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fillinforlater · 5 months

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On her jeans (Part 3 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji, Hanni Pham, Danielle Marsh

Length: 4606 words

Tags: Daddy kink, anal galore, blowjob, face fuck, blindfolded, 4some, pearly gates, spitting, spanking, cursing, humiliation, missionary anal, analpie, ass eating, rimming

TW: kinda rough, pure, stupid smut, ass eating, eating cum out of ass

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-

(A/N: the most likely final part of the On her series. This fic is very mindless lmao. Important announcement at the end.)

“Yes, Daddy, that feels so good!”

Hanni’s enthusiasm is almost limitless. No matter how often you’ve ordered her to your office or your apartment or some secluded bed and breakfast, she never let you down. No, the only thing ‘down’ is the momentum of her hips whenever she rides you on the couch, her beautiful ass turned towards you. She loves to make it wiggle when your cock fills her cunt.

You take delight in such a sight and give her the good-girl-spanks she deserves. Hanni craves them as much as she craves your eyes, seeing nothing but love in hers. There is nothing stopping her from leaving, you never demanded the same things from her then you did from Minji. But where Minji lacks endless love and desire for you, Hanni fills these gaps and then some.

“Oh my God, Daddy, you-you’re gonna make me cum again!” Hanni’s throat is sore from her moans and screams (and the rough face fuck you gave her earlier). “I-I can’t hold it!”

“Why would you hold it?” you ask her and pull her back against your bare chest. “Ruin yourself all over me, you slut.”

You give her thrusts, quick, not too strong and that is all she needs. Her effort was remarkable but in the end she wants you to fuck her over the edge. Hanni’s pussy convulses around your cock, tries to milk it and you are about to give in when your cell phone rings.

“Fuck,” you curse and pick it up while dropping a powerless Hanni to the carpet floor. “Who is this?”

“Yo, have you turned on the TV?” the person on the other end, some former manager of a group you were interested in, asks. “Today are the MAMA awards.”

“And? They’ve been the same for basically forever. And you know I don’t have any control over—”

“Oh no, another group has won.” You can hear the smirk on his lips. “I bet you’ve heard the song and the group—some of them are under your wings, I assume?”

For a moment you are confused, then it dawns on you brightly. “You could say that,” you respond calmly and look at one of those who are under your wings—though under your cock fits better. “Let me be honest, I did not think that they would make it this far.”

“Their success is unheard of, they must have paid you really well,” he continues knowingly. The kind of business you do is in a paradoxical state of infamously known and also a dark secret in the industry. It’s a tightly knit conspiracy where every wrong step, every wrong turn can cost you basically everything.

“Maybe they have to offer me something new, a MAMA win does not come around very often.”

“Congratulations on your win. I bet this is part of every trainee's dream” Sent by you

“Thank you, Daddy~ It definitely is, but I’m certain we couldn’t have done it without you “ Sent by Hanni

You smirk and scroll through your gallery. There is a picture you’ve saved, a picture of something you want. Some people screenshot what they want from social media apps or shopping sites—you will do the same right now, though your picture does not include a product one can buy.

“I found this picture of you and one of your friends. She is very attractive.” Sent by you

“I know, Danielle ist so damn pretty <3” Sent by Hanni

“Her prettiness equals probably two MAMA awards…” Sent by you

That should do it. Hanni is probably stunned right now. If Danielle is next to her, she probably looks at her—your terrible influence deeply rooted in Hanni’s mind—and she will see what you see: another object for your desire, another girl you can train to make your personal fuck doll, another idol sold by her bandmate. Unlike Minji, Hanni might actually like the idea.

You wait patiently as she ponders, typing, then deleting message after message until she settles for a simple text that makes this unhinged, lustful being inside you lose any and all control.

“Daddy deserves his reward as soon as possible. We need just 20 to 30 minutes~” Sent by Hanni

With a victorious sigh, you throw away your smartphone. It audibly cracks on the floor, but you don’t give a fuck. Phones can be bought again, but what you will get, no one can buy. These next twenty minutes will feel like hours and every second beyond that will make you lose your mind. Atleast, that is what you would have to assume if it weren’t for someone suddenly sneaking into your apartment.

Timid, quiet steps. The person is not wearing shoes. You hear the door fall shut, gently and suddenly, she stands in your doorframe. As if your life was a script, written by a higher being which, for some reason, likes your story to be filled with as much sexual fulfillment as possible, Minji has decided to come visit you.

“Hello, Daddy,” she coos, catching your gaze with the way she presses her frame against the door frame. Her two piece outfit with all its white frays perfectly merges with said door frame, the warm light making it look like she could disappear in your walls. “I’m sorry for not announcing myself, but may I come in?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to act not-too-happy about her convenient timing. “It’s nice to see you barefooted and in this pretty outfit—but you need to approach the right way.”

“Of course, Daddy.”

Minji gets on her knees. She begins to crawl over your wooden floor and seeing her eager eyes has you riled up. Instead of waiting for her to unbuckle your belt, you open it on your own and let your pants drop when her face reaches your crotch. Minji moans gently and presses her face against the massive bulge in your boxers. She’s not really teasing you. It’s more of a ceremony, because Minji quickly proceeds to pull down your boxers with nothing but her teeth.

“Daddy, it’s so big and beautiful,” Minji says in all honesty, her idol persona washed away by her own horniness. “May I service you with my mouth?”

“Stick out your tongue,” you order and Minji follows. You slap your tip on the exposed wet muscle and watch her faintly smile at how excited you seem. “Looks really good, how could I say no?”

No warning and just a moment later, you are buried to the hilt in Minji’s throat. She gags violently, her head tilted backwards and her wide eyes quickly release a torrent of tears. You don’t comment on it, watch on with a cold, resting bitch face and begin to fuck her face roughly. It’s hard thrust after hard thrust; not too fast though, because you want to see the submission steadily grow in her eyes.

“Fucking good, so much better since you started taking my cock like a premium whore,” you hiss and reach for the sides of her head. She locks eyes with you and through a sea of tears, you can see that she is happy. Still happy. “But it won’t be enough. I need more, another hole, and I’m not talking about your pussy. I know that you are dripping from there, but I’m going to split you open somewhere else.”

You pull out and watch Minji try to catch her breath, shocked, weak; she gets no time to recover however. You grab her hair and slide back into her not-awaiting, but slave-like throat. She takes your pounding even as it forcefully removes her faint mascara and leaves her a drooling mess. It’s Minji’s masterclass in deepthroats—a fitting end, because you will fuck something else today.

After many harsh thrusts, too many to count, but enough to have Minji at your complete mercy, you pull out. She bends over, tries to keep her composure and breathe, but you won’t allow this. She has to look at you and understand what you desire. You slap her face and spit at it. “Don’t avoid me, look at me!” you shout and Minji is tiny. A kneeling tiny bitch who follows your commands. “I will fuck your ass, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Minji cries and puts her forehead to the floor. “Tha-Thank you for the award, Ma-Master. Please, a-abuse my ass.”

Not that it tugs at your heartstrings or anything—but instead of just fucking her in this state of complete devastation, you help her up, to her feet and cup her cheek firmly… almost gently. Minji still sobs, barely able to look up at you.

“You are here to thank me with your ass? That is actually adorable and very thoughtful of you.”

“I-I thought, because Master hasn’t fucked me th-there yet, and because he probably did with Hanni already, I—”

“Oh, I understand, but Minji—” You lean down to her ear and whisper, while your hand travels down her bare midriff into the dress and finds her folds, soaked in arousal. “—we are already past the Master stage. And you underestimate my greed, my desire for more, infinitely more. Don’t worry about that though. Get on the couch and show me your cute little asshole.”

“O-okay. Thank you, Daddy.”

As Minji lays down and wiggles off the bottom part of her dress, you get a bottle of water-like lube from a drawer in the living room table. These bottles are always nearby because situations like this have occurred quite a few times in your life. More than you can count, enough to make you the biggest villain for every girl group fan.

When you pour the lube on your cock, you inspect Minji and her cute posture. She is on her back, legs spread and in the air, while her fingers keep her butt cheeks apart. Her ring twitches and it twitches more when you rub lube all over it. Minji mewls, and mewls some more when you push a finger past the first tightness to lube the inside as well.

“You are a bit stiff, you need to loosen up or else it will hurt.”

“Isn’t it supposed to hurt?” Minji asks in all honesty. “I’m okay with Daddy hurting me, as long as he feels good.”

You have to hold back or else you would’ve laughed at her innocent expression and the confused fear in her orbs. You align your cock with her ass, not to immediately force yourself inside that hot, tight hole, but to teach Minji how to take you well.

“If you relax, Minji, I promise it will feel good. Weird at first, probably too big, but the more you loosen up and let your asshole become a source for pleasure, it will feel great.”

“Hanni probably already knows this,” Minji mumbles in shame. You quickly reach for her jaw and put a chaste kiss on her lips.

“To be honest, I haven’t even fucked her ass before, so stop worrying. Take deep breaths and stay re-laxed.” With those final words, you wait for Minji to follow your instructions—breathe in; breathe out—before you push your cock into her brown hole.

“Oh Daddy, fuck,” Minji groans, right into your face and you love how her hands start to hold onto your back, your arms as you push more cock into her. “You are so, so big!”

“There is still more, but you are doing a great job, Minji,” you respond calmly, lifting up her ass a bit to penetrate her deeper. “Soon, you’ll love this more than anything.”

“Daddy!” Your cock is fully inside her and Minji seems to go crazy, her head thrown back into the couch, her mouth releasing loud moans rapidly. Her anal cavity squeezes you tightly, tries to wring you and it’s insanely impressive. She takes you fully on the first go and slowly catches herself. “I-it feels weird but soooo—”

“Good, right? I can feel you relax, so I will start to fuck you for real now. Congratulations, you’re not a butt virgin anymore!”

Minji weakly laughs and then gasps when you drag your cock mostly out of her ass just to push it back in, deep, to the fucking hilt. You watch as her eyes open wide, then narrow, then close, all in the rhythm of your pumps. Her cunt drips more juice too, she cannot deny the pleasure.

“Daddy, why, why do you feel so good?” Minji screams. “Why, your cock—you made me your butt slut!”

“You’re a natural at this, most of your kind quickly become addicted.”

“Make me addicted, Daddy! Please, use this hole and make me—”

You reach underneath her frayed top and pinch a hard nipple, while your teeth go for her lower lip. You can feel her insides combust, her ass clenching around your cock, her pussy convulsing around nothing, yet it is enough to make her cum. Minji is orgasming from just her ass, but she tries to hide it.

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” you laugh and begin to fuck Minji harder, her ankles in your firm hands. “Cum with your ass and be mine forever. You cannot escape anyways, so why would you want to? Don’t run from the pleasure, because I won’t stop fucking you until—”

Suddenly, you hear a key in the lock of your front door and someone whispering. Then quiet steps. Minji grows tense but you just smile at her, reassure her that there is nothing to be scared off. “Oh, you know these two, don’t worry~”

“Huh?”

You look up and spot the first girl, Hanni, who smirks when she sees you. She puts a finger to her luscious lips and winks. You get her idea and press your palm on Minji’s mouth to keep her quiet while you slowly thrust into her tight ass. The young girl is visibly shocked that you just continue, but her shock grows even more when she spots the second girl.

“Unnie, this is weird. How long do I have to wear this blindfold?”

“Just a little bit longer~ We are almost there, just a few more steps.”

Hanni guides the blind Danielle, a beautiful, skinny girl dressed in what you assume is a stage or award show outfit. Either way you love how exposed her midriff and collarbone are. Danielle’s skin is flawless and her face looks even better than in pictures or videos.

The two get closer. Hanni is now behind the taller girl and guides her by holding her hips. The two seem familiar with this kind of intimacy. You quietly pull out of Minji’s butt and luckily, she stays quiet in this tense situation.

“Dani, we have arrived,” Hanni giggles and wraps her hands around her friends’ tiny waist. “I have a present for you, but you have to get on your knees and guess what it is~”

“Unnie, if it’s your pussy again—we already did that! And if you want to fuck, you can just ask!”

You raise an eyebrow at Hanni who is clearly nervous and sweating. She got caught fucking with a second member of her group without your permission. You can’t really blame her. You can’t wait to stick your cock into that tight body and fuck Danielle’s mouth with your fingers. But for now, you let Hanni finish her game.

“This time,” she continues and kisses Danielle’s shoulder. “It’s something different. I have found the biggest, most beautiful cock because I know you would want to suck one of those someday.”

Danielle’s pale skin starts to burn with a deep red. All of her blood seems to go to her face. She starts to lose focus and whimpers a bit, especially because Hanni becomes more touchy, hands on her chest, her tummy, her ass.

“H-how did you know, Unnie?”

“You are really, really bad at hiding your dildo’s, Dani. I found like four of them. One still had your saliva around it~”

Danielle puts both hands to her face and lowers it in shame. Everyone in the room can still feel the glow of her blush through her fingers. You stroke your cock once, amused at the situation, but also tired of waiting. Hanni notices and continues her plan quickly.

“Look, Dani, I’ll show you how to do it.” Hanni lowers herself in between your legs. For the first time, you check out her outfit. Odd, you remember it from some performances a few months ago—does it really matter when she immediately goes to suck you, throat you even? “Oh my, it tastes so good! I wonder why that is?”

You point to Minji’s still exposed asshole and Hanni smirks knowingly. Poor Minji did not dare to move a single inch this entire time but now with Hanni’s loud gagging filling the room, she can stop being quiet and move her hands to cover up.

“U-unnie, are you really sucking it?” Danielle asks the obvious, still in disbelief. “Is it a real one, like, are you sucking a boy?”

Hanni pops you free from her perfect lips and makes sure to taste all of the lube and Minji’s ass from your manhood with her tongue. She cleans you passionately, from sac to tip until you finally give her a bit of precum.

“Dani, he is a man, a Daddy. Trust me, he is very good looking and his cock is even better~” Hanni’s voice is so lewd, it feels cursed with her adorable visuals. You relish in her compliments and brush her black strands back behind her ear. “Kneel next to me and I show you.”

Danielle kneels down, her small frame taking the spot in between your legs next to Hanni. She is still confused though. “But Unnie, how can you show me if I’m not allowed to remove the blindfold?”

Hanni rolls her eyes and without warning, grabs Danielle’s face and pulls her into a kiss. The younger girl flails in surprise, finds hold on your thigh, but somehow she can’t hold onto it for long. Maybe the thought of a stranger really seeing her like this makes her lose grip on the situation—a good thing in your book.

“Ha-Hanni-unnie!” Danielle shrieks when their lips disconnect. “Why, why did that taste so good?”

“If you want more, you need to suck and clean his cock like I did. Here, open your pretty mouth and be a good girl for Daddy~”

“You say weird stuff—ugh, hng!”

You groan softly when Hanni not-so-softly pushes Danielle’s face down your cock. A new, sensational throat engulfs you. Of course you expected violent gags and tears coming from behind the blindfold, how could you not. Hanni is literally forcing Danielle to deepthroat you for the first time. Her dildo training seems to have paid off however: Danielle is a lot more composed, measured even and makes sure to keep her teeth off of you.

Soon, she finds her own pace and bops up and down your shaft, using her tongue from time to time without yet knowing where it actually feels good for you. It’s hard for her to learn when she can’t read your facial expression, so she just guesses and sucks and bops her head. It makes it all the more impressive how she can keep up with you and do a better job than Minji did on her first try.

“Hanni-unnie,” Danielle immediately shouts after getting her mouth off of your dick. “That was very mean of you, like, what the—”

You interrupt the young, angry girl by giving her blindfold a tug and watching it fall off of her dazzling, still flushed features. You smirk down at her as she watches up in awe, her eyes inspecting you like you did to her earlier.

“Oh, he-hello, sir,” Danielle says and tries to be formal while your cock is still on her lips. “I’m sorry we just walked into here and… about this.” She points at your hard shaft which you take in your hand and poke against her soft cheek.

“Don’t worry about it, you beautiful thing. In fact, I should be sorry about this right here.” You point next to you, where Minji tries to cover up her pussy. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“You, you had sex with Minji-unnie? Like, i-in her vagina?”

“Oh Dani,” Hanni coos and puts a hand into Danielle’s red top. “You don’t know how good a real cock feels in your pussy. Way better than a dildo.”

“Stop being so lewd, Unnie!”

“But you two are wrong,” you interrupt them and look at Minji, who valiantly fights through her embarrassment. There is nothing to be embarrassed about though; she did great taking your cock in her ass. “We had anal sex just now, and I think I speak for us both when I say that it was awesome.”

Hanni pouts at the thought of not yet having you in her ass while Danielle is both struck by horror and thrill when she cross-eyes your cock and then switches to look at Minji’s butt, which you uncover for her.

“Minji-unnie, was it really that good?” Danielle asks with wide open eyes.

“Yeah, how was it?” Hanni adds and involuntarily adds pressure for the leader to answer.

“I-it was… the best.”

A moment of silence and awkwardness for Minji until Danielle jumps up and pulls down her black skirt. Another unexpected turn, she seems to be ready to go asap. “Sir, can you—would you have sex with my butt too?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you try to play it cool and reach for the bottle of lube. “Turn around, we need to get you ready.”

“Here, let me help you, Daddy.” Hanni gets a hold of Dani’s ass as soon as she spins around and spreads the cheeks apart. Dani gasps at first, but then giggles when she finds her Unnie to be already naked. She starts to kiss Hanni’s skin while you put the nozzle to her beautiful, clean ring and push lube inside. Danielle shudders while Hanni looks on with jealousy. It will be her turn soon enough though.

“You have a gorgeous body, Dani,” you compliment her before grabbing her waist and pulling her onto you. “You are so light, I think I need to try a new position with you. Are you down for that?”

“Sir, I—if it’s not too crazy, I think I can do it. But remember, this is my first time.”

“You have to be relaxed, Dani,” Minji suddenly adds and stands next to her, not covering her private parts anymore. “If you are tense, it’s going to hurt—when you are loose however, Daddy can fuck you so good, it will feel like heaven.”

“O-okay then, I think I’m ready.”

You nod and lay down on the couch, Danielle on top of you. She rests her back on your strong chest and your hard cock searches for her tight asshole. Luckily, Hanni is there to help align your tip with it (not before sucking it of course). Dani takes deep breaths instinctively and with your primal instinct to fuck, your cockhead disappears in her ass.

“Oh fuck, that looks so hot!” Hanni coos.

“Stop staring, please,” Danielle whimpers and you feel her incredible texture convulse around your aroused phallus. No, she definitely gets turned on by this, so you’ll make it even better.

“Hanni, keep staring,” you order. “Oh, and make your mouth useful on my ass. See it as punishment for having sex with Dani without my permission.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m sorry Daddy.”

“Sir, isn’t this too lewd?” Dani asks while you begin to rock her thin body up and down your cock like it’s a fleshlight.

“Minji, how about you lick Danielle’s pussy. Make yourself familiar with it.”

“Yes, Daddy, she tastes really sweet and is quite… wet.” Minji smiles and you get what she means. Her mouth is promptly on Dani’s clit and now the two are moaning in unison. Your thrusts into Dani’s ass become harder.

“Oh dang, so much in my a-a—, I mean butt,” she whispers and you look at her face. “Sir, you are one lewd bast— person. Making young girls do this stuff. Aren’t you a bit too old for us?”

“Maybe that is why they call me Daddy,” you respond, the humor lost because your expression remains stern even through the pleasure. “Don’t hold back, curse as much as you want. This is no tv show or live stage. Get used to this cock, because I won’t stop after this one time.”

“I won’t either, you fucking bastard.”

Your lips meet in a haze, then you decide to give it your all. You fuck Dani hard, force more and more curse words out of her good-girl-mouth. Her cunt is forced against Minji’s eager lips, while you make sure Hanni is covered in your musk—though she kinda seems to enjoy serving your ass. Even after all this, she might still be the best baby girl out of this trio.

“Yes, fuck, yes, you fill my tiny ass so good! Fuck me with your big fat cock, give me that cock, open me so wide until I—”

“You horny bitch.” You yank down her top to reveal tiny tits, jiggling a little at your every thrust. Her skin is glowing, she is in complete heat. Danielle is a nymph with a tight ass and a pussy so wet, she can save someone from dehydration. You want to test your theory, if her orgasm is as explosive as you want it to be.

“My Lord, I’m so going to fucking cum, I will cum! Make me squirt, make me fucking, ahh!”

Like a fountain, Danielle’s juices paint Minji’s face, cover her hair and even Hanni below. She also doesn’t stop, not with your endless thrust into her ass. She is like an infinite source, eventually filling Minji’s mouth and marking Hanni as a dirty, rimming whore covered in girl cum.

“That was so good, Sir—”

“We are not yet done!” You squeeze Dani to your chest so she cannot escape and start to violate her ass some more, to the point your entire cock stretches her in all directions. For some reason, you feel like you could breed this hole for two eternities, but for now, one massive load has to be enough.

With your final, deepest of thrusts, you force all of your seed into Danielle’s tight ass-pussy, fill it up and make sure she is tight enough to keep it inside for now. Pulling out is hard but rewarding, and hearing, feeling her pant on top of you is heavenly.

“It’s so deep in me, fuck,” she moans and you bite her cheek.

“Push it out of your slutty hole, you naughty bitch.

“Hanni, Minji! Get ready for your daily load!”

The two girls are under our spell, not questioning anything you say and stick out their tongue underneath Danielle’s butthole. You pull back her heels to give them more space and with an blissful, erotic expression, Dani lets her ass be gaped. Your creamy white cum oozes out of her and Minji and Hanni greedily eat it all up, even getting their tongues into the completely overstimulated girl and cleaning her butthole.

“Shit, this is so lewd,” Dani whimpers and you put a hand around her throat.

“After I fuck Hanni’s ass in a rough Doggy, my heel on her face because I know she loves that, you will eat my cum out of her ass too. And don’t lie; I know you will like it.”

Danielle grins, licking her lips in excitement. “You are such a nasty bastard, Daddy.”

(A/N2: here is the very short version, I'll release a longer announcement later this week probably. I have decided to quit for a while, maybe forever but that is still in the stars. I can still write and I kinda like it, but this endless cycle of horniness and unhinged smut is killing me. I also need to focus on life/studies. More on that later this week. Love you all, peace out.)

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #newjeans smut #newjeans hanni smut #newjeans minji smut #newjeans fanfic #newjeans danielle smut #danielle smut #hanni smut #minji smut

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hyuny-bunny · 5 months

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what are your thoughts on skz with a dumb s/o? like genuinely ditzy and little absentminded and forgetful, but you’re still such a sweetheart. makes them wonder how dumb you’ll go on their cocks.

skz + dumb s/o

MDNI(18+): suggestive, nsfw, corruption kink, dumb kink ?, finger sucking, oral, penetration.

love this ask so much, it's not something i've thought much about before but here you go ! :3

chan: oh he dotes on you sooooo much. in the beginning he thought it was just a cute quirk but as you became more serious he realized... you really are just ditzy. he can't lie that he has to hold back on the days you can't help saying "huh?" or "hmm?" to everything but it sounds so saccharine from you. he loves the duality of it though. he can dote on you with how cute your whims are then flip you into a submissive state. even more so when he decides to pin you down in the backseat of his car putting your pretty mouth to good use. chastising you with "pretty baby so cock dumb hmm? only good for sucking me off huh?" with your response being your typical "hmm?" but your mouth stuffed with cock instead. even with your whimpers to take more of him in your mouth, he's happy to oblige holding your pretty face in his hands to use your mouth.

minho: as 1/3 of paboracha, he's never minded. intially i think he would think consider them as one off moments like asking the same question twice in a 2 second span. he might look at for a solid momemt with those cat blinking stares, processing that you're serious. he finds it cute though!! maybe quietly giggling to himself before kissing you on the forehead in passing. he likes it even more so when you're too cock dumb from him making you ride him while he coos and pets you like he does a cat. after trying to tease him all day with sex and suggestive groping. he only let you ride his thigh before caving into you enough to give you his cock after you begged him so nicely. "jagiya, use your words hm? too dumb to speak now hmm?" he'll say while thrusting up into you pretending he's not paying you any attention

changbin: loves loves loves how ditzy you are. he likes playing into the idea that he's just as much brain as he is brawn to you. especially when you're so absentminded with your surroundings in public. maybe there's someone being creepy towards you in a cafe, he's clocked them in already wrapping a protective arm around. you pick up in his protectiveness and to find your answer is being stared down with daggers by binnie. you're hero, savior! you have to reward him with the best head he'll ever had so you're happily taking him in your mouth once your home. he's got you on his cock taking him all the way down his throat while he coaxes you into fitting it all in your mouth "stupid angel always needs time to come to rescue mmh rewards me so sweetly."

hyunjin: 2/3 of paboracha coming in. he'd never think you were outright dumb, ditzy ? oblivious ? yes. he himself has no room to judge, you'd probably have him questioning himself on multiple occasions. you're probably just a little more oblivious around him, which he doesn't mind one bit. he kinda finds it cute how little though you probably give to so many things. he finds it even cuter when he's able to convince you to wear an outfit he picked out for you, one that of course will give him easy access to tease you in public. it was supposed to be cute picnic in secluded area of the park, until he had you laid out on the blanket taking his cock from behind shoving strawberry in your mouth & sucking fingers to shut you up. "shhh my love, don't want people to find us okay? can't let them see how stupid you were to let me take you like this"

han: going 3 for 3 with paboracha here. another one who dotes on your ditzy nature. i could see him with a s/o that's a little more clumsy. maybe you're always scraping a knee, bumping into sharp corners, burning yourself while cooking/baking, or just straight up walking into glass doors or poles. whatever the case may be he's there holding out his arms to soothe you, giving you kisses all over your face. he finds out how easy it is to convince you to the dumbest things. like convincing you that if you let him go down on you, his headache will go away or you're sore throat from the concert last night will feel sooooo much better if you blow him. that by swallow his cum, it'll feel & tase better then honey. "that's it's, good, suck me dry baby i promise you'll feel better. we might have to try a few loads of cum for it to work, k? just focus on taking it all though." his head thrown back while shoving you further on his cock.

felix: he likes that your so absentminded and ditzy. it make its so easy for him to impress you. especially when he has you sitting like a curious cat on his bed while you watch him build his new PC. your eyes sparking with excitement as he completes each step. or even when you watch him bake his recipes from scratch. doe eyed while you sit perched on the counter making your favorite brownies! he'd take a finger coated in the batter letting you lick off his fingers which only leads to him fucking you on the counter while he makes you choke on his batter covered fingers, "doesn't your orgasm feel so much better when you have something so sweet in your mouth mm? maybe let's watch you suck me off with the batter on my cock since you like my fingers so much?"

seungmin: mean dom seung *sigh*. he loves you to death but god you make it so easy for him to tease you. you're not a quick as he is, whether it's his snarky remarks or quick reactions to things he knows. you try to learn baseball, not actually playing but you know the basic rules. you want to try to at least understand what goes in the game. you're not the best but your attempts don't go unnoticed. even when someone hits a home-run but you're shouting goal so confidently it has him falling to his knees in laughing clutching his stomach because you genuinely meant it. he calls you the nth member of paboracha but in bed you're his dumb cock slut, taking him so good you're babbling nonsense. " what was that slut ? did you say something ? aren't you too dumb for words? " he'd condescendingly say before slamming himself into you once more.

jeongin: bark. sorry i love him so badly. he takes your ditzy nature as naiveness. whether or not that's the case, he'll treat it that way. even when you try to argue over something you know already he'll talk to you so sweetly like he's done such a good job of teaching you. maybe you're trying to learn japanese and his fluency helps you but he'll tsk you if he's in a particular mood. maybe you're out in japan gawking, 'ooh'ing and 'aww'ing at each store and you're curiosity almost gets you dragged in a male host club. so jeongin decides you need a break for a few hours so he checks you into a love hotel (unbeknownst to you) where he'd spend the next 2 hours or so talking down in your ear while he plays with you between your legs. haughtily scolding you for every single thing that's led to this moment, " i thought you knew better ? you have to listen to me jagiya, there's so many people out there that just want to use you hmm. guess i'll just have to show you." all before bending you over and smooshing your face into the pillow to abuse your hole with his cock, crying out for him to let you cum. chastising you until he's felt you learned you lesson.

#skz oneshots #skz smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz hard thoughts #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #hyunybunnywrites #hyunjin smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #lee know smut #jeongin smut #jisung smut #felix smut #seungmin smut

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littlemisshyperfixation · 5 months

Text

Yoongi Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 2

Series

In the Margins (a s f) by @bonvoyagenoona ⊹₊⋆ You weren’t sure what he would look like. His writing made you think of a cabin nestled among tall pines, a well-worn cardigan, a scotch neat, and a wistful wisp of smoke seeping into the air from the bowl of an unattended tobacco pipe. What stands before you now is a studio apartment in the city, cigarette butts, coffee stains, and a scowl. There’s definitely been a mistake.

Fix You (f a) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?

desolate (a f s) by @angelicyoongie ⊹₊⋆ you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

One Shots

Set Me Free (a f) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to?

back-burner (a f s) by @yoonpobs ⊹₊⋆ sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

Love Language (a s f) by @gukslut ⊹₊⋆ Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have.

27 Phone Numbers (f) by @bxebxee ⊹₊⋆ Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school.

sweetner (f s) by @taegularities ⊹₊⋆ You used to know how he sounded when you were wrapped around him, but circumstances have pulled you apart and sent you scattering in opposite directions. Feelings shouldn't reappear so easily by simple words, but when you find yourselves in the same place once again, this is exactly what happens.

One Chance (f) by @out-of-jams ⊹₊⋆ A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project. And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Seasons Change (a s) by @taetaesbaebaepsae ⊹₊⋆ Min Yoongi and you, through the seasons, break up and come back together. Nobody said love was easy.

All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t (a f s) by @daechwitatamic ⊹₊⋆ You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

Now We Reign (a s f) by @oddinary4bts ⊹₊⋆ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

take five (a f) by @jiminrings ⊹₊⋆ you're min yoongi's nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out - he never said anything about accepting though.

The Final - Day 02 (s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?

hello soulmate (f) by @bluemari23 ⊹₊⋆ your first day on the job doesn't turn out the exact way you envisioned

Sugar Rush Ride (s) by @lo1k-diamonds ⊹₊⋆ You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

fuck being friends (a f s) by @strawberrynamjoon ⊹₊⋆ as if watching the guy you were hopelessly in love with hook up with another girl each weekend wasn’t enough, he also happened to be your best friend, making things extra complicated. and it only gets worse and worse once he finds you crying in the bathroom at a party one night.

Take One (s f) by @untaemedqueen ⊹₊⋆ There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word.

Illicit Favors (f s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ When your editor tells you to re-write the chapters of your book because the sex scenes are weak, suggesting you write them from experience, what do you do when you lack any kind of sexual experiences in general? You go to your friend and ask him for help with it.

Bet On It (s) by @minisugakoobies ⊹₊⋆ What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?

subscribed (s f) by @aquagustd ⊹₊⋆ you find out that youtube isn’t the only site he uses to satisfy his subscribers. what do you do with that information?

2K notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 1 year

Text

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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buckyalpine · 6 months

Text

18+ smutty drabble with some angst and all the fluff and possessive, fwb to lovers college Bucky, I wanted to try something, images are mine, Canva pulled through with the layout. Maybe I'll write something again with this picture, (mob Bucky? DBF Bucky?) but here's an idea:

"You up?"

You smirked at the text message that popped up, already swinging your legs out of bed because you knew exactly what was to follow-

"Come over"

You didn't bother changing out of the hoodie you were already lounging in, pulling on some shorts and throwing on Bucky's leather jacket before heading out. You pulled the jacket tighter around your body as you walked 2 blocks to his place, fiddling with the spare key he'd given you just because.

"Hey Steve, hey Sam" You gave Bucky's roommates/ bestfriends a wave as you let yourself in, padding past the living room, headed right to his room.

"Hey peanut" The blonde smiled before throwing a knowing smirk to Sam as soon as they heard the door click shut.

"$20 they keep this up for another month"

"Deal"

"Hey Buck-

"How come you didn't tell me you'd already left," Bucky set his laptop off to the side, his tight black tshirt riding up giving you a pretty view of his happy trail as he leaned over, closing the screen shut.

