#the way these two handle the other's Sways in darkness in such a Knowing way - ‘’Are you sure it wasn’t intentional?’’

[yashley]

Say something true!

[sunarc]

Shop owner Choso who fucks you in the back office of the store when noone is around. You look so pretty falling apart when he sinks his cock into you.

“This what you wanted huh” he’s breathlessly panting the words into your ear while he fucks you like he’s derranged. 

His cock slips so easily into you. He has you sitting on his desk, legs spread while he shoves his cock into your core. He’s so desperate to have you he can’t even fully take his clothes off. His pants form a puddle around his ankles while his hand keeps your panties pushed to the side for easier access to what he has claimed as his own. 

“F-fuck you feel so good” Choso’s voice trembled.

He wanted to keep quiet fearing that any customer could hear the loud moans and whimpers mixed with the wet sounds of your cunt sucking him in. 

“Keep your eyes on the door,” he groaned into the crook of your neck. “I wouldn’t want anyone coming in to see you creaming so pretty on my cock like this” 

His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs as he drags you closer to the edge of the desk. He’s been thinking about this all day. The moment he sees you walk into his store, his cock strains against his pants. The crappy day that he had been having seems to fade into existence. You look so pretty, hips swaying as you walk through the isle picking up your favorite candy. Your ass looks so plump and delicious as you bend over to pick up the sweet tasty treat. Choso has been through this plenty of times with you. You come in and give him a sweet teasing show and he takes you to the back and fucks you until your limping your way out the door. It's a routine, one the Choso loves. He cant seem to get enough of you, your sweet vanilla scent, the cherry flavored lip balm you always use, the way your cunt drips and makes a mess all over his desk anytime he fucks you. He gets so drunk off the thought of you.

 He lips pressed wet needy kisses onto your skin. He couldn’t handle this overwhelming feeling of needing you so bad. 

“Mmm Shit I can’t get enough of you” his whimpers filled the room. His thrust were wild as he fucked himself into you. His cock felt so thick and long filling you up. The two of you pulled each other in need of one another like a drug. 

Choso had completely forgotten about the outside world. Customers who were probably making a line at his counter waiting for him or the unlocked door that someone could easily open all seem so unimportant when he had his cock buried in your warmth. 

“ ‘s so tight baby, fuck c-can I cum inside” his voice was nothing like how it usually was. 

His once emotionless stature now completely gone leaving a needy whimpering mess of a man. You nod your head eagerly begging to be filled by him.

“Pussy feels so-fuck” he can barely think straight. 

His thrusts are wild as he recklessly plunges his cock into you. He can hear footsteps walking with purpose in the direction of the two of you but he can’t seem to stop.

“Shit shit shit shit cum with me baby please” he begs

The thought of getting caught fucking you like a feral animal doesn’t even seem to phase him anymore 

“Make a mess f- fuck make this shit messy baby”he whimpers slamming his cock into you relentlessly. 

You can’t hide the moans flowing from your mouth any longer. The two of you are loud and you know anyone waiting outside can hear the sloppy sounds of your orgasm. Choso’s forehead rests on your panting heavily as he comes down. He pulls out leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. His cum spills out like a waterfall. A knock at the door takes you out of your trance. The two of you turn to see a man with long dark hair smirking leaning against the door frame 

“Can I have a turn?”

[peachesofteal]

Light On- single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: 1 of 2 for sickfics / requested by multiple

I’m going to need a raincheck for dinner tonight. 

Simon frowns at his phone. You’re bailing? You seemed excited about it when he asked earlier in the week, offering to take you and Emmaline down the street to the little café on the corner for dinner. It had taken him days to work up the courage, needlessly pushed on by Johnny’s ‘encouragement’ relentless text messages filled with date ideas, and bad pick-up lines. 

Still, you had said yes. Had asked if meant Emma too, and he took secret pleasure in the way you seemed so relieved when he tilted his head and told you, of course.

Okay. Is everything alright? He fires back immediately, wondering if the crying that he’s been hearing on and off all morning has anything to do with you backing out. 

I’m not feeling great, and neither is Emma. I think we’re coming down with something. Coming down with something, like you’re sick? You’re sick? Anxiety twists in the pit of his stomach, worrying curling his fingers into a fist with a clench. 

Alright. Let me know if you need anything? He waits for a text back, an answer of some kind, an assurance that you’ll seek him out if you need help or need anything. 

It never comes. 

Six hours later, Simon is at your door. 

