come on, show me where and how you want to be touched.”
You, the rational you, would have been unable to process the erotic words coming from your manager’s lips. These are the whispers you’d conjured in daydreams with not even the hope of being subject. But you aren’t the rational you. The you beneath Taehyung is someone else entirely, someone caught in a dream without desire to wake.
Your hands crawl to the waistband of your leggings but hesitate at the breach.
“Don’t be shy. I know how you like to play with your little cunt in hotel showers, even though you know I’m waiting outside the door, subject to hearing your pretty moans. I’ve always wondered how you pleasured yourself, if you liked to finger your sopping hole until you passed out or if you preferred to press the stream of a shower head against your clit.”
Whilst your right hand sneaks its way into your underwear, your left slaps to your lips, rushed to suppress a gasp. “Are you actually trying to kill me? Have some fucking decorum. And what do you mean you heard me?”
“Decorum? I’m not the one touching myself where anyone could walk in and catch me.”
You didn’t even realize when you’d started the teasing motions, fingers caressing your outer labia.
You scoff. “You’re acting like you weren’t salivating over my tits a few minutes ago.”
“Is that what you want? Me salivating over your tits?”
His hair, like strands of inky silk, drape over eyes that refuse to part from your gaze. He is warm where he touches you, cold where he doesn’t, and temperate only when he mouths against your skin, marking you, in some invisible way, as his own. Your gasp echoes in that cave-like room, his lips an inferno keeping you sane. He nibbles at your breasts, teeth tugging at the perked tips. His spit dribbles down your flesh.
“So soft. I’ve always wondered what you taste like.” His mumbles vibrate against your skin.
You press tight circles against your clit at the same pace as Taehyung’s tongue against your nipples. The sounds, wet and sticky, are loud to an embarrassing degree.
“Baby, look at you. At this rate you’re going to dirty the couch, and then who’s gonna have to clean it? Maybe if I’m too tired I’ll have you lick it spotless instead.”
You push a finger inside, curling the digit with a gasp.
“Interesting.” He grins. “So, you do like it when I treat you like this. I knew it.”
“You talk way too much when you’re horny.”
“Only because it’s you,” he says. “You turn me into an absolute mess.”
“Is that why you only talk to me when you want to scold me?” It’s a childish question. His attention wasn’t yours to have, a fact you’ve grown well-acquainted to.
“Because I knew something like this–” he licks your neck “–was inevitable, and that it’d be my fault. Though… I’m starting to think you’re the type that likes to be scolded.”
His face is inches from yours. The span of a butterfly’s wings, or a fallen autumn leaf. You prop yourself up with the arm that isn’t beneath your leggings, breaching the gap ever so slowly. “So, you imagined it, then? Something like this happening?”
“It usually went a little different.”
“Well, I’d already be fucking you, for starters. And I’d probably initiate it with something less lame than ‘offering a massage’.” He notices your slowing hand and laughs. “Tired, already? You really are such a princess. Do you want me to do it for you?”
You nod, though you should have known nothing ever came easy with Kim Taehyung.
His fingers creep up your legs before squeezing your thighs open. Between, a wet spot darkens the fabric, and he notices it with a smugness that annoys you. He moves your arm away before palming your wet cunt from outside your leggings. The touch is electrifying yet not nearly enough to sate you. As if sensing your dissatisfaction, he slips his hand beneath the cloth, directly touching your clit.
He sloppily plays with your juices, spreading them around your pussy. Deeming you wet enough, he sinks a finger into your warmth. The squelch sound is inescapable as he begins a moderate pace. You squeeze your eyes tight enough for your world to burst into starlight, flecks of shimmery white floating across your vision.
He lifts his hand to your face, and you could smell your moisture before you saw it, viscous strands hanging between his fingers. “Look at this,” he says. “They’re soaking wet.”
Without thought, you take his fingers into your mouth, rolling your tongue around the digits. You’d never tasted yourself before. It’s more sour than you imagined, but not as bad as one would expect.
“That’s a good girl,” he praises. “What’re you making that face for? Do you want more?”
You release his fingers. “Fuck, please just touch me.”
He leans over you, nibbling at your ear before whispering: “Too bad.”
All too abruptly, he startles you by clapping his hands and standing up. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”
You blink, dumbfounded. “To… fuck?”
He laughs, glancing at his watch. “As much as I would love that, I’m still your manager. And you have to be awake by eight,” he explains with a normalcy unsuited for your half-clothed, aroused state.
“Are we really not going to even talk about-”
He tosses you your shirt and bra.
“Thanks…” You don the clothes in haste. “And for the massage. Though, it was missing one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“An orgasm,” you deadpan.
“Well, there’s always the option of getting me fired, though I’d prefer to keep my livelihood sustained, thanks.”
“Don’t give me ideas,” you joke. “And here I was thinking you’d risk it all for me.”
“I’d risk a lot of things for you, but definitely not if seeing you around everyday was at stake.”
A grin forms on his tinted lips as he turns before you can gather your words. The door slams shut behind his harried exit and you are left, alone.
Several suns have set and risen, and on the eighth turning you decide you’d had enough of his boyish disregard. You recall being eight, blithe with even the gentle breeze lifting autumn leaves into tangerine storms. Boys at that age were difficult, if they weren’t picking at you they were ignoring you altogether, huddled into little clubs of their own. Every attempt at breaching their sanctified playground circles result in them scurrying in all directions, like mice caught lurking in a kitchen. Taehyung didn’t seem much different.
When he picked you up on the morning after that first intimacy, he had nary a word to say. Even a glance too many had his ears reddening and shoulders curling in, as if it were possible to shrink himself small enough to be unseen. He, who’d eat in his car if he weren’t eating with you, found himself talking to the other staff, if only to avoid your confrontation disposition as he knew you were loath to interrupt an uninvited conversation.
Prior to the current state of tension, you’d jokingly asked him to guess what your astrological sign was. His immediate guess was Taurus. As your manager, he was the one most subjected to your stubbornness, your unwillingness to give up if only to prove a point. But you—impatient, tired you—were reaching your limit.
Yes, you were stubborn, but you hadn’t realized how his obstination could rival your own. And more than your missing and wanting of him, the question of ‘why’ burned trails along your musings. Why? Why was he avoiding you when: one, he’d been the one to initiate the tryst; two, during the moment, he’d joked of things being too awkward (and surely joking about things being awkward meant that things weren’t awkward enough to not be joked about); and three, he had acted as if everything was fine until that dreadful morning after, when he picked you up from your apartment (as he always did) except with not a word to say or a glance to spare.
Yes, indeed, you were stubborn. It was how you’d gotten this far in such a consuming career, but you were sure that you’d have given up at this point – he was just a man after all, and you had other problems of greater consequence. However, there was one thing stopping you from ceasing the pursuit.
Alone in your apartment, you are unafraid of moaning or indulging in the characteristic sticky sound of masturbation. That wetness spurs you into speed. A rush to completion. It is more out of necessity than pleasure, and the pace of your fingers exhibit that. You don’t bother fingering yourself, finding the notion too tiring. Instead, your focus is on your clit and massaging tight circles against the protective skin covering it.
You’ve become an expert of your own body, having so few sexual partners over the years. The risk of dating was high for idols, and you’d found that the few times you had risked it it was never sex worth losing one’s career for.
You know how much pressure to apply against the nub, teasing yourself at the edge long enough to draw out the pleasure. Your other hand lazily drapes across your chest, softly gliding across the skin just as Taehyung had that week before.
You’d be quite the fool to not notice how he coughs into his fist, ears red, when he notices your staring, or the subtle ways he checks you out when he thinks you aren’t looking (that much, at least, hasn’t changed).
By this point, you’d masturbated to him and that moment on the couch one too many times.
When you cum it is not as satisfying as it should be. It is but a relief of pressure rather than a gateway to ecstasy. There’s something missing, though to question what it is would be a benign pursuit for you already know the answer.
It is then, winded and shaking, that you come to the conclusion you’d been dreading.
You need to fuck Kim Taehyung… and then you’d figure out it why it is that your heart aches so.
The car’s hum permeates the air and settles on your skin unpleasantly, as if trapping you in its needly weight. Suffocating. There is no better word for it.
When his eyes flicker from the road to you, it is even worse. You hate that he looks good: styled hair, pressed clothes, expensive cologne. But what you hate most is that you don’t see any of it. Instead there is the image of him above you, cock sliding in as if nothing could fit better.
It isn’t silent from a lack of trying, but after the hundredth attempt at conversation you’d grown tired.
He has not regarded you once despite you wearing his favorite outfit (a favoritism you’d deduced when he glanced at you one too many when you’d last worn it). The corduroy atop his thighs becomes his handkerchief, more to wipe sweaty palms against than a piece of clothing.
When he makes a sharp right turn, your hand on the center console knocks against his.
He jumps but plays it off, turning off the blinker and pressing closer to the door than he had been.
You sigh. “Do I have some infectious disease I should know about? That’d be pretty bad for my career.”
He blinks at you, catches himself staring, then turns back to the road.
“No,” he answers plainly.
“You aren’t even gonna berate me for sleeping in this morning?” Tired from last night’s self-ministrations, you slept through your alarms, leaving him waiting in the car for over an hour. On a normal day, he would’ve spent the entire trip either glaring at you or complaining. He did neither.
“You must’ve been tired,” he said.
“Remember what happened last time I was sore and tired?”
He sucks a breath between his teeth, gives you an incredulous look of shock, then proceeds to pretend as if you’d said nothing.
In a series of losses, you consider that a win.
Emboldened, you lean across the controls and press your hand on his thigh, your face so dangerously close to his that you could smell the mintiness of his aftershave. You’d always liked the cleanliness in which he prided himself on. Smoking, he’d always joked, was his only flaw. When stressed, he had a tendency to hit a few sticks more than usual. It didn’t take a genius to surmise the reason as to why, despite the sun’s low place in the sky, you could smell that more-than-few on him. You were both figuratively and literally bad for his health.
He sneaks a glance down your chest, cleavage revealed by the low cut of your top. He’d always been so fond of your breasts, those soft curves of flesh that he spent so much time fondling when he had the chance to. He gulps before looking away.
“Oh, sorry,” you say, coyly. His grip on the wheel twitches as he contemplates removing your hand from his thigh but thinks otherwise, perhaps rationalizing that touching your hand in order to remove it was also a bad move in his plan to pretend you were but a figment of a mind tortured to want what it shouldn’t have.
The main road close to the company building appears before you, a heavy strip of crowded cars anxious to make it in time to their corporate rat living.
You glance downwards. “Did I make you hard?”
He makes a choking sound, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel because the answer is yes, you had. The stiff texture of his pants only heightens the image of his cock struggling beneath, forming a tent you have to look away from lest it distract you from your mission. “I have to focus on driving.”
A pointed look is thrown his way as you gesture towards the windscreen. “We’re going to be stuck in this traffic for probably more than twenty minutes,” you say, untucking his button-up from his pants. Your hands press against his toned stomach, making a home beneath his shirt. “Aren’t you bored?”
“Out of the two of us, I don’t think I’m the bored one.” He turns to face you, putting his hand atop yours. “Did you really like it that much? Me touching you? I’m starting to think that your excuse this morning was a lie. You were probably just playing with yourself, am I wrong?”
“Half wrong,” you grin. “I wasn’t fucking myself this morning.” You press your lips against his ear, chest against his shoulder. “I was fucking myself last night.”
He curses, head thrown back at the notion. “Has anyone ever told you how blunt you are?”
“You do,” you say. “Constantly.”
“That’s because you are.”
“Then what does that make you?”
“A horny fuck, who, by some stroke of luck, got paired to work for an idol that’s somehow even more depraved.”
Though you laugh, relief surges through you at the familiarity of his bantering. “Define ‘depraved’.”
He pushes your hand to his waistband. “This,” he says, as if it is some grotesque and beautiful thing. “How badly I want you.”
You unzip his pants and untuck his cock from his briefs. He’s larger than you’d expected; long yet girthy. You run a finger down the appendage, catching on the prominent veins.
“God,” he hisses at the contact. “You’ve been such a slut recently, it was only a matter of time before you did this, huh? Touching my cock where anyone could see.”
The flesh of him is soft and warm beneath your fingertips. You squeeze the head then trail down to the base, cupping his balls.
He’s beautiful when he moans. His head tosses back, curls cascading over shut eyes as he attempts to move away from the pleasure all the while begging for you not to stop. A beautiful paradox, and you its orchestrator.
“Right there,” he groans. “Rub the head just like that.”
His commands are hypnotic in a way you deign to follow.
“Shit, you’re such a sub, aren’t you? You do everything I ask you to if it means you get a nice, thick cock.”
Despite your forwardness, you lacked much experience regarding the kinkier side of sex, though not from lack of trying. Perhaps it was the consequence of a homogenous industry where every individual was fearful in the face of social ruin if word got out that they were participant in this or that.
“Maybe, I am.” You shrug. “But right now–” you squeeze his cock “–you’re in my hands. And you only get to cum when I say you can.”
With that, you take your hands off him. The look in his eyes is almost comical, as if you’d divorced him, taken custody of his three children, and set his house ablaze.
“Fuck. I was close,” he pleads. “Please don’t do this. I need to cum. Please.”
“You sound so pretty when you whine but that isn’t good enough.” You pout. “You need to promise that you’ll stop being awkward around me.”
“Shit, fine, I’m sorry, okay? I just didn’t want to make things more weird than they already are.”
“See, I want to make things weird between us. So there’s really nothing for you to worry about.”
“You seriously don’t understand how much I think about fucking you on a daily basis. I wasn’t even purposely trying to ignore you, it’s just-” He runs a hand through his hair. “Whenever I see you I…” You wait for him to find his words only for him to say something entirely unexpected. “...Can I cum in your mouth?”
You snort. “Nope, you don’t deserve that.”
“Aw, man. This car was just deep cleaned.”
“C’mon, Taehyung, cum on your dashboard like a big boy.”
You continue your ministrations, tightening your fist around his length as you stroke him faster and faster. “You know you wanna cum for me, don’t you? Tae’s precious little idol.”
His reaction to the nickname you’d heard his colleagues call him was not missed by you.
“Fuck,” he groans, head tilting back. “Say that again.”
His cock twitches. “I don’t know why, but I really like it when you say my name.”
You lean in to whisper. “Then I’ll make sure to scream it when you inevitably fuck me.”
His eyes blink white, head slamming into the headrest. His cock twitches, then releases. You try to catch most of the mess in your hands but some escape onto his shirt and, unfortunately for him, his dashboard.
“You know what you’re doing, hm? My little slut. Made me cum so fast, baby.” He condescendingly pats your head as you help him wipe down the few strings of cum that misaimed.
“Far shooter, huh?”
“Shut up,” he huffs. “What about you? With how much you’ve been chasing after me, you must’ve wanted me that bad.” He nips at your ear. “Let me touch you.”
You feel his teeth drag against your skin, from your nape to your collarbone. You’re aware of the brush of his lips, the warmth of his breath, and the way he is pressed so close against you. Across the console, he reaches to slip his hand beneath the band of your bottoms. It is a familiar motion, reminiscent of what happened on the couch that night.
He wastes little time as his finger glides into you with an embarrassing squelch. You feel the rough pad rub against your g-spot, amazed at the swiftness in which he’d found it. Your walls tighten around him when he inserts a second then third digit.