"You knew I was going to come-" You started with an eyeroll but Bucky wasn't having it, shaking his head while you looked at the knickknacks sitting on his desk.

"And I've told you to at least let me know when you leave, especially at night"

"When did you care so much" You snorted, gasping when he came up from behind you, turning you around and grasping your jaw in his hand, squeezing your cheeks, making you meet his eyes.

"You don't walk out alone at night. I would have called you an uber"

"It's two blocks-

"I don't care. So who were you all dressed up for earlier today" Bucky cocked at eyebrow, releasing the soft grip he had on your jaw, moving them to rest around your waist instead.

"I wasn't dressed up, it was a regular outfit"

"Please, that tiny black skirt with those stockings" His grip tightened, digging around your hips, "Saw you come by the field when we had practice, were you trying to show me something doll" He smirked, noting you were currently still in his leather jacket.

"I thought it looked cute, don't flatter yourself Barnes-

"That's Steve's sweater" Bucky cut you off narrowing his eyes, tugging the hem of the hoodie. You hadn't even noticed, giggling when you realized you had indeed somehow accidently ended up with Steve's sweater.

"I just wear whatever's comfy, must've gotten mixed up in your laundry last time I was here" You shrugged, tossing off his jacket onto the chair by the desk. "If it helps, it was your hoodie I intended to steal"

"You're not wearing his sweater" It was a statement, something other than lust clouding his thoughts, itching to rip the sweater off your body and keep you wrapped up in nothing else but him.

"Seriously? Why does it matter, I thought this was just casual anyway-

"Mine" Bucky growled, pulling the hoodie off your body and making a point of tossing it out of the room before locking it shut again. "You're mine"

"Bucky-

"Always teasing me with those fuckin' skirts" Bucky grabbed you, hauling you over his shoulder and tossing you over the bed before crawling on top of you and pinning you under him. You hadn't been wearing anything under the hoodie, gasping when Bucky tugged at your nipples, smirking as they pebbled at his touch. "Do you not see how other guys look at you when you wear that baby"

"Bucky please" You sounded needier than usual, caught off guard by his surge of possessiveness, different from his usual protective nature over you. He attacked your neck with kisses, sucking bruises onto them between soft bites, letting his tongue swipe over the area after.

"Tell me, lookit you laying in my bed as soon as I call, soo needy all just for me, huh?" His hands came to lace with yours, pressing his erection between your legs, grinding against your clothed core.

"Jamie, do something" You pouted, squeaking when he came down to nip your lips, getting off you just to throw your shorts and panties off, wasting no time ridding himself of his clothes. He slotted himself back between your legs, letting his thick length rest between your soaked cunt.

"Patience pretty bunny, you have no idea what you do to me, do you. Not sharing you with anyone, you're mine"

"I'm yours?" You whined feeling his cockhead swipe through your folds, gathering your slick, a flash of vulnerability passing between you as his eyes bore into yours.

"Always, babydoll" Bucky whispered with his lips brushing against your as he started to push in, the both of you gasping at the feeling of the initial stretch. It didn't matter how many times he'd already had you like this, the feeling was forever unmatched. He didn't bother with giving you a moment to adjust, setting a brutal pace as soon as he was fully sheathed inside you. He made of a point of making you scream as loud as possible, well aware his best friends were still home, working his hips faster at the thought of you in Steve's sweater.

"You're. All. Mine" Bucky slammed his cock into you with each word, hoping to write his name in cum all over the inside of your tight cunt. "Say it, tell me you're mine, c'mon baby"

"M'y-yours" You stuttered out, "I'm yours Bucky!!"

"That's right, gonna make you scream that all night"

And he kept his word. Bucky kept you impaled on his cock until he couldn't hold it any longer, spilling ropes of his load into you, one after the other. He would watch it drip out before getting hard again from the sight along, pushing his dick back into you to make sure not a drop was wasted.

You panted, withering under him as he pulled one more orgasm out of you before letting his bodyweight drop, his now disheveled locks and flushed cheeks resting against your bare chest.

"I meant it you know" He murmured, pressing a kiss between your breasts before looking up at you, "It's more than just physical for me"

"Are you sure?" You giggled as he leaned up to nudge his nose against yours with a shy smile he reserved just for you..

"Very sure. I love you" Bucky mumbled against you hair, pulling the sheets up to cover you both, his arms wrapped tightly around you body to his chest.

"I love you too"

"I also meant it when I said you can't wear his sweaters"

"Bucky-

"Mine"

"I want my $20"

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ellecdc · 2 months

Note

okay then consider this a request!! for poly!marauders or just remus/james/sirius, whatever you prefer, for a reader with excruciating period cramps (self-indulgent because mine are horrible, but whatever!!) if you could do it that would be awesome ily!

ok I'm sorry I really made this very much self indulgent in maybe the worst way ever lol. I've been having a lot of fun with chef!Sirius lately, and had briefly discussed this idea with @maladaptiveescapism a while back so it felt fitting. I've also gotten a lot of period fic requests before and have never been all that interested in them which is so strange seeing as I'm a person who experiences period's and they're really popular? WOW sorry, what a tangent. TL;DR, thanks for your request, sorry if I ruined it a little, I probably won't ever write a period fic again lol

chef!sirius x mixologist!reader who calls in sick to work because of her period [2.9k words]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

CW: period fic, reader has PCOS, brief allusion to Sirius' shitty childhood, trans!Reggie agenda 'cause I can, Sirius worried reader won't be accepting of his trans brother (spoiler alert, we are because we love our trans homies), Sirius being the worst (positive & affectionate)

Sirius was on his best behaviour today.

Honest to god, hand to his heart, best behaviour.

But there was truly only so much one bloke could do when they had a Jeffery to deal with.

“I’m going to need one of your staff for the evening.” Jeffery said without preamble; standing half-in the kitchen with the swinging door to the floor propped open as if he wanted to ensure there were witnesses to this conversation should it go sideways.

“Jeffery, do you wake up every morning and smoke a bunch of crack before you come to work, or are you really just this dense?” Sirius spat as he dropped his pan in front of him and fought the urge to turn and give the floor manager a withering glare.

Jeffery, well seasoned to Sirius’ theatrics, bit back an eye roll as he carried on. “We need someone to cover the bar.”

Sirius did turn at that, but his withering glare fell somewhere between aghast and bemused. “The bar?”

“The bar.”

“Why?”

“I need coverage for Y/N.” Jeffery explained with a sigh, clearly growing tired of Sirius’ line of questioning.

“Where is she?”

“She has called in sick, chef.”

“Sick with what?” Sirius continued, causing Jeffery’s brows to furrow as he stared at Sirius bemusedly.

“I’m not exactly privy to those details, chef.” He explained slowly as if Sirius were some fussy toddler.

“I just find it hard to believe that the same woman who left the hospital after getting her shoulder reset to come work a full eight hour shift would call in sick.”

Jeffery offered him a shoulder shrug (and a concerned look up and down that Sirius pretended he didn’t notice) before pilfering one of the kitchen staff for the evening.

Sirius would worry about hating Jeffery later; he was more focused on figuring out what the hell was wrong with you and why you weren’t coming to see him to work.

Sirius had his phone wedged between the side of his face and his shoulder whilst he juggled the many go-bags he had in his hands as he stood awkwardly outside of the door to your flat.

He admittedly knew where you lived only because he had driven you home after numerous closing shifts.

Fortunately, the intercom system in the anteroom of your building gave away your unit number.

Unfortunately, Sirius still had his hands full with the various go-bags.

Fortunately, an elderly lady was coming in at the same time and let Sirius into the building.

Unfortunately, she insisted on chatting his ear off the whole lift ride up and actually held the door open to continue conversing even after they had arrived at her floor.

Sirius’ saving grace came in the form of the lift alarm buzzing for having kept the door ajar too long, and she was forced to bid him farewell.

Which brought him here; standing outside of your flat like some kind of stalker as he waited for you to pick up your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, open your door.”

“Well hello to you too, chef.” You snarked at him again.

“Yes, yes. I said hey, didn’t I? Open your door.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m standing on the other side of it.”

There was the sound of a quick exhale and rummaging. “Why?”

“Listen, I’d love to play 20 questions, but do you think you could let me in first?”

You muttered something that sounded an awful lot like a swear before the line ended.

He allowed his phone to slip out of its place and into his awaiting hand when you flung the door open unceremoniously.

Now, Sirius could tell you’d not been expecting any company today; you were in the same clothes you’d likely slept in, your hair was perfectly rumpled from whatever position Sirius had just disturbed you from, and you looked more than a tad embarrassed to see him standing here.

He had sort of hoped you would look like a troll; make this raging flame he carried for you burn a little softer.

But no.

You just had to look ethereal and perfect and lovely and kissable.

Damn woman.

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked, interrupting the both of you from staring at one another.

“Helping?”

You made a breathy W sound - as if you were going to ask “what” or “why” but the words died on your lips as you took in Sirius’ many bags.

“What did you bring?”

“I’ll show you everything if you just let me in.” He muttered as he motioned towards one of your nosey neighbours who had shoved her head out of her door when she first heard Sirius in the hall.

You peered around your doorframe and narrowed your eyes at her before allowing Sirius entry.

“Finally.” Sirius teased as he moved to place his bags on your kitchen island.

Sirius had never seen the inside of your flat, but if he had simply stumbled into your space by accident he would have known it was yours immediately.

There was something so intrinsically you about your space that Sirius immediately felt at home too, even just for having stepped inside.

“Sorry.” You chuckled somewhat awkwardly; bringing one of your hands to the back of your neck as you considered Sirius and all of his bags. “We’d just been watching some shows.”

Sirius immediately felt his heart fall out of his arse.

We?

Had he read this completely wrong? Were you seeing someone? Was your home not simply yours, but one that you shared?

He found himself suddenly feeling quite defensive over your flat; it was too lovely, too wonderful, too comfortable for simply just anyone to enjoy.

“We?” He asked suddenly; tone taking on a bit of an edge he didn’t intend or consent to.

You cocked an eyebrow at him and pointed behind you with your thumb; Sirius followed your gesture to a little tabby cat perched on the back of your sofa, tilting its head at the two of you as if it, too, was confused by Sirius’ sudden intonation.

“You were watching shows with your cat?” He clarified; his voice now breathy in relief.

“Birdie loves shows.” You countered defensively.

“You named a cat bird?”

“No.” You argued. “I named my kitten Birdie. Do you not like cats?” You asked then, a teasing smirk growing on your face.

“I like cats fine; where can I put this?” He asked instead; hoping to god you didn’t notice the blush heating up his face.

He started unloading the many take-away boxes he’d prepared for you at the restaurant before skiving off the rest of his shift.

“What is this?”

“Food.”

“Sirius, why did you-”

“I asked what helped.” Sirius explained. “You said food; I brought food. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed yet dollface, but food is kind of my thing.”

“Smartass.”

“That too.” He replied with a wink, moving to put the desserts in your fridge.

“Did you seriously come all the way over here just to bring me food?” You asked disbelievingly as you joined Sirius at the counter and peered into the bags.

Sirius had to tamp down the giddiness that threatened to consume him at how sweet and domestic this felt; you clad in your comfies as you helped him unload groceries.

“I didn’t come all the way over here just to bring you food…I brought other stuff too.”

“‘Course you did.” You muttered quietly, looking at Sirius with a look in your eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Go lay down.” He ordered instead as he went about plating your food - opening cabinets at random until he found what he was looking for. “I don’t hear laying down!” He sing-songed when he saw you still standing in his periphery.

You harrumphed before acquiescing; picking up your cat who made a little brrp sound as if to second Sirius’ directions.

Finally content with his efforts, he moved to stand in front of you with a glass of water and some pasta he brought from work.

You made an appreciative hum and sat up, which seemed to displease Birdie greatly. “God, maybe I need to find myself a personal chef.”

“Oi! Don’t go replacing me now.” Sirius scolded as he perched himself on your coffee table - perhaps a little casual for being a first time (uninvited) guest in someone’s home - but you didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh the job is so yours chef; you’re welcome here anytime.” You said around a mouthful of food. And even though Sirius knew you were joking, he couldn’t help the giddy fluttering of his heart at the sentiment.

“This is really good, Sirius, and super thoughtful; thank you.” You offered earnestly.

“So I guess you don’t have any room for dessert, then?” He asked teasingly; his taunting smirk melting away immediately at the excitement that took over your face before he ran to retrieve it for you.

“Why is she doing that?” Sirius asked after a while, gesturing towards Birdie with his chin who was rubbing her head against the leg of his pants.

“Why’s she doing what?” You asked bemusedly as Sirius fought every urge to wipe the little bit of chocolate from your upper lip. Unfortunately thankfully for him, you licked it out of his sight.

“Head butting me; seems quite rude.” Sirius murmured as he watched the cat in bemusement.

“That’s basically a cat hug, Sirius; she’s hugging you, or saying hello.” You chuckled at him.

“Get out.” He scoffed in disbelief.

“Cats have little scent markers in their cheeks; when they rub against something, they’re affectionately claiming it as their own.”

“So like a dog pissing on trees?” He deadpanned.

“Affectionately claiming you as their own; offer her your hand, Sirius.”

“But what if she-”

“Chef, offer her your hand.” You barked at him with no heat.

Sirius narrowed his eyes challengingly at you but did as he was told; pleasantly surprised when the cat moved the rubbing from his trousers to his hand.

“Have you never met a cat before?” You asked as you considered him.

“No…I have.” Sirius offered slowly, admittedly enjoying the velvety soft fur of your little companion.

“Could’ve fooled me.” You teased as you placed your now empty dish on the side table.

“My family had a cat growing up; a horrid thing. I swear to god my mum taught him how to attack me. Loved my brother though, but was nasty as all get out to anyone else.”

“Really? Was he a stray before he lived with you?”

“Nope.” Sirius offered with a pop of the p. “Raised that fucker from kittenhood. Lived a god awful long time too, just to spite me; I wished every year on my birthday that it would die.”

“Sirius!”

“I’m not joking! My brother and I would sneak cupcakes up to my room and he’d light a candle for me and tell me to make a wish. One of them was always ‘please for the love of god let Kreacher die before me’.” He didn’t think now was the time to admit that his other wish was always ‘please for the love of god let us make it out of here alive’.

“That’s awful; you’re awful.” You laughed.

“No, Kreacher was awful; I was but a boy.”

“I can’t believe you got after me for naming my cat Birdie when you had a cat named Kreacher.”

“I didn’t have a cat named Kreacher, my brother did.” He responded haughtily.

“Who named him?”

“I did.”

“Why?” You laughed again.

“‘Cause he was a tiny, awful, hateful little gremlin and needed a name that said as much!”

The two of you laughed until your hands migrated to your abdomen and you began massaging into your skin; a small divot appearing between your brows.

“What is it?” Sirius asked quietly then.

You tried to shake your head and offered him a tight smile. “S’okay.”

“Is it cramps?”

“Yeah.”

“Lie back.” He instructed as he stood from his seat on the coffee table - his mother would be rolling in her grave if she’d seen him with such a lack of manners.

Good.

“Sirius, really, you’ve-”

“Lie back.” He whispered again, one hand on your shoulder as he gently guided you so that you were lying along your sofa with your head propped up on the armrest.

Stealing himself for perhaps embarrassing himself completely and making this whole precarious situation between the two of you go tits up, he finally shucked off his jacket and boots before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and lowering himself onto the bottom half of your couch.

You watched silently as Sirius situated himself between your legs so that his shoulders and head rested on your abdomen as he weaselled his arms under your back, placing both of his palms up against your lower back.

“Relax.”

“What?”

“You’re tense as shit, doll; relax.” He murmured as he rested his cheek against your stomach.

You let out a breath and sank further into the couch as the two of you fell into comfortable silence.

“Thank you.” You whispered after a few moments.

“You already thanked me.” He whispered back.

“No, I-” You cut yourself off as you gathered your thoughts; a tentative hand absentmindedly making itself at home in his hair as you found your words. “Thank you.” You settled on.

“You’re welcome.” Sirius offered.

“Where’d you learn this?”

Sirius propped his chin up so he could at you; your hand pausing as your eyes flit to it as if you were only now realising what you’d been doing. “Learn what?”

“The pressure? The body heat. The…helping, with cramps?” You asked tentatively, and if Sirius didn’t know better, he’d think you perhaps looked a touch bashful at your questions - your eyes seemingly incapable of meeting his.

And once again, Sirius found himself taking another jump, or rather, a complete leap of faith that could very well have this thing the two of you had been building crumble and fall before it even had a chance to start.

“Uhm, it was my brother, actually.” He admitted quietly.

Your eyes did finally meet his at that, where they narrowed a touch in confusion.

“You learned this….from your brother?”

Sirius nodded as he swallowed nervously. “Right. He uhm, well, it often helped him with his cramps and such, so…yeah.”

It was apparently his turn to be incapable of meeting your eyes as he moved his head so that it was resting against your stomach again.

“You’re a good brother.” You finally offered.

“Well of course I am.” Sirius offered through a breath of relief. “I’m good at everything I do.”

“You’re a git.”

“I’m good at that too.”

You gave a disciplinary tug at Sirius’ hair which made him think of several sinful things he’d like to be doing with you whilst you did that next time, but he simply chuckled and sank further into you.

“I didn’t exactly sit like this with him, mind you.”

“No? What does that make me, then?”

“Special.”

“I guess so.” You breathed out through a chuckle. “Coming over on your day off just to spoil me.”

“It wasn’t my day off.” He responded without thinking, tensing when he felt you suck in a breath.

“Sirius.”

“Mhm?” He offered in faux nonchalance.

“You left work for this!?”

“For you?” He asked as he considered you. “Absolutely.”

“For gods sake, Sirius. I bet Jeffery-”

But he never got to hear what you thought of Jeffery as he let out a very petulant and dramatic groan and lowered his forehead to your stomach.

“Babe, I know this isn’t exactly the same thing, but generally a man does not want to hear the name of another bloke when he’s in between your legs, yeah?”

You barked out a laugh and swatted at his shoulder. “You’re awful.”

“Terrible.”

“The worst.”

“Absolutely horrid.”

“Giving Kreacher a run for his money.”

Sirius’ head shot up at that as he levelled you with a warning glare. “Too far.”

“I’m sorry.” You laughed, not sounding particularly sorry at all.

“You better be.” Sirius grumbled as he lowered himself back down. “Now be a doll and play with my hair again; it’s nap time.”

And there was an equal chance that you were going to laugh, swat at him, or downright tell him to get his arse back to work.

But Sirius was admittedly overjoyed when you simply placed your fingers back into his hair and began to massage until you fell asleep; him not much longer after you.

558 notes · View notes

iloveboysinred · 5 months

Text

You've been missed [Saturo Gojo]

18+ mdni | Gojo x fem! reader

sypnosis; you and Gojo have a complicated relationship. During the day he would act like he didn't know you existed, then at night he would be in your sheets. He constantly lead you on with promises and sweet lies, but despite knowing your "relationship" wasn't going anywhere, you still answered his late night calls.

cw; situationship, fingering, oral (fem receiving), mirror sex, degradation, riding, back shots, spanking, squirting, anal fingering, just nasty ass sex. written by an amateur smut writer at 2 a.m :') not proofread as much as I'd like. MDNI!!!!!!

4k words and some change

inspired by this song for some reason

masterlist |

You glared down at the thread of messages on your screen— all unanswered; not even read. “Today 12:36 A.M” was the time of the last text you had sent him. Resentment settled in your stomach, turning your phone off and lightly tossing it onto your bed. He always did this. Gojo would ignore your calls, & he would leave your texts unread. Even worse than that, he walked past you everyday like you weren’t even there, sparing you half a glance from under those stupid sunglasses he always wore. You didn’t even know why you tried anymore; worst of all, you didn’t know why every time his notification popped up you would open it and respond at lightning speed. The custom ringtone you had set for him made your heart skip a beat. Gojo had a hold on you that you couldn’t free yourself from. It was sad, the way you answered his every call when he would take his sweet time before responding to yours. You supposed these things only occurred because you allowed them to– basically sending the message that no matter what he did, he would still have exclusive access to you whenever he so wished.

You hated him for it, but who else could you blame but yourself? He told you from the beginning that your little “situationship” wouldn’t be going further than casual sex. But at the same time he constantly blurred the lines he had set. When he would press soft kisses to your lips, whispering to you about how beautiful you are, telling you that you were made for him; that nobody else was allowed to have you the same way he had you, under him, hips pushed against yours, his forehead brushing against your neck while he emptied himself into you. It was making you feel delirious, the weight of his body pressed so deliciously over yours as he took everything your body had to offer. Then he would remind you of where you stood in his life, when you would wake up and he would be gone, his spot on the bed long abandoned and cold, the only evidence he was ever even there was the mess between your legs and the ache in your body.

Your phone pinged, the familiar sound of his custom ringtone urging you to pick it up and see what he said, even though you didn't want to. You wanted to leave him on delivered for days like he did you, ignore his calls and act like he didn’t exist. It was petty, but you felt as though it was the only power you really had against him, knowing that he could make you crumble with as little effort as using his hands.

It was unfair, really, the effect he had on you. He could bend you to his will anyway he wanted, and you would always comply, indulging in the meaningless pleasure he would give you, a piece of you going with him every single time you would wake up to an empty bed. Your heart is growing colder for him every time he leaves your messages delivered, every call unanswered.

The notification lit up your screen, his contact name and your own curiosity tempting you to open his message quicker than you would’ve liked. You rolled your eyes as the text swirled around your whole screen. He loves using those stupid message effects, you guessed he was trying to be playful. Maybe buttering you up by playing on your feelings of fondness he knew you had for him. “Hey pretty, what are you up to tonight?” your stomach fluttered at the pet name, swallowing down the irritation you also felt at him ignoring your previous string of messages. You typed out a response, “Nothing.” It was purposely curt. Trying to at least somewhat convey that you were unhappy with him.

“You mad at me or something?”

“No, not at all”

“You’re sooooo dry 🙁”

“Oh.”

Text bubbles appeared on your screen for a minute, before disappearing. “Read 3:45 A.M” you sighed, shutting the phone off again and laying down. It was late, and you had to be at Jujutsu tech early tomorrow, already tired of Gojo’s antics. Right when you started to doze off your phone pinged again. Groggily you picked it up, clicking it on. Already knowing who it was. “Unlock the door pleeeeease 🙂” you stared at the message for a second, blinking the sleep from your eyes. You didn’t move, hoping he would just go away and think you were asleep, but then you heard rapid knocks at your door, and you reluctantly got up,not wanting your neighbors to be disturbed by Gojo’s childishness. Cracking open the door you glared at him, your irritation growing at the stupid grin on his face, your sleep deprivation not making it any better.

“Heyyyy y/n” he pushed past your door, allowing himself in. He took a moment to look you over, your satin robe hugging your body perfectly. The top sagged down your shoulder, the stretch of skin leading to your chest making his eyes wander. Your nipples perked under the thin fabric and he couldn’t help but run the tip of tongue along his bottom lip. You just look so appetizing.

“What do you want, Gojo?” He leaned towards you, leaving just a few meters of space between you. He searched your face, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Hmm so you are upset” he tilted his sunglasses down, irises locked onto yours now. You said nothing, turning away from him and walking to your kitchen, shaking off the warmth crawling up your spine. You already knew what he was here for, but you weren’t giving in, not tonight. “Oh come onnnn, pretty girl. You know how busy I can be.” His voice was barely above a purr, and you scurried away, his breath on your nape making you almost drop the glass. “Gojo, back the fuck up!” You snapped, shoving him back by his chest, turning away to hide your warming cheeks. “Back up huh? That’s new.. You must really be pissed” he snickered. You scowled at him. He turned away from you, nonchalantly shoving his hands in his pockets, waltzing out of the kitchen and down the hall to where your room was. He knew your house inside out by now, the many nights he had visited had made it easy for him to memorize every turn.

He smiled at you when you followed in. Not even bothering to look at him, you turned on a lamp, the dim light illuminating the look of irritation on your face. “Gojo, it’s late. I don’t know why you’re here, but I think you should go.” You wanted to punch him, the cocky bastard had already begun to take off his outer layers, getting comfortable in his designated spot on your bed. He didn’t say anything, instead opting to watch you walk around the room. You stopped in front of him, your arms still crossed over your chest stubbornly.

“Hello! don't you hear me talking to you? I said leave” you tried to conceal the waiver in your voice. It was hard to pretend that you had such resolve, especially when he looked so tempting. He was stretched out on your bed, a plain black t-shirt hanging off his lean body. His eyes were partially covered by his hair, brilliant blue standing out against the white. He smiled when he caught your stare, slowly standing up. Your breath caught in your throat as he walked over to you, his tall frame taking up your line of sight. He backed you up into the full body mirror you had in your room, leaned idly against the wall. You felt it shift backwards. Gojo’s body caging yours, blocking any means of escape. He stared right into your eyes, searching your face. “Is that what you really want?” His voice was warm, almost a hushed whisper. “Tell me you really want me to go, and I'll leave right now.”

Your breath hitched, the proximity making you nervous; warmth starting to swarm in your core. You loathed the way your heart picked up speed. Your words died in your throat, mouth drying when his hand came to caress your face, teasingly leaning forward to brush his lips against yours. “What’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” you shuddered when he pulled away, running his fingers down the fabric of your robe, nudging it aside and dipping his fingertips underneath to caress the warm skin of your breast. “Hmm, I guess you don’t want me to leave after all, huh?” he whispered, pushing the top of your robe open, exposing your skin to the cold air in the room. “Toru..” your voice was a soft murmur, but you knew he could hear the pleading in your voice, that same resolve you tried to keep up crumbling under his very fingertips. “Yeah?” he leaned down, pressing wet kisses down your neck, covering the span of your chest with his lips. You sighed, feeling his warm lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the bud, slightly flickering and turning the other with the tips of his fingers. He hummed in satisfaction when your hands found him, grabbing at his hair by the root, pushing his head harder against your chest.

He knew he had you.

“We can’t keep doing this.” you muttered, staring up past his head, urging yourself to say what you need to say. “You? Me? We’re not going anywhere. You know this and I know this.” Gojo grunted, leaning up to suck on the skin of your neck. “You don’t talk to me, you act like I don’t exist… then you just show up like nothing happened and we do this. What’s the point?” Gojo pulled you against his body, bringing you away from the mirror. You stared up at him, and he smiled at you, squeezing your sides.

“Why’s there gotta be a point? Can’t you just have a little fun?” his voice was taunting, making anger course through you. Yet again, he disregarded everything else you said, and it was infuriating. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?” you shoved him away from you, making him stumble for a second, that stupid smirk still on his face. “You just use me, you don’t give a fuck about me- “oh spare me the bullshit y/n” You gaped at him when he cut you off, fists clenching at your sides. “You know as well as I do what this was from the beginning. Stop trying to make it more complicated than it needs to be.” You glared at him, your heart turning to steel at his blatant disregard for your feelings.

He sat down on your bed, leaning his head on his hand and studying you, drinking in your reactions with an amused look on his face. “I’m the strongest sorcerer in Jujutsu society, did you honestly think I have time to worry about feelings ? don’t be stupid.” His voice was so condescending, it was making you angry. But you didn’t say anything, staring down at the floor. “And who said I didn’t care?” he was standing in front of you again, grabbing your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. “I care for you just like I care for everyone else. I keep the world safe. Isn’t that enough?” you glared at him with resentment and pain flickering in your eyes. It wasn’t enough. You didn’t want him to care about you the same way he cared about everyone else. You wanted to be special. His words stung your heart in a different way than anything else had. It solidified who you were to him, just another person he needed to protect. Just another weakling he felt somewhat responsible for. It was then you decided to indulge him for the last time, only for tonight you would be weak for him.

Smashing your lips against his you pushed him backwards, taking him aback with the haste in your movements. But it didn't take him long to recover, grabbing a handful of your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands, pressing you up against his body, deepening the kiss when he shoved his tongue in your mouth, meeting yours. You felt his other hand shift to tangle itself in your hair, grabbing at your scalp, pushing you harder against his lips. Your bodies pressed against each other, the temperature in the room increasing. Panting you pulled away, face flushed and heart beating miles per hour. By now the robe you adorned had basically slid all the way off; your hair a mess and still in Gojo’s grip. He tugged the belt holding your robe together, leaving you completely bare. His eyes drank you in like he’d never seen you before, holding you close to his chest as his hands wandered, gripping your soft skin. Grabbing him by his shoulders you pushed him in the direction of the bed, climbing over his lap, and pressing your bottom to his crotch. His hands settled on your hips while you fumbled with his pants, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers.

He shifted his hands to his sides as you went for his shirt next, pulling it off, taking a moment to study his build. Lean and muscular, his milky skin inviting you to mark it up with blooming red. You pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble of amusement in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. His hand came up to squeeze your hips, grinding you down lightly against his clothed bulge, grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adam’s apple. “So needy, aren’t you?” you pulled away, glaring at him. “Shut up for once, Saturo. All you do is talk. Aren’t you tired?” He laughed, pushing you off his lap and onto the bed. Gojo leaned over you, pressing a heated kiss to your lips, his hands coming down to hook under your knees, pulling them apart and upwards, folding you in half against his body; Your dripping pussy open and on display for him. He pressed his crotch against it, your wetness warm and inviting. It left a stain right over the fabric covering his bulge, making him groan, grinding into you. “Stop teasing.” you grunted, bucking your hips up towards his, searching for friction.

“Oh come on, pretty girl..” he purred, reaching down to run his fingers up your slit, catching a few drops of your arousal and spreading them over your clit, rubbing small, lazy circles over it. “Let me take my time with you..” you watched him, eyes half lidded, your legs aching from the uncomfortable position he had you in. “All wet..just for me.” he muttered, his tone conveyed that he was distracted, watching how your folds glistened with your arousal.

He slipped two of his fingers into you, curling them inside; stroking your walls. Moaning quietly you reached down to your chest, rolling your nipples between your fingers, basking in the gentle pleasure he brought you. He pumped his fingers inside of you at a steady pace, the push and pull of his movements making your stomach twist. His finger tips curled up inside of you once more, rapidly stroking at the spongy surface of your g-spot. Your hips arched into his hand, chasing the sensation.

Your legs were numbing, slowly starting to drop in his hold. “Toru, please.” you whined, rolling your hips against his hand again, trying to urge him to go faster. “I know baby… let me just-” he seemed entranced by your body. The sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers were obscene. He leaned down and swiped a line up your slit with his tongue, moaning at the taste of you. You gasped, clenching your teeth and shutting your eyes tight when he placed his lips right on your clit.

The sensations coursing through your body had you trembling, legs dropping from his hold and onto his shoulders. He continued to eat you messily, pulling back to spit a fat glob of saliva on your pussy before diving back in, feasting on you. His tongue twisted inside of you, lapping up all your arousal, moaning against your pussy. He sucked on your clit, bringing his fingers back into you, rubbing at your spongy walls once again. You gripped his hair as you came, shoving him deep in between your thighs, grinding your hips against his face, savoring the pleasure shooting up your veins. Your chest heaved, Gojo continuing to suck on your clit, overstimulating you. It got to the point where you felt another orgasm building up in your abdomen, the familiar warm pressure washing over you as you came a second time, squealing his name and weakly pulling him away from your pussy.

He was panting, lips glistening from your juices, his pupils were shot, a wild look in his eyes you were well acquainted with. Your hand still buried in his hair, you pulled him up towards you, smashing your lips against his, tasting yourself. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his tongue into yours. Flipping you both over you sat on his navel, pulling down his boxers just enough to free his pulsating length. It stood proud, pretty pink tip flushing, glistening of precum. You grabbed it, scooting back to slide it into you. You stared into his eyes as you slid down, taking him in his entirety. The look on his face almost made you laugh, his eyes were blank and unfocused, mouth hanging slightly open as your warmth surrounded him. Tight, wet walls massaging his dick as you rode him, your ass meeting his thighs as you bounced. You threw your head back, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, his dick filling you to the brim.

You looked down at the man beneath you. His jaw was clenched as he watched you, white hair starting to stick to his forehead with the sheen of sweat above his brow. “Ride it..ride it baby, fuck!” he whined, words a jumbled mess. His hands came up to your sides, rubbing up and down your hips, trying to ground himself. You glared down at him, slapping his hands away, increasing your pace. You saw his stomach constrict with every deep breath he took, staring up at you in awe when you rolled your hips into his once more, grinding down on him roughly.