He has grit his teeth through the day, paced around his own flat endlessly, tried everything he could think of to distract himself. Every time he heard Emmaline wail, his stomach flipped, worry, fear, breaking down his logical sense, the analytical part of his brain until he was standing in front of your door, waiting for the inevitable click of the handle. 

When it comes, and you’re standing on the other side, his heart sinks. 

He should have come over soon. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” He says it as softly as he can, a newfound pitch of his voice that seems to only be reserved for you, trying to allay the panic that has started to form as ice inside his chest. 

“Sorry about the noise.” You croak, and he smothers his wince. You sound awful, voice nearly gone, like your throat has been rubbed raw with sandpaper. Emmaline is clad only in a diaper, and when he looks closer, he can see the stain of what he thinks must be her vomit on your shirt. Over your shoulder, dirty bottles, dishes lay stacked next to the sink, a laundry basket with a mountain of baby clothes piled high sits on the table. 

“Can I help-“ You sway, arm tightening around the baby, and he doesn’t think, doesn’t stop himself, he just moves.“Alright,” He murmurs, wrapping an arm around you, supporting both you and Emmaline by shifting you into his side, one hand against Emma’s back. She feels warm, but not nearly as hot as you, and panic tries to bubble up his throat again at the blaring heat that’s coming from your skin. “I’ve got you.” 

“Sorry, ‘m a little dizzy.” 

“It’s okay.” He keeps you close, turning you back through the door. Emma makes scratchy, unhappy noises, and he rubs his thumb against her skin. “Shhh. I know, I know. You’re okay.” You lean into him harder, and he accommodates it, moving the two of you towards the couch. “I know, you’re not feeling too good are you?” He says to Emma after he gets you down on the couch, hands now around her back, waiting for a sign of permission from you to lift her. 

“She can go down. If you-“ Your breath gets caught in your chest, and you curl forward, his hand going to your shoulder, your body shaking with a cough. “If you want to try.” You whisper once you recover, brows knitted together in misery, and he cradles her, rocking her back and forth, mimicking your usual movements. 

“You stay right here.” He nods to the couch, using a fraction of the voice he uses on Johnny, and you immediately nod, eyes shuttering closed with a slow blink. “Just rest.” 

Emmaline is still crying when he opens the door to her room, the first he’s seen it, pale green walls and dark wood crib, small rocker in the corner next to a changing table. It’s a comforting space, decorated and cared for with love, and for a moment, his mind wanders to an image of you, painting the walls with a swollen belly, or curled in the plush rocker, reading a book to Emmaline, still nestled inside you. He wasn’t there for it, but he just knows you were so beautiful, the kind of glow that would have stopped him in the street. You still stop him in the street. 

Emma wails, bringing him back to reality with a softer cry than earlier, and he keeps her close to his chest, murmuring low and soft. “Shhh. You’re alright, baby girl. You’re okay.” He continues the rocking side to side thing you usually do in a standing position, mumbling things to her, stroking his fingers down her cheek, her forehead, bouncing and swaying at the same. “Are you not feeling too good? Is that what’s got you all upset? Yeah. I get kind of grumpy when I don’t feel good either.” He coos, little lashes slowly blinking up at him, transfixed on his face during his stream of chatter until they begin to slip shut, her mouth still hanging half open. He holds his breath, staring in astonishment at her sleeping face, half shocked, half ridiculously pleased.

“Have you taken anything?” He barely sits on your ottoman, leaning over to get a better look at you, uncomfortable with the way your eyes seem glazed over, how slow they are to react. Maybe you need to go to the hospital? 

“Some naproxen, a bit ago.”  You look exhausted, eyelids heavy, and he can’t stop himself from pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“You’re really warm, sweetheart. Do you need a doctor?” Tell me what to do, he wants to beg. Tell me how to help.

“No, jus’ sleep.” A confused look flickers across your face. “Oh my god, did you…” you swallow a cough, his hand sliding down to cup your shoulder, thumb soft against your dirty t shirt. “did you get her down?” He nods, slowly, fighting the small grin that tugs at his lips. 

“Wow.” You breathe, and your hand drags up your chest to where his still sits on your arm, fingers intertwining in his with a small squeeze. “You really are our hero.” He smiles at you, because how can he not, heart warm and full in his chest, the feeling something he hasn’t experienced in a long, long time. 

There’s a moment, a second extended into a minute, maybe an hour, he’s not sure, where you don’t look away from him. Where you look at him, really look at him, and see him, see his twice broken nose, the scar on his cheek, the one above his eyebrow. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to hide or look away, just holds himself still, staring down at you on the couch, sweat dotting your forehead and neck, still beautiful with your fever parched skin and tired eyes. 