“You’re so fucking tight. I want to bury my cock into this slutty hole so badly, you don’t even know,” he groans into your neck. His hand roughly paws at your chest. In want of more, he lifts your shirt, baring your chest to the traffic. “Thank god for tinted windows.”
He pinches your nipples, tugging them until they’ve extended farther than you’ve ever tried to. “My perfect little fuckdoll. My good fucking slut. All for me– only for me.” Hand confined in the tightness of your trousers, every motion caused his palm to slap against your skin, perfectly blending pleasure and pain.
He continues to rapidly finger you until you feel that telltale drop in the bottom of your stomach. He holds you as you cum, body shaking in the small space of the passenger’s seat. The fledgling feeling in your gut erupts with the incandescent sparks of some other foreign emotion. You wonder if it is happiness, or perhaps some remnant of lust. But then he looks at you—eyes soft as he caresses your hair, trailing fingers to your nape—and you think that it is the beginning of something else entirely.
“You good?” His voice is faint as he pulls you to face him. His flickering gaze searches your expression for some sign of hesitation or regret of which you have none.
“Yeah, I’m good. You?”
“Same here.” He smiles. “Don’t blame me though if you have a hard time during practice.”
You punch his shoulder with a chuckle, serenity descending upon you in the afterglow of a cause of stress meeting its resolution.
After lunch you see a carton of orange juice sitting innocently on that couch, a small sticky-note attached to it. In clean handwriting, it read: ‘a peace offering’.
You laugh, stabbing the plastic straw into the carton.
You’d take it.
Kim Taehyung has always thought your beauty was the kind that accompanied devastation; attractive in a way that halted his breath and stymied his heart. Perhaps a bit too much for his sanity and his cock, which has been rubbed raw to the thought of you one too many times. You are much too pretty for his own good, and it has grown increasingly difficult to be around you without wanting to fuck you against every surface imaginable.
It’s made worse by the mask of nymph-like innocence that you wear around him, wearing those tight leggings and parading your pretty pussy for everyone to see. He knows you aren’t his. Knows it with all the confidence of blue skies and steady lakes, but there are times, strenuous times, where it is difficult to control the possessive nature he is chained by. When his co-workers mention how sexy you are in your latest comeback teasers he simply clenches his fists and stays quiet lest said fists pummel their faces. He isn’t a violent man by any means (and definitely wouldn’t stand a chance in a real fight, because, as his friends have said, he’d never do anything that could potentially ruin his pretty face) but he entertains the thought as a way to keep sane when forced to listen to their ramblings.
When he has to stand behind you during fansigns, he can’t help the bitter feeling that rises in his gut when you hold hands with fans he knows could never know you in the same intimacy that he does. When they talk about how much they love you, an indignant voice in his head fights back: do they know about all the pretty little lingerie you keep in the back of your closet? Do they know about how bad you are at hiding your moans when you play with your pretty pussy in hotel showers knowing that he’s waiting for you outside? Do they know the soft texture of your tits and the way your eyes roll back when he plays with your nipples just right?
It’s an irrational sort of jealousy, but he’s learned to bear it as part of the occupation. There are times, however, where it is much more arduous a task, such as the massage of last week and the car ride of yesterday.
The feeling is not one he is fond of; how at odds his desire to ruin you is with his one to have you ruin him. Such had been a constant in the past year. Blame proximity or his lowered standards of human decency after having worked with only the most heinous people in the industry – you were kind, even when you needn’t be, even when you shouldn’t have been. And it ached somewhere beneath his chest that you thought him deserving of it.
He knows such feelings are ones not meant for him to have, but he has long since been past the denial that it was only but a physical sort of affection. However, even with your initiation of yesterday’s tryst, he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in you in a manner less carnal; his gaze lustful as you prepare for a livestream.
You glance at him once as if sensing the shift in the air before you press ‘start’.
As your manager, he has to be in the room for most of your activities, even the boring ones – but he can think of a few ways to make it less so. For him and you.
You greet your fans with a laugh that is akin to sunlight bursting through foliage. “Of course I missed you guys, it’s why I’m doing this live right now.”
Your company-issued phone, to read and answer comments, is slid across the table with a note meant only for you: ‘Want to play a game, good girl?’
Though your eyes widen, you type your reply in the guise of looking through your fans’ messages, ever the professional. Your glance towards his phone is pointed and when he checks it he sees the notification of your text. ‘I don’t know what you’re planning, you horny fuck, but if you think I’m losing in any game then you’re on.’
There is little ceremony in how he drops to his knees to move underneath, cautious to keep silent. The table tall enough to situate himself. Oh, how he wishes he could see your reaction. He focuses on your voice: the hesitation in which you resume speaking; the hitch in your breath as he spreads your legs; the tremble in your tone as he places his hands on your thighs.
The sight of you beneath is lewd. Your underwear, a simple cotton gray piece, is already soaked. He’d always loved the color gray, especially because of how obvious it made wetness appear.
He allowed himself a moment to appreciate everything about you. The softness of your thighs. The stretch marks on your hips. The dotted marks that lined your legs. His nose grazes your knee, breathing in the saltiness of your sweat. How badly he wants to eat you up. To wholly consume you and spit you out in broken pieces, forced to crawl back to him in order to be fixed. It’s a horrible thought, he’s well aware, but he can’t help but be fixated on the idea that you might want that as well.
Your skin is as silken as he remembers, but touching it feels utterly different, stark raving mad; he leans into that sentiment, urgent in his need to pull you closer and kiss your thigh harder, desperately starved for something he could not yet name.
He imagines it difficult for you to read through the comments let alone reply to them when his hands are caressing your waist and playing with the garter of your underwear. Blood rushes to his cock at the sighs you release every time he teasingly dips his fingers past the fabric. You’re so pretty and perfect for him, his little slut.
Phone in hand, he sends: ‘Your pussy’s so wet for me already, baby. Do you want me to eat you out?’
It’s easy to surmise when you receive it, a light gasp disrupting your sentence.
He struggles to hold his laughter when your consent is given through a grab of his hair and a shove towards your crotch. Satisfied with your enthusiasm, his lips caress you above the fabric, catching against your clit but not wanting to give you what you want. Not yet.
He teases you for ten minutes, licking up and down your clothed cunt until the fabric is fully darkened – only then does he push it aside to expose your pussy lips to him completely. Having tested the patience of both you and him, he wastes little time in capturing your clit between his lips, suctioning onto it whilst swirling his tongue.
You spread your legs wider to give more access, allowing him to move from your clit to your tight hole, slowly edging his tongue inside it. Building up the pace, he begins fucking you with it whilst rubbing your clit with two fingers in quick circular motions.
He gathers his spit around his finger before pushing the moisture into you. You lewdly clench around the digit, sucking him deeper into your depths, just as he thought you would. You’re always so good for him. He could just picture your humiliated face as he slaps his cock around your cheeks, wiping your tears and his cum around your skin. He knows you’re a pretty crier, and he’s never wanted anything more than to see those tears be caused by him.
Another finger is pushed in. Then a third. But he knows you can take it – knows that you’d be able to take everything he gives you.
When your thighs begin to stiffen and you clench around his fingers—the tell-tale sign that you’re close to completion—he stops.
He shoots off another text. ‘What a horny fucking slut, getting fingered in front of her fans like this. I wonder what they’d think if they knew how you were really like. Just a pliant little bitch who’s always ready to slut herself out at her manager’s every whim. Don’t tell me you think you deserve to cum just because you want to?’
Above, he can hear your sardonic chuckles as your knuckles wrap against the table in obvious frustration.
“I know this was a short one, but I have to go practice. I’m sorry for leaving you guys hanging,” you say with blatant venom, kicking his shoulder beneath the table. “Bye!”
He pinches your thigh in retaliation.
Before you can kick him again, he stills your leg with a firm grip.
Accepting your loss with a sigh, you rush to turn the live off, gaping at him when emerges from where he’d knelt. “What was that for?”
He grins, gums showing. “Revenge for what happened in the car. I was scolded by upper management for bringing you late, y’know?”
You punch his shoulder. “At least I let you cum… asshole. This is the second time you’ve blue-balled me.”
“Good thing I prepared this, then.” In his hand is another carton of orange juice. “Peace offering?”
“If a thousand won juice is your form of a white flag then I must say you’re quite stingy.”
“Hey, you’re the rich one in our relationship.”
“Oh, so we have a relationship now?”
His smile drops slightly as he rubs his nape. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I do, actually.” Though you’re smiling, your eyes are serious, searching his for an answer that he knows he’s not yet ready to give. “I-”
He grabs your hand and places the carton in your grasp. “I’ll get you two orange juices next time, alright?”
‘Next time’, he thinks. It’s the closest thing to an answer he can give you.
The establishment of your newfound ‘relationship’ was one suffused with clandestine trysts in storage rooms and cars, and yet it had never gone past touching and tasting as if it were an unspoken rule. You sensed it in the hesitancy upon which he laid kisses across your neck and jaw, never moving upwards. There was a fragility to his movements that gave you pause as time went on and words left unspoken remained so. Taehyung was gentle even when he called you his whore, and what began as ways to relieve each others’ stress led to hours spent in the afterglow talking about anything under the weather.
What you appreciated most (even more than the times he’d go down on you for hours) were the rare glimpses into his thoughts when he’d let his guard down. His rants about how his friends sucked ass at gaming, him bringing the new mechanical keyboard he’d splurged on just to show off to you his custom-made keys, him quitting smoking when you nagged about the smell and how he subsequently would complain to you about withdrawals before having you suck him off to relieve his other urges.
You wanted to lurk upon every crevice of his mind, know every secret he held close, and you know he craved it just the same. You each felt the devastation of fear, hesitation; you shared moments lovely and small, sat beneath midnight stars in the back of his car, insignificant in the face of endlessness. A month in each other’s company and you’d grown to understand that you wanted more from him than carnality.
It is why it is no surprise to you to find his glare pointed towards the man you’re flirting with. In an effort to leave practice early to meet with friends, your hand lingers on your instructor’s arm, pleading desperation alongside a promise to work twice as hard the next day. Men are easy that way, and the next thing you know he gives you permission with a nod.
…And on the other hand, there are men like Taehyung.
“You really think you’re getting out of it that easily?”
You point at the emptied room. “Seems so.”
He scoffs with crossed arms, the definition of intimidation with his bangs casting shadows across his eyes. “You’ve been getting out of breath too quickly during dry runs.”
“I’ve been getting exercise through other means, don’t worry.” Your eyebrows wiggle.
“I’m sure your newly developed neck and hand muscles will help after hours of performing.”
“I think you’re just jealous,” you say.
His laugh is hollow, forced from the depths of some aching thing. “And why would I feel that?”
“Because you like me but you don’t want to admit it,” you say with a shrug. “And you use the whole ‘manager and idol’ thing as an excuse when really you’re just a pussy.”
There is little he can do to hinder the shocked guffaw that parts his lips at your blunt observation. “Confident, are we?”
He shakes his head but smiles in exasperation. “What am I going to do with you?”
“A lot of things, I hope.” You wrap your hands around his shoulders, pulling him in closer.
“I thought you had somewhere to be.” His nose brushes against your neck, the warmth of his breath scattering goosebumps across your skin.
“My friends can wait,” you say. “I can bless them with the honor of my presence in another hour or two.”
“Oh, am I supposed to be honored that you’re choosing to spend time with me, then?”
“Don’t you know how charitable I am even if you can be kind of a dick sometimes. Or, well, all the time. But that’s just semantics.”
He hums in response, arms around your waist tightening.
“You never answered my question,” you remind him.
His brow raises. “And you never answered mine: do you really think I’m going to just let you play hooky?”
“Well, I was hoping to offer you something a little more fun than watching me exercise.” You trail your hand down his arm, nails scratching along his veins.
“Oh,” he scoffs. “Is that the same thing you were offering him?”
“I’m yours, aren’t I?”
He tilts your chin upwards. “You wanna be my object tonight, baby? Is that what you’re saying?” Taehyung tended to be all bark but no bite, but the embers lit beneath his pupils indicated that this time would be different.
“Is that even a question?” you reply.
You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, only to be met with: “Then do fifty jumping jacks. Now.”
“You’re joking, but I thought-”
“Objects aren’t supposed to think. They just do as they’re commanded... Or so your favorite erotic novel alpha males always say.”
You give him a pointed look. “Yeah, the key word being ‘erotic novel’, not ‘workout manual’.”
He holds his hands up beside his head in defense, making a face. “I’m doing this for you. And besides…” He takes a step towards you, caressing your chest. “We can always multitask.”
You groan but comply, though the feeling of doing that specific exercise is tantalizingly embarrassing when he’s watching you so closely.
“Sweating already?” He moves to stand behind you, observing from the mirror. “Let me help you.”
He stills your movement to reach around and unzip your hoodie, pulling the sleeves off your arms. Underneath, you’re only wearing a flimsy white shirt coated with sweat, leaving it transparent enough for Taehyung to see your red sports bra.
He presses his mouth to your ear and whispers, “Did I say you were finished, slut?” He laughs. “Don’t look surprised. What else could you be with your tits bouncing everywhere. The fact that you can’t even comprehend what I’m saying is just proving my point.”
You almost regret sharing with him your favorite romance books. Almost. If only because of the way your knees buckle at his degradation.
You continue the motions and Taehyung does little to disguise how he watches your chest as it bounces with every jump. With your arms outstretched, there is nothing to cover the jiggling weight.
Neither of you are keeping count but after two minutes he ceases your movement with a firm “stop”.
“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Want to play another one? I’ll reach into your panties and if you’re wet, you’ll be my personal little slut. Are you willing to take that bet, pretty girl?”
“Yes,” you say without further thought, and his hands dip into your leggings and past your underwear. You already know the answer, have known it since the moment he’d walked into the room with his heavy gaze on your body.
“Oh, you’re soaking, baby,” he purrs into your neck, his fingers caressing your folds but not applying the direct pressure that your humping hips seek. “Does your pussy like the thought of being owned by me?”
His hands still with the promise of moving only when you reply. “Yes,” you cry. “I want to be your personal… I want to be your personal slut. Just please… Touch me.”
“You think you deserve to be touched for your pleasure? Are you forgetting what you’re supposed to be doing right now?”
He retracts his hand but you rush to grip his wrist. “Tae, please. I need it so bad.”
“Need what, baby?” he coos, ever softened when you use his nickname.
“I need you to finger me. To make me cum.”
To your surprise he complies, shoving two into your snatch. His fingers scissor you, stretching you out. He pushes another in, all three pushing in and out of you, making disgusting and lewd sounds.
“Aren’t idols supposed to be pure and innocent? I’m ruining you, aren’t I, slut? What would your precious fans think if they knew you liked being a whore for your manager? They’d probably lose all respect for you. Your latest stage outfit was a pretty little number too. Probably had all your fans jerking their little dicks off to your fancams. I just know if I searched your name up the first thing I’d see is some asshole doing a cum tribute to you.” He laughs. “Too bad for them they’ll never know just how tight and wet your pussy is, because I own it now, right?”
“You’ve always owned me– Fuck!” You yelp when Taehyung bites your neck. Your makeup artists were definitely going to have a hard time covering that up. “I love the way you control me so easily.”