He gasped when you clenched against him, your pace not letting up for a second. “Oh fuck…oh fuuck!” his moan was low and drawn out as he came, body tensing under you, his hands gripping at your hips. You rolled your hips a few more times, grinding him against you g-spot, the feeling of him spilling inside of you making your clit pulse with anticipation. He panted your name, his head thrown back, exposing his neck, pretty red marks adorning his skin. When you had enough you pulled off of him, his cum dribbling out from your pussy and down your thighs. He looked at you, panting, watching you collect some of it and bring your fingers up to your lips, sucking them clean.

He sat up in a heartbeat, grabbing your wrists and pulling you onto him, shoving his tongue desperately into your mouth.

Obviously, you had set something off in him, making him feral.

He flipped you on your stomach, grabbing your hips to lift your lower half up to reach his, hard dick poking at your thighs. Your upper half teetering on the edge of the bed. You looked up at the mirror in front of you, getting lost in the sight of Gojo behind you, your ass propped up against his pelvis and his hands securely holding on to your waist. “You look so pretty like this..” you heard him breath, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, meeting his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “Such a pretty slut. You gonna watch me fuck you, baby?” he whispered, taking his dick in his other hand, teasingly rubbing the tip up and down your sopping wet folds, not giving you so much as an inch.

“Y-yes Toru.” you whined, pushing yourself back on him eagerly. “Hm.. if you look away from the mirror, i’ll stop, kay?” you nodded, rolling your hips back against him in need. “Just fuck me already.”

Gojo pushed into you, his hand letting go of your hair and coming back to knead your ass, his pace unrelenting as he beat into you, hips meeting your backside with every thrust. You gasped, hands gripping the sheets under you to hold yourself still, trying not to fall off the edge of the bed with the force of his movements inside of you.

“Oh my god Saturo- yess” you keened. Your pussy felt so full of him, his dick stretching out your walls, pumping you full of his length. He watched you through the mirror, piercing gaze not wavering from your body for a second, enjoying the way your ass bounced against him, taking all he had to give.

“Look at you, taking my dick like a slut” he growled, spreading your ass cheeks with his hands, staring down at your tight ring of muscles, twitching with every thrust of his hips. He ghosted his fingers over it, making you shudder. “I think I'll play with this one next. What do you think, love?” his voice was sickeningly sweet, a hard contrast to the rough pace he had set inside of you, beating your walls loose without a care.

When you didn’t answer he delivered a stinging smack to your ass, making you yelp. “I’m talking to you, baby..” you nodded your head, your mind fuzzy from the white hot pleasure coursing through your body. “Use your words, pretty girl.” he grunted, shoving his whole length into you, hips pressed flush against your ass. “O-oh fuck! Yes Toru..yes!” you cried, back arching into him, feeling the tip of his dick kiss right against your cervix. He hummed in satisfaction, his thumb coming to his lips, wetting it with his saliva before bringing it back to your ass, easing in the tip of his thumb past the resisting muscles of your sphincter.

The pain only enhanced the pleasure in your abdomen, letting out a wanton moan as he slowly pushed past, thumb now fully breaching into your ass. “That's it baby.. Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He moaned, engrossed in the way you wrapped around his thumb, squeezing his dick with your pussy at the new sensation. He swore he could see stars, a white ring of cream accumulating around his base, getting thicker every time he pushed back into you.

You were struggling to hold your composure under him, glassy eyes trying to stay focused on the mirror in front of you, knuckles turning almost white at the tight grip you had on the sheets. He was fucking you dumb, your words coming out in babbles of his name amongst other words he couldn’t understand. Above you, he was losing his mind, the vice grip your creaming pussy had on him paired with the erotic sight of your asshole hugged around his finger driving him crazy.

He almost felt dizzy, reaching down to messily toy with your clit. Pinching, rubbing and flicking the bud, groaning when he felt you flutter and clench around him. You threw your head back when you felt warm pressure build up in your stomach, it was different this time though, it was more intense than the others and you couldn’t help the cry of his name from deep within your throat when he hit a particular spot inside of you.

“Just like that baby, moan. My. fucking. Name” his thrusts accented every word, hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over again. Your body shook as your vision blurred, your core trembling with the force of your orgasm racking through your body. You squirted all over him, coating his lower stomach with your essence. A mix between a moan and a scream of his name being ripped from your chest. “Ohh fuck. Oh shit, baby.” He gasped, hurriedly pushing against the pressure of your orgasm, forcing himself back inside of you, dragging out every last drop from your pussy before he came undone, emptying himself deep inside of you, moans falling from his lips as he rode your orgasms out inside of you, weak whimpers escaping you from the overstimulation.

He pulled out slowly. Earning a hiss from you, your body trembled, weakly dropping onto your stomach, your arms and legs aching with exhaustion. “C’mon pretty girl, don’t lay down just yet.” you felt him tug the bedsheet from under you, making you lazily roll onto the bare mattress, too tired to care anymore. You watched from the corner of your eye as he picked up his boxers, dragging them up his legs and back on, disappearing out of the room and what you assumed to be the bathroom.

He came back with a pack of wet wipes and a warm rag. “At least he has the decency to clean up..” you thought bitterly, letting him spread your legs open, gently wiping the mess down from between your legs. When he was done he laid next to you, his chest open and waiting for you to curl up into his arms, but you turned your back to him instead. Grabbing the duvet and pulling it over you.

Gojo snorted behind you, just crawling over to you and bringing you into his arms. “Still mad at me, pretty girl?” he murmured into your hair, cuddling up to you. You didn’t respond, staring into the darkness of your room, the lamp barely illuminating. “I’m sorry, okay?” you still didn’t respond, opting to ignore him and just go to sleep. You felt the bed shift and groaned when he flipped you on your back, staring down at you with an intensity in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “Y/n. I’m serious. I know what I said came off as harsh but I have no other choice, okay? You know the kind of work we do. Feelings can’t get in the way for people like us.” He was right, but the sting of his words still ached in your heart, and you avoided his gaze. “I know Toru..” you mumbled, glaring at the ceiling above you. “For what it's worth… I do care about you, y/n. In another life, You could’ve been mine.” he whispered, coming up to curl his fingers in your hair affectionately. You closed your eyes tight, trying to stop the warmth of your feelings for him from creeping into your heart. No, he always said stuff like this. He always gave you little promises, just to treat you like you didn’t matter, just to treat you like you were weak. You rolled onto your side, refusing to give him any more of your attention, you felt Gojo flop onto the bed again, this time leaving you be.

When you woke up the next morning you were surprised to see him still laying there, blissfully asleep and snoring like a hog. You glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand, “10:00 A.M” you were late, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The ache in every nook of your body convinces you that Yaga will just have to make due with other teachers to show the new first years around. You glanced behind you to Gojo’s sleeping form, He looked so peaceful, his beautiful white hair framing his face perfectly. You got so lost in thought that you almost missed the twitch of his eyelids, brilliant blue irises peeking out from underneath. You averted your gaze, looking down at your hands before he could notice.

But of course, he already did. “Staring is rude, you know.” he rasped, sitting up and turning his body towards you, his neck littered with blooming red and purple marks from your handy work. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Hey.” you turned to face him again, blankly looking into his eyes. “I meant what I said last night… I just need you to be patient, okay?” he looked at you with as much sincerity he could muster, making your heart twist. “Gojo…” “I know, my words don’t hold a lot of weight to you.” you almost wanted to snort, “that's an understatement.” “I know, and that’s my fault. But I promise, I mean it when I say that I care.” you stared at him for a moment, finding it hard to believe anything that came from his mouth, all the painful emotions swirling around in your mind. You nodded your head, not fully believing him. “Okay.” He smiled at you, and you couldn’t muster the energy to smile back.

You would be patient, but until then you wouldn’t wait on him hand and foot anymore, it was an even playing field from now on. If Gojo didn’t prove himself, you would move on to better things. Life didn’t stop at Saturo Gojo, and that proved true when you didn’t look to see if he read your message; when you didn’t waste your time calling him.

West District, part 2

#❥iloveboysinred #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #Spotify

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 year

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Dom!Simon "Ghost" Riley x sub!reader, John "Soap" Mactavish x reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" Mactavish, reader

Summary: When a one time sexual encounter leaves you wanting more, but the rules were set the moment he entered you and now he does his best to avoid you, what is a girl to do to get what she wants? That's right, make him jealous. And if it works a little too well maybe he will give you the night of your life. Good thing you have a flirty Scotsman to mess with, perhaps if you can't get your way, you can still have fun. Only time and a bit of effort on your part will tell what goes down.

Word Count: 12.7 k

Warnings:

Part 2: What's Mine You'll Never Have

You knew what you were getting yourself into before it even started. The rule was simple enough: this was a one time thing, a no strings attached fuck that would end and never be spoken of again because it just so happened to be with a man in a higher rank than you who had a reputation to uphold. Agreeing was the easy part; honestly, you would have done whatever was asked of you in that moment for a ride as the heat between you both rose, his touch sending shocks down your limbs, and if one and done was all you got you were going to jump on it with complete pun intended. It wasn’t as if you care for him; really you could barely stand him on a good day, though you would have been a liar to deny there wasn’t something erotically toxic about him.

Your superior office was a fucking beastly specimen of masculinity: broad, full chest, arms big enough that they looked like they could bend steel, thighs so fucking thick and juicy you could comfortably ride his massive cock for hours. Though you had never fully seen the face of this quiet and serious man nor knew more than the most basic information about him it did not matter, you knew before you ever saw it that what was rubbing against your thigh as he pinned you to that wall was mouth-filling enough that you needed to get your hands on it and by god you loved when were absolutely right.

That one random night had found you at the right place and the right time, when tensions were high along with his aggression and a good screwing would help take the edge off of an otherwise frustrating and fruitless mission. Things went fairly quick from when he had grabbed you by the waist and before you knew it you found yourself naked in his bed, filling the room with your whimpers as muscles pumped, bodies writhed and bucked, and sweat stained the sheets along with the rest of your combined fluids. You were made to come several times as your lieutenant unleashed himself upon you with a voracious appetite for your body that didn’t let up until your poor little cunt couldn’t take another orgasm. Exhausted and satisfied, you left him in bed with a cigarette pressed to his smirking lips set free from his mask and that was that; you’d go about your merry way a little more satisfied than usual, but otherwise not putting up a fight about the arrangement.

…Or so you thought.

It was only a couple of weeks later that the ache really set in, that one deep inside you that no matter how many times you touched yourself with those sore fingers stroking away for what felt like hours, you simply could not satisfy. Shit, you were feral with desperation for Ghost's fat fucking cock and thick tongue to make your pussy their property once more and you needed to rectify the situation fast before you developed carpal tunnel. Since your lieutenant was avoiding you like the plague ever since that night, only being near when absolutely necessary and nothing more, you would have to take matters into your own hands.

There was so much you did not know about Ghost when it came to more personal matters, but he was a man after all and though they came in different flavors, they all could be manipulated in the same ways. You owned all you needed to bring them to their knees and with your devious little mind always working overtime you were easily able to concoct your plan to make that hulking man jealous enough to hopefully break the terms of his agreement. These were indeed desperate times and that is when desperate measures are called for. Nothing is more desperate than using jealousy as a weapon and that meant pitting two men against each other to get what you wanted, but you would deal with the moral ramifications of your actions later.

You first needed someone to use in your quest of jealousy and it was completely obvious from the moment the thought entered your mind the exact person you wanted to use to get Ghost’s attention, one that the sting of seeing you with him would hopefully cause him to act irrationally and that person was none other than Sargent MacTavish. The two officers were close, well as close as anyone could get to Ghost, at least you were certain it would be enough that if you pulled out all the stops and put all your effort into flirting with the Scotsman, it would surely light a fire in your target. And if not, maybe if you started to give him the extra attention he seemed to want, Soap would be down to help you alleviate your little ‘problem.’ It wouldn’t be exactly what you wanted, but if you couldn’t have your first choice, then you wouldn’t be picky.

It wasn’t a huge secret around the base that the mohawked pretty boy had a bit of flirtatious nature when it came to you and so it would be nearly effortless to play into that to get the effect you wanted. Briefly you had the thought to actually tell Soap what it was you were up to, but you concluded that that left too much up to chance; what if he didn’t agree to helping you or what if knowing that you were intentionally flirting with him to get to Ghost made his reactions not as sincere or worse yet he actually tried to sabotage you? No, this had to seem spontaneous and so you kept everything tight lipped. Settling on your victim, now all you needed was a place for this little show to happen. It had to be public, preferably somewhere that alcohol was involved; liquor always heightened emotions and made for bad decisions to magically come true. If that’s what it took for Ghost to give in to you, then that was absolutely fine.

There were times when the entire task force would venture out into the night for a bit of fun, usually after a successful mission when the mood seemed just right to let loose, so all you had to do was wait for something to happen that would be a cause for a trip to the local bar and that was the part in all of this that nearly broke you. Nothing you had done up to this point had ever been harder; your poor vibrator was begging you for a damned break and you were sure the thing would fall apart before you got the chance to implement your plan.

Finally though, you had your sinful prayers answered and you seized the opportunity with both of your devious hands. The mission you had just returned from had not been easy in the slightest, but in the end it was a success and after all the preparation and execution that had happened over the course of a few weeks, the whole team was ready to let off a little steam. The minute you heard Soap suggest the usual group outing, your filthy heart skipped a beat.

Soap was the one to ask you himself if you were going to be joining on this little rendezvous as he caught up to you right after debriefing. The way he made sure to specifically invite you stuck out as odd, as he had not done anything like this before now, but you let the thought slip to the back of your mind as the timing was just too perfect not to take full advantage of as a certain someone just so happened to be within range when he asked.

“C'moan, lassie,” he picked, giving you a playful shove and plastering that sad puppy dog look over his face. “Please. Wilnae be na fun witoot ye.”

Just out of the very corner of your vision, you could see that brooding tower of man watching this conversation like a hawk stalking a mouse through the grass. You wondered if he could hear everything being said as well as he could see what was happening and just in case you laid it on thick; can’t waste him being around to see you getting a bit more friendly with the Sargent, given how you usually interact.

“And what’s in it for me?” you picked back.

“Th' chance tae git wit a charmer who’s guid at chattin,” he was quick to shoot back as if the response had been rehearsed.

You smirked. “Oh, and when will I meet this good conversationalist? Will he be joining us there?” God you were laying it on with a paint roller.

Soap shook his head with a chuckle. “Ye know as well as ah that a nicht oot wi' me is yin tae rememer,” he met you with the same energy. “ 'sides, it’ll be lonely 'ere a' by yersel' sin a' body is goin'.”

“Everyone?” you repeated, pretending to give the idea some serious thought. Waiting a few more seconds you finally gave Soap your brightest smile with a firm nod of your head as if you had just decided right then and there and hadn’t been plotting all this time like the devil you were. “Alright, I’m in. A night off base sounds like just what I need anyway. It’s about time we go out.”

“That’s whit ah lik' tae hear,” he beamed, glad you had accepted the personal invitation.

You gave him a playful nudge from your elbow. “I just can’t say no to you, ya know? Not when you look at me like that. Just makes me fold every time.”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Try as he might to hide it, there was no stopping the physical signs that triggered whenever you were around to give away the thoughts inside. “I’ll come grab ye at 8 'n' we kin head ower th'gither, if that’s a'right. Don’t want ye aff goin' after dark a' by yer lonesome.”

“My protector,” you gave his bulking bicep a short hug. “I’ll be waiting for you.” With a nod you parted ways and headed back to your barracks to get ready as a certain skulking member of 141 went stomping off back in the opposite direction to his own quarters in a rush.

And just as promised, right on the dot Soap was there knocking, ready to escort you off into the night. The moment you opened the door to your barracks he was stopped dead in his tracks at your appearance; it wasn’t often you got the chance to wear something other than the tactical gear that covered you from head to toe and you definitely put in the effort tonight to look your best. Your light blue crop top hugged your tits just right and matched the way your jeans clung to the curves of your hips and down the lines of your toned legs. You opted to wear your hair down with a loose curl to it and you had put on just the hint of makeup to play up your eyes and make them sparkle. It wasn’t over-the-top, but it was enough to make Soap pause and that meant you had done a good job.

“What?” you asked with a light-hearted laugh at his reaction, even though you knew exactly what it was that had left him speechless.

“Nothing,” he said while diverting his gaze. “Ye just look nice is all.”

“Don’t I always?” you sassily replied.

Nodding his head with a raise of his eyebrows, he agreed. “Weel, can’t argie wit' that. Ye could mak' a garbage bag look guid.”

“That’s what I thought,” you shot him a playful smile, making his temperature rise.

Soap had to clear his throat before he could respond, already getting flustered before anything had actually happened. “Ready a' go?” he asked.

“Let’s do this,” you said as you both went off, ready to let the liquor take your cares away.

There was already a gathering at the bar when you both arrived, others getting there, grabbing a table large enough for the entire group, and diving in to the drink to get the night started. Luck, or a very well timed conversation, was on your side tonight as surprise, surprise, you found Ghost himself in tow with the gang. What made him break his streak of isolation was of no consequence, all you cared about was that this had the best potential to work and you were confident that what transpired here would make your tight hole soon be filled to the brim with him.

He sat at the opposite end of the table from you, though opting to sit on the side that gave him the best vantage point to keep his eyes on you if he wanted. His usual over-the-top skull mask had been exchanged tonight for a simple black balaclava with a white painted jaw bone structure on the bottom of it. It was interesting to actually see more of those autumn-colored iris’, though he still had his customary eye black rimming them to keep them dark and mysterious. He had also opted for jeans and a black shirt with matching jacket, something that showed off more of his body and especially that spectacular ass; fuck, you had to remember not to salivate.

The moment you and Soap walked in Ghost’s sight was drawn to you, making him freeze with his glass half raised to his lips as he took in what exactly it was you were wearing. It had been a hot fucking minute since he had the pleasure of seeing more of your curves being accentuated by something other than bulky tactical gear that hid away all this delicious full figure from his gaze. It wasn’t very hot inside the bar, but a cold sweat began to spread out across Ghost’s body as you joined the group with a playful smile on your lips, effortlessly falling into the light-hearted conversation happening around him.

It had stayed pretty innocent through the first part of the evening until you began enjoying a rousing game of Never Have I Ever that included Captain Price nearly having an aneurysm and Ghost choking on his drink when you gleefully lifted your glass to your lips for the statement “never have I ever masturbated while on night patrol”, but you weren’t bothered. There was no room to be shy when your teammates were mostly comprised of men and especially when you needed to make one squirm.

“Are you serious?!” Gaz asked astonished that you had been bold enough to admit such a thing.

You nodded your head and you downed the last of your beer. “Look, you gotta do what you gotta do when you’re bored,” you smirked and you were sure Soap was going to pass out from all the blood gathering in one particular area from the image being conjured in his imagination. The night really got fun after that with mini raucous arguments exploding over who was the better at accents, with contest to match, and which song was the best to get you pumped for a raid and soon you realized you had downed another couple drinks as the laughter flowed as good as the liquor.

“Anither round boys?” Soap joyfully asked around at all present as the night had continued on. This was about round three or four, you couldn’t rightly remember at this point. He turned his attention to you sitting at his side, wanting to ask you personally with an inebriated smile spread across his lips. “How aboot it, ye up fur annur? Don’t tell me you’re gonnae tap oot noo, th' nicht is aye young.”

His eagerness to be in your close company all evening was indeed charming and if you didn’t have your eyes focused on the man who could use you like a rag doll and not even break a sweat, you might have liked to see where this would lead, but the heart wants what it wants. Or rather you should say the cunt, as that was the organ calling all the shots now.

Shaking your head, you shot him a smile back. “Never,” you stated firmly. “I’m still in it as long as you are, pretty boy.”

“Atta lassie,” he praised enthusiastically as he got to his feet to go order another round with the bartender, hoping you wouldn’t notice how strong he was coming on; the liquor was hitting a bit harder than he realized and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he was struggling to hold it together, but you didn’t mind; in fact, you kind of liked the way it sounded. If Ghost didn’t do anything by the end of the night then you were sure you could easily get Soap to take you back to his private quarters.

You watched him go, letting your eyes linger on his objectively fine looking taut ass, before you managed a sideways glance over towards the other end of the table where he sat. Your eyes hadn’t even fully clocked Ghost yet and you could already feel that grumpy, silent, mask-clad man’s eyes boring holes into you as if he were trying to set you ablaze. There was no seeing any of his features other than his eyes through the mask, but his agitated body posture alone was evident enough that he had taken notice of your closeness with his colleague.

Time to turn up the heat and really stick it to him; Ghost was going to regret ever taking away the pleasure of his body from your immediate access by being forced to watch you give away your own to someone else. The night was still young and you had ample opportunity to make sure he knew just how far you were willing to go to get his attention.

Soap returned moments later with a slew of beers in hand, distributing them around those still partaking, but saving the last for you specifically just to give you that bit of extra attention. You gratefully accepted it from him, your fingers lingering over the backside of his hand as you took the glass into your grip.

Across the way you noticed one of the two pool tables had suddenly become free as the two older gentlemen playing had called it a night. Now that’s one game that can get two people close real quick, especially if one of them pretended they didn’t know how to play at all and would need a lot of help. Soap had tried to get you to join a game with him and Gaz or Price on several occasions, but you had always said you enjoyed being a spectator more than a player, so you never took him up on it… until now.

Soap’s attention was still on you as he took a swig off his glass and you used that opportunity to nod over towards the now empty table. “Seems we’re in luck,” you pointed out and he followed your eyeline over. “Maybe it’s a full moon or some shit, but I’m in the mood to try something new and I know how many times you’ve tried to get me to have a go. Feel up to finally giving me a free lesson?”

“Ye don’t hae tae ask me twice, lassie,” he smiled. There wasn’t a chance in hell he wasn’t going to jump at the opportunity and jump he did, setting down his drink with a slosh and pushing out of his chair quick before grabbing your hand to drag you over so that another group couldn’t claim it for themselves first.

Back across the room your eyes locked on to Ghost’s and you raised a seductive eyebrow menacingly at him. It was obvious the way his upper body bristled as Soap came back with your cues and stood close beside you; it was about to get even more intimate when he showed you how to hit the billiard balls and both of you currently eye-locked knew it. Don’t like it, do something about it bitch, the look in your eyes challenged, but sadly he still sat there nursing his whiskey, though with more aggression than he had previously.

You were handed the wooden stick and you held it uncertain in your grip. “You are gonna have to start at the very beginning with me,” you chuckled, “I have no idea what I’m doing and the liquor isn’t helping.”

Soap chuckled and gave you a look. “I’ve git ye, don’t ye worry.”

And got you he indeed did. After quickly explaining the scant amount of rules in excited and quick fashion, he demonstrated the stance you would need to take as he broke up the balls to start. Now it was your turn and you would have to be convincing.

“Like this?” you questioned as you leaned over the table; you left plenty of room for improvement by not fully getting it right.

“Almost,” Soap said as he walked back over to where you stood in front of the shot you wanted to take. “'ere, let me hulp.”

Leaning against you to marionette your body where he wanted it to go, he maneuvered you around until you were in better form. Your back was pressed to his chest and you could feel the muscles brace against you through his t-shirt. He fit perfectly against the curve of your spine as you both tilted your bodies lower over the table and the warmth that hit your back half felt nice. Those bulked out arms covering your own definitely didn’t feel bad either.

Not too shabby, Sargent, you silently praised.

“Lik' this,” he said. “Ye juist pull back 'n'…”

Just as he was about make your cue strike the ball, you pretended to accidentally step back so that your ass got firmly pressed up against his crotch, making him twitch and completely butcher the hit. The stick made contact with the cue ball and sent it flying just off the edge of the table to roll across the floor away from you both.

“Sorry,” you feigned innocence. “I fucked that up royally.”

“Nah,” he laughed with a wink as he went to grab the ball and return it to the table, “just git a unique technique is a'. We kin wirk oan that, bit ah think yu''ll need tae let me hulp ye a bit mair.”

You both devolved into flirty laughter before continuing on with the game, Soap taking every available opportunity to correct your form just to be close to you as much as possible. And you didn’t shy away from ‘accidentally’ grinding against him from time to time just to watch him get flustered all over again. For a moment it felt nice for someone just to enjoy the pleasure of your company along with your body.

It wasn’t until nature called that you said that you had enough for one night with a promise that you’d pick this up another time before you headed off to the bathroom to relieve yourself. It gave you a good chance to check and make sure you looked as good as you did when you got here. Although the rose had bloomed in your cheeks from the heat and the drink, you still looked just as you hoped and giving yourself a satisfied smile in the mirror, you left.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you began to head back to the table when you noticed that all the seats seemed to be filled suddenly. You counted heads, but there was one that you hadn’t seen before. Some tart had decided to take the moment to chat up Gaz and so you had no place to sit… or did you? Honestly this could not have gone better if you had written it out because now you had an excuse to do what you did next, not that you needed one, but damn was it too perfect not to take advantage of.

Ghost’s eyes were already on you again as you made your way across the bar floor and for the second time tonight you pointedly locked eyes with him, raising your eyebrow cockily, before stepping up next to Soap. As soon as he looked up to see who it was, you swung a leg over him and then the other until you were sitting in his empty lap. You could feel him freeze beneath your ass as he was surprised by this sudden change of events, but he didn’t protest this new development. Instead, one of his strong arms scooped itself around your back to your hip, making sure that you were secure on his lap so you wouldn’t think about leaving it too soon.

“Hi,” you mischievously flashed him a smile, your faces close together.

He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself from your contact and the perky breasts near his face he was currently trying not to stare at. “Hi back,” he stammered out.

In a smooth motion, you laced one of your arms around his shoulders. “I hope this seat wasn’t taken, seems mine was though. Can’t expect me to stand the rest of the night, right?”

“I’m nae complaining,” he admitted, giving the exposed small of your back a rub with his thumb; he felt weak at how soft your skin was beneath his touch.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear,” you gave him a subtle wink as you situated yourself better on his lap. “It’s a pretty good seat anyway, very comfortable. Plus it doesn’t hurt to being this close to you, get a better look at the scruffy mug.”

“Och is it?” he smirked, watching you struggle to grab your now half-empty glass and reaching across, handed it back. “Well, it's aye open tae ye, bonnie, as lang as ye lik'.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you said, taking a sip.

You swallowed fast as you felt him risk more of a touch as he slipped his fingers just inside the back waistband of your jeans. “Nah, that’s reserved juist fur ye.”

That was it; without warning, Ghost slammed down his drink so that it splashes liquid onto the surface of the table and he quickly stood from his chair. He didn’t address anyone that had turned towards him at the outburst or even give some bullshit excuse for his departure, instead just storming out into the night without a sound. You weren’t entirely sure, but you could swear his fists were clinched tight down at his sides and nothing made you more ecstatic; that was exactly the sign you had been looking for that gave you hope that all this had not been in vain.

After another lengthy round you feigned exhaustion and made your excuses to the group to leave, commenting about how your bed was calling your name as you could barely keep your eyes open. Soap was definitely the most visibly saddened by your decision to call it a night already; he wanted to ask you to stay with him longer, but ultimately decided to keep quiet about it. Perhaps he didn’t want to rock the boat and ruin an otherwise spectacular evening spent in your company by complicating things or maybe he had gotten the vibe that there was something more to Ghost’s sudden outburst and exit, but whatever it was he gave you a smile and a wish that you get back to base safely and sent you on your merry way.

All the way back to your barracks you had a smirk plaster across your inebriated face, certain that your little ruse had achieved the outcome you had been plotting for and now all you would have to do was wait for your lieutenant to get riled up enough to come crawling back to you. Your wicked little mind wondered if his hand was already down his pants, frantically stroking his cock in an attempt to rid his mind of you or if he had already taken several ice cold showers to stop his body from burning for your own.

It filled you with a malicious glee to have this effect on such a stoic and impassible man and as you reentered your quarters, inebriated and full of yourself, you found your bed and fell back against the surface with a slew of delightful images concerning your lieutenant’s neediness floating around your head to keep you company as the alcohol wore off.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been daydreaming for when you heard the door to your barracks open. That wasn’t uncommon as it was a shared room, but what happened next absolutely was.

*SLAM*

The force with which the door was shut rang through the room loud enough to shake the walls. The noise startled you, though you could probably take one single guess as to what the reason for such an intrusion could be and you’d be correct. Turning your head you could see all 6’4” of your superior standing there, taking up the entire doorway with his impressive form. Seems that your little ruse had worked to perfection and you could not help feeling smug about making him crack.

Ghost clocked you in your bed and could plainly see you had noticed his entry and yet you had not moved from your spot, even though decorum dictated you get to attention since he was a superior officer. Fine, you weren’t going to do as you should then you were going to be given orders and be forced to.

“Come here,” he demanded shortly, those intense brown eyes staring back at you unblinking from behind his balaclava.

That devilish grin spread out all across your entire face as you sat up and crossed your arms over your chest. “Or what?” you pushed back to your masked superior. “It’s late, after hours in fact. Right now we are off the clock and I believe that means I don’t have to.”

One low, gravely chuckle was released from him. “Keep this up, luv, and you will find out what it means to disobey,” he threatened, his voice metered and firm. “I’ll give you one more chance before the consequences of your actions get you in fucking deep water. Come here, that’s an order.”

Doe-eyed and playing dumb you stared back before rotating your body until your legs were hanging off the side, but still you stayed seated. “What did I do, hmm?” you asked with a tilt of your head, playing pretend, but not exactly trying hard to hide the fact that you knew what it was you were being accused of.

“Don’t you sit there and act like you don’t know, you little bitch,” he snapped, his scolding tone harsh and biting. “Everyone there tonight could see what you were doing clear as day, so there is no use in denying it. Making a spectacle of yourself and disrespecting your place on this task force.”

Shaking your head, you glared him down. “And why, sir, do you care? Didn’t like the show?” again you boldly fought back. “There is nothing saying that I can’t have a bit of extracurricular excitement with those on this team. Did Price send you to reprimand me? Cause if not I don’t see what problem you have. Or is there more to it than that that I’m just not getting? Wanna come clean about anything, sir? Was it really about what I was doing or was it more who I was doing it with. You jealous of MacTavish getting a little action?”

What had gotten in you today? You hadn’t had this much fight in you in quite a while and though he secretly enjoyed your fire as it was what drew him to you in the first place, you had disrespected him and that came with consequences. The way you used ol’ Johnny boy for your sick fucking attempt at clearly making him jealous had worked and he was not pleased with the amount of control you seemed to hold over him because of it. His cock had been hard as a rock since he left the bar and he could do nothing to ease the ache; you were going to pay for that by the end of the night.

“Get. Up.” he growled with enough power behind it to send a shiver down your spine. “Now.”

The authority in his voice boomed through the room, intimidating enough to make you follow orders as you knew he had reached his limit and you could do nothing except genuinely fold and comply out of sheer intimidation alone. He meant business.

“You want to act a brat and sass me, then you get punished as one. Or did you forget I am still your superior?” he seethed as he gripped your wrist and yanked you towards him once you were within range. His grip around your arm was strong; there was no way you were getting out of his grasp even if you fought it. “You’re coming with me and I don’t want to hear any arguing, so don’t try it. Fight me and you will regret it.”

“And just where are we going?” you asked. If this was really a reprimand for your behavior, wouldn't your barracks be just fine? No, this was something more.

He whetted his lips under his mask, but ultimately kept quiet. Talk could come later once you had gotten to the destination, right now he had to focus on not loosing his mind before he had a chance to let you have it for what you did. You watched wide eyed and silent as he dragged you out of your barracks and through the facility back to his own private quarters, not caring who saw what, and once there he was pulling you inside and bolting the door behind the both of you. No one would be hindering his disciplining now, nor what he planned to do to you afterward.

Satisfied that the entrance to his room was secured, he threw your back against the door, the sound from the hit ringing through the silence. Another bang sounded from his tattooed forearm also hitting the door just above your head as he rested it there so that he could lean down enough to get into your face. His chest was almost pressed to you and you could feel the heat radiating off of him along with a strong scent of whiskey and cigarette smoke on his breath and gunpowder on his fingers that all mixed together to drive you mad.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing, hmm?” he spat angrily in your face, the outline of his lips just visible through the fabric of his skull-painted balaclava. “Throwing yourself at Johnny like a fucking trashy whore. The whole bar could see you being a pathetic mess and for what? I knew I was right in going tonight to keep an eye on you because you just can’t help yourself, can you? How fucking dare you pull that shit in front of everyone.”