“If you weren’t such a brat all the time it’d be a lot easier.” The speed in which his fingers met your g-spot increased. “You always seemed so uptight. Did you ever expect that you’d get played around with by your manager? The other staff members would love to know that you’re into this kinky shit. Especially your fans. Everyone’s always talking about how sexy you are but I bet you know that, don’t you? You thrive on it – want everyone to jerk off to you.”
To your dismay, he pulls out. “You were complaining about your sore throat earlier, weren’t you? I know a good solution for that.”
He tugs you by the back of your neck, moving you closer to his crotch. He pulls down the zipper, releasing the familiar length of his cock. You run your hands from the tip to his balls as if driven by pure instinct, wrought only with the need for proximity. Taking the head into your mouth, you slowly begin to swallow him until it reaches your throat. As he’d taught you, you let him deepthroat for a bit before releasing him with a gasp for air.
Patting your head, he encourages you to keep going. “What a perfect fleshlight. Born to suck cock.”
It is an all-consuming task, leaving room for little else in your mind as you make sure to avoid your teeth from scraping him as well taking note of when to suction and when to draw him deeper into your throat.
He groans with every ministration. “Doing so good for me, baby. Always my perfect slut, so good at taking dick. It’s like you were meant for it. Meant to have your throat pussy be my cum dump. At this point, this should be your job.” You look up and meet his eyes, a twinkling obsidian shade. “Ready for your medicine?”
He grabs the back of your head and takes control of the pace, roughly fucking himself with your throat. His moans grow louder, taking full advantage of the sound-proof nature of the room. You could clearly hear the sounds of your choking, spit drooling down the sides of your mouth as you struggle to keep with his rhythm. The scent of his cock sends you into overdrive, and, though you’re already wet, you feel yourself gush beneath, your pussy clinging to your underwear.
You know well enough, from his pretty groans and tightening grip, that he was about to cum.
“There you go, pretty girl. Your favorite meal. Drink it all up like the depraved cum dump you are.”
You swallow, and gasp, and swallow again. His cum, sticky and bitter, lingers in the back of your throat as you choke for a decent breath of air. It shoots into your mouth, spilling all over your tongue and lips, dripping down the sides. You gag at the taste, coughing up the creamy fluids onto the floor. Your hands tighten on his thighs, struggling to steady your lightheaded self. When he releases your hair from his grasp, you stumble back onto his crotch, heaving breaths against his softening cock.
His thumb wipes sweat from your forehead. “What are you doing, baby?” He grabs the top of your head, forcing you to look into his eyes as tears stream down yours. “That isn’t what sluts do, and I thought we already established that that’s all you are. Objects listen to their owners, don’t they?”
“I-I’m sorry,” you whine, not really apologetic when you know that he knows that cum isn’t exactly your favorite flavor.
He tugs at your hair, lifting you back onto your knees. “You’re acting like I care about what dumb little brats like you want – I don’t. Lick my cum off the floor. Now.” He grins. “And don’t forget that you got some on my boots, too.”
You hesitate, eyeing the strings of white that decorate the wooden panels and the black of his shoes.
“Consider this as punishment for trying to skip out on your exercises.” He crosses his arms, looking down at you with an unimpressed countenance. “So, now, be a good girl and lick my fucking cum off the floor.”
You move your face to the ground and give it kitten licks similar to how you liked to tease Taehyung’s cock. The taste is salty, and you shudder to wonder when the floor was last cleaned. You look up, hoping that that act of obedience is enough to quell his thirst for domination over you. It isn’t.
“I said, clean it up,” he hisses. “Do I really have to grab the back of your head for this? Yeah?” He pushes your head to stay close to the floor. “Don’t just stay there like a stupid bitch. Open your fucking mouth, let me see that tongue. Yeah… There we go, baby.”
You do as he says, collecting his spilt cum.
“All of it,” he groans, watching you debase yourself for his entertainment. “The boots, too.”
You move towards his feet that are impatiently tapping against the floor. Your tongue hesitantly drops out of your mouth, trying to touch as little of it as possible.
Unexpectedly, he presses his shoe against your lips, causing you to deeply lick the length of it in surprise. “You’re not doing a thorough enough job, slut. Don’t disappoint me.”
Once you’ve deemed it spotless you look up to face him. “Is that good enough, your highness?”
He snorts, helping you stand up after having knelt for the better half of an hour. “You mean, was that good enough for you to finally cum?” He reaches between your legs to smack your sensitive pussy, aiming for your swollen clit. “Still want more, baby?”
You nod, whimpering in pain at the unexpected hit.
“Sluts are always horny, aren’t they? Since I’m so good to you, I’ll let you hump against my boot to relieve yourself.”
“Oh, fuck you-”
He grabs you by the chin, tugging you to his face. “Don’t try to hide that you’re an insatiable slut now. I know exactly who you are and what you want. And I know that what you want is to be humiliated like this. Now be a good bitch and fuck yourself on my shoe.”
What’s more humiliating is the speed in which you position yourself below him as you slowly squat down until your crotch brushes against the hard tip. Your hands grip his trousers as you begin humping his boot. You struggle to find enough stimulation, still wearing your underwear and leggings. “Tae,” you whine. “It’s not enough.”
Frustration makes way for pleasure when Taehyung angles his foot up just right. Your moans are relentless now as you buck your hips wildly without rhyme or reason. You are simply a vessel controlled by pleasure, exactly as he wants you.
“Yeah, rub your clit against my shoe like the well-trained slut that you are.” He spits on your face, the fluid dripping down your nose and onto your lips. “You know that I don’t care about your pleasure, right? You’re just an entertaining toy to me. Who owns you?”
“You,” you whine. “You own me, Tae.”
“Then cum, baby.”
Your orgasm is an all-consuming force that possesses your body. It starts at your stomach, that incendiary pulse, before you feel it between your thighs. You can tell that you’ve lost all bodily control by the numbness in your hands and feet and how one second you are humping Taehyung’s shoe and the next you’re laying flat on the ground, his figure towering over you.
Your pussy is still attached to his shoe, and, as if it is an unconscious desire, you continue to move against it until your senses return, reminding you of the pain that overstimulation causes.
He kneels down and lifts his hand, and you aren’t sure what he’s doing until you feel his fingers brush against your cheek, gently wiping away a tear. “You did so well for me, today.”
Rivers trail down your face as you shake your head with what was left of your strength. “I need more.”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
You meet his gaze. “Tae, I want you to kiss me.”
He blinks, gulps, and stutters, “What?”
“I want you to kiss me.”
Despite everything you’d done together you’d still yet to share that one intimate act. Perhaps because doing so would make everything feel so much more real.
You caress the side of his face, watching as he watches you, hesitant to make the first move. The silent anticipation weighs upon you like honey, dense yet saccharine, and you slowly move closer and closer until you feel his breath on your skin. His eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes and back.
“You can kiss me already, you know,” he mutters.
“I’m not the one scared of my feelings,” you say. “I can wait for you as long as it takes.”
And so he does.
When you kiss it simply feels right. His head tilts as you deepen it, licking his bottom lip. Your hands run through his hair, the perm he’d kept when you complimented it one too many times. You kiss him until his bottom lip swells and he kisses you until your mouth is numb. He wrestles your top over you, kissing down your arms before meeting back at your mouth.
There are touches that feel like beginnings and touches that feel like endings, but this one felt so awfully far from either, tucked perfectly between as if whispering of times past and times present. It feels like comfort, his hand on your neck, a grip so gentle that the promise of it was what had you gasping for breath. It is new yet familiar all the same, and when he kisses you harder—pressed against you as if in fear of letting go—you kiss him back with all the same intensity.
When you break apart, he steadies himself with hands wrapped around your waist, hair covering his face as he looks down with astonished laughter. You think that he is gorgeous in a way that makes your heart ache, but it is when he looks up, noticing your admiration, that your breath catches.
You collide once more and there are no more questions, no more waiting.
He lifts his shirt off and tosses it to the side before draping his body across the length of your own. Though the floor is hard against your back, you’re distracted by the rigidity of his muscles pressed against you.
“Do you have a condom?” you remind him.
He curses, standing up. He almost trips over himself in his rush to his bag, rummaging through it for the plastic wrapper. He makes a victorious sound when he finds it, holding it above his head. “Got it!”
You laugh into your hand. “Hurry up, you loser.”
He gets back on top of you, pressing kisses around your face. He kicks off his pants until he’s as naked as you are before positioning himself above your hole.
“Is this okay?” He rubs the head of his cock against your clit.
“More than okay,” you say.
The heat of him sliding into your pussy sparks kindles in your gut. He’s rough yet gentle. Too fast yet too slow. A paradox of sensations encapsulated by the longing gaze in his eyes and the torturous grip he has on your nipples.
He pulls out until only the tip is in before slamming his hips against yours, balls smacking your ass with a clapping sound. He repeats the motion until you’re drooling, rocking back and forth.
“You feel so good,” he moans, moving to grip your tiger-striped thighs. He lowers you until he’s buried balls deep into your warmth, and you can feel his hard length spasming as he adjusts to the tightness. “Feels so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. No one compares to you, baby.”
Despite the thin layer of protection you can feel every vein rub against the soft walls of your cavern. It deliciously fills you up until you’re delirious, drowning in the feeling.
“How many cocks have you had before me?”
“Two.” A friend and a boyfriend – neither of which mattered when the only cock you could think of was Taehyung’s.
“What I would give to have been the one to take your virginity.” He sighs. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck the memory of them out of you.”
His hips begin to thrust into you with a pace you can barely comprehend. The head of his cock reaches so deep, much farther than any cock or toy has ever gone. He pushes into you as if you were a pussy pocket crafted for his pleasure, holding your thighs to your chest in a mating press.
Your breath hitches with every upwards thrust as you struggle to speak. Words swim in your head, a thousand lines of ink dotting across pages like stars that twinkle in and out of existence, unable to catch them before they disappear.
He bites the lobe of your ear, tugging it. His hands caress the entirety of your body with wild abandon, struck with the need to feel you – to ensure that you are really the one beneath him. You, the gravitas of which he orbits.
When you begin twitching underneath him he focuses on hitting your g-spot, lessening the speed. He pulls out then slams back in, repeating it over and over and over. He taps your clit in rapid succession, occasionally rubbing before landing a hard smack against the nub. His other hand goes to your neck, applying pressure to the sides of it. Your mind goes blank. Your legs go numb. Then somewhere between your legs you feel it.
The orgasm is euphoric. You thrash in his hold, the pleasure all too much for your mind and body to take. The feeling is everywhere.
“That’s it, baby.” His thrusts begin to lose rhythm as he chases his own release in wild abandon. “So good for me. Mine. All mine.”
He cums into the condom with one final jerk, burying himself as deep into you as he could. The overstimulation is just enough to not be too painful as he stays inside you for a few moments more, barely able to pull himself out of your warmth.
His eyes are blown wide as he flops to the ground beside you, tying then tossing the condom to the side. “That was…”
“I can’t believe we waited that long to fuck.” The punch you land on his shoulder is weak.
He carries your limp body to the couch he’d massaged you on that fateful month before and gently lays your head against a cushion. Brushing a few strands of hair away from your forehead, he places a kiss on your temple. It’s gentle.
“How are you feeling?” He slips beside you until you’re laying side by side and nudges his nose against your shoulder like a cat seeking attention. “Was I too much?”
“No, it was really good, trust me.” Try as you did, there weren’t words in your vocabulary that could sufficiently explain what you had just experienced.
His eyes flicker the length of figure as if attempting to convince himself that he, indeed, had not accidentally fucked your body to the point of destruction. He pouts but sighs, taking your word for it.
Abashed in the afterglow, he asks once more, “You know I didn’t mean most of what I said, right?”
“Most?” You grin. “So what did you say that you did mean?”
“I’m sure I called you pretty once or twice,” he grumbles, burying his face in your neck.
“You already know that I like it,” you assured him. “You’re always so good to me, Tae.”
His eyes soften as he laughs, the melody of it soothing. “It’s because it’s you. And I like you.”
“If I had known that the way to get you to admit your feelings for me was to fuck you then I would’ve done it ages ago.”
There’s a long pause as he composes himself. His hair tickles your neck, his arm a gentle weight around your stomach, and you feel the warmth of skin not your own.
“Shut up.” His ears are red as he flicks your forehead with faux nonchalance. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
Dizzy in the moment, you reach up to cup his face and kiss him. He meets your lips with a gentle eagerness, trailing his fingertips across your chest and along the grooves of your collarbones.
“I like you, too,” you say. “But I also really, really hate you. I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.”
He laughs, pecking your shoulder. “Good thing I’m here to massage you then.”
thank u for reading!! <3 if u liked it let me know ! : ✉
© rendaze 2022. all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is NOT permitted.
𝗞𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗧 𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙊𝙉𝙄𝘾
+ gojo satoru x f!reader x geto suguru ; wc 2.7k
summary: you’re heartbroken and lovesick and you’ve come all the way to the most popular club in tokyo to forget about that, and yet you fall back on two classic solutions: alcohol and your best friends. okay, make that three.
+ cw: modern/college au, your ex is controlling (and a dick), name calling (reader is called princess, love, angel, pretty baby), they all kiss, mentions of alcohol; smut: oral (fem receiving), handjobs, fingering. 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗥𝗦 𝗗𝗢 𝗡𝗢���� 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧
notes: today i offer you my attempt to get stsg out of my system! i have no excuses. been in a mood™, someone needs to tell me to stop having such a brainrot :’)
It’s midnight and there are better, more productive ways to spend your Friday nights.
Studying, for one, because your finals are just around the corner and you really need Mr. Takami to give you a distinction to add to your list of impeccable grades.
Yep yep, you’re a fucking smartass. That’s why you should be in the library.
But no no, instead here you are, at one of the most popular nightclubs in downtown Tokyo, Pluto, sitting at the bar as one of your closest friends from Economics and Psychology 3798, Kiko, has traded in talking to her downtrodden friend for dancing with a tall, hunky, beefy guy who seems a tad too old for her.
You don’t blame her though, you would too if you were her. He’s gorgeous; dark hair, dark eyes, muscular body that looks strong enough to be able to manhandle anything. A scar on his lip too, jeez.
Spending a Saturday night taking care of your friend who’s agonising over her breakup doesn’t really sound like a good use of time.
So yeah, go get some, Kiko.
What’s even worse than that, though, is the fact that the object of your misery is here. Your ex-boyfriend is now at the same fucking club you’re at, despite claiming during your entire relationship that only heathens go to clubs before proceeding to shit on you for going there with your friends every other occasion.
To top it all off, he’s here with Ms. Sexy-Dark-Haired-Bombshell-With-Jeans-Too-Tight-For-Her-Ass. You don’t know who she is. Never seen her. How’d he even meet her? Making out on the dance floor, watching her get lower and lower in front of him as though he isn’t fully aware that you’re still here and grieving for what you thought was once a loving relationship.
“Glaring at ‘em just gives him what he wants, princess,” comes a familiar drawl from behind you.
“You know what I think is a good idea? If you give him a taste of his own medicine.” Another voice from behind you, more cheeky, more giddy.
You turn around to find your two best friends grinning from ear to ear, obviously up to no good.
“What’re you on about, Satoru?” You aim your ire at the white-haired one, the one who’s hiding his gorgeous oceanic eyes behind a pair of round black sunglasses.