You kept your eyes on his, never letting his gaze drift from your own. “So what if I did? Like I already said, it shouldn’t matter because you don’t own me. I didn’t make you come keep an eye on me, you did it all on your own and now you have to suffer the consequences.”

Being this close to you again was agony, your body within his reach that all he had to do was take what he wanted, and the ache in his cock that started in the bar was too much to ignore anymore; goddamn the pressure was enough that he felt himself about to explode. There was no more waiting if he wanted this interaction to last longer than a few minutes, and he definitely wasn’t going to be letting you go anytime soon, so reaching down the front of him he undid his pants with his free hand.

Buckle jingling and the audible zip of a fly lowering hit your ears and he was able to release that thick, fat cock of his. He looked back up into your eyes with a predator’s gaze and groaned low and guttural as he gave his phallus several drawn out strokes, wetting his length with the bit of precum that had dripped out of the uncut tip.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” he snapped as he seethed at your audacity. “You are on thin ice so I suggest you stop while you are ahead.”

His anger only confirmed it for you that you had gotten under his skin. A short, quick breath was pushed out of your nose as you shook your head. “With full disrespect sir,” you breathed, “why don’t you make me.”

Oh you had done it now. “You wanna tease me like the dirty slag you are, deliberately misbehaving clearly just to get my attention, then you have to accept the consequences when you get it the way that you did,” his words were sharp and firm, punctuated with grunts as he worked himself.

“Let me guess, sir, I’m gonna have to suck it to make up for my act,” you balked with a sassy roll of your eyes, still a bit of fire in you that he had yet to quell. “How creative.”

Ghost shook his head with a low, malicious laugh. “You that greedy for me, princess? Gonna take whatever you can get your lips around? You are pathetic.”

He knew just how to take care of a bratty little bitch like yourself; he was a true master at knowing exactly how to make bad girls fold and come to heel for him. “Don’t stand there and act like I don’t know how much you would enjoy that, choking on this fat dick until your eyes are watering. I remember how your makeup ran down your cheeks that night and how it felt like you’d rather suck me off then breathe. If you think I’m about to give you exactly what you want, you’re fucking mistaken baby. No, I have something worse in store for you.”

Tucking his throbbing cock back into his pants, he grabbed both of your bare wrists in one of his large hands while the other went to his belt. With a sharp tug, he wrenched it free from the belt loops and quickly wrapped it around your wrists to bind your hands together before opening the door just enough to place the tail end in between the top of the door and the door frame, shutting and locking it again once he had it secure. A sharp jerk as he pulled it tighter around your wrists made the leather dig into your flesh and you gasped at the feeling.

Once he was sure you weren’t going anywhere, Ghost slid himself off of you so that he would have full unbridled access. Nothing could stop him now from taking the hem of your jeans and yanking them down without undoing the button and off your legs, leaving you exposed to him in nothing but your delicate panties, the same ones he remembered from that damned night that sealed his fate now.

“You want to come clean about what you were doing at the bar or will I be forced to fuck the confession out of you?” he asked. “Say that you did all that just to make me jealous and I may go easier on you.”

Slowly you opened your eyelids to him, tilting your head upward with a devious smirk. “I don’t have to admit to shit,” you returned with bite to your tone, “not when whatever the answer could be is irrelevant; all that is important is that it worked.”

He shook his head side to side; he should have known you were still too spicy to come to heel yet, but you would. By God you would bend to him. “ Suit yourself, sweetheart. You are about to be taught a good, hard lesson; brats like you need to be disciplined well or else they get too full of themselves. You should have never made me watch that disgusting display of you throwing yourself at another man,” he growled angrily.

He wasted no time in collecting the crotch of your delicate panties with his fingertips and wrenching them to the side. He didn’t stop until he had ripped them from your body and tossed the delicate shreds away behind him. “I could smell the desire leaking off Soap like goddamn cologne, just as much as I smell the scent of your arousal for me now. I was so close to caving his skull in to see him put his hands you on like that and you just fucking let him. Baby girl, you need to learn who it is you belong to right here and fucking now.”

Shit, you may have just bratted yourself too close to the sun on this one, but there was no turning back now. You knew the consequences were going to be dire as that primal side of your lieutenant took over and you would simply have to accept every single delicious bit of his wrath that he gave you. Oh no, how horrible it would be to get exactly what you wanted.

There was no warning about what he was plotting until you felt his hand slip down between your thighs, parting them easily as a knife in warm butter, and one of those thick fingers sliding between the petals of your sex towards your entrance, gathering as much of your slick as he could on his digit before inserting it fully into your core up to the knuckle. “Greedy bitch, I can feel you taking in my finger like it’s nothing,” the backhanded praise sent shivers down your spine as he began to work feverishly at your G spot, with rough and intense movements; there would be no easing into this, you did not deserve that luxury.

Rhythmically he pumped that finger in and out of you as his opposite hand held your pelvis in place while you writhed and arched your back against the door. Instinctively, your hips bucked against his hand, trying to make as much contact with him as possible as you struggled with your hands above your head; you needed more, you needed it all. You had waited too long for this.

“Does my greedy girl need another?” he asked slyly, though not waiting long enough for your reply before slipping in another digit into your already dripping cunt.

“God,” you groaned, head back and mouth open as you were deliciously stretched out even further.

Ghost chuckled at how easy you were breaking for him. “God isn’t here sweetheart. You’ll have to deal with me right now.”

His pace was relentless and even with those tough, calloused fingers he knew how to use them better than any toy. It was too much to handle and your body responded in kind, your back arching wildly each time he struck that lovely little bean over and over again, the sweat clinging to your forehead as your body took every bit of his relentless assault on your sanity while your toes curled against the hard floor. Minute after minute, his full attention focused solely on you, each stroke along that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerve endings drawing you increasingly closer to that razors edge and threatening to violently throw you off.

There was no need for you to speak it aloud first, Ghost knew you were close just by the way your body spoke to him: your head falling back against the surface of the door with eyes fluttering closed and your breathing quickening as that pressure built to the peak. It was in that moment where your orgasm was in sight that you whispered its arrival was near and he made his move; you were going to regret confirming it for him. Suddenly his fingers were ripped completely out of you, leaving you mewling for the feeling of him again as the sensation dissipated.

“Goddammit, I was so close,” you snipped at him, shooting daggers through your irate glare.“I thought you liked me and then you pull this shit.”

The absurdity of your statement made him scoff. “And what would ever give you that idea? I don’t have to like you to fucking own you sweetheart.”

“Fuck you.” Your body shook as you squeezed your bare thighs together tightly, hoping that the friction would be enough to finish it, but the moment was gone and you were just left frustrated.

Ghost’s knee found your thighs and slipped between them to kept them separated as your wetness soaked into his pants leg; you weren’t going to come yet until he was ready for you to and that would be some time as your penance had not been paid in full quite yet. “That is the goal, isn’t it babe? Why you went to all this fucking trouble? That’s why you’ll stand there and take what I give you like the good little whore you are and maybe when I’m finished I’ll give you what you crave most and stuff you completely full.”

From the moment you left him that night weeks ago, his cock still slathered in your cum as he sucked down cigarette after cigarette to calm himself from the intensity of that first encounter, he instantly regretted making you agree to this being a one time ordeal. No one had ever made his body come alive like that, nor had anyone been able to keep up with his incredible stamina like you could. The moment he buried himself in you he was addicted and desperately needed more and try as he might to keep himself sane by jacking off at a rate that would rival that of a teenage boy, it would never come close to the way your silky, tight walls felt clamped down around him.

“And what if I don’t?” you shot back. “What if I continue to push you for making me go to all this trouble to get you to fuck me again? You were the one who set that fucking ridiculous rule about it being one time and yet the moment I try and get my fix somewhere else, here you come again.”

“I can bloody well change my mind,” he stated firmly, laying down his ruling to supersede everything else that had come before. “The way that watching Soap touch you made my blood boil, watching him take something away from me that I alone had, I cannot let that slide not even with him. I want to be the only one that knows that you feel like, what you taste like, what you fuck like. No one can have you, no one can touch you, ever again. I don’t give a fuck what I have to do, I will make sure that you belong to me and only me, little girl.”

Pulling up his balaclava just above the tip of his nose as leaned over your body, his raw, yearning mouth latched on to the thick of your hip as he sucked and bit down at the place he had seen Soap’s hand touch, removing any trace of him from your body and replacing it with visible marks that belonged to him. There was no stopping there, though; he wanted markings across all parts of your body so that everyone could see where he had been, where you had been claimed by him, and he wanted you to be reminded each time you looked in the mirror.

“This is mine and this and this,” he whispered desperately as he released your skin from his mouth intermittently to breathe as his handiwork continued along up and down your burning flesh. “No one can touch you like this ‘cept me.”

Already being stimulated and denied release, every single embrace of his mouth left you reeling in pleasure and the way those soft lips caressed your body mixed with the sharp pain from his bites left you a puddle in his hands. “Please,” the plea fell from your lips before you could clamp your mouth shut to keep it from escaping.

That whimper sent a trail of goosebumps across his skin, making Ghost moan deep in the back of his throat. Hearing you beg was the most beautiful music that had ever graced his ears and it only added fuel to the fire raging inside of him. All at once his shirt felt ungodly hot clinging to his body and so releasing you from his mouth he stood up and wrenched it off quickly over the top of his head to throw it away haphazardly to the floor.

There it was, that fucking gorgeous broad chest lightly covered with a sparse amount of blonde hair amassed in the center of his pectorals that thinned out as it spread and continued in a line down his wide torso and into his pants, leading directly to that glorious appendage. His line of work made sure to keep him in top physical condition so that he exuded a virile energy that made your fucking knees buckle out from under you and even though his chest was a mix of scars and marks like a road map of the type of life he had lived, it did not matter; he was a god amongst men and you would do anything for even a single glimpse of that mouth-watering happy trail. You could not take your hungry eyes off of it. If your hands weren’t bound you would have already been running your fingers along it before your lips could follow.

“Turn around,” he order roughly, breaking you out of your stupor at his bare chest, “face the door and arch your back. Now, princess.”

It was a struggle to rotate yourself around with your hands locked above your head, but with the promise that he was about to fuck you senseless you got into position before him, rotating your body around and putting enough curve in your back that he could enter you easily. You waited not so patiently to have that feeling of his hands digging into your hips so that he could thrust into you, but what you found instead was the sharp sting of his palm connecting with your bare ass, making it vibrate.

“Fuck, so beautiful the way it bounces like that,” he groaned as another smack was placed directly on top of the first. “You body was made for punishment. Isn’t that right, baby? Let’s get in a few more for good measure.”

Another smack, but the sting did nothing other than make you whine for more as that large mitt of his cupped the entirety of your backside. His intensity was obviously best when he was given free reign to do what he deemed necessary, even his discipline felt like ecstasy as the sting of it mixed with the pleasure coursing through your veins to make you delirious and ride that razors edge between pain and desire. A few more swift smacks and his handprint was a bright red sign upon your cheek; he couldn’t help but smile at his handiwork and knowing you’d have a glaring reminder tomorrow of him when you couldn’t sit down properly without wincing.

You were ready to take as much as he was willing to give when you felt him pulling your hips forward a little more so your were on the balls of your feet before he dropped down onto his knees. His face was now perfectly aligned with your as and with a firm grip he spread your legs open as far as he could comfortably get them before he was leaning his face in; he needed a fucking taste. Those full lips placed a few quick kisses to your silky, bare petals before his wide tongue opened you up slowly and deliberately as he dragged it the length of your sex to collect as much of your juices as he could on his tongue. Goddamn you were so fucking sweet.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his vocal chords vibrating against your entrance as the taste of you filled his mouth and tingled on his taste buds. The pad of his tongue hit your clit and your jolted into the door, the over-stimulation sending shock waves through your needy body. The lieutenant became no better than a dog lapping at you with reckless abandon, a man possessed and intoxicated by how the heat from your thighs felt against his face as he absolutely worshiped that sweet little pussy. Those fingertips digging into the meat of your hips tingled as his hunger for you consumed him; he would have been content to lap at your juices for hours until his face was smothered, until he couldn’t breathe and his mask had your scent fused into the fibers.

Even faster than before, the feeling of that beefy tongue playing around your clit with his nose nudging eagerly against your entrance brought you back to the edge of your orgasm. Tears streamed out from the corner of your eyes and onto your chest as your overstimulated sex yearned for completion, hoping that at least this time you would be allowed to come all over his mysterious face. You gripped your finger tighter in your bound hands to hold on for dear life.

“That tongue is gonna kill me,” you cried out, your legs shaking as they did their best to keep you upright. “Fuck, yes baby, make me come.”

That was the one thing that Ghost did not want to hear yet, as it meant that his feast would have to end even though he wasn’t done with his teasing yet. He meant every single word of the promise he made to discipline you for your disrespect and he intended to keep it; you weren’t going to leave his bed this time without being completely and utterly obsessed with him and all he could do for you. With a frustrated but ultimately satisfied sigh, he pulled his tongue away and locked your hips into place with his hands to keep you from backing up against him until he was clear of your cunt.

You whimpered and whined so pathetically you did not even care about sounding tough anymore. This was too much for anyone to handle and all you wanted was for him to give you your deserved release. Burying your face against the hard surface of the door, you continued your barrage of annoyed and desperate sounds until a gentle touch helped you to turn over to face him once again.

As he came into view, you could see just how much damage had been done to the beast of a man before you. That mask of his was soaked from your juices and his saliva had rolled down to his chin making him look feral. The fabric was so stuck to the center of his face that it was gonna be a bitch to remove, but that twisted grin plastered on his face let you know that he had enjoyed every last second of being buried between your legs.

“Are you going to behave for me from now on?” he growled as he wiped his exposed mouth with the back of his hand. Silently you nodded, but that wasn’t enough. “Use your words, baby girl,” he demanded. “Say ‘I will be a good girl for you’, say ‘I’ll never stray again’.”

You licked your parched lips. “I will be a good girl for you,” you whined. “So good, I’ll never stray again.”

“Say ‘I belong to you and only you’. Moan it, loud. I want them to hear it outside that fucking door.”

“I belong to you and only you, I promise baby,” you reassured as loudly as you could, not giving a fuck who heard it and secretly wanting someone to. “I don’t want anyone, but you.”

“You’re fucking right, luv. You are my property. Mine,” he growled and just like that it was over; you had served your time and now you both had earned that little death that would drown you in ecstasy.

Those lips that had touched everywhere except your own finally connected as Ghost leaned into your trembling naked body. You could taste yourself on his mouth as his lips danced aggressively with your own, pressing so hard you could feel a swelling from the pressure; another part for him to needlessly claim as it was already his. Reaching above your head he undid the restraints to let your wrists fall free, returning your arms back to you. Immediately you made your way to the waistband of his pants still loosely hanging on about his waist and hungrily tried to push them down off his hips; that cock was yours and you weren’t taking no for an answer anymore.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolded as he held your hand against his hip, “you want me to fuck you good and proper, you know what I’m going to want.”

Fuck, your clit was so swollen you thought you would pass out, your body sweaty and aching something fierce. All you wanted was to relieve the pressure, have him to throw you onto his bed and open your legs so that he could rut into you like the absolute cum slut you were. You whimpered when you realized he still had enough sense to continued to torture you.

Simon leaned in closer, his chest firm against your scant top so that your breasts were pressed to him. “Just start moving those beautiful lips for me,” he purred in that gravely tone that he played up for the effect of making you throb harder for him, “and beg. If you want me to get that fucking ache deep inside, I’m going to need a bit more from you.”

There was no more fight left in you to disobey him; whatever he wanted you would give in without question just to have him let you come. “P-please,” you said with agitation that you had been broken.

His strong, rough grip found your jawline to hold still as he ran his large thumb across your lips before he leaned in forward. His warm breath hit your earlobe as he rested at the side of your head. “Please, what?” he pushed, his voice lowering into that register that made you wild. “Use your words and say my name; I need you to get used to using it. You’ll be screaming it often after tonight. Say: Fuck me Simon, please.”

Through gritted teeth you tried to remain sane. “Please, fuck me Simon,” you repeated the phrase he had given you to parrot. This was the first time you had ever used his real name and fuck did it feel perfect tumbling off your tongue.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, “that wasn’t good enough.”

He scooped you up in his arms and quickly moved you both over to his bed where to shoved you down onto the surface while pulling your crop top and bra up over your head in one move. Those pants that had somehow stayed put around his hips all this time were finally shoved off the curve of his ass and onto the ground, leaving him exposed in all his beautiful glory as he took his seat next to you on the mattress.

Roughly you were pulled directly over his lap, his throbbing phallus waiting impatiently between your dripping thighs. He took one leg into each of his large hands to spread you wide and tilted you both back so that he could better position himself under your entrance and when he was aligned he situated his cock between your petals and rocked you back and forth to coat him as he teased your core. You squirmed in his grasp, trying to move your hips so that he would enter you, but it was no use; he had you in his grasp and at his mercy.

“Now,” he cleared his throat, breathing deeply to slow his rapid heartbeat as he stroked himself through you. “Repeat it again or you will have to wait longer, luv.”

Goddamn him for having so much fucking control. How could anyone be expected to be anything less than a fucking mess when a giant of a man is encompassing your entire body with his massive one as his cock was teasing your aching hole by being so close and yet so far from hitting the back of your cervix? Under those circumstances you were doing quite fucking well.

“P-please, Simon, fuck me,” you said louder and more enthusiastically this time. “Fuck me until I can’t take it anymore. Until the walls know the sound of my moans, until the entire unit knows how well I scream your name. Fuck, please baby I need it.”

Those hands holding up your thighs dug in further to the supple flesh with strong fingertips enough to make you gasp. “Good girl,” he praised. “You’re such a fucking whore for me, aren’t you? And now I am going to ruin you for anyone else.”

He rocked you both back and then forward quickly to where you were pushed down over top of his cock as he thrust upward with his pelvis. The action made you take him in down to the hilt all at once and filled you completely until you could not take another centimeter.

“Fuck,” he groaned forcefully as you took him all in… so tight, so wet, he could feel his muscles strain as he bottomed out inside you.

You mewled at the feeling of him stretching you out so quickly, his girth almost more than the walls of your pussy could handle. Fuck, you were so full of him that when he finally pulled out of you it would feel so goddamn empty it would physically hurt. A twitch of that ungodly thick appendage inside you made you whine.

“That’s right,” he praised, “take it all, I know you can, you little bitch. Uuugh…goddamn.”

Those powerful arms locked themselves around your waist as he used your body as his own personal fleshlight, making you bounce with force up and down on him at his unyielding pace; you may have been the one to be punished, but making him wait was just as much torture and he had to reclaim every last second of time he was not inside of you by fucking you with a ferocity that left you completely destroyed. You could only sit and take every last delectable inch that he gave you as his massive girth stretched your walls with every thrust of his pelvis upward. The room was filled with the wet, sticky music of your bodies slapping against each other as he worked your hole as if this was the last chance he would get to fuck you and he needed to make it count. This wasn’t love, not something tender, but only pure animalistic lust and the more he stroked in and out of you the more he needed. Simon’s mind was consumed with only you and how you made him feel in that moment: powerful.

“I should call Soap in here and make him watch you get fucked like this by me,” the gravel in his thickly accented voice getting even deeper with the ungodly feeling of you wrapped so tight around him as he pounded slow and hard into you over and over again. “Would you like that, hmm? Making your little boy toy watch you get fucked by a real man, letting him know that what he got tonight is all he is ever going to get from you? You want him to hear you screaming my name while I fill this sweet pussy with all I got?”

Fucking hell he was voracious in his need to claim you and it made your body shiver from being overwhelmed with animalistic prowess. No one had ever wanted you this much, especially a man at the peak of his masculine power, and the exhilaration of being so completely desired beyond reason was overwhelmingly euphoric.

“Yes,” your slack-jawed mouth breathed out. “I want everyone to know I’m yours. That they can’t touch me or else. I want to show everyone what a good girl I am for you and only you.”

“Oh, fuck baby,” he whimpered as your words made your body respond by contracting around him as you bore down with the conviction of your statement, “I can feel you clenching around me. My little whore loves to think about everyone knowing our secret, doesn’t she?”

Goddammit, that was such an erotic thought, making Johnny or anyone really watch as he owned you. It was like the type of domination a dog feels when marking its territory; Simon would have loved for the whole damn team to see your tits bounce as you rode his cock, your cries of pleasure being the soundtrack to the show.

Harder and faster, his frenzied pace drilled his cock into you relentlessly as those thoughts filled his mind and made him ravenous for the sensation of your body. He had waited so long for this, dreampt of this, pleaded for this, and it felt just as exhilarating as that first time if not more because now he knew he could have this whenever the fuck he wanted. If he could have kicked his own ass for trying to deny you both from this bliss, he would have in an instant, but never again would he let this go.

Those strong arms wrapped around your middle to keep you steady as he held on so tightly you felt your torso being crushed, but it did not matter as the angle of his penetration hit its mark consistently each and every time. You leaned fully back into him, your arms wrapping backward around his shoulders so that you could rest your head on them while your ear was filled with the sound of his primal grunting.

His view was instantly filled with your perky chest jiggling as each of his thrusts sent shock waves through you to make them dance and goddamn was it a delicious sight. Since your arms secured you more to him, he was able to release one of his from around your waist and it slithered up so that his hand could find it’s place around your neck; such a perfect necklace for his special girl, one befitting of your unique tastes.

“Do you even know what I would do for you? Do you know how deep my lust for you goes? How much I want to possess you?” he growled as his hand tightened around your slender throat.

Without warning he had pulled out of you only briefly so that he could aggressively flip you over onto your back, getting into position by kneeling in front of you as he threw your legs onto his broad, sculpted shoulders before he gripped your hips and instantly reentered you. The new position helped him to reach even deeper and you mewled loudly, your head flying back as your hands clenched his sheets in your fists at the sensation. You pulled your head up to look into his eyes as he again picked up his desperate pace, his abs glistening with sweat as they contracted and released after each thrust. Those brown eyes sparkled with a fire you had never seen before and you loved it.

“I would burn this place to the fucking ground just to bury myself in that perfect cunt as much as I please,” he growled deep and primal. “Fucking hell baby, I won’t be able to ever get enough.”

Those words were the catalyst for the warmth now spreading out from within your belly to making your limbs tingle as everything was focused on your orgasm. It was so close you could taste it and you felt confident that this was the time he would let you finally release; there was no way he could stop himself, not with the way his hips were pounding into you.

“I am yours to use whenever you please,” you groaned as your body writhed wildly. “Use me, fucking use me.”

You keep talking like that and you wouldn’t be able to perform your duties for the 141 because you’d be kept far too exhausted to function by him making sure you stayed plastered around his dick constantly. That wasn’t a bad idea at all, having you at his beck and call whenever he needed it: after a stressful mission, during the middle of an uneventful one, at all hours whenever he needed a quick fix where he could simply pull you into any secluded space. This was the start of something destructive, but screw it this is what he wanted and god did that put him on the very edge of his own orgasm.

“Oh God, oh fucking God, Simon,” your husky breath carried the words upon it for the third and hopefully final time, breaking him from his thoughts as your cries to the heavens could only mean one this.

And shit did that make Simon smile; after all the time he had edged you this night there was no chance in hell you wouldn’t come with fury. “That’s it, luv,” he praised as he kept the pace steady, “you going come for me? Your orgasm belongs to me and I demand it.”

“Fuck, Simon, just don’t stop,” you whined.

That is exactly what he did, not changing a single thing that would disrupt the gathering sensation of ecstasy inside your core. No, this train was barreling down the tracks faster by the minute and he craved above all else to be brought to his own end by your climax alone. To feel those silky walls flutter around him before you clamped down hard, squeezing him just right so that he would be forced to come; he wouldn’t settle for anything less.

“Come for me,” he demanded as he tried desperately to hold off from bursting, “let me feel that pussy clench.”

A few more pumps of him deep in your core and that was it, like a hot flash of white light you cried out in shaky whimpers as your orgasm tore through with such force you nearly shot off the bed as your back arched and your hips bucked harshly into him. “Goddammit Simon, fuck.”

Through your cries he picked up the pace and finally the warmth that had been building shot through his body, coursing like a burning river of fire through his veins as he ripped his cock out of you and through your thighs from your legs still perched on his shoulders to cover your stomach in his steaming hot semen. The roar he released as his body shook while he drained his cock dry over top of you until he had no more left in him to give sounded like a wild animal and you could not have enjoyed it more than you did; you were the one to make him come with such force he was reduced to his more basic instincts.

Simon’s head hung slack against your calves as his unsteady breath slowly returned to a more tolerable rhythm and only then did he remove your legs from his shoulders and rolled over to sit beside you, an exhausted sack of flesh completely sated for the moment. Leaning over he reached under the edge of the bed, producing an old t-shirt out from under it which he handed to you so that you could wipe his milky fluids off your torso.

He was already sitting back propped against his pillows with a cigarette in his mouth by the time you finished up and you moved back in the bed to join him. Holding out his fingers with the lit stick of tobacco between them, he offered you a hit and you graciously took it; this was an intense night worthy of a bit of nicotine to take the edge off.

With a more relaxed gaze he looked upon you, admiring the bright flush of your cheeks that was also spread across your chest and the contented glisten in your eyes, all evidence that he had done his job. Bringing his hand up he combed his fingers through your hair until he reached the back of your head where he held them wrapped in the strands a moment. “You did so well for me baby,” his stern praise soothed. “And are you going to continue to be my perfectly little slut?”

You nodded your head, just gazing back into those amber eyes that looked on your wrecked state as if you were a masterpiece. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” the corners of his mouth upturned slightly as he took back his cig from you to take another lazy drag. “I suggest you rest up now sweetheart because once I can get it back up we are going to go at least one more round before I’m finished. We still got plenty of night left and we are going to take full fucking advantage of it.”

A main course and dessert? That was more than agreeable, considering how long you had waited for this to happen in the first place. “Fine,” you said as you rolled onto your side, resting your arm on your hip with a sudden renewed sense of entitlement quickly coming back on, “but this time I will be the one on top. Otherwise you can kiss this sweet ass goodbye as I walk right out that door.”

Simon chuckled. “Oh you are a tough one to crack, sweetheart. Best be glad that precious little cunt you have resting between those legs is more than worth the trouble. And that I am a man that loves a challenge. This whole thing is just getting started and I am more than confident that by the end I will have broken this feral kitten into a perfectly docile house cat.”

You hoped he would fucking try cause what a ride that would be, but if anyone could break you it would be him. He handed the cig back to you one more time and you again accepted it. “We shall see, sir,” you breathed out the smoke from the side of your mouth. “We shall see.”

Challenge accepted.

***

On the other side of the door, a set of unaware prying ears had caught wind of noise as they passed by. They had not meant to, but curiosity is a bitch of a temptress and soon they were within range enough to clearly hear the moans and whimpers, the groans and growls, currently reverberating off the walls of the room. The person had not realized where it was they found themselves as they had simply been taking a walk to clear their head, but soon it became apparent that this was the private quarters of that misanthrope of a lieutenant.

At first they couldn’t help but snicker under their breath, congratulating the quiet man at getting some action because why not? It wasn’t until the voice of the female had actually began to speak instead of moan that their blood pressure rose and they could feel their heartbeat in their ears. It was you that Ghost was currently making come and that did not sit right with them, not at all.

Who said he got to lay claims when they were the one putting in all the effort, when there had clearly been chemistry between you both? No, this wasn’t how it was going to be. He would not take this lying down, rolling over and showing his belly in intimidation by the much bigger officer as he stole you away all to himself. The eavesdropper had as much stake in you as him and if Ghost thought he could simply take you as easily as that, then he had another thing coming.

A mohawked head quickly turned about face and headed back to his own quarters, drunkenly promising himself that it did not matter what Ghost had made you promise or what you had just declared through your sated ecstasy, he would show you that he could be just as every bit as good as the old lieutenant himself.

#ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simin ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod mw2 #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost cod smut #cod smut #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mw2 #soap cod

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nctstar · 1 year

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hi! i just read "one, two..." with djj × female pairing and i was wondering if you could maybe do a jeno, haechan and mark/jaemin version? i love your works!

your wish is my command bsf <3 also thank you so much! means a lot :)

don't let us kinkshame you!

“Don’t talk back to me. If you want to stop, we’ll stop. But don’t stop because you’re shy. Tell us what you want, baby.”

“Yeah, _. Don’t let us kinkshame you.”

pairing: markhyuckno x fem!reader, stylist!reader

other members: chenle (poor dude has no idea)

word count: 7.2k

genre: smut

warnings: this is purely a graphic smut so minors please dni!! foursome, everything is consensual (safeword is established + mentioned), dom!marhyuckno (hard dom!jeno), sub!reader, fanfiction smut is a main theme in this, wet dreams, alpha/omega/beta kink, alpha!jeno, sir kink, sort of muscle/size kink (i'm sorry but bulging biceps make me go insane), unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you get silly folks), rough sex (reader is manhandled/held down), degradation (liberal use of the words slut, whore, brat + other degrading terms), everyone has a ginormous dick, slight praise kink, sort of pain play (not really) intense orgasms, squirting, fingering (fem receiving), humiliation, oral (male receiving), nipple play, riding, crying during sex, spanking, begging, punishing reader sexually, profanity

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic.

a/n: thank you anon and sorry this is definitely the nastiest thing to ever come out of my imagination and onto my laptop. i think i'm on some sort of watchlist for sure

“Have you read it, _?”

“Read what?” The sound of the hairdryer muffled most sounds in the room, including Mark’s voice as you watched his mouth open and close with his answer. Running your hands through Haechan’s semi-dry locks, you noticed a lit-up phone in front of your face. Squinting, you read while your hands worked.

poison | alpha! jeno x reader | 18+

You swallowed thickly, but quickly composed yourself. Swiping the hairbrush off the dresser, you glanced at Haechan in the mirror, setting his hair at the same time. “Sounds like more action than you two would ever get in a week…combined.”

Haechan rolled his tongue inside his cheek, playfully annoyed while Mark remained undeterred, his eyes still glued to his phone. His eyes suddenly widen, and he looks away, a mix of morbid curiosity and shock in his eyes. “Damn...”

Haechan sneered. “Got a boner there, Mr Lee?”

An empty can of hairspray bounced off Haechan’s forehead with a dull thump, Mark’s chair now swivelled around to face him. “Guys! Let me do my job! We only have, like, 2 minutes to go, and Haechan, your damn hair isn’t setting.”

“I have to dye it every 2 minutes because I have a comeback that often, remember?”

“Have you been using the treatment I gave you last session?”

“Why? Would you give me a reward if I did?” His deep brown irises glistened under the harsh white lights as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Smacking his shoulder in response, you tried to hide the way your heart was fluttering inside your chest, like a million butterflies trapped in a glass jar. “Lee Donghyuck!”

“It’s okay baby, it’ll be better next time.”

“Gross.” Embarrassingly, you felt your core twitch at the mere thought of those words being taken out of context. “Such a dirty mind. You sure you didn’t write that alpha fic?”

You were getting brave, but something inside of you forced you to keep going. Haechan scoffed, rolling his eyes and swinging one leg over the other. “Yeah, I don’t have the hots for Jeno. Mark might, though.”

“Say it one more time, Donghyuck, I’m warning you.” Mark was shrugging the salon cape off himself, brushing lint off the stage jacket. He towered over his hairstylist, on her tiptoes as she fixed the strands of hair that spiked strategically on his forehead. His undercut teased you from the side, and you swallowed deeply, thinking about last night. As if on cue, Mark turned to look at you, as quick as you would glance at the barista for your morning coffee. “See you later.”

That was code for see you later with my cock down your throat.

∞

“Nghhh, Mark.”

“You’re doing so well, baby. Think you can go a few more times?”

You nodded slowly, the swollen bulb of his cock sticking onto the remnants of your lipgloss.

“Fuck, such a perfect slut. How did we get so lucky, hmm?” Your hair tangled in his long fingers, he pierced you on his thick length, tapping your cheek with his other hand when you gagged loudly. “Shhh, quieter. Don’t want anyone else to hear, yeah?”

You whimpered softly, desperately trying to open wider to accommodate him. He pushed you deep until your nose grazed his pubic bone, your hands immediately coming to his thighs as a reflex. “Good fucking girl. God, I’m so close. All for you, baby.” You pushed on his thighs when you felt your throat restrict uncomfortably, coughing up saliva as you soon as his cock left your mouth.

Mark tipped your head up to face him, your watery eyes staring back at him. “Gonna make you feel so good after this, yeah?” His thumb pressed down on your tongue hard, forcing drool to slide down your chin. “Use your words, slut. Tell me how much you need my cock.”

Mark was usually mean, but today he was mean mean, and, though you were taken aback, you couldn’t say you hated it.

Garbled sounds left your mouth as Mark slipped his other fingers inside your mouth, forcing you to babble nonsense at him. He laughed darkly. “So pathetic.”

“Mark, please.” You gasped as he released your mouth, fingers now grabbing your chin tightly. “Wanna make you feel so good, s-sir.”

“Wanna make your alpha feel good, baby?” You froze immediately, the word alpha stunning you into place like a deer caught in headlights.

You and Mark stared at each other for much longer than would normally be considered sexy, the energy in the air quickly changing into something painstakingly awkward. Not wanting to lose the momentum you both had gathered or, worse, discuss what just happened, you grabbed at his cock and shoved your mouth onto him, making him stumble backwards and groan. The air was filled with sounds of sloppy head, all caution thrown out the window as you bobbed your head through his orgasm, not stopping until you felt hot spurts of cum shooting down your throat.

∞

“Mark, I will never let you forget this.”

“Haechan, be serious here.” Mark unbuttoned the top of his jeans, breathing out in relief as the seams on the size-too-small pants released its iron-clad grip on his body. The inside of the car was dark, the only light being that coming from Haechan’s phone, illuminating the bottom of his face and lips, now curled into a teasing smirk.

Haechan leant forward, seemingly trying to hide the impending conversation from the poor staff member tasked on driving them back to their dorm. “You used the word alpha unironically while you were making _ suck your dick? I’m actually fucking dying right now.”

“Oh my god, yes, we get it, I tried something new and it failed miserably.” Mark hissed under his break, sneaking one glance behind him. “But what was weirder is…well, you should have seen the look on her face. It’s like she got caught or something.”

Haechan chuckled lowly. “Or maybe she was just weirded the hell out, Mark.”

“Well,” Mark scratched at his head, the hair gel residue now itching at his scalp. “We usually…do more. But today, she just ran out after that and didn’t say anything else.”

“Good job, Milk. You just ruined your chances at sex with her forever, you freak.”

Mark sighed, pretending not to have heard him and frowning as if deep in thought. Haechan raised one eyebrow. “You don’t mean to say…”

“What?”

“That’s not what you’re insinuating, is it?” The car began to slow, and both men became wary of the newfound quiet inside the car as they cruised down a near-empty suburb, the odd man or woman dimly lit by passing streetlights as the walked by. “What are you talking about right now?” As Haechan reshuffled himself on his seat to get closer to Mark, one leg brushed past his, and he cleared his throat, trying to be as unsuspecting as possible.

“You think she’s into that kinda stuff?”

“Well, why would she run away then?”

“Think about what we were doing before this.” The words felt unsure even as they left his mouth, hanging in the air with uncertainty. It was too ridiculous no matter how he looked at it. But just he had to say it.

The elephant in the room.

“Wait, wait. That’s her story?”

“Woah.” Haechan put down his phone officially, the car now shrouded in a new darkness, both men squinting to make out the other’s face. “I meant that she might have read it. Not that she…well.” He was visibly puzzled now, his voice faint but quick like a flurry of feathers. “I mean, there’s that possibility. But maybe she was into it, and you reminding her of it made her embarrassed.”

“But why would she be embarrassed? We do worse things, for sure.”

“Okay, first of all, gross. Second, she probably hasn’t accepted it herself. I mean, that fic…” He leant back, his jacket crinkling loud in the almost silent car. “There’s stuff in there that goes way beyond your regular wild kinks and shit.”

“She doesn’t strike me as that kind of girl.” Both men sit in silence for a while, letting that sink in. “I mean…she would be confident enough to be bolder about that kind of thing, you know? She’s the kinda girl that knows what she wants, when she wants it, exactly how she wants it.”

“Right.” Haechan bit his lip, trying to hold back the words that’s so fucking sexy for fear of being teased mercilessly for months. He knew you belonged to no one, yet there was a part of him that recognised that you would probably never choose him to have your way with. The way you looked at Mark, eyes glazing over in deep submission, a stark contrast to the way you looked at him, so many things hidden behind those playful, bratty eyes.

Mark hummed under his breath, phone now in hand. “She’s coming tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I think it’s her shift tomorrow.” Haechan didn’t think, he knew. He knew you worked Mondays and Fridays and the occasional Wednesday, always arriving between 13 to 16 minutes early to go to the bathroom first, stepping into the dressing room just a minute before and no later. It was creepy, for sure, but he couldn’t help it. He felt the need to be ready whenever you were there. He needed you to see him only in the ways he wanted, layers of banter and smooth mannerisms hiding his true feelings underneath, the way his heart slammed against his ribcage and threatened to break free whenever you moved close.

“Well, we’ll see how she reacts then.” Mark slouched against his seat, his voice fading away as his attention shifted, and Haechan marvelled at how five second thoughts of you had rendered him completely amnesiac to what he was just talking about with Mark. He closed his eyes, letting his body naturally drift off into an exhausted slumber.

∞

“Hey boys.”

Your satin-clad hips swayed back and forth as you walked, one hand re-applying your gloss for what felt like the dozenth time. “Anyone need a touch up or are we all good here?”

Mark was surprised at your easy demeanour, as if nothing was ever going on between you guys, let alone the encounter you two had had only yesterday. He cleared his throat, sweat dripping down his forehead as another staff member helped him unzip his top from the back. “You look…nice.” He wondered if it was obvious that he was trying to keep his eyes locked on your face, not wanting his gaze to linger too much on your body.

“Yeah, I’m dressed for the event after this. That’s still happening, right?” Your heels clacked against the linoleum floor as you stepped forward. Haechan was only two steps ahead of you, his hair in the hands of another stylist. You whispered something to her and she let go, walking away with the gel stick still in her hand. “Look forward.”

“Didn’t really strike me as the party type, _.” Your last name drawled off his lips, lazy and nonchalant. “Always stroke me as weird book girl in the corner type.”

“And what if I am?” You started backcombing his stiff strands, grimacing at the residue the gel was leaving and the way it was inevitably mixing with his sweat. “I can be both, can’t I?”

“Sure. You could be a writer, couldn’t you, _?”

Haechan could have sworn that even for a split second, a moment so small, so blink and you’ll miss it, that you hesitated. Your hands shook with the energy of a tiny hummingbird flapping its wings, so swift it stopped as soon as it registered. “Nah.” You sounded different now, like you were feigning innocence to hide the fact that he had cornered you.

Mark and Haechan shared a knowing side-eye as Haechan felt firm pulls on his scalp. “You should probably get going, Mark.” His name fell solid in the air as it left your mouth, as certain as a command would be, and your peripheral vision caught the ends of his body as he packed up his things and left soundlessly.

It was only you and Haechan in the room now, the other stylists now long gone (a/n: how convenient!), leaving behind only the mess of a true makeup studio, products strewn haphazardly across the plastic dressers. You watched Haechan lick his lips on instinct in the mirror, only now noticing the various sticky notes adorned with Korean letters you weren’t too familiar with. “No, don’t. You’ll mess up the- oh, never mind.” You sighed, but it didn’t feel relieving at all, as if your muscles were constricting up again instead of letting go. Haechan talked at your reflection. “Sorry.”

A whirl of your arm sent his chair turning so he was now facing you, bending over to match his eye level. “Hold still.” As your breaths played out of sync, you were hyper aware of every sensation. The way your hairs stood on end. The smell of his musky cologne now filling your nostrils. Your bare legs suddenly burning hot, slightly brushing against the inside of his knees. Your eyes fighting to stay up at his face and not stray downwards. “That’s it.” You glazed his lips over with your applicator, gripping the tube and the arm of the chair in one hand.

You were used to these intimate positions, particularly with the job you had. But, as you realised you had just applied your own lipgloss onto him, a different feeling was dawning on you.

As you locked eyes, Haechan spoke, bold and ready. “It would be insane if you didn’t kiss me right now.”

The first noticeable sensation was the sticky mess that threatened to spread over the edges of both of your lips, lewd sucking noises now filling the air as you both dived deeper. Your tongue flitted over his lips and he groaned. “Fuck.” Readjusting in his chair, he slapped his thigh. “Sit, sit.”

“No.” Pulling away, you turned his chair once again to face the mirror and patted his shoulder. “Stand up.”

“W-wh…” Confused, he stumbled off anyway, wheels turning and the seat rolling away from the impact of his stand. He turned to face you.

“Good boy.” You smirked, lips now grazing the supple skin of his Adam’s apple, hands travelling down to his pants. “Is this what you wanted all along, baby?”

He stared, eyes slightly glassy, rimmed with smudged black kohl. Tilting his head back, he breathed soft moans onto your skin as you sucked on his neck, red blooming onto his olive skin. “A-ah.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, I need you right now, Hyuck.” Something about using his real name felt too intimate, affectionate even, and he kissed you as you unbuckled him, semi-stiff cock hitting your clothed pelvis. Pushing him back onto the vanity, you angled yourself, him eventually helping you by giving you a small lift once he realised what was happening. Up on your toes, one leg slightly elevated, you let your walls suck him in all at once. “O-oh, fuck.”

He thrusted upwards, iron grip on your hips unchanging as you clawed at his back, the studs on his jacket rough underneath the pads of your fingers. The pleasure was spreading to your chest, rendering you speechless. “Oh my god, oh, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You begged, feeling your thighs slip against each other as your own arousal dripped down your legs.

“_? You sleeping right now?”

You awoke with a gasp, your phone clattering onto the tiles as you sat up. “Woah, take it easy. You alright?” He leant over to pick up your thankfully intact phone, shuffling closer with one arm outstretched and eyebrows gently raised.

Before you was Lee Jeno, blonde hair grazing the top edges of his round eyes, body bulging against the thin fabric of the white shirt. His waist accentuated by a thick leather belt, you noticed the outskirts of his toned stomach peeking out from under his top. Gulping, you nodded. “Y-yeah. Thanks, um…” His name died on your lips, as if some sort of curse prevented you from ever uttering it.

“Here. You sure you’re okay? You were sleeping pretty deeply, even in this noise. Sorry, I didn’t know if I should wake you…”

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, I’m the crazy one, right? Sleeping at a party!” You tried to laugh it off, but a snort came out instead, and you blushed intensely. Oh my god. This is so embarrassing.

Unfazed, Jeno smiled, eyes turning into semicircles as he did. “It would be fine if you went home, you know.” He tilted his head, blonde hairs perfectly aligning to one side. The charisma radiating off him froze you in place, and you had to unglue your eyes from his face. “Ah, yeah.” Truthfully, your body felt like it had been through a dryer, and your joints were cracking like popcorn. You needed sleep for sure.

He jumped from the couch, letting you bounce slightly. Looking up, he extended his arm. “Come. I’ll drop you off.”

∞

You felt exposed. Not only because you were in the skimpiest outfit you owned, but because halfway through you and Jeno’s exit from the party, he had decided it was too cold and had changed into a hoodie and sweats, making him look less and less like a colleague or client or even friend and more like an idol sugar daddy. Nevertheless, you didn’t oppose his company, and you both rode back in silence, his knees knocking into yours occasionally, making your heart flip each time.

It’s not that he made you nervous, typically, despite your tiny little crush on him. But it was the way he woke you up right in the middle of your wet dream with another man, mere hours after his bandmate had you on your knees sucking him off. Every time he leaned over, your name leaving his lips so effortlessly as you stumbled over yours, your hands shook with the thoughts than ran wild in your brain. Did he know? You wondered, as he droned over some tiktok video, whether he knew about your sexual rendezvous with his bandmates, some real and some imagined, and the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach only grew as time passed.

It didn’t change as you had reached in your apartment, him somehow still on the topic he was on in the car, now manspreading onto your couch as you sat quietly across from him.

“But like, do you get it, _?” He sipped on the coffee you had made for him, marvelling at how quickly he drank something that usually took you an hour to finish. “Not bad. But why would he even do that, you know? Maybe she didn’t realise that he knew, but oh boy, he definitely knew.”

“Right.” To be clear, you had lost the plot ages ago, shamelessly thinking more about how close in proximity your bodies were, how comfortable he suddenly was around you, and what it all meant. “Do you want, uh, something else.” Shyly gesturing at his empty mug, you tucked hair behind your right ear, the movement unsteady.

He stared directly at you now, letting your anxiety rise and fill the space between your bodies. Holding the gaze, he dropped the mug in front of himself on the table, only then dropping his head dramatically in between his collarbones. You frowned.

“Sorry.” He muttered. “I must be annoying, right.”

“No, no, not at all!” Your voice was much more high-pitched than a woman with any self-esteem, but you kept going. “I mean, that’s fine, Jeno, really. It’s nice to see you, like passionate, and um…” Your babbling continued, and he only smirked in response. Your stomach turned as you suddenly watched as his eyes change, darken around the edges. Suddenly the lights in your apartment felt harsh, exposing, like the lights on a fresh crime scene.

“_. I know about the fic.”

“What fic?” It was on instinct, but your ears starting ringing, blood running cold in your hands and feet. This isn’t real. This is another dream.

“Awww, don’t be embarrassed, baby. It’s okay to think those things about me.” He slumped backwards, one arm around the back of the couch, a subtle cocky smile starting to bloom across his face. “Markie told me how good you are anyway.”

“Jeno…” You fought the urge to gasp, your face burning from the inside out. “I, wait, um…”

“Shh, stop that.” He leaned forward with an almost-too-eager attitude, but he held himself back as he spread his knees wide, pointing at the ground. “Here.”

“Fuck, this isn’t happening.” Your hair whipped the sides of your face as you shook your head vigorously, slowly gazing up at his long frame as you did. You swore you heard him laugh quietly. “This is another dream, isn’t it.”

“So you dream about me?”

“No, it was about Hae-“ Jeno’s eyes widened before he guffawed loudly. “Fuck, _, you’re nastier than I thought. Was he good? Better than Mark?”

It was your turn to be shocked, eyes widening as he shook his head, letting his hair ride up his forehead. “Why, did you think it was a well-kept secret? Have you seen Mark? He glows with the radiance of a man who gets his dick sucked on the regular.”

“Jeno.” You wanted to be stern, but your voice came out kind of soft, almost like a whimper.

Jeno rolled his eyes. “Stop stalling, _. You heard me the first time.”

“But-“

“But what? If you want to stop, you can just say cherry. That’s what her Jeno told her to say, right?”

He had read the entire thing. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening.

As your body filled with an airy energy, you realised you were actually getting horny. He wanted you, maybe even needed you, and that filled your stomach with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. You slowly gulped, hearing the couch shuffle as you moved off it, walking over to him.

“Good girl. On your knees, baby.” You obeyed silently, eyes onto the floor as you waited.

“What are you waiting for, slut?” You felt Jeno’s rough hands grab the short strands of your hair, making you squeal like a tiny animal. “Do you wanna go home without tasting alpha’s big cock tonight, hmm?”

“Nnngh…n-no.” You eyes began to water at the force pulling on your scalp, hands fumbling around the waistband of his grey sweatpants. Your heart began to pound as you eyed the sizable bulge he was forming in his boxers.

“That’s it. Now hands behind your back.” As his length sprung out of the tight confines of his underwear, you cried out as it hit you square in the nose. “O-oh my god. Oh…fuck, wait, I don’t know.” Feeling Jeno’s unforgiving grip on your head keeping you dangerously close to him. you brought your palms to his knees, ready to push him away.

“What is it now?”

You shook your head, throat constricting already at the thought of his length inside your mouth. “It’s…well…fuck, it’s huge.”

As you looked up at him, you watched him give you a condescending smile. “Do you think alpha cares about you, baby, hmm? Why are you telling me all this? I don’t give a flying fuck. You either take all of me, or you leave. But you’ll leave a bad omega.”

Any other scenario where someone said something like this would have made you cringe, maybe even laugh, but today you felt your breath catch inside your lungs, as if someone was squeezing them extra tight. Word for word from the fic.

Whimpering, you folded both your palms around his girth, making him hiss. “Oh fuck, can’t even wrap my hands around it.” you whispered.

“You guys started without us?”

You jumped off your knees, your brain already forming the myriad of excuses before the initial shock settled and the words finally registered. “What the hell are you two doing in my apartment?” You glared at Mark, and now Haechan, who was slowly starting to come out of the shadows like a creepy stalker.

“Spare key.” The metal glinted as he hung the keychain off his fingers before grabbing it in midair. The same key you had handed Mark a few weeks ago, back when your little sessions were becoming daily (or multiple times a day) and you were sick of having to do the whole thing where he would have to come to your place an hour after you had arrived in case people were following him, or worse, taking pictures. He would have to wait into ungodly hours into the night on days you worked the night shift, which would let the spontaneous lust you had both gathered over the course of the day fizzle out by the time your tired body came home. You couldn’t be seen together outside of the workplace for various reasons, so having him come first carefully and you after had been working pretty well so far.

Except, well, for times like this.

“Mark!” You exclaimed, now fully facing him and closer to his lean frame, the waft of cologne hitting you as you trodded towards him. “Are you serious? You came here without my permission? And let someone else come too, at that!” Haechan acted insulted at this, mouth parting in mock surprise.

“I’m sorry, baby. But come on, Jeno had a great idea that we just couldn’t miss.” He brought one hand to stroke the side of your face, making you wince slightly. The ends of his fingers were like electricity, having more power over you than you liked to admit. You made eye contact with Haechan, and it was like you were back inside your dream. This. Wasn’t. Happening.

“I-wait…are you guys…seriously, what, you’re not saying-“

“Alright, talk over. Get over here, _. You’ve kept me waiting long enough.” Jeno let one arm hang lazily across the arm of your couch, another one stroking his length at an agonising pace. Your eyes felt like they were bulging out of your sockets, and your stomach churned nervously.

“Stop drooling and suck me off like a good omega. Come on, don’t be shy.”

You were on your knees again, Jeno’s cock at eye level, trying to ignore your newfound audience with a very telling tremble of your legs. Opening your mouth, you began to suck around his tip, the salty precum exploding on your tongue. You felt a hand on the back of your head, and you jerked away immediately. “Stop teasing. Come on, show your alpha and these dumb little betas what you’re good at.” You whined. “Fuck, fuck.” Choked cries filled the air as Jeno impaled you on his cock with one hand, his tip hitting the sensitive part of your throat and making you gag loudly.

As he pulled you off, strings of saliva attached him to your lips, embarrassingly making your core clench around nothing as you marvelled at how filthy this entire situation was. “So big.” Your voice was raspy, juices slathered over your chin as if he’d been fucking your mouth for hours. Jeno let you engulf him whole again, the sloppy sounds becoming more rhythmic as he bounced your face back and forth on him. “Hands off me and behind your back.” You balled your fists as you listened to him, closing your eyes as he groaned in pleasure. “So warm and tight. All for me, yeah?” You shook your head up and down as you hummed in response, looking up and him with your watery eyes.

You watched Jeno’s eyes drift away from you to something behind. “Ah, wait, let me get her off me first.” His voice changed now, you barely comprehended what was happening as you gasped for air post pull-off, before feeling a resounding slap on the back of your bare thighs. “Ah!”

“You think you can just leave me after sucking me off, baby? After all that we’ve been through.” You felt your skirt be pulled up, making you sit back on your heels. “Nuh-uh. Get up, let me see you.”

“Fuck, Mark, I didn’t me-oh!” This time he hit your ass, hard, jolting you onto Jeno’s thigh, his cock still grazing the side of your cheek. “Oh, fuck. Mmm.” You tried to shuffle forward but Jeno grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them on his thigh on one side. “Take it like a good girl.” The sting was immediately compounded by the feeling of our own arousal dripping down your thighs, the nasty realisation dawning on you that these assholes were recreating every scene that was written in that damn fic.

“Oh my god, I just wrote it, I didn’t…ah, Mark,” You whined as he squeeze a sensitive part of the plush on your backside. Between hits, you managed to sound out, “I, oh…ah, I didn’t write it for me – oh fuck! Nngh, didn’t mean it, oh my god.” Tears threatening to spill, you resorted to begging. “Mark, M- sir, please!”

“You called, baby?” Trying to turn your head uncomfortably back, you coughed. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean it?”

“What was that, hmm?” Two fingers in your sopping core and you gasped. “Ah, mmm, sorry, sir, ah…”

“So fucking wet. All from me punishing you like that. Is this what you liked all along, you dirty girl? To be our little sadist fucktoy.” One hand around your shoulders and another still knuckle deep inside you, he pulled you up so that your back hit his clothed chest, grip tight and unfaltering. You moaned, feeling the pads of his fingers curl up towards your g-spot. “S-sir, fuck, so good, so good, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please, want more.” You began to bounce your hips on his fingers, head floaty. A sharp slap across your face brought you back to reality, head whacking against the bony part of Mark’s upper chest. “Fucking whore, moving without permission like that.” Jeno was now gripping the ends of your chin, groin facing you once more. “Finish the job, baby. Don’t fucking care what he’s doing.”

“Yes, alpha.” You could have sworn you heard Haechan sigh, a mixture of pleasure and awe, but the moment passed as you took Jeno’s monstrous length once more, your jaw aching already. Mark took this opportunity to start fucking his fingers into you faster and faster. His teeth grazed your earlobe. “You like this, baby? Or you too busy tasting alpha cock to care?”

Your body squirmed under his arm, feeling his muscles bulge against you. Your head felt like jelly as Jeno pounded into you, one hand pushing your forehead down into place. You felt like a little doll being passed around, a slave to your desires, and you screamed as you came, liquid squirting out of your hole and all over your tiled floor as you did.

Your head began feeling floaty, but Jeno wasn’t giving in, and neither was Mark. You tried to get away from his fingers, core already sensitive from your orgasm, but he began to stroke your pussy once more, making you shake your head. Too much. The words were muffled around Jeno’s length, but they seemed to get the idea. “Just a bit more, baby. Tap me if you want to stop.”

Your hands in place, you let Jeno finish inside your mouth, cum leaking from the edges of your lips even as you swallowed diligently. “What a good omega.” Jeno cooed as you fell forward onto your hands, Mark finally releasing you. “Fuck, that was so good.”

“We’re not done yet, honey.” Your head whipped up, looking at Jeno towering over you, cock now hanging limp. “You haven’t taken your pretty boy-toy yet.”

Meeting Haechan’s eyes, you suddenly felt self-conscious at the way you were – skirt half up your ass, wet thighs and chin, a true testament to how much you had been used. Your eyes travelled to the unmistakable tent in his pants, dawning on you that he wanted you too. “H-Haechan.”

“Should’ve just told me you wanted me, baby? Do you know how many times I wanted to just bend you over and fuck you until you begged me to stop? Now I know what a perfect slut you are…”

“Fuck, Hyuckie…”

“Oh, baby.” He began to unzip his pants, hazelnut skin illuminated in the dim lights as you looked up, crawling over shakily. “Tell me what you want, sweetie.”

“Want you so bad. So…s-so much…”

He stopped in his tracks, eyes rolling and crossing his arms across his chest, much to your dismay. “Seems like you don’t want me that bad.”

“No, fuck, I do, I do, I-“

You felt Jeno’s hand land on the skin of your bare ass, making you flinch and look behind in surprise. “Go beg for cock, baby. I know much you need it. Don’t care who’s it is, do you?”

“N-no, I care, I do.” You weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt frustrated, feeling like you were being teased unfairly. “I need all of you, please, please.”

“Use your words.” Mark’s voice was stern, unwavering, making you squeeze your eyes shut. You felt blood rushing to your head, impairing your ability to think.

“I felt alpha’s cockhead tease my entrance, and I sunk onto his thick length, crying out as I did. I felt so fu-“

“Oh my god, no, stop. Stop.” You tried getting up, but your legs wobbled, making you stumble forward ironically onto Haechan, his hands now on the sides of your arms, steading you. “You alright? What is that?”

“It’s the fucking fic, oh my god.” In the heat of the embarrassment, you hadn’t noticed Haechan drag you onto his lap, letting you hang your head over one shoulder as you buried your face in your hands. “So embarrassing.”

“Another man’s cock, possibly a beta, pushed inside me with my alpha. Nails dragging against my alpha’s muscular back, I cried, saying it was too much, the stretch ripping me apart, but alpha held me down, shushing me. Pain turned to pleasure and I threw my head back, letting my release spray all over the two men, passing out as soon as I did.”

“Holy shit. I hadn’t seen that part.”

“Yeah, it’s part two. She wrote that last night. Probably too horny to go to sleep, were you, baby?” Your tear-streaked face now facing Jeno, you shook your head. “No. I wrote it-“

“Don’t talk back to me. If you want to stop, we’ll stop. But don’t stop because you’re shy. Tell us what you want, baby.”

“Yeah, _. Don’t let us kinkshame you.”

Haechan now sucking on the thin skin of your neck, you gasped, eyes fluttering and your bare pussy now resting on his clothed bulge. “Fuck, uh, need to be fucked, filled, with both of you. Take another in my mouth, please, fuck, I wanna cu-“

“That’s better, slut. Begging to cum like the whore you are, rutting against him like a little bitch in heat. Go ahead, ride him. Do it properly or you’re not cumming again.”

Your hands scrambled for the zipper, Haechan throwing his head back as his hard, long length sprung out of his fly. He groaned and grabbed the back of your neck, squeezing hard as you pumped him impatiently. “Don’t tease.” Lifting yourself up, you aligned your soaking core to his tip, moaning in staccato as you let gravity let all of him be sucked inside you. “H-Hyuck, oh, fuck, so tight.”

He readjusted his hips, making your hair fall in front of your eyes and your hands slam, splayed out onto his upper chest. “Ah…” You moaned as you rode him, feeling every inch pound your insides, tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. Haechan guided your face to his and slammed his lips onto yours, letting your moans escape into his mouth.

Leaving love bites on your collarbone, Haechan dragged one hand under your shirt, rolling the ends of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger. “H-Haechan, oh, wait-“ You cried out as he pinched the end, not hard enough to be excruciating, but enough to be uncomfortable enough to make you cry out, letting some of his length slip out. “Fuck! I’m sensitive, please.” You heard him shush you, your whines lost amongst the sounds of skin slapping skin as you rode him diligently, trying not to slow down as he played with your chest. “Just felt you squeeze around me, good fucking girl. You like having your body played with like a little brat, hmm?”

Jeno pulled your head back by your face, Haechan releasing your left nipple with an agonising pull, making you cry out. Bringing your upper body back to meet his, he wrapped one arm around the bottom of your stomach, firm and unforgiving. “You wanna take alpha too? Hmm?”

Incoherent sounds left your mouth as you felt Haechan’s cock slide out of you, tingling from the closeness of your orgasm. You felt a sharp smack at your core, making you arch your back. “Haaah…fuck! Yes, yes, s-sir!” Trying to shut your legs on impact, you felt Haechan pry them open again, and, with Jeno tipping you forward, you let him slide back in. Haechan wrapped one arm around the back of your shoulders, another on your lower back, pushing you down on him.

“Hghhh, alpha, please…” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for anymore, your voice sore from all that had happened already. Feeling Jeno’s massive bulb press against your core, your breath quickened. “Ah, fuck, what if it doesn’t fi-oh, ah…” You and Haechan moaned in unison, feeling the tight space get even tighter as Jeno pushed inside, inch by inch.

“Fuck, my little omega takes cock so good.” Tears ran freely down your cheeks, the stretch borderline unbearable but addictive. Your muscles sloppy, you gasped. “I’m so stretched out, alpha, please, can’t move…”

“Shh, you just lie there, baby, and cum when you need to, okay?” Jeno’s voice suddenly soft, you felt something warm spread across your stomach. “Yes, y-yes, alpha, trust you, wanna be good f’you, ah…” You cried softly as Jeno started sliding slowly in and out. “So good, alpha, so good, please, fuck me, oh god.” Jeno started picking up his pace, rendering you speechless, squeezing the back of Haechan’s neck as he jerked his hips up in sensitivity. “Oh my god, Haechan…” Burying your mouth into his neck, you felt a tap on your head as soon as you did, looking up in reflex. Haechan let go of your upper body, letting your hips roll against the two cocks now sliding in and out of you at a pace that was only getting faster. “Did you forget about me, honey?”

“N-no, Markie, ah…” Letting your chin rest against the arm of the sofa, Mark slid his cock easily down and out of your throat, letting the saliva messily drip all over his aching length. “Fuck, what a good cockslut. You think you can get me off again, hmm? Swallow it all like a good girl?”

You nodded, but a sharp smack to your ass made you shake and lose your balance, Jeno pulling you back onto his chest again. “Did you ask alpha for permission, brat?” You cried as Jeno pounded you ruthlessly, shaking your head and mumbling apologies in between moans. “What do you want, baby? Use your words. Or I swear to you I’m not letting you cum.”

“Mmm, wanna suck Markie’s cock, alpha, ah! And…swallow his cum, oh, fuck!” Haechan pushed his length harder into you as Jeno pushed your hips down. “Fuck, alpha, fuck, want you and H-Hyuckie to fuck me while I do it, please, please…” You sobbed as Jeno released you, seemingly happy with your words as he snapped his hips into you. “Oh my god…” Your eyes rolled to the back of your eyes, feeling Mark bringing your near his cock as the pleasure made your legs vibrate. “Hang on, baby. Cum with my cock in your mouth.”

“Alpha, cum, please!” You cried, voice disappearing as you choked around Mark’s thick length. Jeno tapped the back of your hips, mumbling something in support just as soon as you saw white, feeling your own juices spray uncontrollably and your hole constrict as you came around both of them. Haechan cursed as he filled you with his own thick release, Jeno pressing you down as he came into you seconds later. Mark used your mouth as you weakened gradually, muttering sweet praises as he shot his load down your throat, the bitter taste waking you out of your trance.

As you heaved, you wrapped your arms around Haechan, feeling multiple hands rub up and down your bare back. “That’s a good girl. Good job, baby.” You nodded, closing your eyes and drifting off, your body and mind well and truly spent.

∞

“Hey, you alright?” Chenle looked at you with a hint of concern, not clear whether it was directed at you or at his makeup that was now looking a little bit unusual. You shook your head with the tiniest movements, tapping his cheek again with a pale blush. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t move your head.”

“Fine. You just seem different today.”

“I’m okay. Just a low energy day.” Beside you, Haechan and Jeno shared the smallest side glance, Mark smirking at himself as he changed behind the mirrors.

“Big night?” Chenle smiled at you through the mirror as you scurried around the drawers, looking for the angled eyeshadow brush, his hands adjusting his hair to his liking. You sighed, a true muscle fatigue-likes feeling spreading through your body and getting worse with each client. You were actually so tired, and, unprofessionally, not hiding it very well.

Then again, you were probably doing something that would be considered generally much more unprofessional, so you didn’t let it bother you too much.

“You could say that.” You slammed one drawer a little too hard, apologising immediately to the drawer and then rolling your eyes in frustration and embarrassment. “I-I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be back.”

As your heels clacked away, getting softer and softer, Chenle got up, letting the salon cape fall away from him. “What’s up with her?” He mumbled to no one in particular before walking away. Mark soundlessly nodded to Jeno and Haechan, a nonverbal assurance that he would be outside, and Jeno patted Haechan’s shoulder as left shortly after, leaving only Haechan in that small backstage room.

As Haechan stared at his reflection in the mirror, makeup done and hair only half, he opened his lips, letting some tension escape his body.

He thought about you.

How maybe his little white lie didn’t technically hurt anyone in the end.

Technically.

Technically, you were the one who got fucked (in a good way) and got the money for translating poison.

Technically, you did write it. Just not from scratch.

Technically, you were also into that.

But so was he.

He remembered how embarrassed he was when you first found out, and what you said to make him feel better.

“Oh Haechan, don’t worry about it. Don’t let me kinkshame you.”