How does he even see anything in a place this dark wearing them?
But as usual, Satoru always defies all odds. His naturally good looks and charm are a part of that. And the fact that he hasn’t had one single girlfriend before. One or two flings, max.
Suguru moves to put his arm around you as he mirrors your movements, facing Satoru and waiting expectantly for his answer. You lean into his hold; he smells like cigarettes and minty shampoo and his shoulder feels soft. He’s yet another hunky guy, with quick wit that comes in handy when drawing in the ladies.
Satoru chuckles, scheming and cunning, pushing his sunglasses down to give you a glimpse of his beautiful, beautiful eyes. “How about we go dance, huh?”
Beside you, Suguru laughs, “you really wanna drive Makoto crazy?”
Makoto. Your ex-boyfriend. The same one who’s currently dancing with one of the sexiest girls you’ve ever seen. The same guy who nearly crucified you for even coming to a club. The same guy who got insanely jealous of how close you were to Satoru and Suguru and made you promise to lessen contact with them.
Swearing against your life. All that shit.
Which you did. You had thought Makoto was your ride-and-die, so you did everything you had to do to keep him; pull a blindfold over all the red flags you saw, for one.
(Don’t go trashing yourself for it though, it was a mistake. Huge one. But you’ll survive.)
You’re thankful that Satoru and Suguru never once hated you for it.
“C’mon, what do you say, sexy?” Satoru asks, one hand in his pocket and the other beckoning you to take it, luring you in.
He’s wearing that comfy black sweater that you used to love to borrow. Now that you’re single, you make a mental reminder to steal it from him again. Suguru’s in all black too, but in a tee shirt, revealing the dragon tattoo running down his right arm.
You sigh inwardly. The dreamy way, not the exasperated way.
Your best friends are also two walking red flags, with their full tattoo sleeves and their bad habits and their nonchalance towards getting their degrees. But you know what?
You cautiously take Satoru’s hand, and he notices how wary you are. He always notices.
“Relax, babe, it’s all platonic,” Satoru tells you.
Suguru has his hands on your waist behind you as Satoru pulls your hand and guides you to the center of the dance floor, near the DJ booth.
Yeah, you’ve been best friends for four years. Sure, you can deal with platonic.
But behind you, Suguru scoffs, “platonic? Yeah right,” he says, poking your sides and fake-whispering in your ear, “ask him how many times he’s jerked off to you in the shower.”
A blistering heat shoots up to your cheeks, and at the same time, down to your core. Satoru jerks off to you in the shower?
Satoru whips around, glaring accusingly at his best friend beside you. “Yeah?” In no time at all, that mischievous grin is back on his pretty porcelain face, his hypnotizing blue eyes shifting to gaze at you. “Try asking Suguru about that one time I caught him accidentally moaning your name in bed.”
Suguru groans, “don’t remind me, Kirari was so pissed. Refused to talk to me after that.”
Kirari. As in Suguru’s ex-girlfriend. No wonder she started throwing you dirty glares all of a sudden. It just didn’t make sense that a random cheerleader would hate you for no fucking reason in the middle of the semester, shooting you death glares every Statistics (I) 105.
Satoru’s just laughing, and Suguru gives in too. Makoto has his eyes on you, but you don’t even notice because Satoru takes your face in his hands.
“Hey, angel?” He calls, pulling you closer to him until your chest is pressed up against his, and you can feel Suguru pressing up behind you. “Tonight, you’re ours, okay?”
The lights are dim. The entire place is smoky. You can see Satoru’s eyes now that he’s taken his sunglasses off and hooked them on his collar. He’s smirking at you, bottom lip pulled between his teeth because his gaze falls to your lips and you know what he wants.
You know what they both want.
Everyone’s dancing around you, and Satoru’s hands trail down to your waist, pulling you closer as though there’s even any space left between the two of you. Suguru isn’t letting up either, one hand around your throat while the other is squeezing your ass, his chuckling in your ear is what’s keeping you in a trance.
And you can feel them. Both of them.
The involuntary whine that leaves your lips gets both of them hot and bothered, and now they’re both way too close and they feel all too good and god you’re going to hell for wanting them both but hey, they want you too.
“Fuck, we fucking missed you, you know that?” Satoru whispers in your ear, loud enough over the pop mashup in the mix.
Three of you are just dancing there, in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by a throng of partygoers. You’re mixed into the crowd and yet still stand out, your body the subject of both jealousy and lust.
“Someone’s having a good time with us, isn’t she?” Suguru coos in your right ear, licking the shell of it.
Satoru agrees, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think she missed us too, hm?” He’s whispering in your left ear, his soft pink lips pressing a kiss against it before it falls to the base of your neck, giving it a nib, making you moan just like he’d aimed to.
“Shit, she sounds sexier than I thought, Satoru,” Suguru groans, his hands venturing under your dress, hiking it up slowly. But he’s not your best friend for nothing. “Hey, if you want me to stop just tell me, ‘kay?” He tells you, in between kisses.
Suguru’s kind to you, gentle. But his hands move achingly slow up your inner thighs, and he’s grinning against your cheek, you can feel it.
You can still feel the both of them, both rock hard and begging to be freed from their pants. They’re both… huge, too. And you’re already wondering if you can take them both because fuck, you want it. You want them.
And that’s what Suguru wants; he wants you to tell him what you want.
He’s kind, gentle. But also cruel. Cruel how he seduces you, cruel how his fingers make your cunt throb in delight, in anticipation.
In contrast, Satoru’s impatient, turning you to kiss him, to taste the alcohol lingering on his tongue. It’s your first time kissing your best friend, and he tastes like whiskey and spearmint candy and his tongue slips between your lips and it’s equally gentle as his hands, and he smiles when you smile because now he knows you’re enjoying this.
“Fuck, Suguru!” You yell in a whisper as Suguru hikes your dress up above your ass, only for him to shush you.
Frantically, you look around, but everyone’s now too absorbed in the DJ’s new set to notice you, your underwear on full display.
“Shh, don’t worry, love,” Suguru coos, kissing your cheek as Satoru kisses your lips again. “I’ll kill anyone if they look at you.” And then his two fingers find your clit from the front, tapping it lightly, testing the waters, before he slips them into your pussy, pleasantly surprised (but also not really) to find you already wet.
“Yeah, we’re the only ones allowed to see you tonight,” Satoru agrees, possesively, pulling away, a trail of saliva connecting your lips. He gives a boyish smile as he presses his forehead against yours, “let’s make our best friend feel good and forget all about that shitty ex of hers.”
Through his thick white lashes, Satoru’s gazing at you, blue eyes full of adoration. But Suguru demands that same attention, tugging your hair back gently, forcing you to look at him.
“Like it when I touch you like this, baby? So wet for us, yeah?”
You nod, yeah. Yeah, screw platonic. Fuck social norms because you’re not conventionally supposed to fuck your best friends, but screw all of this. You’re upset, you feel wronged, and your best friends are both hot, muscular, gorgeous men and you want them to fuck your guts out.
And so Suguru kisses you, and he tastes like bourbon and caramel candy and he’s a little more rough than Satoru but it only makes you moan in his mouth, makes his fingers slip out of your cunt and pinch your clit. Satoru’s one hand is fondling your breast, his eyes fixed on your expressions, hearing your cute addictive noises even with the booming of the music over the speakers.
It’s hot, the way you and Suguru look, enjoying yourselves.
The three of you take turns, both men grinding against you. Suguru between your ass cheeks, Satoru against your pussy. You kiss Suguru, and then Satoru kisses you, and when you swerve your head out of the way for fun, they kiss each other just to spite you and that just makes you want them more.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in my pants at this rate,” Suguru grunts, watching the way your ass moves against his cock through his pants. He’s hypnotized by you, wants to feel how it feels inside of you—always wanted to ever since that first night at freshman orientation.
Satoru does too, though he tries to mask it, but what are friends for if they don’t see through you?
You giggle, grinning up at Satoru, licking your lips. Sneakily, your hand slips past his pants, palming his cock through his underwear and it’s addictive, the way Satoru’s face goes red, how his mouth falls open, how he lets out a choked groan.
“You wanna cum too, Satoru?”
God, you’re like the human incarnation of temptation. You’re so wicked when you want to be, your hands in his pants, so seductive, so pliable.
And Satoru wants you. Now.
He really can’t wait any longer. Not after waiting two years for you to be free from Makoto. Stupid blonde-haired sunshine boy with a sunshine smile. What do you see in him anyway? He can do everything Makoto can, and better.
And tonight he’ll prove it to you. So will Suguru; both of them have had the hots for you since they met you anyway.
They won’t have you here though. You’re not some random girl they won’t see again, you’re their pretty best friend, beautiful and sexy and they’re going to spoil you properly.
Your kiss silences his thoughts, Suguru’s heavily lidded eyes proving that he really can’t take any more of your teasing.
“Shit,” Satoru hisses when you tug on his lower lip, “really want us to fuck you?”
“Mhm, please, Satoru.”
His lashes are fluttering against your lashes and you pull away to let your head lay on Suguru’s shoulder, Suguru’s eyes flitting to the gap between your dress and your chest and fuck you because you’re not wearing a bra and he really really wants to touch your tits.
And Satoru’s blue irises meet Suguru’s purple eyes and they know they’re already too far gone without any capability of holding back anymore.
“Well, if that’s what you want, love,” Suguru hums in your ear, giving your left butt cheek a tight slap before covering it up again.
“Better be ready to take us both,” Satoru finishes his sentence for him.
Red flags. Addictions. Temptations.
Fuck, you really should say no, you should really take this last attempt to go home and be the good girl you think you still are.
But then you see Makoto’s judging gaze falling on you, a disappointed shake of his head as he scowls at you, and your will is renewed. Besides, Satoru and Suguru are seconds away from ripping your clothes off because they’re fucking animals.
“Whose dorm?” You ask, flustered now when you realise Satoru’s kissing your jaw, your neck, your chest.
Suguru’s breathing gets heavier as your other hand goes around to palm his cock through his jeans. “Fuck it, the dorms are too far, there’s a hotel across the street.”
“Pretty baby,” Satoru breathes against your lips, about one second away from losing it, “you have no idea how much I want you right now.”
“Then take me to the hotel and fuck me, please.”
You’re gone. You’re too far gone. And you don’t care. Satoru and Suguru are going to be your happy pills and you really really need them in you now.
It’s a fast five minutes to the hotel, getting the most expensive suite available (courtesy of Gojo’s father’s card that he so graciously left in the counter because he, like Suguru, was impatient), and getting everyone out of their clothes.
By the time you’re on the bed, Satoru’s sitting behind you fondling your tits and Suguru laying in front of you, tongue deep in your pretty wet pussy, and you’re losing it, toes curling as Satoru whispers humiliatingly sweet phrases in your ears, things like what a good fucking whore and fuck, keep making those sounds and we’ll have to keep fucking you more often.
(You’ll more than happily say yes.)
Suguru’s strong arms keep your legs spread as he tips you over the edge, Satoru drowning out your cries with his lips and Suguru drinking up everything you release, licking the edges of his lips as he pulls away, looking down at you like you’re prey, like you’re meat that he hasn’t gotten in a long time, but he doesn’t miss that glint of fondness in his irises.
God, you’re so pretty, even your cute little pussy’s pretty. Tastes good, too. You’re perfect like this, completely bare and natural. He might end up drunk on you and that’s dangerous. You’ve already came twice on his tongue alone tonight.
But Satoru and himself haven’t been holding back for a long time all for nothing. Now you’re finally here, you’re finally theirs.
“Get ready for a long night, princess.”
Javier Peña & Joel Miller Headcanons (drabbles?)
another smutty edition. ohmygod this is filth.
warnings: rough sex/smut (oh boy. oral [both receiving], fingering, masturbation, cockwarming… & prolly more) so 18+ only content; stepdad!joel (againimsorry); dbf!joel; slapping, spanking, spitting; age gap; bratty!reader; smoking; petnames (sweetheart, angel, babygirl, baby) dubcon (coercion, intoxication, imbalanced power dynamic); like I said this is just pure filth—dead dove, do not eat.
Thank u guys for all the love on the last one !! I’ve got longer pieces coming soon, but in the meantime, enjoy this depravity!! I’m going to hell!!
Join the taglist if you want moreeeeeee.
Javi’s “boredom breaks” at work involved stealing you from behind your desk & coaxing you into giving him head from the passenger side of his Jeep Cherokee. Parked or driving, busy street or deserted parking lot, it was all the same to him—which meant onlookers, inevitably. Peña was indispensable at the embassy, so the voyeurs didn’t bother him, and he assured you that “nobody’s gonna recognize the receptionist by the back of her fuckin’ head.” In a dusty, empty side-street, Javier’s cock rhythmically prods the back of your throat. With one hand straddling the back of your neck, he grinds out a “fuck yeah, jus’ like that,” between deep pulls off his cigarette, ashing it out the open window with a quick flick of his fingernail.
“It’s fuckin’ hot, watching you take calls from all those corporate big-shots when I know you still got the taste of my cum on your tongue.”
Joel’s favourite position was doggy-style. Especially with both your hands pinned behind your back in his much larger, much stronger one; especially when your teasing had earned you some good-old-fashioned discipline. “Someone’s gotta fuck the brat outta you.” He’d pull out every time, even when you begged him not to, all so he could watch his hot seed spilling onto the red handprints branding your ass. But that always happened after he took in the swooping arch of your back, the way your skin yielded to his with every lazy slap he delivered to it—and, oh, your muffled sobs following his: “tell me—where’s that fuckin’ attitude get you?”
“S’right, sweetheart. Gets you on your knees, takin’ cock facedown like a lil’ slut.”
Sometimes, Javier just wanted to watch. “Show me, hermosa, how do you touch yourself when I’m away?” He’d relax in the armchair, an attentive audience member as he drank in the sight of you spread out on the bed, sliding a hand between your thighs. Those dark eyes never left yours, not even when he had to palm himself through his denim to relieve the aching desire building underneath. “Can tell you’ve been practicing for me.” & you’d finish with his name on your tongue, taking care to put every detail of your climax on display for him.
“You could be fuckin’ famous, y’know. I could film you just like that—my very own pornstar.”
One late-night in your father’s living room, you worked up the nerve to ask Joel to take your virginity so that it’d “be with someone who I like, who’ll take good care of me.” & he did such a good job, easing in oh-so-slowly, searching your eyes for any ounce of pain as he stretched you wide, wiiide open for him. “Fuck, maybe m’not the best person for this, sweetheart,” and it might’ve been true ‘cause his cock was almost too big to fit, squeezing in so, so tight between your fluttering walls. But eventually, it did, and then your dad’s best friend was rocking into you, muffling your soft cries of surprise, pain, pleasure, lust, abandon, and need in his palm.
“Sshh, sshh, s’alright, babygirl, s’alright. Jus’ focus on me, yeah? ‘Else your dad’s gonna find out I broke in his lil’ princess.”
Javi had never considered himself to be a jealous man. He was something of a sexual communist: cheating wasn’t cheating if it was just fucking, girlfriends were made to be shared, and only a self-denying idiot turned down any version of a threesome. But after that first time with you? That was all over. He’d have you straddling his lap on the brink of explosion, cunt dripping onto his bare thighs before finally lowering you onto every hard inch of himself—only to keep you still, his personal lil’ cockwarmer. “Tell me you’re mine, baby, tell me this pussy’s mine.” Saying the words wasn’t always enough for either of you to actually believe them, so Javi would fuck you—hard—until they were true, until he was certain that you belonged to him. Till he tore cries of worship from your lips and orgasms from your cunt.
“I know, querida, feels so good to surrender, don’t it?”
Stepdad!Joel picking you up from a party in his big ol’ truck with a couple of his drinking buddies tagging along. This time, he lets you sit in the front. “Ain’t she a stunner?” Blushing as the others mumble in agreement. Soon, Joel’s rough hand is crawling up your thigh. “We thought up a way you could thank us for the ride, angel.” Your cunt warms at the feel of his fingers slipping between your folds. It starts to pulse at the idea of being filled so full by 3 men at once, and it nearly aches at the thought of pleasing Joel. “You’re a big girl now, ain’t that right?” Parking the car, pulling you onto his lap, bunching your shirt up above your tits and exposing you to a car-full of leering eyes.
“N’ big girls take care of more’n just one cock at a time, sweetheart.”
It was obvious from the start that Peña, Murphy, and (especially) Carrillo didn’t abide by any kind of rule book in the field. It shocked you, nonetheless, the first time you watched Agent Peña put a bullet through a sicario‘s head. “We’re the good guys, sweetheart.” But it didn’t feel that way. For months, it didn’t feel that way, and you refused to be alone in a room with him. Not because he scared you, but because you were afraid of how his gratuitous violence had excited you. You managed to avoid him, until, one afternoon, he cornered you in the filing room—like a writhing tail caught in a mousetrap—his amused expression underpinned by a familiar kind of danger.
“You wanna pretend I’m the bad guy? S’fine, querida, I can live with that. But your pussy’s wet just thinkin’ about it, so at least have the decency to let me fuck you like one.”
When Joel ate you out, it was always as a reward. He liked doing it, of course, but he was an impatient man who worshipped the feel of a woman’s cunt wrapped around his cock (he’d cut blowjobs short for god’s sake, pulling you mid-gag off his length just to fuck you, instead). You memorized how pretty he looked with his head between your thighs, grey-speckled beard glistening with your very own slick. “F’you keep squirmin’ around like that, angel, m’gonna have to tie you up. Stay put.” Thighs hitched over his broad shoulders, voice hoarse from the never-ending moans his mouth and his fingers enticed from you over and over and over again. “Been such a good listener, babygirl,” and your fingers ran through his hair, streams of freshwater gushing between great, snow-flecked pines. But the best part came after: even his praise didn’t compare to the feel of his thumb against your chin, prying you open as he spat a wad of saliva onto your tongue.
“Open up for me, tha’s right. Y’see how good that pretty lil’ pussy tastes?”
He’d never meant to hurt you, of course. Javi wasn’t the greatest at the whole ~relationship~ thing, and even though you hadn’t defined whatever it was that, together, you shared, it still hurt like hell, finding out he was still screwing around. He hadn’t broken any promises, per se, but your crestfallen expression made him feel as though he’d committed a federal offence. “Baby, if I’da known…” and he’s kneeling down, (praying at the foot of your altar), gazing up at you with plea-filled, onyx black eyes before pressing his forehead to your abdomen, holding your hips between his hands as if you were sacred to him.
“I just… I need you like the fuckin’ air I breathe, hermosa. I hate myself for hurting you.”
You’d always had a bit of a school girl crush on dad’s best friend, Joel. Who could blame you? He was capable, funny, handsome—and oh, how you hated bringing friends over while he was in the house, too, ‘cause they giggled and flirted with him and it made you livid. This time, you actually had to step into the garage and light up a sneaky smoke just to find some fucking peace again. That’s where he found you, leaning defeatedly against the beer fridge; you frantically put the smoking tip out, cursing yourself for your carelessness. Joel raised his eyebrows at the cigarette before smiling in amusement. Then, he surprised you by pressing a big, warm, tender palm to your cheek.
“You’re always gonna be my favourite. You know that, right?”
TAGLIST: @millllenniawrites @mads-grace4 @anyas-stuff @liviloo12346 @bookofbee @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @stardust-chords-enthusiast @fruitcupsworld @sallymilkweed @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @maudlinflowers @inkedells @ayehomo @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @buckysmainhxe @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal
𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘.
summary. luffy has an interesting way to show you the pirate empress meant nothing to him, despite your clear annoyance.
pairing. monkey d. luffy x f!reader
warnings/tags. unprotected sex, kinda drunk sex?? (not encouraging), penetration, oral (f), cunningulus, dry humping, overstimulation, past luffy and boa, kinda past grooming?? (again, not encouraging), spit as lube, handjobs, reader is kinda insecure but hides it behind a foul mouth, bestfriend-ish!zoro and he’s kinda a dumbass
kazu’s note. no, i am not a luffy x boa shipper. leave me alone
you weren’t jealous. you couldn’t be. you had no right to be.
it’d been two years since you all last saw each other. you’ve all grown and matured into adults. maturity involved newly developed feelings— such as sexual needs. so it’s to no surprise that he of all people would also discover his libido and want to blow off that steam.
he did, after all, stay on an all-female island for years. naturally, that’d be any male’s ultimate fantasy. the women there must’ve been curious and excited for a young and fresh male to have arrived after so many years of being deprive of men.
and to top it all of, the ruler of that island was madly in love with him. it’s to no surprise she’d offer to be the outlet to his urges, and it’s no bigger surprise that he’d foolishly agree.
of course, of all fucking people, he had slept with the prettiest woman alive, boa hancock.
the very simple thought of boa getting to see luffy at his most vulnerable state, naked and willing, had you clutching at the gun in your hands tighter.
“fucking hell—” you cussed, switching the safety clip and pulling the trigger one, two, three times. the bullet landed neatly in the centre of the dart board, smoke following the release of the bullets.
luffy fucked her. luffy fucked her, not you. she had the pleasure of undressing him, had her lips on his, greedy hands all over his body, his dick plunged deep in her—
“godfuckingdamnit!” you groaned, pulling the trigger and hitting the same dartboard through the hole multiple times. you couldn’t help the anger bubbling in your blood.
you had no reason to be jealous. you weren’t his girlfriend, he wasn’t your boyfriend. the furthest you’ve gone was drunkenly kiss on the top of the sunny head figure under the stars. you once cherished the memory but you weren’t so sure if it meant anything at all anymore.
you were so lost in blasting the wall to bits (and you knew franky would have your head on a platter for the destruction) to notice the new and unwanted presence in the room.
“uh…” the swordsman trailed off, eyes shifting from you to your target, and back to you. he seemed almost regretful wanting to check up on the disruption.
you snapped your head to the side, annoyance clear on your expression as you scowled, “what?”
“you, um, good?” his question was ridiculous. everybody in the ship had their own methods to calm themselves down— sanji with his cigarettes, nami with isolation and zoro, himself, with training in the crow nest. your thing was to shoot walls, apparently.
you looked away from him, rolling your eyes and focusing back on your target ahead of you, “yeah.”
“okay…” he squinted his eyes in confusion, but chose not to press further. he knew better than to bother you when you were clearly not good, as last time it resulted with a bullet almost piercing through his skull.
he took a step back, ready to leave when you cut him off with a stiff, “wait.” he froze in spot, mentally cursing himself for even having bothered to show up. he did not want to deal with your mood swings.
“what is it?” he asked, much to his dismay.
“do you find boa pretty, zoro?” you squinted an eye, narrowing your field of vision as you pointed your glock once more forward. this time, however, you aimed at the dartboard pinned right above the previous one.
“uh…” he trailed off, brain trying to process the catch behind your question. as your best friend, he knew you’d most likely lash out at him for answering incorrectly and he really didn’t want to piss you off with a weapon at your disposal. “no?”
“are you gay or something?” you mumbled, digging into your pockets and reloading your clips.
“hah? all i said was no, how the hell did you—”
“who wouldn’t find the world’s prettiest woman alive pretty?” you sighed, your patience already running thin. you could tell he was lying to you, and wanted to please you with an answer that would free him away from you as soon as possible.
you quickly corrected yourself, “unless of course, you don’t swing that way.”
“i just said i’m not— fuck, okay, yeah she isn’t so bad on the eyes. there, happy?” he rolled his eye, hoping he’d be released now.
no, you were nowhere near happy.
“tch, of course you do,” you grumbled, gripping on the gun in your hands and proceeded to shoot at the dartboard once more. “of course you do, fucking dipshit.”
zoro gawked at the accusation, stunned at your sudden mood swing, “what— woman, you asked me a question?!”
“just go away before i blast your skull in,” you rolled your eyes, knowing you wouldn’t actually. you hoped it was enough to scare the boy, though.
“fucking gladly,” he left without hesitation. you sighed once the door closed, dropping the gun to the floor.
it wasn’t getting fun blowing the wall anymore. it wouldn’t change the fact that luffy had his hands all over her. it wouldn’t change the fact that no matter what, his virginity was lost to the pirate empress.
you’ve never had a problem with boa, and to some extent, you still don’t. although you’ve heard bad reviews on her attitude, it never really affected you in anyway since she was no important aspect in your life.
presumably it wasn’t her fault that luffy decided to sleep with her. and it wasn’t luffy’s fault either he wanted to sleep with her. you were simply insecure, and the idea that the only man that’s ever made you feel warmth in your chest and hasn’t taken advantage of you was busy pleasuring other women.
you crouched down, squatting as you placed your head in your hands, elbows resting at your knee caps. you needed to get a grip. you were overreacting, and the more the thoughts consumed you, the angrier you’d get.
his moans. his breaths. his whines. she got to hear all of it, she got to keep it a memory, gets to replay the memory over and over as she pleases.
did he… love her?
your fingers slipped onto your scalps as you tugged hard onto your hair, “fucking hell!”
he was getting touchy again. the damn bastard.
you once loved his touchiness whenever he’d unintentionally get drunk. he’d always cling to you, arms around your waist, offering to dance, slipping a few kisses on your neck and always gave giggly laughs.
you loved having all of his attention, even if half the time you wouldn’t remember it all the next morning.
except now, you were in no mood to deal with it. you were tipsy enough as it was, and instead of being the usual, happy drunk you were, you were currently in a grumpy state, your hazy thoughts fucking with your mind as all you could remember was luffy having sex.
“y/n!” your captain whined, tugging onto your free arm as you chugged down the rest of your sake with the other. “let’s dance— wanna dance with you!”
“leave me alone, lu.” you were being childish, you knew. but in a sober state, you probably would’ve reacted differently. all self control you once had was immediately thrown away and you now would react simply as your mind wanted you to.
the strawhats seemingly noticed your odd behaviour, but chose to speak against it. you were clearly in a mood, and they wisely knew better than to provoke it.
zoro continued to drink his sake, nami and usopp pretended to engage in a conversation though clearly eavesdropping, sanji taking inhales of his cigs, chopper grinding on some herbs innocently, robin flipping pages through her book while sipping her wine, franky throwing random lyrics to brook’s out of tune violin melody.
“whyyy?” he complained further, now slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer in his embrace. a pout fell on his lips, “we always dance together…”
“not in the mood, ask somebody else,” you deadpanned. the disappointment and hurt in his eyes made you feel shitty. you felt bad, but the powerful emotion that was jealousy quickly washed it away.
“no, y/n, i want you and only you, always!” luffy was stubborn, and had now switched the hurt look to a determined one. he was frowning, lip twitching in anticipation, daring you to oppose him.
the strawhats simultaneous paused their actions, all throwing a glance at you both, curiosity eating them alive. luffy was always known for being expressive, but did he understand the depth of his words?
you only scoffed, and regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, “is that why you went and fucked miss pirate empress?”
zoro spat out his drink. both nami and usopp gagged in shock. sanji inhaled too sharply and choked. chopper halted his movements. robin stopped midway through flipping her page. brook hit an ear-scratching tune and franky stumbled on his legs.
luffy only blinked at you. it seemed he was out of words, for once. good, you rolled your eyes, gulping down the rest of your booze and slamming the cup on the dining table.
“i’m going to bed. night, guys,” you waved off into complete silence, dragging your seat behind you and standing up. luffy’s limp arms left your body, and you suddenly found yourself wishing they were around you a little longer.
whatever. your mind was buzzing and you felt lighter than usual. you probably shouldn’t have drank that much and quickly in such a short time.
slipping out of the kitchen, you sighed deeply, suddenly feeling a rush of blood flowing through your head. you leaned against the wall momentarily, attempting to catch yourself, before the door swung open and revealed none other than the one person you weren’t in the mood to see.
you visibly scowled, “no,” you lifted yourself off of the wall, ready to walk in the opposite direction— anywhere away from this conversation. it’s too bad his abilities interrupted your attempts, arm stretching to grab ahold of your wrist and holding you in place.
“y/n, what did you mean back there?” his eyes zeroed in on you, his usual childish glint now replaced with an unusual seriousness.
“exactly what i said, now let go.” you rolled your eyes, attempting to pry his grip off of you. your efforts were deemed fruitless, as it did nothing to remove him. you only kissed your teeth in agitation.
“leave me alone, luffy!”
“why’d you bring hancock into this?” he ignored your complaints, posing questions of his own. his grip slightly tightened, eyes slightly narrowing, “answer me, y/n.”
you didn’t want to. if you did, you fear you’d spill everything and make matters worse. you weren’t ready to confess to him just yet how terribly annoyed and jealous you felt at the thought of him sleeping with her. it was such a childish feeling, and as much as you hated it, you seriously couldn’t help but feel it.
“none of your damn business,” luffy might be stubborn, but so were you. you glared start him with as much intensity as he gave back, not letting up your front. “now fuck off, would ya?”
“you’re jealous.” the rubber boy simply stated. not even a question, no shred of doubt in his conclusion. he just up and did it, verbally accused you of a feeling you’d fought to hold back for weeks.
opting to result to your only defence mechanism and lie, your left eyebrow twitched in annoyance, “how conceited of you, captain.” you didn’t miss the way his body jerked at the title, though you were confused as to why.
he stared at you with an unreadable expression, dark obsidians scanning your face whole. you almost felt like cowering at the glare, though you held your ground. you were not gonna let him win.
after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, luffy finally spoke with clarity, “come with me, i got something to show you.”
your brows pinched in confusion, ready to object against his decision before warm hands were placed on your bare waist, pulling you off your feet and throwing you over his shoulder. it was all too quick, and your vision blurred slightly from the sudden switch of positions.
“wait— luffy! fucking let me go!” you complained using your arms to pry yourself off of him.
the raven haired pirate ignored you, proceeding to drag you around with ease. you hated how weak you felt, though deep down you couldn’t suppress the tingle of excitement sitting in your gut. you weren’t exactly sure what his plans were with you, but you were hoping it’d lead to him destroying your insides.
sooner or later, you ended up on the guest room’s bed, no thanks to luffy’s manhandling. you were ready to pull yourself up and cuss your captain out, until you found your hands pinned at the top of your head and a frowning luffy inches away from your face.
your eyes widened, in surprise at the sudden closeness. his wide eyes eyed you with so much intensity, you weren’t sure what the boy had going on in the back of his mind. your throat suddenly clogged, mouth dry as the words died at the back of your tongue.
you felt so open. legs spread with the boy placed between them, arms locked in therefore unable to do anything but submit to whatever luffy wanted from you. his breath fanned over your lips, and you were suddenly painfully aware of the warmth radiating from his pink lips.
you wanted to kiss him again, you gulped.