How right you were in the end.

2K notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 8 months

Text

Honey, Stomach, Mine ; 2. More Intelligent Than a Face

Series Masterlist ; Part 1. ; Part 3.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics; Dystopian Society; Outbreak not Cordyceps AU; Angst & Yearning™️; Slow Burn; Sexual Inexperience; Cock Riding; Size Difference; Size Kink; Sex Ed for Omega’s 101; Power Dynamics; Creampie; Discussions of Heats and Knots and Slick, Oh My!; Virginity; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Young and Needy Omega; Possessive Behavior; Age Gap

A/N: FYI I do mention that she has small breasts in this one only because I usually write big boobs and thought it was time for some itty bitty titty committee representation.

Word Count: 13.9K

Read on AO3

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2. More Intelligent Than a Face

Existence is a strange thing, a needful thing. Something to be sated, filled, satisfied, this ordeal of being a living, breathing person. And to be an unusual sort of person, someone with needs extra to what the regular sort would require, doubly strange.

You had always thought, in different ways, that the mating program, although a choice thief, a freedom thief, was also benevolent in its control in some ways. After all, it gave those of you who were of the not usual sort, alphas and omegas, that such thing that you needed so badly.

Each other.

A bad, terrible, devastating thing that in turn gives you something necessary, life changing, life fulfilling, even, perhaps.

When your aunt had died and you’d been taken away and then put away and then shut away for what seemed would be forever, it had not, at first, in your child’s mind, seemed so terrible. But with the years, that existence you bore that needed, it began to hurt. It eventually became a very terrible thing that in turn, had taken away your ability to recognize yourself, as well. The reality that you’d been caged because of what you were, perhaps not particularly who, but certainly, what, was, at first, difficult to see. And then, when you did see it, even more difficult to look at.

A thing caged because of what it is. And again, existence is a strange and needful thing. Caged because of what you exist as; caged because of what you need because of what you are. Caged because they can give you what will sate you.

You open your eyes slowly, the bright, waning golden light of dusk shooting over the edge of the end of the world; bleeding pinks and violets feeding the fire. And he’s there, in a deeply set arm chair pulled up by the hearth, staring into the flames, and you realize, like you’d never truly considered before, that the cage was in part also his fault. That in ways, you’d been put away also because of what he is. You wonder if this should make you angry, resentful. If it should mean you should not want to be here, langoring so comfortably in his home that he’d brought you to. This man who you do not know, who does not so much even look like he wants to know you. In ways, your caging is his fault. And certainly, concretely, the prolonging of that caging was entirely of his doing. So why is there no resentment?

Once, one of the other omegas had said that they were brainwashing all of you. Preparing you, ripening you for slaughter. He’d come in later than the rest of you, when he was more grown, more mature, when he’d seen more things in his before life. He had lots of opinions, lots of thoughts, said that your before life, those ten years of living with your aunt, of only being a child like all the rest of them and not an omega, did not count. He said you’d been too young to understand all you’d lost. A boy named Leo. He was kind, but he was angry. And his anger frightened you. It was something you did know, in the sense that you could recognize it, for you’d seen anger before, but you could not understand it. For some reason, maybe you were built wrongly, and Leo was right, and you should have been angry like him, but you could never find it within yourself to muster it. Maybe there was nothing wrong about it. Maybe everyone was simply built and made and felt differently and that was fine too. But you knew that he was wrong on some accounts, particularly, that your before life had counted, that your aunt, who you remembered with so much love, had counted. And most of all, what he was most painfully wrong about, was that you did, and deeply, understand all you had lost.

After all, you could only see the sky for one hour a day, every other day, now, and that one hour made your understanding of everything around you, everything happening to you, keen and painful and humiliating in a very clear way.

The last rays of the sun wash Joel in vibrant orange reds now. A slash of glowing vermillion across his face, something almost violent about the streak of light, something possessive, and you focus your eyes intently on the sight of his face. This man, this alpha, who for all intents and purposes would or could own you as declared by the government or nature or even Leo and all he’d said would happen once you’d been claimed.

But there was one last thing he’d been wrong about, that young, angry boy, and what you felt was the greatest chasm between the way the two of you had existed within your new designations, which was that, at one very recent point in Leo’s memory, he had belonged to someone, to somewhere. He’d had a place and a home and a family, and he had belonged, and you had never had that. Your aunt, despite her love for you, had been too old and tired to want you, truly want you. You had never been wanted in any soft, true way by anyone before. And looking at him now, you don’t think Joel could ever be capable of wanting anything in a soft way, but you do think he could want something in a true way, and you’re certain that could be more than enough for you.

“Why didn’t you come for me?” Your voice, scratchy and small from sleep, floating away from you towards him. He jerks, the twitching returned, head snapping towards you, eyes wide, moving forward in his seat as if he’d spring out of it and towards you without thought. His scent seems to be heightened somehow now. As if your sleep had awakened your senses in new, keener ways. You can feel him tickling the back of your throat, threading his way through your hair, beneath your clothes, between your legs.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, ignoring your question. “When was the last time you ate? You need to eat.” And again that frown, too many fast words.

“Why didn't you come for me?” You press. “They told me you didn’t know if you wanted to come, that you wouldn't answer. I want to know why.”

He sighs a heavy, heaving thing, falling back in the chair, and turns back to the fire, and you want to whine and cry until he puts his attention back on you. You feel so… so– you don’t know. Little, unmade, with a need to be big, to grow and grow and grow so that all the things you feel and want might fit inside of you, so that he might fit inside of you. You feel hungry as if your gums ache and sting with a desire you’ve never tasted before. But also, and despite all of these conflicting, churning things, you also feel so inexplicably at ease. He’s just there, and you are just here, and you’ll make him answer, you know you have it in you to make him do the things you want, and you can’t say how, you don’t know how, but you understand that you do.

There’s power in that – even as you are, all you are not, you can see it – the ability something small possesses to make something big move, do, be. There’s power in that.

You whine low in your throat, and he turns back to you, something dark and tumultuous in his eyes, brow crooked sternly, but he opens his mouth. “I was going to leave you there,” he says, and you immediately wish he’d shut it. Never mind, you want to tell him, you say all the wrong things.

“But why? I was waiting for you.” Whine, whine, whine.

“I didn’t want this. I never have.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me?” You ask again, just to be absolutely certain you’re understanding that you’ve once again found yourself in a place where you are not wanted for, or despite of, the thing that you are. The logistics, the intricacies of it don’t seem to matter as much anymore, after everything, the before life, the not life, all that matters now is the yes or no.

But he goes silent again, attention back toward the fire, the sun set, no more glowing vermillion slash, very little hope now too.

He ignores your question again. “Tell me about the place they kept you,” he says instead.

“There’s nothing to tell.” You want to cry now, for the first time, besides the tears of initial happiness when he’d finally walked into your white box, you want to cry. You dig stubby nails into the round of your knee, hard as you can, trying to make it hurt and distract. “It was very calm and very quiet.”

“Did you have friends?” He won’t turn back to look at you, and it makes you feel very lacking. Very much like the nothing they tried to make you feel you were before.

“No. They wouldn’t let us.”

“They wouldn’t let you have friends?”

“No. They said it would agitate us – too much socialization. Really, they just didn’t want us realizing, becoming angry and aware”

This makes him turn, makes you feel, within yourself, the anger you’re telling him of, like oh, now, when I’ve been shocking and honest, you look at me – after I waited all that time for you. There is no resentment about the cage, only for the waiting. You should stick your tongue out at him, make him an ugly face, turn over and go back to sleep and ignore him the way he’d ignore you. But no, you think, let him see that you do understand, and you do know some things, that you are angry, and Leo was right.

“What did you do then?” He asks.

“I read. I learned about myself, about you. About what we are.”

His gaze is so intense now, a ricochet, a scream, something very persistently sad. “And what are we?”

“People just like all the rest of them. But with more necessity.”

“How do you mean?”

You tip your head side to side, bright fire eyed gaze to bright fire eyed gaze. Your cheeks feel molten, sweltering, sweat at your nape, the fire in the hearth so bright, but not as bright as you; your belly glows. This is what you are, this is what you’d been made into. “There is so much necessity in existing, don’t you think?”

He tips his chin, he doesn’t understand.

“We need so many things. We require so much to be alive, to be what we are, to be satisfied and content.”

“Do we?”

“The things we are, yes. I think so.”

“You don’t seem like you spent years in that place,” he says, voice slow, molasses in the notes. There’s something hypnotized slumbering in him that forces something satisfied to swell within you. Your belly glows.

“I had a before life. People forget that.”

“I read in your file — you lived with an aunt.”

You wait for the: only for ten years, but the diminishing does not come. “Yes. She was kind, and I remember all of it, even if the rest of the world forgets it happened.”

“Did they ever mistreat you? At the facility–”

“No. Never. There was nothing.” You’re the one to turn away now. The sun has entirely gone away, a single glowing sliver just at the drop off of the end of the world. You stick your hand out straight ahead of you, fingertip following that line of fading light through air and space and sea.

He watches you unblinkingly, and asks, “What do you mean?” The far off light glows through your skin, through your fingernail; he follows the path of your hand.

You can pretend in your mind that you feel the warmth of it against your fingertip, that it scorches the way it glows, heats the length of your limb, feeds the same glow in your belly, but there’s no more possessive streak of light to wrap around you; now, the heat only lives within you. This is what you are, this is what they said would happen, and now it’s finally happening. You let your arm fall back to your lap, limp, and turn to look at him again. He looks so angry, and you feel so incredibly sad for him. This cold perch, this cage that is not white like your box, but dark and struck right on the edge of peril, this place he chose to exile himself to. They were honest, in the things they'd told you all, the truth of the way alphas exist out in the world. Lonely and ostracized and feared, brainwashed to your reality maybe, sure, the way Leo claimed. But in certain things, they’d been honest, and you’re glad for it, that you have the ability to understand him now from this vantage point. The reality of how he exists, the reason for that look in his eyes, it all makes sense to you.

“I suppose that can be a kind of bad thing… a mistreatment. Making nothing of us, of our lives, taking the whole world away until someone chooses to come and give it back to us.”

He flinches, the look shutters, clicks and flashes, a camera capturing the truth of what the two of you have already done to each other without even really knowing one another at all. “I’m sorry I waited. I’m sorry I took so long.” The words cost him something the way all truths cost something. “That I wasn’t there for you as soon as I should have been.”

“Why weren’t you?” You ask, although you know.

“I couldn’t. I can’t. I’m not– I’m not right. I’m not well.” And this costs him more than the rest, you can see. The thump, thump, beat of his heart in his throat. You should tell him to stop, mercy is power, but you think, feel, that this pound of flesh you’re demanding via his truths is what you’re owed for your life and a year of waiting. And anyways, you’ll pay your own pound of flesh in kind eventually, and it’ll cost, even if it’s freely given, it’ll still cost. Everything is equal here, it’s only that it takes a certain kind of eye to realize the truth of that.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Everything, what I am, the whole thing of it and this. It’s all wrong.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know.” And he looks suddenly angry, aged, wearing all his years and all his very obvious loneliness, teeth bared but on the verge of falling out.

“No…” you say slowly, thinking, rationalizing, a rolodex of truths in your mind. What you are, what I am, what we all are and all the honesties that compromise us. “I don’t, but I understand anyway. They make you all nothing, as well, don’t they? They take it all away, all nothing until you have one of us. It’s a terrible way to live.” And you don’t ask him, it’s not a question, only a very obvious thing.

Your words upset him, put him right at the mouth of madness, all those shakes and jitters returned, but you only lay your head back down on the soft pillow he’d tucked beneath you, hands folded undercheek to wait for the explosion that does not come. There’s something in you that wants to see him angry, angry like Leo, like the boy who’d said you didn't have to be what they told you to be, that reminded you that you could choose for yourself. One of the few things you’d agreed on, despite and inspite of the friendship that they would not let you have but that would have blossomed anyways if they’d given you the time. They wanted to make you nothing, but you didn’t want to be nothing. You wanted very much to be alive and to belong.

You realize, watching Joel muzzle his nature before your very eyes, wondering if the truth of him would have him springing up out of the chair to smother you with his weight and temper you with his knot, subdued with his teeth sunken into the gland at the back of your neck, that you want to see him angry. You realize that you want to see him break, that you want to hear that truth no matter what it costs the either of you. You want to see him honest.

He struggles, a dog fight right before your eyes, but when he wins, it changes the game, turns the truth chimeral. Makes you see him in a different way, and all at the same time, makes you aware and even more comfortable than you’d already been. You’re safe here. He is safe. Most importantly, you want to be here.

“Let me show you your room,” he says after a deep breath.

“My room?” A little seedling of dread and sadness and disappointment.

He shows you to a bedroom hued in soft blues. The sea when it is gentle, the sky when it’s joyous. Everything comfortable, nothing white, like he’d known already.

He stands awkwardly at the mouth of the entry, as if scared to step foot into this serene pool of azure and marr it’s peace. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as you move around, no shoes, no socks, slowly running your fingers over all the soft surfaces, sweaty little toes sunken into the deep pile of the rug underfoot.

“I wanted you to have somewhere to adjust– where you’d have privacy. I’m sure this– that I– that it’s all a shock…” he stutters.

One of his boots inches forward, snaps back, like he wants to follow, like he needs to follow, like nature is right here in the room with the two of you, but he wins that dog fight again, holds back. Frustrating.

“I’m not shocked. But I– I won’t stay with you?”

“No,” he says with a finality that makes that seedling bloom in full. “I also got you clothes. And– and soft things. I know your sort–”

You give a soft huff of air through your nose, my sort… our sort.

“Like things like that. And I also… I also put some of my own things in the drawers,” he nods towards a dark mahogany dresser shoved up against the wall; shy and boyish and hesitant all wrapped into a package that would seem to be none of those things. “They say that helps.”

“Okay… thank you.”

“Went into town to get it,” he says of the robin's eggshell blue duvet, a more dove gray blue wash for the silk soft sheets beneath. It’s all beautiful and delicate and lace trimmed and looking at him, huge and rough and something like a lonely mountain, you can’t believe he’d chosen this for you. “Lady at the store said you’d like it when I picked it out.” And that makes satisfaction smother the seedling, yes, he’d chosen it for you. A good sign.

“You went into town to get me things?”

“I told you I want you to be comfortable while you’re here.” Something about the sentence tickles your mind, but then you’re lowering yourself onto the cloud soft bed, cool silk and cotton beneath your skin, sliding against his clothes, your belly glows bright. You’re full of distractions and truth. “There’re a couple of young women that live down aways.” Young women? You perk up at the thought. Friends? “Ellie and Dina. Two young alphas, and they’re good people. I’ll take you down to meet them soon, when you’re ready.”

“Two alphas?”

“They’re a couple.”

“Like– like in love?”

He hovers at the edge of the rug with that strange look in his eyes again, the one from before – I’m only an omega, you don’t have to be afraid of me – and a palpable desperation to cross the border you don’t think he’s even aware he’s letting you in on, but that you can see nonetheless. Two fingers tucked into the line of his belt, twisted there as if grasping for restraint.

“Yeah, they’re together.”

“I didn’t know alphas could do that… that they’d let you.”

“Reckon it’s why they came all the way out here, to be honest, for freedom. But ‘course they can – be together, that is. We can do what we please, despite what they’d have us believe.” And Leo’s words ring in your mind again. Perhaps everyone sees the truth of what you are except for you. The seedling grows vines, suffocates. All the hope you’d thought would live here seems to have never even existed at all. You feel, for the first time, heavy with all the things you do not know, all the things you lack, all the inexperience and naivety like ignorance thick and cloying in your blood. “From what I understand, Dina presented late, after they’d already gotten together. And by that time it was a done deal, they were in love, no going back. And anyway, they make it work, make it look easy as nothin’, to be frank.” He runs a big hand over the back of his skull, and the way he lifts his arm has the thick of his bicep bunching, fat ball of muscle just there for your teeth to sink into. You shift restlessly on the bed.

“Easy as nothin’,” you say slowly, trying to imitate the dip and pitch of his drawl. Your fingertip follows the line of stitching in the duvet, petting at the seams holding it together. “Is that how we’ll be too?” And although you mean the words, intend the question, you’re suddenly awash with shy regret for asking, even though you can’t say exactly why. Probably for the look on his face, which goes immediately dark and serious, and even yet, you persist. “Will it be easy for us too?” And you’re sure your voice must sound like you’re begging.

“No. It won’t. It won’t be like that between us. You’ll stay here as long as it takes for you to acclimatize to being out of that place,” that place, he says like a curse, and it makes you angry, “To bein’ out in the world, and then we’ll find somewhere for you. Somewhere that’s safe and comfortable where you’ll be able to make your own life.”

“I don’t– I don’t understand,” you tell him, but it’s a lie. You do understand, you see, and very clearly, that all you’d waited for during your life, the before, the not life, the extra year, it had all been in vain, for nothing. It would not be given to you here.

“What don’t you understand?” And his tone is cruel and spitting, making you flinch. “I’m sending you away soon. This is what I’m saying.”

“But I don’t– No–” You’d waited so long. He’s being so mean, and you tell him so.

“Yes. You need to be with people your own age. You need to see the world and grow up,” and what a horrible thing to say, you think – to grow up. As if it were not a thing you’d been forced to do already all on your own, without anyone to help you.

“Well then what do you care about what I need? You make no sense!” And you bare your teeth at him. “If you don’t want me–”

But he cuts you off, broad palm held up in a staying gesture, and it’s so incongruous with all the rest of it, that you want to laugh in his face. “Didn’t say I don’t want’cha.” And that frown again, he makes no sense, the tip of his boot makes landfall in the high piled rug, halfway in, hypnotized and compelled in full. You settle on the bed and feel very calm despite the too fast beat of the thing that moves and lives within you, despite your anger and confusion.

And through the beat and the heat and the sweat on your neck, despite the shyness you’ve forgotten is shyness right at this moment, but that you’re sure will return later because this is what you are and this is what you were made for: him. You ask, “Then are you going to knot me now?” Because if he’s going to send you away, then surely he’ll give you that before you go, surely he’ll still want that from you.

He splutters, going all red in the face as if the notion of a young omega asking the experienced alpha she’s been presented with to do that most basic thing his nature demands, is something out of the ordinary. “What? No– no.” But despite his supposed refusal, he takes two steps forward towards you. Venturing further onto the soft piled rug, leaving large crushing footprints in his wake.

“Later then?” You ask very pragmatically.

“No. Absolutely not. There will be no knotting.”

You shake your head at him, small frown between your brows, but still feeling calm despite the tragedy. Forcing that horrible seedling down into submission, the vines smothering all your hope. “But what do you mean?” And you feel like a child.

“I’m not going to fuck you. We aren’t doin’ any of that. You’re too– you’re too young, practically a girl.” A child. He has an accent that thickens with agitation, the ends of his words sluicing off between his tongue and teeth and anger while he hurts you.

“You don’t want me,” you say, and it isn’t a question anymore, only an obvious thing.

His eyes go very dark, and you want to turn away, look back at the edge of the world and the bright glow of the sun being swallowed by it. “I don’t want that.” And the way he spits the words hurts, making you a thing impossible to desire.

“You don’t want me,” again, repeated, so the both of you can bask in the truth of it.

But it snaps something in the room, or in him, or amidst the honesty being brought out here and now. He takes two ground-eating steps forward to loom over you aggressively, forcing you to fall back on your elbows, looking up at him wide eyed but still inexplicably not afraid, only a greater thing than what can be called merely disappointed. And yet, not disappointed enough to not notice the way one of his knees presses against the inside of one of yours. “I should get to have a fucking choice too, shouldn’t I? Like you, locked away in that horrible place–”

“It wasn’t horrible,” you try and say, but you don’t think he hears.

“The way you had all your choices and freedoms stripped. Shouldn’t I also be allowed to have one single goddamn thing?” Where else would I have gone if not there? “A choice – to say, no, stop, I don’t want this.” He’s so angry, and it is all suddenly so clear, and he finally grabs you, pulling you up by the bend of your elbow, the small joint almost crushed in his massive fist to pull you halfway up off the bed and towards him, getting in your face with all his anger.

Leo’s voice again, you don’t have to be what they tell you to be, you can choose for yourself. This is what Joel wants too.

“You can’t end up stuck out here at the end of the world with some washed up old alpha who can’t give you a quarter of what you need and deserve. I won’t let you. I won’t,” he snarls.

But despite your greenness, your naivety or your ignorance or your youth, you think: how dare he? “And what about what I want? What about my choices? Or are you going to be just like all the rest of them? Like the whole world telling me I’m too insignificant and too stupid to decide for myself? Just locked away in another cage–” You spit at him, trying to claw and shove at him, stubby nails digging at the sun pebbled skin of his throat, yanking at his too long hair and patchy beard, inadvertently pulling yourself closer to him. He grunts, struggling to take you in hand, slippery thing you can make yourself into when you really want, and you, trying your mightiest to hurt him any way you can as he’s already decided he’s going to hurt you with his rejection. “Is that what you are? Just like all the rest of them?” You cry amidst your struggle, choked with tears and being too little to be effective but too big for your own skin.

You shove at his jaw, trying to scratch at his cheek, but he grips you full around either arm, locking you in place and gives you a swift but measured jerk, jostling you into submission, trapping your hands bent as they are up by his neck so that one small palm is sliding to the back of his nape, over the gland behind his ear, at that soft vulnerable hollow, and coming to rest at the one in back, at the base of his neck beneath his collar. Both of you go still as stone, frozen by the truth of what you both are and how inescapable it all is, reality held in the palm of your hand.

Obvious: a designation is not a thing you can ever hide. Alphas and omegas wear it on their bodies like markers. Glands scattered at different places: behind the ears, at the base of the neck, inside the wrists and ankles; vulnerabilities that when acknowledged, bitten, seal a mating bond. Places that if handled properly, turn you into nothing but what you are at your basest nature. And you can’t help yourself – at the feel the spongy patch of skin, slightly raised and slightly rougher than the rest of him, a place that when in rut or in heat, would become, will become, extra sensitive, extra swollen, extra ripe – when you slowly slide your fingers against it, feeling the texture of it, the way it’s even hotter than the already sweltering rest of him.

He growls low and rumbling in his chest, that sound again, and he’s so angry, it’s painted all over his face in shades of defiance; coming off of him like radiation, angry at you, angry at the truth of what you both are, angry at himself and the world and all of it, but he pulls you closer anyways, tugging your forward by his grip on your arms which is starting to mimic the ache you’re suffering at that place between your legs you long to show him, pulling you in so that the tips of your breasts, covered beneath his thick sweater and the too thin, soft bra they gave all the omegas who needed them, brush against the thick of his chest, pulling a soft breath of a moan from your tongue.

“You’re being so mean to me,” you whisper. “And I don’t deserve it. And I waited so long for you and you never came for me, and now this is how you’re treating me,” you say with a hiccup and a tear, and you feel little and big and that place that calls for him pulses and hurts and leaks. He’s so mean and you’re so sad and you want him and you can’t understand why he’s being this way when you were made for him and he for you, and if nothing else was right in this world, then this was the thing that was supposed to be.

His eyes shift quickly back and forth between both of yours, that frown, mouth turned down, his mustache that connects to the patchiness of his beard showing how contrary he finds you. You frown back at him, trying to pull away, whining when he tightens, pulls you closer, right up to his face as if he needs to inspect you even more closely. Your toes aren’t touching the rug anymore, scraping against the thick round of his boots, and you won’t have it. You’ll give him a piece of your mind, you’ll show him. “You think that because I’m little and young and easily bruised that I’m not in control.” It’s not a question. If you could grow fangs, you would. If you could rip him to shreds, you would. “That I can’t control you. But I made you come for me, didn’t I?” Now you laugh at him, now you show him. “I knew if I wrote to you, you’d come, and you did. I made you come. I made you.” And saying it feels like victory, so you don’t care that it makes his face crack, you don’t care that he pushes away from you, letting you fall back onto the bed with a limp bounce, storming out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. You don’t give a thistle for choices. You want to be selfish, you want to be alive, you want to see the sky. You have the sea now, and you want to be this thing you are because this is already you, this is what you were made into, and you have no choice but to bask in it, and you won’t bend to him or give it up for him only because he can’t accept the same of himself, only because he’s still trapped in his own white box.

He knows, as soon as you make whatever stupid decision it is that you’re making, that something’s off. A shift in the air in the house, his heart beating funny, his scent changing because his body knows you’re not in its immediate vicinity anymore, something that tells him off, off, off, be vigilant, she needs you so much, you can’t fail again. He reminds himself of all the decisions he’s already made, of what he knows he wants and does not want, of what he is and what he is not.

After he’d stormed out of your room – I made you – he’d retreated to hide in his own bedroom, to the other big chair by the fireplace in here, cowering like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, forcing himself to listen to you cry for hours, the whine and whimper of an omega in need of something he was made to give, and yet will not. As if a little thing like you could make him do anything. Him. He grits his teeth, chews on his own tongue, digs his fingers into the arms of the chair to force himself to remain seated in place, to not return to you, to not give you all the things he knows you need and want to be soothed by.

He can smell your scent changing already, reacting to him, reducing him to nothing, entirely effective in your conquering. And he’d stupidly thought that perhaps the heat, and the rut that it would yield, would wait, give him a moment of reprieve or compassion before it came for him. A moment to think. He thought he’d have more time, a chance to escape the thing he so desperately wants but cannot and will not let himself have, refuses to give in to. His body stirs and smolders, and like he’d done for eleven years and then one, he ignores it. He ignores the truth of who and what he really is.

He sits in his chair, head propped up against the back, and listens to your cries and mewls ebb and quiet until finally, he thinks you might have sobbed yourself to sleep. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he doesn’t mean to hurt you. It’s the absolute last thing he could ever, ever want. Everything, not only in his nature, but in his character, in the things that make him up as a man who’d want a woman like you, is clamoring within him to go to you, to give you what you want, to sooth you with his voice and his scent and his cock. To fuck you into your heat until you’re soft and slick and fevered enough to take his knot, to let him breed you, to let him mate you. His cock stirs and thickens beneath the rough confines of his jeans, that thicket of skin at the base where his knot waits in ready for you, simmering with heat and tightness. He digs his knuckles into his temple until it hurts.

You don’t want me… Of course he fucking wants you. He’d have taken your cunt for himself right there in that white box room, on your rickety little iron cot for all the surrounding omegas and witless betas to hear without giving a single shit what anyone said or thought if he had any sort of right or will or choice. If he had anything more to give you. And then watching you go right to sleep when he’d brought you into his home, the sight of you feeling so immediately safe and content, ready to nest amongst his things and his scent – that feeling of having within himself the things that he needs to be what he is – indescribable.

Pretty little omega – and truly, you’re so pretty. All he’d never let himself imagine or desire or hope for. He’s too old, past his prime and forgotten by the world, but he’s still a man with a working cock, still an alpha, even if only in the simplest of ways. Of course he wants you.

He lets himself languish miserably before the fire, eyes going hazy with exhaustion, the comedown of adrenaline, the presence of warm omega all around him, the taste of your pre-heat scent coating his tongue and throat. He pulls his socks off and lets the heat of the fire warm his feet and thinks he should’ve given you his room instead, let you sleep in his bed, near the fireplace, between his sheets and amongst his scent. He can sleep out in the dirt for all he matters as long as you’re comfortable. And the rational part of his brain wants to laugh at the thought, sitting here alone, realizing that despite his battling, his nature will always win out in the end, that all this fight really means shit. His cock gives a faint throb, his deflated knot rhythmically pulsing in time with his heart, ready to swell and claim what everyone including nature, but excluding Joel, has said belongs to him. Of course he wants you. And if he’s honest, or a fucking liar, he can’t really say which, all his truths and deceptions have become so muddled within his own mind, his past and his present and this future he’s never thought he wanted or had a right to, the year of waiting was more a form of self punishment, restraint as proof of fear, than anything to do with you.

Anger, yes, that everything had been decided for him for so long. That he isn’t even allowed to decide what he is, what he wants. But fear, more than anything, that interminable curse of failure he’s so haunted by and so afraid of. How could nature ever look at him and think him strong enough to take on the role of caretaker, protector, alpha – whatever it is that you need him to be, the whole world in the eye of a young and untried omega – when he can hardly stand the sight of his own face in the mirror? There’s nothing but tragedy setting the stage the two of you stand posed on.

Finally, your cries fade to soft hiccups, and then a peculiar silence he doesn't trust. He waits, ears peeled, his head turned slightly towards the cracked open door of his bedroom, sensing the shift in scent and after a few beats of too loud silence, a thud and a huff, the music of a little mind thinking too loudly and mischievously for its own good. Even the wind seems to blow differently as if it knows you’re scampering about amidst it now, vulnerable to its lashings, and he’s shooting up out of his chair and charging through the house. By the door, he realizes his boots are gone, stolen from where he’d dropped them discarded after he’d left you in your room to cry your salt tears. He forgoes a coat and his flannel, braving the icy wind in nothing but his white undershirt, stepping silent but no less frantic out onto the deck. The truck is dark and quiet, still in its usual spot, and this quells his fear minutely. It occurs to him that you likely don’t even know how to drive.

But when he comes around the western facing corner of the house, it’s worse than he could’ve imagined, and the scar slashed across his right temple suddenly zings like copper, burns like fire at the sight of you. You are, for some inexplicable reason, crawling on all fours, towards the edge of the cliffside. And he’s frozen solid for a second, shocked and terrified, and then moving forward like lightning, tripping over his own two feet and breath before he realizes you’re right at the very edge now, and he needs to move very fucking carefully to ensure he doesnt send you spilling in fright over the edge.

He alters his movements, continues forward slowly, his bare feet over the freezing ground and sharp bric-a-brac of the forest floor, the slabs of stone turning to ice as he nears the edge, and he watches the uncoordinated wallop of your movements, banging your knee with a small yelp, as you crawl like a slow and drunken spider in his too big clothes, dragging his too big boots around your ankles, to the very edge of the cliff side, slowly lowering yourself to plop down with your head and arms hanging over the edge.

He pauses about ten feet away from you and waits for your next move, but you lie still, quarter part of you draped over the edge of the cliff, and he realizes that you’re watching the water far below crash against the rocks.

“Sweetheart,” he calls slow and gentle, crouching down low so that his voice travels along the ground where you lay. “Sweetheart, what’re you doin’?” You start, turning back towards him, one palm coming to the edge of the rock to shove yourself up to peer back at him, rock pebble spraying out over the void with your movement, and his heart and stomach lurch to his throat, almost gagging at the terror. Your eyes are hazy and bright, and he recognizes the beginnings of the fever, it’s tendrils wrapping themselves around you, making you a little confused, a lot needy, and he’s so fucking stupid, he should’ve never left you alone. But he hadn’t thought it’d come on this fast, that you’d affect each other so.

“I wanna go down there,” you call over the small hill of your shoulder, turning back to peer down at the beach. You point down at the shoreline with your other hand, wagging your finger as to emphasize what it is you want.

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s going to have a goddamn heart attack. “Alright, baby. Come back here, I’ll take you down. Let’s go together.” You mumble something, arm flopping out, waving him away. “Please, sweetheart, come back here with me,” he begs, and there must be something in his tone, he’s sure, because you turn full back at that, looking at him suspiciously like you remember his earlier words of rejection and no longer trust him now.

“I’m glowing, sir. I need to feel the sea and the cold.” Your voice sounds not your own, like it comes surfing off the wind to his ears.

“Not, sir. Joel. Only Joel, remember?”

You push yourself up, moving to sit back on your knees, but still right at the edge, still too close. Sweat slides slick and frigid down his spine, the complete opposite of what you must be feeling right now. Only Joel. Only Joel, he hears you mutter at the sea. “There isn’t anything only about you. Leave me alone. Go away–”

“Please, baby. Come back here. Let’s go inside, I’ll give you the sea, I promise. Just come over here – with me.” You turn back at that, shifting on your knees to face him. If you lose your balance, stumble, you’ll topple back over the edge. He just needs to be good enough for you to want to come to him, convincing enough. He puts his palm out towards you, all supplication now. “Come here, sweet thing. I’ll show you the sea, I promise I will.” You start your slow spider crawl back towards him and his scar burns, a sharp pain through his brain, piercing behind his eye, heart beat to death between his ribs. As soon as he gets his hands on you, he’s going to fucking throttle you, he promises. But he’s almost got you, and he dares not move, barely even breathes, his hand is shaking so badly it interrupts his view of you on every other painful heartbeat, and he realizes his eyes are blurry with terrified tears, and suddenly, that anger doesn’t matter even half an ounce as much anymore because then you’re here and crawling into his arms, up into his lap so that he’s falling back onto his ass on the cold, hard ground. He pulls you into himself, clumsy little spider legs wrapping around his waist, your arms going around his neck so that you’re clinging to him.