“she doesn’t mean anything to me.” he spoke the words with such clarity, no space for insincerity anywhere. luffy was no liar, he might’ve been the most honest man you knew, and for that sole reason you didn’t realize how desperate you were to hear that.
“what tells you i give a fuck?” you tried barking back, hating how he could read you so well. your face twisted into a frown when all he did was stare deep your eyes, subconsciously pressing himself deeper into you.
your pupils blown wide, your heartbeat raced quickly and butterflies roamed wildly in your stomach at the hard-on pressing against your heat. your teeth tugged at your bottom lip harshly, doing the best in your abilities to hold back to moan that threatened to release.
“do you feel that?” he mumbled lowly, leaning further into your space, this time adding more pressure into his thrust. you jerked up from the impact, and a whine unwillingly left your lips. he tightened his hold on your hands.
luffy gave you a feral grin, hips now profoundly bumping into yours, rubbing into your pelvic area, “it’s always been you, silly, don’t you know this?”
“not when you’re going around and fucking other girls,” you spat through gritted teeth, the slightest twinge of jealousy still lingering in your blood.
what should’ve annoyed luffy only made him chuckle darkly, releasing a hand from yours and lowering it down to your thigh. he picked it up, throwing it over his hips, the switch of position now deepening his humps. he continued to rub himself into you, eyes focused on the way you so desperately tried to hold yourself back.
“she doesn’t mean anything to me,” he repeated himself once more, tongue darting out of his parted lips and moistening them. a smirk returned to his mouth when a particular thrust against your clothed clit made you moan. “nothing, y/n.”
heat licked at your spine, stomach churning and yearning for more. the grip on your thigh was sickening— he purposely shifted your hips to angle you at a position that would drive you insane. his bulge repeatedly toyed at your clothed clit, and your mind fell to mush.
“say it, y/n,” he leaned closer, mouth now pressed on yours. you inhaled his breath, and it left your head dizzy. he worded his next sentence onto your glossed lips, “say it.”
what did he want you to say exactly? there were so many possibilities and to a majority of them, you’d rather bite your own tongue off than comply. did he want you to admit you had feelings for him? did he want you to beg him to fuck you? did he want you truly speak your mind?
it seems his patience was running thin, as a sudden hard bite to your lower lip pulled you out of your trance. the pain of his teeth plunging into your flesh turned you on more than you’d like to admit.
“don’t make me repeat myself.” he spoke darkly, only releasing your lip at the end of his command. he had an expectant look on his face, his eyes glossed with a look you’d never seen before.
you inhaled sharply, taking your best shot. you had tossed every shred of dignity and pride left in you, and since he probably wanted to hear, “fuck me, luffy.”
to your shock, your captain smiled at you. you frowned, confused at his sudden switch of moods, nearly blinded by the pearly whites he flashed, “not what i wanted to hear, though i was planning to already.”
you felt your face heat up in utter embarrassment. stupid bastard, what else did he want you to say? and what the hell did he mean he was planning to already? you weren’t opposing to the idea, but the nerve he had—
“fuck off, lu,” you rolled your eyes, shifting your gaze away from the man above you, too painfully humiliated to actually face him.
though, your actions were yet again fruitless as the hand that held your thigh now cupped your jaw, index finger beneath your chin and forced you to keep your eyes on him. his smile was replaced by his previous serious one, bug eyes staring deep into you.
“try again, y/n,” and before you could complain, for what felt like the nth time tonight, your words were cut off before given an opportunity to speak.
luffy pressed a deep kiss into your mouth, eyelids falling shut momentarily, inhaling your taste. you eagerly kissed him back, your free hand moving straight to his hair, tugging at the wild locks. he hummed appreciatively, nipping and nibbling at the plushness of your lips.
you’d only began engaging into the kiss, soft lips rubbing on yours so intoxicatingly, that you uncharacteristically whined when the boy pulled away.
he panted heavily, a cocky smile etched on his face. he was starting to piss you off now with his teasing, and his damned, “try again.”
“god— fine, fuck!” you complained, and gave it another try. you huffed, still in disbelief at the idea of it but decided to go with it anyway. “she doesn’t mean anything…to you.”
“well there we go,” he nuzzled his nose into yours, and you felt your chest flutter with warmth at the endearing action. “wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“you gonna fuck me or not?” your patience was at its limit. you wanted him and quickly, and wiggled your hips into his warningly, “or do i need to finish this off myself?
“no need, i’m here for ya!” he pulled himself up and flashed his signature smile, followed by his paired laugh. you wondered where he was going off to, but your question was soon enough answered by the harsh tug on your shorts, now discarded elsewhere onto the floor. you simultaneously removed your top.
he crawled onto his stomach, forcefully spreading your legs and now revealing your soaked panties. your bit your lip, eyes casted elsewhere as you tried your best to push your embarrassment aside. you were horny, and if the damp spot on your panties didn’t say otherwise, you don’t know what else could’ve given it away.
“all this for me?” he mumbled, stuck in a trance, and you weren’t even sure if he was speaking to you or himself.
still, it was embarrassing so with an attempt to close your thighs together that luffy stopped with ease, you kissed your teeth, “stop staring and do something already!”
“you smell so good,” he dragged an index finger up and down your clothed pussy, revelling in the way you threw your head back and whined so prettily. he couldn’t wait to wreck you.
“more, luffy…” you breathed out, and before you could beg some more, the boy tugged off your panties off, discarding them once more somewhere on the floor, and dove deep into your legs.
a loud moan was ripped out of your chest, hands gripping the sheets tightly as your captain made a mess of you.
legs hiked over his broad shoulders, his fingers gripped your plushy thighs, his tongue working wonders. he dragged the muscle up and down, left and right, rotating in circles and occasionally pushing past your walls and into you. the tip of his nose bumped against your clit so precisely, that the added stimulation had you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.
luffy moaned shamelessly into your cunt, sloppily feasting on you as if it were his last meal. the vibrations of his voice sent pleasant shivers all across your limbs. your thighs began dripping with a mixture of your slick and his saliva, the result clear and smudged all over his mouth.
when luffy released your lips with a pop, you were forced to look down at the loss of attention on your aching pussy. though while looking down, you were met with an unimpressed frown.
“remove your hand, i wanna hear you.” he spoke sternly.
“but everyone’s still up—hnng, fuck!” a broken moan cut off your words, eyes rolling to the back of your head. pleasure buzzed all throughout your body at the spank luffy delivered onto your wet cunt, hips jerking upwards involuntarily.
“i said, remove your hand.” he warned you and wasted no time to dive back into your pussy. you decided to comply to his order, instead opting to hold back as much as you can on your moans.
it’s too bad he decided to switch the rhythm and plunge two fingers deep into your soppy cunt, lips now wrapped over your clit, sucking on it like candy.
“oh yes, fuck, yes luffy!” all hopes of remaining quiet gone. luffy fucked into you relentlessly. fingers precise, he curled, jackhammered, scissored your walls just right with the added stimulation of his tongue lapping over your clit with kitten licks.
your hands flew onto his scalp, tugging at the raven locks tightly, causing the boy below to moan shamelessly into you.
your body felt liquified as his fingering soon brought you to what you knew would be an orgasm. your toes curled, thighs squeezing around his head, nearly suffocating him though he didn’t mind.
“lu—luffy, oh god, ‘m so close, please!” you pleaded, desperate for the overpowering feeling of the tightening in your gut to release. you wanted to cum so badly, and because your captain was such a nice one, he switched the angle of his fingers, directly hitting your sweet spot, sending you over the edge.
“yesyesyes— fuck!” you squealed, legs shaking as he fucked you through your orgasm. back arching, you pushed him deeper into your cunt as you sprayed him with squirt, heels digging into his shoulder blades.
luffy greedily accepted everything you gave him, slurping on your fluids and moaning at the sweet taste of you. his tongue lapped at your juices, fingers never ceasing their movements, making sure you’d enjoy your orgasm the longest you could.
your vision blurred for a moment, eyes rolled back as your mind consumed the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. you’d never cum this— much less ever squirted, and the way luffy licked you clean even after your mess soon had you whining from the painful pleasure.
“too much, lu!” you complained, fingers most likely painfully pulling at his hair. the pleasure was getting too overbearing, and you’d freshly came and weren’t sure if you could take another right away.
“c’mon y/n, gimme another one,” he popped your clit out of his mouth, though his fingers never let up. he smirked at your trembling figure, his thumb now rubbing harshly over where his lips were once placed. “i know you can.”
you weren’t sure you could, but you didn’t want to disappoint him. the constant thrusts of his fingers at your sweet spot, the attention focused on your clit, your recent orgasm still lingering, the damn smirk he gave you— you soon felt the familiar pressure in your gut building.
“i—i’m, gonna, hnng, cummin’!” your words were slurred, not even certain if they were making sense, too focused on the way luffy stretched his fingers even further into your, fingertips dancing at your cervix.
“attagirl,” luffy grinned, reattaching his lips at your clit, eagerly awaiting for your juices.
his tongue moved at an unforgiving pace, vibrating rapidly while simultaneously hitting you dead-on deep in your cervix, and you swore you blacked out when you yet again emptied yourself onto him.
a much louder, wantonly moan ripped at your throat, tears staining your cheeks and drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. this time around, your entire body trembled in overstimulation, welcoming another orgasm, splurts of squirt decorating luffy’s swollen lips.
“mhm,” his pink tongue licked long stripes of your juices, licking you clean. you were too far gone to care about the prideful smirk on his face, attempting to ground yourself from this mind-blowing orgasm.
a few minutes later, you slowly managed to bring yourself back from your high, body melting into the mattress. you had no strength to pull yourself up and see what your captain was up to. though as soon as your vision focused, you were face to face with a boastful luffy.
hovering you once more, his hand rested at your jaw gently, thumb thumbing at your lip, loosely pulling your chin downward and parting your lips. you had no time to question his actions, your thoughts answered as he shoved his tongue deep into your mouth, licking into the roof of your cave.
you let your eyes fall shut, still too weak to properly kiss him back. he kissed you sloppily, tongue sloshing with yours eagerly, forcing your taste back onto your tastebuds. he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss, his tongue assuring to taste every inch of your mouth.
you were running short on breath, but you found yourself not minding if you went out like this. and so, a weak hand clutched onto his top, attempting to match his pace.
“gonna fuck you now,” he pulled away slightly, a string of both your salivas connecting at the tip of your tongues. “okay?”
you nodded wordlessly, arms wrapping around his neck as further approval. he grinned, tongue lapping at the trail of saliva that drooled down your chin, before placing a soft kiss at your reddened lips.
in swift movements, his pants and briefs were off, dick lubricated with his spit and precum, as he pumped his already hardened shaft a few times. you watched through lidded eyes his face contorted into a look of relief, a soft sigh escaping his lips. you wanted to give him that reaction.
and so, you lowered your own hand, grazing past your soaping pussy to gather a significant amount of slick left. shivering at the sensitivity, you leaned your hand closer to his own shaft and pumped his dick alongside with him, and nothing would prepare you for the whine he let out.
“mmh, fuck y/n, feels’good” he panted, bottom lip tugged behind a row of teeth. you tugged and tugged, rotating your wrists in circular motions, and eventually the boy let go of his own cock in favour of your hands. whenever you made it to his throbbing tip, your thumb would pay extra attention at his slit, attempting to multitask the same way he’d done prior to you.
“n-no more,” he groaned, hand firmly placed over yours and ripping it off. you frowned in discontent as the raven haired breathed hard, catching his breath.
his cheeks were flushed red, neck also tainted as he offered you a sheepish grin, “wanna cum inside your pussy. can i, y/n?” he leaned forward, pinning his hands at the side of your head for support.
you breathed out, “‘course you can, captain.” the title rolled of your tongue so naturally, you almost missed the feral glint in his eye. truly, you should’ve expected he’d react the way he did, but it still caught you entirely off guard.
one minute you’re laid down on your back, the next, your knees are folded at the side of your head, hips lifted off of the mattress, and luffy ruthlessly pounding into you.
you were already well spent from your two previous orgasms, but his fingers didn’t do his cock justice. he stretched you out so well, the tip of his cock slipping with ease into your cunt, the base of his shaft meeting your lips before quickly pulling out and reentering.
luffy was fucking you brutally. his hips were relentless— he rutted into you like it was the last thing he could do, the angle of his cock repeatedly hitting your clenching walls. he left you no time to breathe, thrusting into you so hard that your body bounced off his cock and into the headboard.
if it wasn’t for the way squeezed your eyes shut at the blissful sensation, you’d see the way your captain watched you with such want—such need that could only be expressed through his actions.
the point of contact of your bodies left sinful noises of squelches, slaps and the headboard banging on the wall. your moans overlapped one another, your voice far too broken to be heard as much as luffy’s whiny moans and praises,
“fuck, oh fuck y/n, you feel s’good!” he cried out at your gummy walls sucking him in. your cunt gripped greedily at his cock, wanting all he could give you. “pretty fucking pussy— gonna fuck you like this all the time, yeah?”
“yes, please captain!” you egged him on further, and when he released the beastly like growl, you knew you were done for. still, you were ready for whatever he had to throw at you, “harder, captain!”
and if he wasn’t fucking your brains out then, he surely was now.
a switch of angles was all it took for both him and you to feel your orgasms closing in. sweaty chests pressed against one another, your arms lazily wrapped around his neck, you sobbed and cried as you were yet again feeling the want to cum.
his stamina was insane. how he kept such a quick and hard pace and never lost tempo was beyond words. where had he learned all of this? who had taught him all of this?
you were met with a quick flash of annoyance at the thought of your previous emotions of jealousy, though it all ended the second luffy’s lips messily found yours. you were engulfed by the flavour of both him and you, the warmth of his lips and the taste of him taking over any prior thought you had.
“cummin— fuck, wanna cum inside you so bad!” luffy begged through your kiss, stealing your breath away. hips still jackhammering into your puffy pussy, he continued, “please lemme cum inside!”
“give it all t’me, lu!” you moaned, fingernails clawing at his skin. your own back arched, feeling the third orgasm of the night rolling out of you, a silent scream following your spasm. the force of clenching down on him midst orgasm drove him to his own, moaning like a pornstar into your mouth, loads of semen painting your insides white.
you both rode your orgasms out, his hips now stuttering while unintentionally overstimulating himself. you couldn’t take anymore, and so you whined and begged him to stop, and eventually came down to a halt.
the sex-scented air blended in with your pants, the both of you catching your breaths. there was a lot to unpack and you had no energy nor time to care as of the moment. you were fucked out, face a mess, body still trembling, and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep.
reluctant on staying inside you, luffy laid himself flat on your chest, nuzzling in the crevice of your breast. you brought a hand to lazily scrape at his scalp, the boy humming in content at the petting. you had finally slept with luffy, and damn were you impressed. it almost made you forget what led up to this situation— key word: almost.
as if he could read your mind, “i never actually fucked her, y’know.”
you did not know.
blinking, your hands paused their movements, ignoring the way he whined in protest. you leaned your head forward while frowning, wanting to meet his gaze and demand answers.
“the fuck? what do you mean?”
“what do you mean ‘what do i mean’?”
“luffy,” you deadpanned. “zoro literally told everyone you had sex with boa hancock during our two year interval.”
“zoro’s a dumbass,” luffy giggled, fingers absentmindedly tracing your soft skin. “while we did give each other head, i never actually fucked her. i was waiting for you.”
you gasped in surprise at his revelation. he was waiting on you? so that meant that these past weeks you’d been mourning at the idea of them potentially sleeping together pointlessly?
“i took your virginity?” you voiced out loud, still in complete shock. what the actual fuck.
“yup,” he shrugged, as if it weren’t a huge deal. he yawned tiredly, before flashing a smile, “felt really good. ‘m glad it was you.“
you felt stupid butterflies stomping in your stomach at his honesty. as much as you tried to suppress it, a smile overtook what was meant to be a scowl on your face.
“yeah, luffy, me too.” ￼
ok but she still saw ur dick buddy 🙄
Do I look like I care? | jj maybank
Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!Kook!reader
Summary: you ask JJ to dance with you at the Midsummer, but things don’t go as planned.
Warnings: jealous!JJ, established relationship, fluff
Word count: 1.1K
A/N: hi! I loved 1x05, so here’s something about it. Hope you like it. Enjoy! x
It’s a hot Sunday afternoon, you’re on your boat with JJ, who’s smoking with his sunglasses on. You were talking about the Midsummer dance, since you’re a Kook and your family wants you to go there. Topper offered to be your partner and you agreed, since your boyfriend, a Pogue, can’t participate. Still, you hoped that JJ would have said something about it, moved by jealousy perhaps or the desire to make you happy, but he just seemed unconcerned.
“So, you’re telling me that you’re not even a little bit jealous of Topper?”
He shrugs, breathing out some smoke.
“Do I look like I would be jealous of somebody like Topper?”
“You certainly look like somebody who wouldn’t come to the dance with me,” you reply, testily.
“Babe, you just have to tell me. One word and I do whatever you like. If you want me to be there, I’ll be there,” he says with a smile.
You’re suddenly suspicious: it’s true, JJ would always agree to do something with you, especially dangerous things, but this time it feels like a trap. You’re now sure he’s trying to hide his protectiveness towards you, so you try to push him over the edge.
“Are you sure, J? I mean, you should wear a suit, maybe even pretend to be a waiter to be there and dance with me, something that you don’t even like to do, in front of my parents and the other Kooks. It’s not really your cup of tea,” you say, observing every muscle of your boyfriend. He still seems really calm, but you see a jolt in his hand, while he’s putting out his cigarette. Oh, he’s so jealous. You got him!
“Do I look like I care?” He asks you with effrontery.
You shake your head.
“I think that you’re gonna handle it perfectly,” you answer, giving him a peck on the lips.
Tonight’s the night. You’re wearing your best dress, JJ sent you a text telling you that the plan is still in motion with John B. You’re a little bit nervous: you don’t like pushing JJ’s buttons, but this is important to you and you don’t want to be there with somebody who’s not your boyfriend. This is also the only way to have him there, since your parents don’t approve your relationship with him for obvious reasons. You just hope that they won’t see him or, at least, that they’ll just let him be. Speaking of your parents, they’re calling out your name right now.
Ten minutes later, you’re there with Topper, but you don’t see JJ nearby. You’re turning around too often, so Topper starts getting suspicious about it.
“Is everything okay? Is somebody following you or something?” He jokes.
His voice is so irritating, you can’t believe that your parents would love to have him as your boyfriend instead of JJ.
“You’re acting weird, please stop,” he whispers to your ear, while smiling to the people in the room.
“And you’re acting like my father,” you say, then you leave his embrace and go away.
This is not going as planned: JJ is nowhere to be seen and your parents already look lost, because you just left Topper’s side. You breathe out, hoping that Sarah or Kie will appear soon next to you.
“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” you hear Topper’s voice behind you. You sigh.
“Topper, you’re a good guy, but…”
“I also forgot to mention that you look really beautiful, tonight,” he adds.
“And this is my time to interfere. Hi Topper, please leave my girl alone, she already has a boyfriend,” JJ says and when you turn around, you see him with some empty glasses on a tray.
“Who made you work here?” Topper asks, surprised.
“Do you work for the police?” JJ replies, shaking his head. “Come on, go away, she saved all of her dances just for me, so you can bore someone else”.
You burst out laughing and Topper mustn't like it, because he runs away livid with rage, probably to call Rafe and his other friends to kick JJ out, but you don't care: he's finally here. JJ leaves the silver plate so he can dance with you.
“You were jealous,” you say, while he’s holding your waist.
“No, I told you: I don’t care”.
“You’re such a liar,” you reply, a smirk on your face.
“Whatever,” he says.
Then he leans down to mutter these words in your ear: "But if you thought I wanted to be the only one to lay a hand on you, you were completely right."
Shivers get down your spine, when you hear his hoarse voice. You didn't even realize you closed your eyes. Now you just feel the heat of JJ's body against yours as you slow dance, the cool air rushing up your ankles. This could be the best moment of your life.
If it weren't for JJ who’s now pulling you away, because Rafe and Topper are chasing you. You run off to the beach, your parents yelling after you, while you laugh and feel free, taking off your heels for more comfort. He takes off his bow tie, throwing it behind him. Luckily your boat is nearby, so you two get on that and hide in the cabin, hoping that the others have not seen you, because you are protected by the darkness of the night. JJ’s still trying to catch his breath, while you’re chuckling.
“I’m just thinking about Topper’s face when you appeared,” you answer and he laughs.
“He’s so irritating”.
“He never had a chance with you anyway,” JJ says.
You give him a sly look.
“Why? ‘Cause it’s always been you?”
“No, ‘cause you’re obviously better than him. You’re way out of my league too, honestly. Sometimes I even wonder why you’re with me. You’re better than everybody,” he answers and your heart melts.
You cup his face, your hands caressing his warm skin. His eyes are so blue, they seem the ocean and you’d like to swim into them. He’s holding his breath, as if he’s waiting for you to break up with him right here, right now. But you’re not gonna do that.
“You underestimate yourself, babe. I’m lucky to have you by my side, my knight in shining armor,” you say. “Also, you should put on these elegant clothes more often”.
“Oh, is it?” He asks, his lips on yours.
“Yeah,” you answer with a smile, before he kisses you. “Admit that you were jealous!”
“I was jealous, okay?” JJ squeals, exasperated. “Now let me kiss you!”
You knew it.
Hello ♡ if you're taking requests for drabbles then could I please request Eddie and Shy!reader who maybe gets a little anxious around his friends (dustin, mike, lucas, etc) and sorta clings to him? If not then it's totally okay and I love your work !
content warnings; all the fluff, just so much fluff. eddie reassures anxious reader. allusions to some anxiety.
your manicured hand clasps eddie’s own ring clad one tightly, baby pink nails drawing circles across his calloused skin. eddie’s preoccupied in a heated debate with dustin and you use the distraction to worm your way further into his arms, twiddling the bottom of his hellfire shirt anxiously. you don’t mean to be clingy, but the close proximity with all of eddie’s friends causes you oftentimes to retreat back into yourself; you’re not really a people person, and you’re always concerned that they don’t like you. eddie understands and does his best to alleviate your almost constant worry.
he absentmindedly wraps a wiry arm around to waist, tugging you into his lap; you exhale in relief and rest your head against his shoulder. his head dips to come level with yours.
“y’alright?” he murmurs. you nod. his hand grabs your thigh, pulling you even closer. “sure?”
“i’m okay, eds.” your voice is meek and quiet. he presses a kiss to your jaw and then one to your forehead. you circle his neck with loose arms and press your face to his neck, breathing in his oddly comforting scent of cigarettes and awfully cheap cologne; you told him you hated it when he first bought it but you’ve grown to adore it. it’s so him.
“y’know, there’s nothing to be worried about,” he says, not meanly. “promise.” you attempt a smile, lips pulled tight, and the subtle tremble in your hands has eddie stroking over your knuckles and pressing a kiss to each one.
“i know,” you whisper. “you know what i’m like. i get nervous. i’m a total dud.” eddie’s brows shoot up.
“no way!” he exclaims. “seriously, no way are you a dud. you’re just not a people person and that’s okay. doesn’t matter to me.”
you smile for real this time.
“sorry for being so clingy, though.”
“you’re not.” he smooths a hand over your head. “you just like to be close. i like you here, close, as well.” he smiles, pointed canines protruding from his plush lips. you peck him once, twice, thrice. dustin fax gags.
“ugh, get a room!”
eddie grabs an empty water bottle and hurls it in his direction.
“fuck off, henderson. you’re just jealous my girlfriend is so hot.”
“have you seen suzie?”
“shut up, like i believe your fake girlfriend is as hot as my real one!”
“i’m right here,” you laugh, swiping at his chest.
“what? you are hot…”
“oh, give it a rest!”
ave i will literally scream cry and throw up and die if you write smthin spicy like the connie hating your bf thing about jean ………
WANT YOU ALL TO MYSELF
➙ pairing: jean x fem!reader
➙ content: 18+ only, nsfw/smut, modern au, swearing, smoking, drinking, kissing, jealousy, raw sex, creampie, spanking, punishment, multiple orgasms, oral, masturbation.
➙ description: you’re always sleeping with random guys. jean’s pissed off about it.
Jean Kirstein was fucking jealous of the men you brought into your bedroom.
He was your neighbor, and he’d sit on his porch, smoking his cigarette, and watch as you’d bring home a different guy to fuck and kick out every now and then.
Afterwards, you’d call him and whine about how none of those useless men could satisfy you, and about how you’d have to get yourself off once they left.
He imagined you taking that cute purple vibrator and placing it gently on your clit, your face all cute and flustered as your senses were flooded from your self-given orgasm.
He’d kill to hear those sweet little moans. He jerked off to the thought, only to be flooded with anger over having to pump his fist instead of pumping inside of you.
Jean is…not exactly friendly. When one of your late night hookups mistakenly knocked on his door instead of yours, asking for you with slurred speech and a can of beer in his hands, Jean punched the guy in his stupid face, telling him to get off his porch.
Turns out, you ended up calling Jean to complain about your hookup never showing up, and Jean jumped on the opportunity to invite himself over.
You answered the door wearing a thin robe, undoubtedly covering some of your sexist black lingerie.
It pissed Jean off knowing that it was originally meant for someone else, but it didn’t really matter. He was gonna yank it off of you anyways.
You looked entirely too cute in that robe of yours, especially when the both of you were sitting on the couch, sipping on wine. He would’ve preferred whiskey, but if this was what you served all of your late night fuckers, he was more than happy to sip on that beverage.
Especially when you were ranting to him about men again, that cute little pout appearing upon your face.
He didn’t really give a shit. He was more than fed up with your sob stories, and he decided to shut you up permanently by catching you by surprise with a passionate kiss.
Your surprised gasp caused you to open your sweet little mouth widely enough for him to slip his tongue in, swirling it around yours as he snaked his large hand around your neck to hold you still.
God, your mouth was so warm and wet, he couldn’t help but moan. He pulled away, leaving a few kisses down your neck.
“Tired of you always talking about those useless fuckboys. How ‘bout you take my dick for once, yeah?”
Holy shit, did you take it.
Your pussy clenched around his cock like it was made for him and him alone. He held your legs back until your knees almost touched your chest, harshly thrusting into you until your headboard smacked against the wall repeatedly.
“That’s it, baby. Take that fucking dick.” He moaned in your ear.
Yeah, he wanted to hear those precious moans of yours, but they’d have to wait, because when he fucked you like this, he had his tongue down your throat, swallowing all of your cute noises.
He slammed into you with lust, anger, and jealousy. He had that perfect angle, and when his thrusts became more messy, you were cumming all over his cock.
That sent him over the edge, and he spilled his seed deep inside of you, only pulling to see his cum pooling out of your hole.
He pulled away with a string of spit falling from your connected lips.
His lips attacked your neck, and he sucked on the sensitive skin. He marked your neck because you belonged to him now, and he’ll be damned if he didn’t leave you with the hickeys to prove it.
As badly as he wanted to taste you, you didn’t deserve to cum on his tongue just yet. You see, Jean believes in punishments, and the tall man yanked you across his lap. He was gonna teach you a little lesson over making him put up with your bullshit.
He teasingly ran a hand over your bare ass. Everything about you was just so precious and cute, especially when you innocently asked him what he was doing.
He figured that none of your boy toys ever did something like this.
The yelp that ripped from your throat instantly hardened his cock, but he wasn’t done. He spanked you with his big hand until he was satisfied.
Satisfied with that, at least.
“You’re gonna clean my cock off for me, right, baby?”
Your eager nod made him smirk as he pulled down his pants, and he was quick to shove his hot meat down your throat. He roughly thrusted himself in and out of your mouth, gripping your head to further choke you on his cock. He swore and grunted.
He came down your throat with a sweet moan of your name.
You didn’t have enough time to catch your breath before he was picking you up and tossing you back on the bed. You tried to sit up on the mattress, but he pushed you right back down and spread your legs wide open.
Now, he was ready to treat himself to your delicious pussy.
Jean definitely moans while eating you out. He’s a hungry boy after all, and you just taste so damn good.
He sucks your clit until it’s sore, and he doesn’t care if you’re squirming to get away because it’s too much. You’re going to cum again, again, and again on his tongue and he’s holding you still the entire time, his eyes watching your pretty face.
♡ thanks for reading!
♡ don’t forget to like, reblog, & comment!
Formula 1 | jjk
♡ pairing: race car driver!jk x f!reader
♡ rating: (M) 18+ minors dni
♡ word count: 3.4k
♡ summary: Jungkook is just too hot to resist after his race.
♡ genre: no plot, smut, friends with benefits, feelings, they're kinda oblivious and basically in denial
♡ warnings: car sex, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, a smidge of choking, calls her a slut like 3 times, she spits on it, good amount of cussing (kinda)
♡ a/n: Welcome to my first fic post! I hope you like it and if you have some constructive feedback, feel free to let me know in the comments or send me an ask! I almost didn’t post this because i didn’t like how it came out but oh well :( It’s my first time writing smut so hopefully, it’s not too bad! I also tried to make a banner but I'm not artsy so I low-key failed. That doesn’t really matter tho haha enjoy the story and thanks for reading! I apologize for the grammar mistakes. English isn't my first language!
* watermark is different because parkjjms was my old user *
☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆
You spot Jungkook across the airport track.
Sitting in his brand new Nissan Skyline GT-R 34, one arm hangs out of the window. He lifts the same arm to bring a cigarette to his lips, the cloud of smoke seemingly following in slow motion. His hair damp due to the forgotten rain from the hour before. The same charcoal black hair, now longer and styled, no longer covering his forehead. A piece dangling in front of his eyes.
Individuals began dispersing now that the race had ended. Of course, Jungkook was the first to cross the finish line. He always was.
You often attended his races but not solely for him. The people were always friendly, and any kind of race was exhilarating to watch. The cars maneuver between each other, attempting to avoid collision. If anyone of the racers tried to pull a trick and it went wrong, it would turn into something much scarier than a race.