One of his boots lies lost and discarded back by the edge of the cliff.

“Please, don’t ever fucking do that to me again.”

“I’m glowing,” you sigh into his neck.

“I know you are, baby. It’s okay, we’ll fix it.” He feels you nuzzle at his collarbone, his neck, the gland, already sensitive and swollen behind his ear, already, already, already, God help me, and his heart feels like it’s beating so hard he can feel it move through your chest cavity and reverberate against his hand on your back. Christ, it wasn't supposed to happen this quickly, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to have more time, more choices, more control. The wet of your lips mouthing at his skin, and then the peek of your tongue tasting his gland, and he rumbles deep in his chest, his mind going loose and slacken like an old rubber band, and then snapping back to clarity at your surroundings. Cold wind and now the beginning sprinkling of needle freezing rain, your shivers jittering into his chest.

“We gotta go inside – let’s get up,” he murmurs into your ear, unable to resist nosing at your hair, the small, freezing cold seashell hidden within.

Wait, wait– and then the scrape of small, blunt edged teeth just there at the vulnerable patch of skin. He swallows a scream, and the caged thing rattles and howls inside his chest, his arms going iron and binding around your back, pressing you to him, chest melded to chest. “Wait, please,” again, and now a tiny kiss. “If you don’t want me,” and he never should’ve even insinuated it, it’s the worst thing he’s ever done in his entire miserable fucking life. “Then will you please–” another soft press of lips to his jaw, the corner of his mouth. His hand slides down your spine, he can’t help himself, presses down on the base of your vertebrae, the heat of your cunt along the pulse of his cock, through cotton and denim and cold, just there, just there, he’s so fucking close. “Will you at least kiss me–” but you’re not waiting for another rejection, you’re just licking clean across the slash of his mouth, taking his bottom lip between both of yours for a shy little suck, unsure and inexperienced with desperation. And then there’s nothing caged about any of it, no more white box, no more perch at the end of the world, he squeezes you to himself so that it hurts, and he kisses you.

Hand twisted too tightly in your dampening hair, he pulls your head back, and with a rumbling grunt sends you deep and languid into easy submission, the steady deep timber of the sound wringing the desired effect on you. You twitch once, as if he’d tugged on your strings, his pretty puppet, and then go soft and open and easily penetrated, jaw hinging open so that he can lick inside of you, tasting all you have to offer which he refuses to accept he’s actually taking and which you’re all too desperately eager to give.

He takes it all regardless.

Slick mouth against slick mouth, out there in the cold rain and wind, rolling around in the dirt, he tastes you the way the two of you were made for. Pulling your hips closer, rolling his up to meet all the heat you have to offer which will only get hotter and hotter the more he continues down this path. You claw at his hair, the gland at your wrist rubbing against the one at his ear, marking him with your scent and pheromones, marking him as yours. And he swears he can almost feel that glow in your belly too, a little wriggling comet in his hands, set to burst. The crescendo of your whining climbs higher, your mouth hungrier, and Joel feels insane for a second, entirely outside of himself, lost to his senses. All he is, is what you need him to be, something hard and strong and solid for you to mold yourself around, and it’s so right it’s wrong. Not what he’d planned, not what he’d decided.

He rips his mouth away from yours, panting, forgetting his name and his sense and everything else he is besides a hard cock and a now equally smoldering belly. “Wait– wait,” he begs, burning comet, too willful to tame without teeth, surging in his arms. You rub yourself against his face, your hair sluicing through his, your soft tits against his chest, his neck, bumping his chin while you try to climb him perched in his lap like you are. “Wait, please–” he tries to sooth over your huffing whines, and then a sharp stinging little bite to his jaw line.

No, no.

“Stop. We have to stop, please. This isn't what’s supposed to happen. This isn’t what I want.” And you hear that.

The comet burns out, you go still in his arms, and it feels worse than anything. He wishes he could swallow the words back immediately because then you’re pushing back and away from him. Scrambling out of his lap, escaping his arms as fast as you can.

“You’re horrible! Get away–” He dodges a small, kicking foot – the bootless one. And you’re stumbling to your feet, tripping over the too big shoe wrapped around your too small foot. He pushes to stand, as well, gripping you about the elbow, avoiding a weakly punching little fist now. This is truly getting too ridiculous. The two of you need to come to terms with each other, meet in the middle, forgo the theatrics you seem all too desperate for. He ducks away from another ineffectual punch, grips you by the scruff of the neck, unruly kitten that you are, and pushing you forward, hooks you under his arm, lifting you clear off the ground and rendering you entirely captured, bent in half, a wilted flower over the strong of his forearm.

You squawk indignantly, kicking your feet against the back of his leg as he stomps over to his abandoned boot, slowly filling with rain now, fuck this shit, and trudges through the mud back to the house, ice cold droplets dripping off the tip of his nose. The two of you are well on your way to soaked, but he thinks it might not be such a bad thing, considering the ball of heat radiating from your belly, the one in his own mimicking you. It seems to pool in the palm of his hand, where he’s got you hooked and caught over his arm, honey collection of magma.

Let me go! You’re screeching. “Leave me alone! You don’t even care about me and I hate you and I want to see the water!” More kicking and clawing.

When he finally dumps you back onto your rumpled bed, undignified yelps and pathetic little growls, he’s at his wits end. Taking you firmly in hand, heavy hand back at the nape of your neck, thickly calloused palm scraping against the quickly swelling gland there, other pushing at your hip to drape you over the edge of the bed like a rag doll, he folds himself over you, smothering you with his weight and heat, forcing you into calm. You go shocked frozen, wracked with shivers and then finally, blessedly still and quiet. This was all you needed, for Joel to follow his instincts.

He presses you into the bed with his too heavy weight, thick arms caged around your head, pert little ass tucked up against his pelvis, and he breathes you in, lets you settle.

“You need to behave,” he rumbles, and all you do is sigh bleary eyed and exhausted by your own willfulness. “You’re not to go outside all alone at night like that again, do you understand me? And you are especially, never, ever, to go that close to the cliff edge again.”

“But the sea–” you whine and shift, rubbing your little cunt against his now fully hard cock, perfect position that he’s got you in, presented to him like this. He presses tighter against you, growling deep in his chest to shut you up.

“Promise me.” But you whine, shifting, starting to cry a little, too far gone to the start of the fever he’s done nothing to really sate. There’s still time yet, for your full heat, but these beginning symptoms, they need to be soothed just as well, tempered just as diligently as the full blown heat would be. If for nothing else, than for the sake of the omegas' comfort and happiness. He bends his knees, shoving the thick of his erection up against the apex of your thighs, pressing you further up onto the bed and tighter beneath him, and nosing through the mantle of your hair, he finds the gland at the back of your neck beneath the collar of his sweater and bites down gently. Not breaking skin, only giving you teeth to feel, to be soothed by, that blunt clasp that’ll dull your own sharp edges for now.

He laves his tongue along the scorching patch of skin, the texture different to the rest of you, different, even, to his own glands, like silk, like water, something liquid about the feel of you here beneath his tongue and teeth. You let out a terrible little sound that has the threads of his control snapping, providing cause for concern, and he growls softly, pleased, in response. It’s a sound of submission and acceptance and praise, from the both of you equally, all at the same time. He lets you settle like this, petting at you with his tongue, giving you the scraping edge of his teeth like a threat, every so often. Grinding, because honestly he can’t even fucking help it, against that scorching little cunt he knows would already, even now, be so soft for him. Perhaps, not soft enough yet, not ripe enough yet, to take his knot and everything else he wants to force on it, but soft enough for him to teach you how to take a good fucking.

A virgin, never even had a heat before, and trapped here between his teeth and beneath his cock. It would all be so easy, it would all feel so right.

But that is, Joel thinks, just the thing of it. It would feel right – but would it be right? He can’t yet tell.

You cloud his judgment, seduce his nature into wanting to give you everything and anything you could ever even think to ask for, and he can’t yet tell if it’s just you, that sparkle and that light and that heat like a comet that lives inside of you that he’s coming to suspect is wholly yours, nothing to do with biology or designations or markers that tell of what you should and should not be, that’s got him so desperate to please you. Or if it’s only nature, trying to force him into another choice he’s not made for himself.

You wake slowly, disturbed out of your sleep the way one feels when they’re being spied on by something too large and too scary to look at right in the eye.

You shift in the blue bed, cool and calm now, all that glowing heat from before that’d forced you out into the cold and the wind, hungry to throw yourself through space and time out into the sea, reckless and free, gone away now. All you feel as your eyes blink open slowly, is a shivery, damp cold rattling down the line of your spine. The room around you is dark, the glow of the slumbering fire out in the living room peeking in through the slightly left ajar door of your bedroom.

He’d stayed until you’d gone boneless and calm, trapped beneath his weight and between his thick strong arms, letting you suck on the gland inside his wrist as you’d pleased. And when finally, you’d been just on this side of awake, he’d changed your clothes and slid you beneath the soft sheets and weighted duvet, and sat in the cozy sofa chair by the window until you’d been too exhausted by the embers in your tummy and the tight want between your legs to fight sleep any longer.

The chair sits cold and empty now, and above it, the wide window, the pitch black of the world beyond is bright with unknown terrors, and you huddle into your nest of pillows and blankets, hiding beneath the edge of the duvet.

You’d never had a window in your bunk, had not experienced the night in years and years, and looking at it now, put on display as it is through the clear pane of glass separating you from all of that unknown, you feel suddenly terrified, nothing but little. It feels as if you were to look away from it, it’d reach through the glass and pluck you out of your bed, whisk you far enough away that he’d never be able to find you, come for you again, and also, like if you don’t stop looking, it’ll eventually begin to look back. You wiggle backwards, bum finding the edge of the bed, and then sliding out, feet first, gaze still peeled on the window and the night, walking backwards out of your room and pulling the door shut on your way. At the very last moment, you peek through the sliver of the door edge and frame, nothing but your nose remaining in the blue room, and you swear the night stares back now.

You shut the door with a snick, and turn to rush on tipped toes in search of his room.

He’s sleeping on his back, one thick arm thrown over his head, the other laying across his belly, and you peer over the edge of the bed, hands clasped beneath your chin, watching the up and down of his breathing, the flicker of his eyes beneath his lids. He has long eyelashes and funny whiskers and hair everywhere. Under his arms, and across his chest and his belly, leading down below the sheet covering him, to the thick lump there, that place you don’t know yet, but do understand. He’s hairy, and he’s big, and the aching place you want to show him comes awake in response to all this man you have before you. And although the house is warm, the fires stoked diligently to keep you as toasty as you need, another shiver runs its way down your back. So taking hold of one of his thighs, you hoist yourself up onto his too tall bed, knobby knee stabbing him in the side as you climb on top of him, planting yourself right in the middle of his broad expanse. He gives a rough grunt, shocked awake by the little creature climbing its way all over him, hands shooting out to steady you by the hips as he jerks startled.

“What in the Sam Hell–” You ignore his spluttering, rubbing your bottom against his stomach, finding a comfortable position to drape yourself over him, wilting like a felled weed snuggled up against his chest, tucked just below his chin, giving an entirely contented sigh when you settle. “What the fuck’re you doin’?” He has such a nasty mouth. Someone should wash it with soap for him.

He tries to roll over, but you cling, bearing your sharp little teeth to latch at his collarbone, holding tight, refusing to be shoved away again. “M’cold–” you fuss, chewing and slobbering all over him as you pull yourself closer, hitching a knee over his hip, burrowing your foot between the bed and his back.

“You have t’go back to your bed. You can’t sleep here.”

You whine, chewing harder, and he grumbles, but his hands slide from your hips to your back in a soothing pass and you slick your tongue against the flavors of his skin. He tastes so good, and he smells so good, and in a tiny voice you know will get you what you want, you say, “The window is too big and it’s so dark. I’m scared, alpha.”

He groans, grip going tight and strangling around you, fists bunching in the oversized clothes he’d swaddled you in after he’d dried the rain and outdoor chill off of you before putting you to bed. “Can’t I just stay here? I promise I’ll be good like you told me to,” and you nuzzle against him, making sure to thoroughly cover him in the headiness of your scent. Everything is so warm and right, and he’s so thick and comfortable and strong everywhere, perfect for laying on top of like this. The hair on his chest is prickly, tickling your face where you rub yourself against it, and he rumbles low, a deep sort of purring sound that you feel vibrate in your tummy, big wolfish man that he is, but his grip goes loose and soft after a while, stroking and soothing and petting along your slopes and planes. Convinced. Ha.

You hold very still, breathe very slow, make sure not to spook the beast while he accepts the fact of you here atop him until he finally says, already sleepy and relaxed again, “Alright… but you’ll behave like I said.” And eventually he rolls the two of you over, little omega barnacle that you’ve turned yourself into, and tucks you into his warm side.

The third time you wake to him, there’s fire everywhere. And an ache in your womb so sharp it sends shivers through your whole body. You cling and grind and tremble; forget your name, where you are, nothing more than that sticky throb in that place that you want to give to him so, so badly.

He’s draped atop you, heavy arm caging you in, thick chest covering your back, smothering you between incredible strength and, soft, Joel smelling sheets. You cup the ball of his bicep, it’s big and hard and hot, and drag your palm along the thick slope. He’s so strong, he could crush you, hurt you, make you into anything he wanted, and you want all those things, you think. You want him to do whatever he wants if only he’ll make the ache go away. Fire and glowing bright heat everywhere, most of all your belly, your heart, somewhere so deep inside you’d never known it existed until he’d come and made you aware of it.

Your fingers slide along his wide forearm, hairy here too, thick wrist, hard, strong bone beneath, and then the soft spot on the inside that belongs to you now. You stick your tongue out, tasting the spongy patch, scraping your teeth along it. If you bite him, you’ll be able to keep him forever, he won’t be able to send you away, but there still remains – even if just for a little bit longer, before the heat you’ve been waiting your whole life and a year for to finally take you – a part of you that’s still rational, head only halfway gone to the clouds. That part which reminds you that more than anything, you want him to choose you. Without the bite as a deal breaker, bond sealer, only because he wants you, only because he likes you.

But you can taste him, it doesn’t mean you have to bite him, and you the tip of run your tongue along the inside of his wrist, gently suckling at his gland, the flavor of him so much stronger here, as if his essence is more concentrated at this small place. And the ache between your legs, in your tummy, deepens, spreads and blooms and ravages. The inside of you feels sensitive and swollen and big and little all at once, and you shift your bottom, trying to rub yourself back up against him, your sucking mouth pulling sharper, a whine bubbling in your throat because you need something, something more, and you think you know, and you know you understand, but you’re not sure, and if he could just wake up and show you it would all be so much better.

You press back harder, arching so that the aching place feels the heat of him behind you, that hard ridge there that makes your heart pound all through your body. You’d shucked off your leggings and the sweater he’d put you in through the night, too hot and sweaty with the big beast smothering you as he’d been, so now you’re left in nothing but one of his too big t-shirts and the soft, cotton white panties all the omegas always wore. You whine again, gnawing on his wrist for real now, and a big paw of a hand comes up to wrap around your hip, stilling your wriggling. You feel him lean closer, burying his face in the back of your hair, groaning, hot bullish breath fanning across your nape. He rumbles deep and it only makes you feel worse, more desperate, more hungry for that thing you don’t know how to ask for. You want to cry his name, beg him, but your tongue feels fat and swollen inside your mouth, too full of blazing heat to form actual words. He just has to know, he just has to be able to tell.

“I know,” he mumbles against your nape, nosing around to your ear where he presses his mouth. “I know, it’s alright.” You gurgle again, pulling his wide palm to cover your face completely, nuzzling against his rough palm, muffling your pathetic animal sounds of supplication. It’s okay, it’s okay, you can hear him murmuring and you’re not sure who the words are for, but you feel certain they’re not for you. He’s scared, you know this. Between all the things you’re so uncertain of, this you’re sure of. He’s afraid, and it’s your job to reassure him, to show him how well it will all be once the two of you come together.

You push your face harder into his palm, and you feel him hook his fingers into the elastic of your panties, tugging the soft fabric wide, tugging them down your legs, and there’s that same need, yes, that comet bright glowing heat, but also, and something you can recognize as more your usual self, a desperate sort of shyness. Something coming unraveled and unspooled for the whole world, him, to see. You can feel the slick uncoveredness at the apex of your thighs, running down your legs, a blossom of heat and vulnerability there at that place, the core of you, and it doesn’t feel shameful, necessarily, but painfully exposed. Your softest place bared for him to see. And yet, alongside that, the knowledge that this soft place is only for him, that you only ever want it to be for him, and so this can, again, be nothing but right.

“Look at all this slick you’ve made for me, what a sweet girl you are.” There’s such reassurance in the timber of his voice, it makes the heat change, something swirling but steady, constant. You spread your own palm against the back of his hand covering your face, line your fingers along the backs of his, little and big, matched alongside each other, and you press his fingers against your forehead, squishing your nose against his palm, Hiding there in the cup of his hand from the whole world and him, waiting for this truth of yourself to finally be revealed to you.

His palm strokes along your bare thigh, I know, I know, he keeps saying, and they’d told you all that your alphas would know, that they’d show you, and there’s reassurance in this, that some part of what’s happening is unfolding as they said it would. It makes you feel not so small, not so untried and naive. You try and lay as still as possible, willing the flames into patience, breathing in your own hot breath from the cup of his palm. I know it hurts, we’ll make it better, I promise. He shifts behind you, the rustling of fabric, and then his hand on your bottom again, moving in a slow circular motion, steady and reassuring. He moves to your leg again, lifts it and then something hot and hard and big, coming to rest on your inner thigh, and he lets your leg down, starts the soothing rub of your bottom again.

“We’re gonna go so slow, alright. Only a little at a time and not the whole thing today. We gotta wait for your heat to settle in all the way, time it all right so that my rut doesn’t start before you’re ready to take me. How does that sound, sweetheart?” But your tongue is still fat, your words still jumbled and missing, and all you really want to ask is if he’s changed his mind now, if he’s finally decided he wants you, and you think you’re crying, sipping salt water from the palm of his hand. “I know I wasn’t how you needed me yesterday, and I’m sorry for that.” He presses his forehead against the back of your shoulder, hand sliding up your hip to your waist, dragging his shirt along as he goes, uncovering you for himself. And you feel so intensely, that you belong to him, and you can’t understand how he could have ever not felt the same way.

You hitch an agonized little sob, muffled by his hand, and he rolls slightly so you’re half draped atop his chest, his palm rubbing soothing circles low on your belly now. And forcing you out of your hiding place, he pulls your face back to look at him, gripped around your jaw. His face is very serene, and this settles you, makes the words he’s saying clearer, more meaningful. “Can you hear me silly thing, or can all you think about is taking a cock right now?” You scrunch your nose at him, you know that word, it’s his hard thing between your legs.

“It’s so heavy, alpha,” you sniffle, feeling the weight of it pressing against you there.

He nods, warm look in his eyes that crease at the edges. “That’s how it’s going to feel inside you, baby.”

“The knot?” A seedling blooms again, this one very different now, full of hope once more. You realize you’ve found your missing words.

He shakes his head, not yet, and drags his palm up the inside of your thigh, squeezing and kneading as he goes, and you want to complain that he moves so slow, that he needs to do something else, you don’t know what, but something. You want to click your teeth at him, bite him again, anything to make him go.

And then: “Drippy little girl,” and he’s finally there and a moan that’s almost a scream because he’s cupping a place that is so unbearably sensitive and raw and full of heat and wet like you’d never known was possible.

Oh, oh, ah, ah, ah. “It’s alright,” he says, rubbing gently back and forth, a slick sound that is loud and embarrassing coming from between your legs. “It’s alright. This’ll help for now. We won’t go inside.” And he grips the heavy thing, his cock, in his own palm that’s all slick from your leaking and presses it against you. He rolls over completely now, shifting higher in the bed so that you’re sitting full on top of him, back to chest, bum to belly, and he spreads your thighs wide with his other hand, pulling your shirt up to bare all your nakedness for him to see. You wonder if he can also see all that burning shyness you’re suddenly so chock full of.

“Look at these pretty little tits,” he murmurs, cupping one small morsel in his palm, squeezing so that you’re arching against him, mouth agape like a fish, trying to find sounds that seem to have suddenly gone missing once again. “That’s right, I know.” He moves to the other one, squeezes and pinches and shakes it so that it jiggles in the cup of his hand. All the while he strokes his cock between your legs, pulling his hips back every so often so that it slides against you, coating it in all that wet slick you’re spilling for him.

You look down at the place where it juts out between your thighs, and it’s so big. Dark and angry looking at the end, thick and covered in veins that make it look even angrier and about to burst. You ask him if it hurts him, and he laughs a little and says it isn’t anything you can’t fix which makes you seven different shades of pleased.

The hand at your breasts moves up to your face again, and he turns your head, searching for your eyes. “We started off badly yesterday, yes? But we’re gonna do better today. I promise.” He slides his hips back again and this time he presses harder against you, his hand flat against the underside of his cock so that the top is slicking all along you. Sensitive little cunt, he says when you tremble and shiver and keen, and that’s when you know that’s what it's called. Your cunt. That place that belongs to him, that you want to give him so badly, that you want him to want so badly but that you barely even know yourself. No more experience than the greedy, frantic digging at the soft, hot flesh beneath your hand in moments when everything had felt too tight and needy to do anything else.

“Gonna break you in so well, baby. Gonna teach you how to come, how to fuck, how to take a knot.” And now the wide head presses against you, against a place that is so, so incredibly sensitive it almost hurts. You suck in a sharp gasp, trying to jerk away from the hurt, but he holds you in place against him, presses again, yeah, I know, yeah I know, like he’s trying to put it inside you, and yes, you think that’s what it is, that’s what you need, even if it might hurt. “You’re gonna get everything you need jus’ from me,” and his words are slurred and dripping slacken from his tongue.

He starts to move faster, you think he’s swallowed the same stone of desperation you did, rough grunts and huffing pants, and “So fucking small, it’ll never fit.” Jesus fucking Christ. And on every slick slide forward that wide angry head of it, his cock, bumps the crest of your sex, catches at your hole. You watch it in shock as it presses in just a little, and it hurts and feels like you’re full of bubbles and everything is sticky and your tummy glows with heat.

“Your little cunt needs this,” he grunts, the head catches, he presses, presses, pulls away, you want to bite and scratch and demand he go all the way, and you’re nothing but a pounding heart and a clenching cunt and you want more, and when he slides again it notches full on at the tiny opening, he pauses, lets it rest there before he presses not even half a centimeter further, only giving you the wide stretch of it, letting your cunt flutter and grip around the very head.

“Look at that–” And he peers over your shoulder to look at what he’s doing to you. “Look at your tiny cunt stretching for me.”

You cry, trying to pull away, trying to shove yourself deeper, to take the whole of it like the greedy thing you are, but he holds you in place and lets you flutter and flutter and cry until something in your womb pulls tight, and with his fingers swirling at the apex of your sex, the little nub that is so sensitive it pulls a warbled, baying moan from your tongue, an ah, ah, ah, he gives you your first orgasm with him. A desperate thing, too much and not enough, and with his other hand he’s squeezing, shoving his fist along the rest of the length of his cock, pressing it hard where you meet, and then he’s feeding you a blazing heat, filling you with it, stirring your insides to flutter and shiver harder. Forcing you to cry and beg for more, “Please, please, please,” more.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And although you’re not entirely certain for what, you promise, “I am, I am, I can take it.” You know he’s supposed to put it all the way inside, that then, the knot will come. And although you’re unsure what it will specifically be like, what will become of you during or after, you know you’re ready to discover it all.

“Not yet.” And he’s grunting it through clenched teeth, his hips churning, spitting tip grinding at your hole, something hot and thick sliding wetly all over and between the two of you. “You’ll do as I say. Your little cunt needs this, needs me to be patient with her.”

He lets the slick weight of himself fall away from you, leaving you feeling stretched and bruised and all shivery on the inside, yet still hungry for more. And he pulls his hands along the slopes of you, leaving trails of sticky wet along your skin. The proof of all you are, invisible but tangible, with a taste and a smell and a feel.

You lay your head back on his shoulder, the heat swirls and simmers for now, and your cunt, your cunt, your cunt, you want to give it to him in full, it throbs and trembles against his slick cock. “I’ve never had a heat before,” you tell him although you know he knows. He probably knows everything there is to know about you, which, admittedly, is not much.

“That's alright.”

“It will come soon, yes?” You peer over your shoulder to look up at him, and he nods down at you, that warm, eye creased look on his face again. You like the sight of it so much.

“Will I go away from myself?”

“No,” he says gentle, “I won’t let you. I’ll keep you here with me. You have nothing to be anxious about.”

He rolls the two of you over, keeping you in the comfort of his embrace, and he’s huge and steaming and naked behind you. His hairy chest, his hairy legs all along the smooth and sensitive curves of you. And his thing, it’s still trapped between your thighs, heavy and sticky with your wet, and still kind of hard but not as much as before. You reach between your legs to touch it, and he jerks and hisses but lets you do as you please. Curious fingertips gently along the thick round end of it, down the long length to find two heavy and hot weights hanging lower.

“Where is the knot?” You ask uncertainly, shy with all the things you don’t know.

“Here,” and he grabs your hand, moving your fingers to the base of it where there’s an area of skin, of a different sort of texture, rougher, thicker, around the circumference of it. You prod gently at it, not understanding. “See, it’ll swell when it’s inside of you, and then we’ll stay connected for a time, and I’ll fill you, and that’ll help your heat. And after a while it’ll go down, until you need it again. Did they explain to you how it’ll happen?” His cock is thick between your thighs again, beneath your exploring fingers. A little harder and bigger than it was before. His body, something like a wonderful miracle you need to know everything there is to know about it.

“Yes, but not– not all the way, I don’t think. They said you’d show me.” You turn back to look at him, searching for confirmation, reassurance, but instead ask: “Why did you change your mind?” And finally, of his own choosing, he grips you by the throat, and presses a small kiss to your mouth. The greatest victory of the day, and it’s only just begun.

“It’s exhausting, not letting yourself have what you need.” Need, not want. He shifts over you, coming up on his elbow and rolling you so that you’re on your back and looking up at him. You bring your fingers up to explore along his face: the hooked nose, soft mouth, heart brandished beard. He sighs that bull sigh, and you giggle as it tickles your throat and cheeks. Need, not want. That stings. “Fighting against what you are constantly– and you reminded me that we still have control in what we are. That there’s still choice in this, decidin’ to be what we are without resenting it. And we need each other, after all.” Need, not want.

“I don’t think you need me.”

“No?”

“No.” The truth that you very much feel like you need him, you keep to yourself. And anyways, he knows. You know he knows.

“M’thinkin’ I didn’t know I did. Or couldn’t say it out loud.” And he mimics your exploring fingers: thumb against the fan of your lashes, up the slope of your cheekbone, prying your mouth open to catch the edge of your bottom teeth and look inside. There’s a warm look in his eyes, like he’s pleased with you, like you’ve done a good job. “Think I’m realizin’ how wrong I was. How I want this all too.”

Want, not need.

He bends his head and kisses your mouth, kisses your breast, shows you how much he wants it.

3. I Was a Child Once, I’m Not Any Longer

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ghoulsbounty · 4 months

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Could I possibly ask for a second part to What Happens Tonight, where maybe he gets a little more vulnerable with the reader and we see some of those walls being broken down? (But not fully, I still LOVE the angst of him not wanting to give himself fully to someone and how the reader struggles with it)

What Happens Tonight pt 2

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Ex-Vaultie!Reader (fem)

Summary: After the events during the radstorm, you confront the Ghoul about his true feelings.

Warnings: smut (18+), riding, a lot of grinding, fingering, the gloves stay ON, feeding Rad-X, mutual pining, emotionally stunted Cooper, slight soft!dom Cooper, miscommunication, angst.

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Thank you for all the love received on WHT part one, and thank you anon for specifically requesting a part two. I had a lot of fun with this one and delved more into the smut but still tried to make sure Cooper kept his boundaries. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

👉 Read part one HERE 👈

It had been several weeks since you sought refuge in the vault, a period marked by the moment you surrendered yourself entirely to Cooper. The memory of that night left a persistent ache between your thighs, serving as a constant reminder of the intimacy you shared and the emptiness you now felt. Despite this, Cooper had not addressed the matter with you since then. Whenever you attempted to discuss what had come to be known as "the night of the radstorm," he would abruptly turn away, his body rigid and his gaze averted. The tension between you grew with each passing day, the unspoken words creating a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.

By the time you both composed yourselves the next morning, the sinister weather had come and gone. While the storm had left a physical mess outside, the emotional turmoil between you had created an even greater one. An awkwardness had settled over your relationship, forming an invisible barrier that hadn't existed before. You longed for this tension to vanish as the storm had, but it persisted, clinging to your interactions like a second skin. This discomfort coloured every conversation, every glance, leaving you both trapped in a web of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

You supposed this was the consequence of crossing that boundary, daring to entertain the notion that you and the Ghoul could be more than mere traveling companions. Your relationship had always been one of convenience, a mutual arrangement for survival. But that night had altered everything—at least for you.

Constantly, you replayed the moments in your mind: the intimacy you shared in that confined space, the way his hands moved over your body with a mix of urgency and reverence. You wondered if you had misread the signals, if the heat of the moment had clouded your judgment. The way he touched you, the way he held you—it all felt so real, so genuine. Yet now, it seemed like a fleeting dream, dissipating in the harsh light of reality. Each touch, each whisper of that night lingered in your thoughts, making you question the line between reality and illusion, and leaving you to ponder whether the connection you felt was ever truly mutual.

But weren't you the one who assured him it would mean nothing? And yet, here you were, longing for him every night as you lay on your bedroll, the void he left behind more palpable than his presence ever was. You couldn't help but feel the emptiness, the way his absence seemed to echo within you.

You found yourself watching him when he wasn't looking, searching for any sign that he felt the same way, that he missed you too. But he remained closed off, his walls higher than ever. Each glance in his direction was met with an unyielding façade, leaving you to wonder if he had already moved on or if he, too, was silently grappling with the same confusion and longing that plagued your thoughts.

You tried to focus on the tasks at hand, to distract yourself with the daily challenges of survival. Yet, every silence between you, every avoided glance, only deepened the chasm that had formed. The tension was a constant reminder of what had changed, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

You found yourself wishing for another storm, another night where you could both let down your guards and be vulnerable with each other again. But you knew better than to rely on such whims. Reality rarely afforded such convenient opportunities. You had to face the growing divide head-on, even if it meant confronting the possibility that the connection you craved might never be rekindled.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across the wasteland, you found yourself alone with Cooper once more. The silence between you was heavy, almost suffocating, and you knew that you couldn't go on like this. You needed to address the elephant in the room, to find some way to mend the rift that had formed.

"Cooper," you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk about what happened that night."

He stiffened at your words, his eyes flickering briefly to yours before he looked away. "There's nothing to talk about," he replied, his tone clipped and guarded.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "You know that's not true," you countered, looking down at him from where you stood. The warm glow from the crackling fire highlighted his features as he leaned back against the wall from his position on his bedroll.

Cooper's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, but he remained silent, staring into the flames as if searching for answers. You stepped closer, the soft crunch of your boots on the gritty floor the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

"That night," you continued, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest, "I said whatever happened wouldn't matter but... I was wrong. It meant something, and I need to know what it meant to you."

He sighed deeply, running a hand over his bald head before meeting your gaze. "You talk too much," he said in a biting tone, eyes downcast as he kicked his boot out in frustration.

"And you don't talk enough," you said defiantly, lightly kicking at his boot when he still refused to meet your gaze despite the scoff that escaped his lips. "You can't just ignore me, or pretend it didn't happen. If you regret it... well, I can handle it. I'm a big girl, Cooper."