You loved watching him race, even more, the activities afterward. You two weren’t by any means exclusive, but both of you hadn’t been with anyone else since meeting each other. People could call it a situationship. Some label it as friends with benefits. Whatever it was, Jungkook’s texts were what you looked forward to late into the night. But today, he texts you earlier than usual.
JK: Enjoying the view?
JK: I know I am
You scoff, looking back up and immediately locking eyes with him. A smirk adorning his smug face.
JK: Come here.
You: I’m not gonna run to you like a dog. You come here.
JK: Baby don’t be like that
You: Stopped by to watch ur race. It’s over now, so I’m leaving
Not sparing him another glance, you make your way off the track. Feeling his eyes on you, your hips sway with every step. The denim mini-skirt you chose to wear rides up, and the backless top reveals the perfect amount of skin as Jungkook's eyes are glued to your figure.
People are standing outside their cars, talking, eating, the usual at car meets. It’s almost like a tailgate before a football game. The atmosphere was always welcoming and it was easy to make acquaintances that could turn into close friends.
There’s one every week, and having gone to them for the past 2 months, there are many familiar faces. You’ve even made close friends with Soyeon, another racer, who you bonded with due to her beating Jungkook in a race when they were still rookies.
There’s Jimin too, who you met through Soyeon. He always greets you with a smile, his eyes staying on yours a little too long after every response.
Your conversations with Jimin never last longer than five minutes with Jungkook always making up an excuse for you to leave. And when you finish protesting to Jungkook, you look back, and Jimin is already 20 feet away, grabbing another plate of food with Soyeon.
You’d like to think Jungkook gets jealous. Maybe he does, but then, you remind yourself of the mutual agreement of ‘no strings’ and remember he couldn’t be. So you push any second thoughts in the back of your mind.
Unlocking your car, your fingers are wrapped around the handle when another hand grabs ahold of your wrist, spinning you around to your back.
The cold exterior of the car hitting your bare back causes goosebumps to appear all over your body.
You’re met face-to-face with Jungkook. He is so close you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning your face while his lower body is completely pressed up against you. He’s got you trapped in between his arms; his hands placed flat onto the hood of the vehicle.
“Leaving so soon?”
You smirk at his inquiry, knowing he always gives in.
“Just came by to watch the race. The race is over, isn’t it?” Your nonchalant response comes out softer than intended, but he doesn’t see through you.
Jungkook doesn’t utter a word while you continue with the act. His dark orbs stare into yours and scan down, stopping at the stained lips in front of him. Before disrupting the silence, he uses his thumb to smear the lipstick at the corner of your lips outward. “I prefer your lipstick messy,” he says softly.
All you do is continue to look into his eyes with the corner of your lips curving upwards. His small meaningless comments have been igniting a fuzzy feeling in your chest lately. Even if it was playful.
You know what this means.
I don’t even want to think about it.
There was a mutual agreement, and you swore never to break it. But can one control it? If this unspoken feeling was true, you couldn’t bring yourself to end it, but your chest feels heavier every second you’re by his side. The walls you put up to protect yourself seem to crack a little more each time, worsening as you realize he doesn’t seem to have the same internal battles.
You think to yourself how it fucking sucks but suppress it because you’ll live.
Jungkook notices you’re thinking about something as your eyes dance around his face. He wants to ask you what it is that has you daydreaming, but he seizes the opportunity to admire you. You’re so beautiful. He wants to tell you, but you both know it crosses boundaries. The word was mutually agreed as too intimate, but it’s at the tip of his tongue. The urge to compliment you, to text you in the day rather than the middle of the night, to spend more time with you, he yearns for more. But you always play along with his games and seem content with what you both have now, so he doesn’t do anything to catch you off guard. It’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest when he sees you smile. This feeling is foreign to him, but Jungkook welcomes it.
“Wow, you have a way with words Jeon Jungkook,” sarcasm oozing from your retort.
‘Fuck, say my full name again,” he exclaims as he throws his head back.
You fully laugh, your arm giving him a playful push to his shoulder. You’re both smiling ear-to-ear, the flirty mood turning into something different. It had been happening much more recently.
His body was still pressed onto yours, his arms caging you between himself and the car. Going onto your toes, you bring your lips to his. It’s a soft, sweet kiss.
As you lean back onto the car, Jungkook doesn’t utter another word. He simply kisses you again, a little rougher this time, and your arms immediately move around his neck. One of his arms snakes from the hood of the car to your ribcage, his fingertips slowly inching downwards and finally pressing harder at the curve of your waist.
The kiss was what you could say, electric. It was as if the spark began at your lips and the electricity followed down to Jungkook’s erect length, currently already straining against his jeans. What you didn’t know was Jungkook had been thinking about you all day. When he would see your face, when he would speak to you, and what you would say as he was in between your legs. All the unrequited feelings and lust you both felt pouring into this kiss and every kiss before and after.
Your lips fit each other perfectly, moving in sync. Jungkook swallows your moan when you feel your tongue caressing against his. He was so enamored with you, having difficulty coming out from the daze that is you.
You finally pull back to catch your breath; Lips swollen and the nude lipstick smudged. You’re panting heavily against his mouth and your fingertips feel as if they’re leaving crescent marks around his neck. The lust between Jungkook and yourself was something you never experienced before. Being turned on just from a short makeout was nonexistent until Jungkook. If you were to check your panties right now, you’re sure they would be soaked; feeling as if you’re losing sanity every second that passes.
“You know, if you were good and just walked over to my car earlier, I would have made you come twice by now.” He’s gazing at you with those hooded eyes, his adam’s apple bobbing while he swallows. You’re playfully trailing your nails against his neck and notice the purple marks that once covered it are now faded. I’ll have to fix that.
You then notice the goosebumps that appear on his skin as your nails graze his skin.
“Since when do you like good girls?”
Jungkook’s inked hand plays with the strands of hair that hover over your cheekbones and continue to trace your jawline until they reach your chin. He holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, lifting it to bring your face closer to his.
He’s still looking at you with naked lust. His head tilted to the side while his lips are practically touching yours.
“I did until I met you.”
“Shit,” you rasp against Jungkook’s mouth.
One minute you were standing outside and now you are in the backseat of his fucking brand new car making out like you both had not seen each other in months. It was always like this, aggressive and full of want. But you loved it. Jungkook knew you did, so he never hesitated on being rougher in bed.
You're straddling his thighs and it feels as if he’s everywhere at once. The feel of his warm hands palms your ass, guiding you as you grind on his clothed cock that becomes harder by the second. It feels too good, chasing euphoria every time you’re with him. “Oh my god,” you pant against his mouth. It isn’t long before you feel the grip of his fingers as he pries your mouth open, not hesitating to slip his tongue into it again.
Your fingers are running through his hair, pulling on his black locks as the makeout becomes more intense, and Jungkook grunts at the feeling.
His sounds turn you on even more. The kiss is still messy and hot as he slightly bucks his hips upwards, creating more friction. Your bodies mold together, fitting each other perfectly like a puzzle.
You break away from his lips to trail kisses from his jawline down his neck, sucking and nipping to leave fresh marks against his collarbone. His head leans further back against the headrest, closing his eyes to enjoy your touch. He’s panting harder now, the sounds erupting from his throat being music to your ears. It only encourages you further, but you don’t notice his hand skimming your inner thigh.
His fingers which are painted in ink, shift higher in an attempt to move your panties underneath your skirt to the side, but they come directly in contact with your slick.
“Fucking shit, you’re not wearing any underwear?” he asks you, and you hum in response, still working at his neck.
“Slut. Slut who always just wants to fuck. Nothing else.”
“Your slut. Who always just wants to get fucked by you,” you whisper; Swollen lips grazing his ear as the words leave them.
He says nothing more with words, responding by slipping two fingers into you.
You gasped at the sudden force. It feels too good, but he doesn’t move. He just looks at you with a look you can't comprehend.
Your fingers inch up to move a curl out of his eyes. “Move, please Jungkook.”
“You’re beautiful, you know that?”
You were surprised by the sudden expression. One moment he was acting like he always does, then he offers you small compliments. Though it was weird timing to be sentimental, you couldn’t help but feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks. It catches you off guard and the fuzzy feeling you never experienced before meeting him comes back. The same fuzzy feeling in your lower stomach came and went with certain words like these, not just his actions. It starts to scare you because every time, it seems you both stray farther from the initial agreement.
“What’s gotten you so cheesy all of a sudden?” your eyes avoid his while you play with the same long curl.
“Nothing. Just wanted to let you know,” he offers s small smile. You swear you see a hint of something loving in his eyes. But it couldn’t be, you think. He’s just saying things in the heat of the moment.
You brush off what could be Jungkook’s slight falter from his strong persona; no longer avoiding his eyes, you connect your lips to his once again.
He gives in, both of you melting into the kiss. It's too intoxicating yet again. Both of your hands are on each other as if the other would somehow disappear.
His fingers begin to move, and you gasp against his mouth because you had forgotten Jungkook’s fingers were still inside of you due to his statement. Your surprise only allows him immediately to go for your neck; kissing your sensitive spots. Nipping and licking over it to slightly ease the burn.
“Fuck baby, you’re so wet.”
He speeds up the pace, curling his fingers to reach your sweet spot. The relief only increases as you get closer to your orgasm. Jaw slacked open as you pant against his ear.
“ Jungkook, right there,” you mewl.
His fingers are so deep inside you, and he finally adds a third finger. You already feel full, and think about how good his cock would feel after the satisfying burn. Of course, that wasn’t enough for Jungkook, so his thumb begins circling your clit, adding more stimulation. The sensation is too good to describe, and you roll your hips, grinding onto his fingers in hopes of increasing the amount of pleasure.
You’re a mess. Already feeling fucked out before taking his cock and your pussy continues to swallow Jungkook’s inked fingers as the arousal continues to drip down, the sound letting you know of the mess you’re making. But you don’t pay any mind to it, too focused on the feeling in your lower stomach increasing.
“Please Jungkook. Faster. Don’t stop,” you pant out as you chase the awaited high.
“Love it when you beg,” he whispers. His hot breath against your lobe.
Your eyes squeeze shut as the wave of your orgasm arrives before you can utter a warning. Jungkook continues to pump his fingers inside of you, the pleasure becoming more intense. You whimper against his neck as you ride out your orgasm.
Jungkook pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth. He makes sure you’re watching as his tongue licks a long stripe from his knuckles, finally wrapping his lips around his fingers.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” he praises.
As the corner of your lips lifts, your hand is already unbuttoning his jeans. Slipping your hands in, you begin to palm his cock through his boxers, Jungkook attempting to suppress a low groan from your actions. The sound alone has you trying to squeeze your thighs together; even after the intense orgasm you just experienced. Only Jungkook could make you feel this way. He was the only one who could turn you on as much as he did.
“Don’t tease, slut.”
“Just having some fun,” you counter against his mouth.
As you help Jungkook slip his pants and boxers off, his cock is fully hard, the pink tip leaking precum. Jungkook’s dick was on the larger side, making you feel full every time you both would have sex. It had surprised you the first time, expecting it to be average, but it definitely was not. This motherfucker knew it too, assuring you that ‘you could take it’ as he roughly thrusted in and out of you.
“Spit on it,” he demands.
From the straddle position on his thighs, you lower your head, letting saliva slowly drip down onto his cock.
Jungkook gives praise with a ‘good girl’ as you stroke him. You finally reposition onto your knees beside his thighs, feeling his rough hands on your waist before helping you lower yourself onto him. As you’re slowly sinking onto his cock, you both gasp.
Jungkook roughly smashes his lips by pulling onto your neck as you adjust to his size.
The feeling was literal heaven.
Oh, how you could never get used to this.
His long fingers are wrapped around your neck, squeezing as you start to slowly grind against his cock. He swallows your moans and your fingers that were initially gripping his hair move to his shoulders and you finally pull back to begin bouncing on his cock.
Your pussy envelops his cock, squeezing at the intense amount of pleasure that runs through your veins.
Jungkook finds himself marveling at your breasts bouncing in front of him, immediately wrapping his lips around your nipples. His fingers dig into your skin as the pleasure increases for the both of you.
A breathy whimper emits from your throat and it takes everything to not close your eyes. Jungkook hated when you closed your eyes, always wanting to look at you as arousal bled through your orbs.
“How are you always this tight baby? Fuck,” he rasps. Looking at him, you can say he’s almost as fucked out as you. You knew Jungkook well enough to know when he was feeling more than he let on.
You whimpered as a response. The small moans and wet sounds of skin slapping filled the empty air of the vehicle. Jungkook continues to squeeze your throat, the pressure only heightening the feeling in your lower torso. At the inkling of your orgasm, Jungkook feels you clench around him and groans against your tits.
As you’re bouncing on his cock, Jungkook matches your rhythm and bucks his hips into you, hitting your g-spot. It’s rough and fast, the brutal pace causing your moans to heighten in pitch. You couldn’t take it anymore. The imaginary band in your stomach is on the verge of snapping again. You were so sensitive from the first orgasm that the second one was not far from reach.
“Jung- ugh kookk, so close,” you yelp, emitting words that were almost incoherent.
“Come for me baby, milk my cock.”
Putting all your remaining energy into riding him, you feel Jungkook’s fingers leave your waist and trail down to your clit, pressing circles. “Fuck! Jungkook!”
This was all you needed to come undone, your eyes squeezing shut and your body freezing momentarily as the overwhelming high washes over you. Your pussy tightens around his cock, spasming but not stopping Jungkook from continuing to drive his length into you with renewed vigor.
“Fuck baby, you’ll make me-”
Your mouth is open in an ‘o.’ A moan threatening to leave your throat but nothing is heard.
“Shit, you’re so tight right now,” Jungkook utters, throwing his head back against the headrest. He lets go of your throat, placing both of his hands at your waist to now reach his high. As he continues to abuse your cunt, all is heard are your sobbed curses into his shoulder, the intense feeling still lingering.
Your body was loose, facial features neutralizing as you come down from your euphoria. You were tired, having difficulty helping Jungkook but tried your best to move. The burning feeling in your thighs came and grew stronger but you could tell he was close due to his features scrunching slightly, focus becoming blurred.
The tension building in his body was on the verge of snapping. He was so close, wanting it so badly for the reason that the high of the orgasm seeped through his veins like a drug.
“Inside of me. Want you to fill me up Jeon,” your voice enough to be the last straw for Jungkook.
His body began to heat up, nothing but one last shout of your name as he came into you.
You were spent every time, your limp body falling forward onto him. Your cheek rested on his shoulder, nothing but silence and warmth pervading the air.
Jungkook’s inked fingers danced on your thighs, both of you savoring the comfortable tranquility before he reaches up to your chin to bring your face to his.
“Lemme take you out on a date. For real. A real date.”
You chuckle at his confession, mistaking it for a funny gag. “Ha-ha very funny.”
“I’m being serious. You don’t think I like you?” he replies slightly taken aback.
“I just thought you didn’t want anything serious. What changed?”
His orbs stare into yours for a few seconds before he responds. “You. I wanna take you out on a date because I really like you.”
“I like you too Jungkook.” It was a relief to finally be able to say it out loud.
“But you just came in me, so maybe date talk later?” you chuckle.
“Okay, bet. I can work with that,” he says before smashing his lips onto yours once again, never getting sick of the enigma that is you.