"We'd be stupid not to regret it," he admitted, his hands occupied with reloading bullets into the bandolier on his lap. "Doesn't mean I didn't like it," he added quietly, almost to himself.

His words left you feeling conflicted. On one hand, you were relieved to hear that he had found pleasure with you, perhaps as much as you did with him. But the admission of regret lingered, casting a shadow over the memory. He wanted you to feel the same remorse, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

"I don't regret it," you declared, your voice firm. "I wanted you then, and I still want you now. Whatever it is that's holding you back, that's between you and your own conscience. But here I am, with you, and I want you."

His eyes snapped to you then, dark and swirling with emotion as he glared up at you. "Have you been taking those pills?"

You looked at him, confused, searching your memory for what he meant until the Rad-X pills surfaced in your mind. You remembered taking one that night after he'd left them on the bed, then discarding them into the recesses of your bag and not thinking about them since.

"What do the pills have to do with anything?" you asked, still bewildered.

Cooper's jaw clenched, frustration etched across his features as he averted his gaze once more. "Supposed to take 'em before exposure," he muttered, "but you were going wild, locking those thighs 'round me so damn hard. I might not seem like it, sweetheart, but I'm just a man," he added, his voice carrying both irritation and a hint of amusement.

Your cheeks flushed at his words, recalling the intensity of the moment when you ground down on his cock as he attempted to pry you off him, moments before he relented and filled you with his hot load.

"If you've been taking them regularly," he continued, meeting your eyes with a meaningful glance, "you'd likely have developed a fair resistance by now."

Accepting the Rad-X felt like a symbolic gesture, a token of protection offered in the aftermath of that intimate moment, meant to erase any lingering traces of radiation from him. You appreciated his small attempt at aftercare, yet couldn't shake the feeling that it was tinged with regret for his own actions. Now, as he sat before you, finally meeting your gaze after what felt like an eternity, a realization dawned upon you: his offering wasn't just a momentary solution, but a precaution for the future. It hinted at a desire for something more.

Your heart swelled with the realization, a mixture of relief and hope before reality dawned on you. "I haven't been taking them," you admitted, your voice soft but steady. "I didn't know that you wanted me to."

He rolled his eyes at the whine that cracked your voice, discarded his bandolier on the ground beside him before lifting his hand towards you with a curled finger in a beckoning gesture. Almost instinctively, you found yourself drawn towards him until you were standing above him, your legs positioned on either side of his as he gazed up at you. His gloved hands traced up the sides of your legs, pausing at your hips before firmly grasping them and tugging you down to your knees, so that you straddled him. A gasp escaped you, a blend of surprise and anticipation echoing in the air.

"Don't get it, do you?" he murmured, his voice a rough whisper against your ear as he pulled you closer. "I wanted to get you ready for me."

You shivered at his words, the intensity of his gaze boring into yours as you leant back to look at him. "Cooper, I—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his hands tightening on your hips, grounding you. "You're still talking too much."

His lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue pushing for dominance over yours as he held you tight against him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for balance, feeling the rough fabric of his coat beneath your fingertips as he dragged your clothed cunt against the growing erection straining his dirty pinstripe pants. The friction sent sparks of pleasure through your body, your hips moving instinctively to grind against him, seeking more.

Cooper's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your movements, his kiss growing more demanding. You moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his insistent lips. Every drag of your body against his made you wetter, your desire pooling between your thighs and soaking through the fabric of your underwear.

With a swift motion, he tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before leaning in to capture one of your nipples between his teeth through the thin fabric of your bra. You gasped, your back arching as his hands worked to unclasp the garment and free your breasts. The cool air hit your skin briefly before his mouth was on you again, sucking and nipping at your sensitive flesh.

Your hands fumbled with the lapels of his coat, desperate to feel more of him, to erase the barriers between your bodies. He helped you, shrugging out of the heavy garment and discarding it with a careless flick of his wrist. You were pleasantly surprised when he let you undo the buttons of his waistcoat, shrugging it off before he stopped your fingers at their decent on his shirt.

"It stays on," he told you gruffly, a hint of vulnerability in his voice that urged you to accept his decision without a second thought. You nodded, your hands running over the fabric of his shirt and across his chest, down his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle beneath the material, the scars that told stories of his past. He groaned at your touch, his hips grinding up against you as his hands slid down to the waistband of your pants, deftly undoing the button and zipper.

"Lift up," he commanded, and you complied, rising just enough for him to peel the garment down your legs, your underwear following shortly after. You were completely exposed to him now, the cool air of the room making you shiver as he gazed at you with a hunger that made your pulse race.

"What a sight," he said, his voice rough with need as he pulled you back down onto his lap, your bare cunt pressing against his clothed erection

You whimpered, the heat of him so close yet so far driving you crazy. "Please, Cooper," you whispered, rocking your hips against him. "I need you."

"I know," he replied with a wicked grin, his hands gripping your ass and guiding your movements, the friction of his pants against your clit making you see stars. "Been needing you for a long time now. Long before that night."

You nibbled on your lip, the waves of pleasure cresting within you almost overwhelming as you surrendered to the sensation of him beneath you. "What kept you so long?" you gasped, your hand instinctively caressing the nape of his neck, your thumb tracing the contours of the thick muscles there.

He chuckled, leaning into your touch, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on your face. "Just honing my patience," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You huffed in exasperation at his calm demeanour, your hands moving to undo the buckle of his belt and the buttons of his pants. As you attempted to reach for him, your hand was swatted away, and you tried again, only to be met with the same resistance. "Hey, cut it out," you scolded him, a mix of frustration and desire evident in your tone.

"You'll get it, don't you doubt," he teased, his voice low and playful. With a swift movement, one gloved hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding their way into your wet heat. A gasp escaped your lips as he penetrated you, his touch igniting a fire within you. Another finger joined the first, and he expertly curled them upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you burying your face in the crook of his neck with a muffled cry. "Oh, there she is," he declared proudly, a smirk evident in his voice.

You mewled softly against his salty skin, your lips pressing eagerly against the muscle as he slid his leather-clad fingers in and out of you with a delicious rhythm. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you couldn't help but rock your hips into his palm, seeking out the friction that made your nerves sing.

You trailed hot kisses along the skin of his neck, feeling his pulse quicken beneath your lips, and then, unable to resist, you bared your teeth and bit down gently. His response was immediate—a deep, guttural groan—as he grabbed at your ass with his free hand, urging you on, encouraging you to ride his fingers with abandon.

Your mind swirled with the sensations of being wrapped around him once more, your movements growing increasingly erratic as you chased the elusive peak of pleasure. He smiled against your bare shoulder, his hand releasing it's hold on your behind to fumble inside your bag that rested beside him as he anticipated your impending climax.

Seconds later, he pushed you back slightly, holding a small brown bottle in his hand. You whined in protest as his fingers slowed to a taunting pace inside you, desperate to regain the momentum you had lost. Your hips bucked instinctively, urging him to quicken the pace once more.

He tapped your cheek lightly with two fingers from the hand that held the bottle, meeting your gaze with a serious expression. "One more move like that, and I'll take them out," he warned, his tone firm but tinged with amusement.

You frowned at the threat but nodded in compliance. Your eyes followed his movements as he deftly unscrewed the cap of the bottle with his teeth, retrieving one of the red pills with his fingers before setting the bottle aside. He held the pill out to you, his gaze fixated on your mouth as he spoke. "Let me see it."

You hesitated for a moment, then complied, slowly opening your mouth and extending your tongue for him. He delicately placed the pill on your tongue, prompting you to close your mouth with another tap on your cheek. As you did, he captured your lips in another passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he gently manipulated the pill inside your mouth. Finally, he pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva between your lips as he watched you swallow the pill with a satisfied smile.

Your body vibrated at the intimacy, eyes blown as you felt his thick thumb begin to circle your clit, his earlier ministrations continuing as he fucked you hard with his fingers, bouncing you on the palm of his hand. His free hand slid back over the curve of your ass, squeezing firmly as he intensified his movements.

"C-Cooper, please," you began, your voice trembling with need as the heat between your legs intensified, the sound of your wetness filling the quiet room. You dug your nails into his shoulders, anchoring yourself in the overwhelming sensation as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Almost," he murmured, pushing against the spongy spot inside you that had you hurtling towards the edge. Your eyes rolled back as you gushed into his palm, hot liquid streaming down your thighs as you screamed his name. He smirked, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace as he stroked you through your orgasm. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he rocked you against him, grounding you in the midst of your intense pleasure. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, "That's it, let it all out."

When the last surge of your climax had left your body, you slumped against his chest, head nestled in the crook of his neck as you caught your breath. You kissed his neck, running your lips up his strong jaw until you met his cracked lips. He hummed into you, grabbing your wrist tightly when you began to trail it down to the bulge in his pants.

"Easy there," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost possessive, and he held you close. "What's the hurry, sweetheart?"

You regarded him with incredulity, your gaze searching his eyes for any sign of understanding as you boldly voiced your desire. "I took the pill," you stated firmly, your words weighted with intent. "I want you to fuck me."

He chuckled, his gaze briefly dropping before meeting yours once more. "Oh, I know you do," he said, withdrawing his fingers from your sopping core. A whimper escaped your lips as your walls clenched around nothing, longing for the sensation he had just provided. He brought his glistening gloved fingers to his lips, licking at them with a low groan of approval. Then, he pressed the tips of his digits against your parted lips, hooking them inside your lower teeth while holding his thumb beneath your chin.

"Let this be your lesson to take the fuckin' pills," he admonished, his voice carrying a mixture of gratification and warning.

His hands fell away, and you frowned at the sudden absence of his touch. He placed the previously discarded pill bottle in your palm, closing your fingers around it gently before guiding you off his lap and onto your bedroll beside him with a soft thud. Stretching his arms above him, he folded them behind his head, settling further back against the wall as he gazed out at the crackling fire.

"Until then," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of resignation, "we'll both be practicing a little patience."

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eyesxxyou · 1 year

Text

Backstage show

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 5k

synopsis. you finally get to meet your favorite band and the lead vocalist takes a liking to you. He decides he shouldn't keep such a beauty to himself.

hobie fucks you in front of his bandmates

🍒・．❕warnings. exhibitionalism (sex in front of bandmates), p in v sex, unprotected sex not advised, clothed sex, oral (m receiving) drinking, smoking, save a horse ride a cowboy, public sex, hobie has a bit of a god complex, y/n is a group who'd do anything for her idol, bit of a power dynamic fr, this is a bit toxic but gets sweet at the end y'all so hold on

Backstage Show pt.2

This was your dream. Ever since coming across a small underground punk rock band, The Mary Janes, you've dreamed of attending one of their concerts. Now you were here, your body pressed up against the side of the stage of the small venue, so close to your idols you thought you might faint. Your body was clad in leather, from your skin-tight skirt to the oversized jacket you had draped over your shoulders. Your shirt was torn, black, lacy bra exposed, a beg for attention really.

All of the members of the band were attractive and all had their individual groupies but by far the fan favorite was Hobie-fucking-Brown. Lead singer and bass guitarist. A tall, lean fellow with the most beautiful voice you've ever heard in your life. He was a charmer, a flirt, known for giving the occasion groupie a chance and the night of their life or dating one from time to time.

Your hands grabbed at the edge of the stage as the lights dimmed and everyone in the building began to scream including you. It grew even louder when the band came on stage, the girl next to you was screaming her head off, hoping to grab the attention of Hobie as the thick soles of his boots made the very stage vibrate under your hands.

You stopped screaming when you saw him. Your breath simply stolen away from you but you supposed that might just be the people behind you pressing as they tried to get as close to Hobie as possible. He was breathtaking. All his features were so sharp, from his cheekbones to his liner-framed eyes. You liked the lean muscle of his body, the way his spiked armband pressed into the muscle, how his torn up, sleeveless crop top revealed the valley of his abs and low-waisted pants revealed his happy trail.

You obsessed over the way he smirked at the crowd and sent them absolutely buck wild. He grabbed his microphone and adjusted it, raising it to his height so he could speak into it comfortably. "'Ow's er'ryone doin' t'night?" His accent is thick but not aggressive to the ears nor incoherent. The crowd goes absolutely wild including you, you scream until your voice is raw, hoping that maybe those pretty eyes of his will land on you.

"Er'ryone lookin' good t'night." His eyes scan over the crowd, making their way back to front, side to side. Then Hobie’s eyes landed on you, in all your fishnet, leather, and spiked collar glory. He paused for a moment, his tongue dragging across his pierced lips before the corner curled into a smirk. “Some lookin’ real good.”

And from then on, he had his attention on you. Sure, he certainly had everyone in the room on a leash and the few people in the front were able to hold hands with him for a few milliseconds and get a few acknowledging glances. But he made it clear that you were the one on his mind. He bent down and caressed your face with his silver decorated fingers while singing before moving on.

You grabbed your polaroid camera you had hanging off your side like a bag, using it to snap pictures of what you could only describe as the best day of your life. Everytime Hobie neared, another picture was taken and printed out on the spot. You barely let them develop before placing them in your bag.

Hobie noticed this and came back to you, sitting down with his legs hanging off the edge of the stage, pressed against your chest. “You havin’ a good time, luv?” He asked as his band began to play the intro to the next song. You were so mesmerized, so starstruck, that you couldn’t even formulate words. You didn’t trust yourself to speak because you knew if you tried, you’d say something stupid like you’re in love with him, you’d do anything for him. So you nod like you’re completely braindead, fawning over him.

“Might I see ya camera?” He pointed to the device in your hand and immediately, you handed it to him without thought. You melt when he grabs you by the back of the head and pulls you in. Hobie kissed you, his tongue pressed against the seam of your lips. It was a moment you never thought would ever happen to you. His lips were on yours and you knew this was your chance.

You kissed him back and let him slip his tongue past your lips. His tongue pressed against yours, a little ball piercing meeting the soft flesh of your tongue. With a little bit more confidence, you grabbed his shirt, slid your hands up his collared neck, felt his skin because you might never get to have this chance again.

He took this chance to snap a picture of the two of you kissing, letting it print out as he placed it back between your hands.

“Hobie! Stop fuckin’ around an get up here, mate!” His drummer called from across the stage with a hint of impatience. Hobie broke away from you with an annoyed sigh as he glanced back over his shoulder for just a moment. When he looked back at you, he offered one of his pearly white smiles. “You min’ stickin’ around aft’a the show fa me, luv?”

You nod, still not trusting yourself to say the right words just yet. Hobie pecks your lips, a goodbye kiss with the promise to see you again soon, before he stands and grabs ahold of his guitar to finish the show. You swore, if you weren’t in love before, you definitely are now. You were in love with the way he drew all attention to himself without even trying, so confident because he had nothing to prove. Undeniably sexy in every single way,

So once the show came to a close and the crowd slowly dispersed across the venue, most finding themselves at the bar for a drink. At first, you had no idea where Hobie was. The place was absolutely packed and the thought of anyone being able to take a single step without bumping into someone else was laughable. But it soon became clear when people began flocking in one direction, girls screaming out his name as he came around, asking for autographs on any part of their body they had to offer and he was happy to oblige. He went around signing people’s chests just above their tits and the bottom of their backs like his name was their tramp stamp.

He saw you between the swaths of people and smiled, wading himself between people to get to you. “There ya are, luv. Been lookin’ fa you.” Hobie tossed an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into the side of his body. He smelled of sweat and the musk of his cologne and you thought you might just cum from the smell alone. You looked up at his towering stature as he greeted other fans. His jawline was sharp, adam’s apple prominent in his throat, his lips thick and kissable.

Hobie looked back down at you. “You wanna go backstage wit’ me and my mates?” A long, slender finger came and wrapped around a single one of your braids. He was so charming, so easily able to persuade those around him to listen to him. He made those around him feel like they’ve known him for years, like you’ve spent your whole life together.

Finally, you were confident enough to stop acting like you didn’t have a lick of intelligence. You slid your arm around his waist to return the same kindness of intimate closeness. “Of course.”

Hobie raised his pierced brows in slight surprise. “So you speak.” He teased you lightly, placing his hand on top of yours as you held his waist and pulled you closer. He began to lead you towards a door that led to backstage.”Wha’s ya name, doll?” He leaned in to you so he could hear you better as you say, “Y/N.”

He hummed softly. “Suits you. Pretty name fo a pretty girl.” He kicked open the door so he didn’t have to let do of you. He kicked the door closed behind him, making sure it was closed al the way before bringing you around a few short, winding halls until you reached their little hangout spot. All three others of his band were already lounging about, feet kicked up, with some bottles of whiskey and a joint being passed between them. The room smelled heavily of weed and booze but the aggressiveness of it didn’t bother you. You’ve spent your entire life in environments like this.

“Yo er’ryone, this is Y/N.” Hobie introduced you, finally letting you go once you were in an environment he was more comfortable in. They all nodded and greeted you cooly, probably already high. They were all friendly, complimenting you on your outfit or telling you they thought you were pretty in a way that didn’t make you feel uncomfortable while Hobie went to sit down in a dingy recliner next to a messy coffee table.

“Com’ere, pretty girl.” Hobie motioned you over to him and without hesitation you came, placing your things down on the table. He grabbed a bottle of liquor from the table and took a large swing of it as he grabbed your hand gently and pulled you into his lap. His hand was on your thigh, fingers slipping beneath the webbing of your fishnets. God, he was so sexy looking up at you like that. The way he gripped your thigh already had you growing wet at the thought of his fingers sliding beneath your skirt.

“Gotta be ‘bout the prettiest girl I done ever seen. Right boys?” He doesn’t look over the side of his recliner at them, just takes another swing of his bottle while staring up at you with eyes telling you exactly what he’s imagining now. You’re imagining the exact same.

They all agree with various sounds of approval, knowing not to tread too much on Hobie's obviously marked territory.

You shift in his lap, the wetness between your thighs growing evermore uncomfortable. Hobie leans forward and begins kissing along the side of your neck, his hand still possessively gripping your thigh. His lips graze your supple skin so lightly it sends shivers through every nerve in your body. "Hobie."

"This can stop. You just say the word." He made sure to let you know that you had no obligation to do anything with him. You appreciated the gesture but you would do anything short of murder for him. This was a moment you've been dreaming of for so long, you were scared that this very moment right here was a figment of your delusional imagination and you'd be waking up in your bed any second now.

But his lips kissing you was very real, his hand stroking your hip now was the realest thing in your world right now.

“You wanna drink, luv?” Hobie asked you, shaking the bottle in front of you. You were never much of a drinker but you didn’t mind a few sips here and there and you were sure you’d need some liquid courage for a moment like this. You reached out for the bottle but Hobie quickly pulled it out of your range and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Lemme do it. Get on ya knees fa me, doll.”

You don’t even think about refusing. Not an ounce of hesitation plagues you as you slide off of his lap and onto the floor in front of him. You get on your knees, leaning forward, back arched as you positioned yourself between Hobie’s legs. You thought you were probably flashing your panties to his bandmates but you didn’t care. How could you when Hobie drabbed your chin with those beautiful fingers of his, nails painted a solid black. “Open ya mouf.”

You do so. You part your lips and let your jaw hang open as he tips the bottle against your lips and lets the bitter liquid pour down your throat. He’s sure not to give you too much so you won’t choke. You close your mouth and swallow, looking up at Hobie through hooded eyes and long lashes.

“Go’ myself a good girl, didn’t I?” Hobie pet your head as you placed it on his thigh much like a pet who worships their owner. “You’d do anythin’ fo me, wouldn’t you?” He asks because he knows that you’ll undoubtedly say yes. You love the way he pushes your hair out of your face to get a better view of you as you look up at him like he’s more than just a man.

‘You’d do anything for your god too, wouldn’t you?” You ask him, making it very clear how you saw him and that there was very little you wouldn’t do for him. He was your god, your religion, your everything. You were a devout disciple, on your knees ready to worship.

Hobie smiled at your words. He liked you, knew from the moment he saw you that you’d be entirely worth his while. “Why don’t you show me how much you love ya god then.” He relaxed into his chair, slouching as he took another sip. His hand was in your hair, pulling you closer to the growing bulge in his pants. “Would you like to be the sta’ fo a bit, put on a lil’ show fo the rest of us?”

You glance behind you at his bandmates, all of them staring at you, waiting to see where this would all go. When you look back, Hobie’s staring at you with a raise brow. A question. Do you wanna? I won’t make you, luv. You drag your tongue over your lips, wiped clean of your lipgloss from his kiss earlier. You bit your lip and reached towards his belt to undo it. How could you turn down a moment like this? The thought of them all sitting there watching as you suck off their leader made your pussy tremble. You’ve always played with the idea of people watching. Tonight had to be a dream.

You undid the buckle of his belt and pulled it from its slot before moving into his pants. Hobie assured you to take your time as you reached into his pants and pulled him out of his restraints. He was already half hard in your hand, weighing heavy against your palm as blood rushed into the appendage.

You wet your lips again as you began to stroke him. Your delicate fingers wrapping around and pulling at the smooth, satin skin of his cock. He had to have the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, nice, long, and veiny with a Prince Albert’s piercing sitting pretty and shiny at the tip of his cock. You salivated at the sight of it as it grew harder in your hand. You bite your lip and glance up at Hobie who’s already smiling at you. “Like what ya see?” You love what you see, wanted him to shove it down your throat.

Hobie takes over for you, grabs his cock and jerks it a little harder. Little beads of pearly precum dripped from his slit and rolled down the underside of his cock before meeting his hand. He takes his time, staring at you and that pretty face of yours that caught his attention in the beginning.

He tapped his length against your cheeks in a way that was almost degrading but you leaned into it, stared into his eyes as his bottom lip caught on his teeth. You let him smear his precum across your plush lips before parting them to let him drack his tip against your tongue.

“Got yourself a proper lil’ slut, didn’t you Hobes?” One of the other band members chuckle as you part your lips further and stick out your tongue. The others laugh with him including Hobie who takes up your hair in a makeshift ponytail and presses your head down, sliding his cock into your mouth as far as you could take him. “Gotta nice lil’ wet patch on ‘er panties.”

You found a guilty pleasure in the way they talked about you like you weren’t even there, an object of pleasure. Hobie used your mouth as his own personal toy, controlling the way your head moved up and down his cock, pressing to your limit, until you’re gagging and choking on him. He slapped your cheek lightly. “Eyes up here sweet’art.” You look up at him, eyes swelling with tears each time his length slid down your throat and triggered your gag reflex.

His head hell back against the cushion of his chair as he moaned lowly, “Relax tha’ throa’, doll.” His eyes never left yours no matter how good that pretty little mouth of yours made him feel. Hobie let his own mouth fall open as you took him in down to the hilt, your nose pressed to his pelvis. “Gooood fuckin’ girl.” He holds your right where you are, watching with a sadistic smile as you gagged. Your hands gripped his thighs to brace yourself, tears streaking your cheeks.

Hobie let you go after a few seconds and you fall back, panting for air with your lips slicked with saliva. The moment you caught your breath, you had your lips wrapped around him again, bobbing your head with an eagerness to please, to put on that show he was talking about. You are your back more, the outline of your pussy revealed behind your panties for his bandmates to gaze at.

“Keep goin’ jus’ like tha’.” Hobie was practically falling apart beneath you, his breathing hitching and his eyes barely open while he watched you take him down like a champ. “Fuck…ya killin’ me, doll.” His voice was breathy yet tireless and came out like a low rumble that only made you wetter. “Drivin’ me fuckin’ mad.”

But Hobie wasn’t ready to cum just yet as pretty as you’d look swallowing his cum. “Get on up fo me.” He pulled you back by your hair and you released him with a sticky pop of your lips. He made you to stand up between his knees and held you by the waist, his hands so large it made you seem small by comparison.

“Le’s put on a real performance.” He whispered to you with a smile that could only be described as devious. His hands were suddenly hiking up your tight little skirt to circle your waist, fingers between the netting of your stockings, tearing them open enough to create a whole right at your cunt. “Turn ‘round.” And you did, following every movement of his hands as they positioned your body. Until you were sitting on Hobie’s lap with your legs spread, feet on the armrests of his chair, panties pulled to the side so everything you held so dear was on display for his bandmates to oogle at.

Hobie wrapped an arm around your waist and used his free hand to slide his saliva-soaked cock between the equally soaked lips of your puffy little pussy that’s been screaming and begging to be fucked. You tremble as his piercing dragged across your sensitive little clit. “Already nice and wet. Din’t even needa touch ya.” He chuckled into the shell of your ear before kitten-licking it.

It was easy to slip in, hardly an resistance at all. You whimpered at the way he could so easily push that thick cock of his into you, at how he stretched your walls. You turned your face in some feeble attempt to hide yourself from the prying eyes of the men sitting on the couch across from you. They all watched intently, something predatory sparkling in their eyes at the sight of you.

“Uhn-uh, luv.” Hobie hissed out as he bucked his hips up into your little cunt that so eagerly accepted him. “Look at ‘em. Look at wha’ you’re doin’ to ‘em.” You turn your head to glance and find them all palming themselves through their pants. Shameful and embarrassed, you hide your face again and attempt to close your legs but before you can, Hobie’s are already pinning them apart, keeping you just how you are.

“Start bouncin’ then.” Hobie forces you to move your hips, rocking them against his cock as your greedy little pussy takes in more of him. He slaps your exposed pussy red and raw when you take too long to move, leaving you sensitive and teary-eyed. “I said start bouncin’, or are you stupid now?” His voice bites a little with a command but just between the two of you in a hushed whisper, “Jus’ tell me to stop if you don’ wanna go on, sweet’art.”

You shake his head at your offer, bracing yourself as you begin to flex your thighs and lift yourself up before dropping right back down on his cock. You let out a broken little moan as he plunges back in, the curve of his length pressing into your walls just right. That wonderful piercing of his only amplifies the pleasure. “Hobie~” You whine his name as he soothes his the rough pads of his fingers against your aching clit as a reward. “Keep goin’.”

You ride like your very life depends on it, crying out his name like he might be your only chance at salvation. You don’t care that your thighs are burning as you push them to their limits. You’re cock-hungry and everyone in the room knows it. The sound of your creamy, wet pussy being fucked and your whiny moans mingle with Hobie’s deep, guttaral ones. He hisses out his words like he’s barely holding on to sanity. “Bes’ fuckin cunt ‘ve had in a long time.”

And when you simply couldn’t keep going as you were, your legs exhausted from carrying up and down and back up again, Hobie grabbed you, held you up, and fucked you just like that. The way he fucked you was borderline cruel, abusive even. He bullied his cock into your pussy and played with your clit like the strings of his guitar, leaving you so wet that your thighs were slick with it. Skin clapped against skin, your faces’ shimmering with sweat.

“Pull up ya shirt… let’ em see your tits.” Hobie let out between breathless pants. You did just that, pulling up your shirt enough to let your breast free. They bounced with his harsh thrusts, the peaks of your nipples pebbling at the cold air coming in contact with them. You could tell they were all trying to restrain themselves, swallowing harshly at the sight of your near defiled body.

“H-Hobie…I’m– cumming!” You could feel it falling upon you much like a tsunami. It seized your body and held you, drowned you. Your pussy clamped down around him and trembled with it as Hobie played with your pussy and dragged you through it. It had no mercy on you, left you feeling dizzy and your mind foggy. Your back arched, muscles twitching against your will, and your pussy left white streaks of cream against his cock.

Hobie wasn’t done with you though. “Turn ‘round, doll.” You hardly even removed yourself from his cock as you turned around on his cock, now facing him. Instinctively, you began to ride him, your hands grasping his shirt for leverage as he leaned back and enjoyed the show for himself.

“Lookin’ all pretty and fucked out, aren’t ya luv?” He reached across you towards the table for a joint. He placed it between his lips and grabbed a lighter to light it, still watching you as he took his first drag and tossed the lighter to the side. He loved the way your tits bounced in his face, the way there wasn’t a single thought in that pretty, empty head of yours. Like his mates said, a proper slut for him.

He blew the smoke into your face and slapped your ass before grabbing your waist. “Should keep ya ‘round. Nice way to relax after a show, yeah men?” Hobie looked at his mates already rubbing one out themselves, too sexually frustrated not to do anything. He took another drag and let out the smoke in a breathy moan. “Fuckin’ me up here, doll.” He gritted out while grinding his hips into you. “Migh’ haveta keep ya ‘round. Can’t get good pussy like this nowhere else.”

Hobie pulled you in to kiss you, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You could still taste the remainder of your cherry lipgloss mingling with the alcohol and weed in his breath. You wondered if it was possible to sew two people’s lips together because you never wanted to stop kissing him ever again.

He began to smile into your kiss, a wicked idea coming to mind. “Lemme give you a autograph, luv. Get up and get on ya knees again.” You didn’t understand at first until you felt his cock twitch with the telltale signs of an orgasm on the horizon. So you got up, a string of cum leaving you two connected before breaking. You got on your knees again.

“Gotta nice pair o’ tits there.” Hobie wrapped his ringed fingers around his length and began violently jerking himself. You look at him, slick lips parting to speak. “Can you sign them for me?” You ask like one of his fangirls only hoping to get a moment like this one.

He held his joint between his fingers and sat up a bit more as his stomach tightened, abs revealing themselves even more. “How can I refuse a fan?” His brows furrowed with concentration as you push your chest forward in front of him, pressing them together with your hands.

Then his face relaxed all at once, his lips falling open with a single moan as he came. His cum came out in ribbons of white, landing on your chest in intervals as he twitched. Hobie was the prettiest when he came, every muscle in his face relaxing except his brows that seem to tense. You like how he coated your chest, how his cum rolled between the valley of your breasts as down your naval.

You felt owned now, possessed, marked. And you swore you’d never be able to have sex with another man again after tonight. You watched Hobie in utter admiration as he placed his joint back between his lips and reached back to the table to grab your camera. He snapped a picture of you. Your defiled body, your owned body, immortalized in a picture.

Hobie grabbed the picture as it printed out and waved it about through the air until it developed then placed it down on the table. “Come on, less get you cleaned up, doll.” He made himself decent before helping you up onto your shaky feet. He glanced at his mates as you two passed them, them all still wanking off, and he scoffed. “Pervs.”

“Fuck you, Hobes!”

He took you to the bathroom, used some wet paper towels to clean his come from your body and fix up your outfit as best as he could. “Sorry ‘bout the stockin’s, luv. I’ll buy ya new ones.” You didn’t expect him to be so sweet, no one has ever cleaned you up afterwards. Your face was hot as you looked at him. “Can I… have a second?” You asked softly.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Hobie shrugged, leaned down and kissed your cheek right at the corner of your lips. He offered a sly smile before leaving you to yourself to go back and joins his friends. You could hear him behind the door, “Could you wankas put ya…well…wankas away?”

You turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water. You tell yourself that this isn’t real. You tell yourself you didn’t just have the best sex of your life with your idol. The more you splash your face, trying to wake yourself from thai dream that can only end in disappointment, the more you realize this isn’t some pathetic figment of your imagination.

When you come out of the bathroom, everyone’s hanging around. Hobie’s back in his chair with his joint and the polaroid he took in between his fingers. Your things were in his lap meaning you’d have to go to him to grab them.

He stands for you, putting out his joint in the ashtray much to the dismay of the others. He takes your things and brings them to you. “There ya go, sweet’art.” Your fingers brush when you grab them from him and he gives you the picture too. His eyes sparkle as he looks at you. “Hope to see you at our next gig.”

You think he must say that to all the fangirls he hooks up with. You’re nothing special you tell yourself. You glance at the other members wearily. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“You too, darlin’.” They’re all sweet despite watching you get fucked by their friend and jerking off to it. Do they do that kind of stuff often? Was this not an uncommon occurrence for them?

You’re almost humiliated as you leave, stalking towards the nearest exit to take a cab home. You look at the polaroid of yourself, on your knees with cum on your chest. You rub your thumb over it and when you shift it into your other hand to put it in your bag, you see ink smeared on your fingers.

Your brows furrowed and you flipped the photo to find a number scribbled down on the back. Your fingers smeared the ink but not enough to make it incomprehensible. All the numbers were clearly readable, carefully placed like he wanted to ensure you’d be able to read it.

You almost had a heart attack right then and there. There was absolutely no way he was just giving out his number to anyone who came across his path. This meant you were special, something out of his ordinary. You squealed, jumping right there on the cracked sidewalk, gaining the attention of those around you.

Holy Shit.

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