“Simon.” You whisper, and he thinks, maybe… he’s supposed to kiss you right now. That if he were braver, if Johnny were here to egg him on, if he felt like it wasn’t taking advantage of your weakened state… he might. But instead- 

“Why don’t you close your eyes, love. Try to get some rest. I’ll stay. See if I can get some of these dishes done. I can get her if she gets up.” 

“You don’t have-“ 

“I know.” He soothes. “I know I don’t, but I’m here. Let me help.” Let me help you. Let me be here. 

You take a deep breath, as deep as you can manage, and then your voice is light, but so sweet, and so, so trusting when you say;

“Okay, Simon.” 

[absdoll]

♡ inspired by this song ♡

simply can’t stop thinking about college!abby bouncing around a party, drunk off god knows how many vodka seltzers. she never lets loose like this, but it’s spring break, and she’s newly single, and she can’t help but notice how good you look dancing by yourself to the loud music.

as abby elbows her way through the crowd of sweaty bodies, she finds herself standing directly behind you. your hips swaying, your hands in your hair, head hung back. she slowly scans your body, up and down. stopping her stare at the way your tight black dress hugs your curves. “hey-“ she blurts, without even thinking.

of course you don’t hear her, you’re standing right next to the speaker, and you’re too drunk anyways to pay any mind to yet another person trying to hit on you. in between the current song ending and the next one in the queue, abby takes the split second to try and get your attention again.

“can i get you a drink?” she asks near your neck. you abruptly turn around. the warm feeling of a husky voice caressing your ear makes you jump a little. your eyes try to focus on the big build standing in front of you. long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that you swear are trying to seduce you, black t-shirt hugging her bulging muscles, and a smirk to match that tone you heard just a minute ago.

you roll your eyes, playfully, “i don’t know, can you?” you yell over the rap song, you lift an eyebrow at her, a small smile hung on your lips. abby scoffs, using one hand to turn you around and guide your hips to grind against her front. you can’t help but bite your lip as her hands sit firmly at your sides, making you press your ass onto her. your height difference is perfect for you to tilt your neck to the side, easy access for abby’s hungry lips. the blonde leaves a small kiss on the open space between your ear and collarbone, sending goosebumps all over your body.

“you look good by the way, like this little dress you got on.” abby drunkenly flirts against the small of your neck. you grab her left hand and slowly guide it down to the hem of your dress, her hips buck into your ass as you slide her hand up to your clothed cunt. “ffuuuucckkkkkk” she breathes.

and suddenly she’s got you by the wrist, pulling you to the first bathroom she finds. slamming the door, not even bothering to lock it. tripping over your high heels as abby eagerly and aggressively hoists you up on the sink. she drops to her knees, kissing up your legs and grabbing your ankles to rest on her shoulders. it’s dark, the only light is the neon red “please don’t do coke in the bathroom” sign hung above the door.

as abby gets closer and closer to your heated center, she stops at your inner thigh and sucks a big purple bruise with her teeth. you moan at the pain mixed with pleasure, your panties getting wetter as she continues.

abby ignores your growing wet spot on your white lacy thong and makes her way to your breasts. ripping your dress straps down your shoulders, mouth moving to tickle your perky nipple with her tongue. your hand finds the top of her head, pulling and grabbing her hair, moaning as she relentlessly sucks your hardened pink bud.

abby pulls back, now standing between your legs. she begins to rub her strong hands up and down your trembling thighs. “all worked up, huh?“ she giggles, shaking her head before meeting your gaze again. the alcohol is catching up to her as she traces her index finger over your entrance. abby yet again grabs your wrist, placing your palm on her groin. “feel that?” she smirks. you wrap your fingers tightly around the thick bulge tucked in her cargo pants.

one hand undoing her zipper and the other pushing your thong to the side, revealing your sopping pussy. abby brings her fingers to her mouth and spits on them before sliding her thick digits into your tight hole. you clench immediately around her knuckles, abby lets out a chuckle, “if you can’t even handle two fingers, how can you take this baby?” she strokes her silicone cock a few times, slowly, still pumping her fingers inside of you, watching as drool starts to form on your soft lips.

“show me you’re ready for it.” she swipes her tongue up your neck, “show me you can take it.”

you spread your legs even wider, showing off your pretty pink hole. slick drowning abby’s big fingers as she finger fucks you until she can feel you tightening around her. “you want my dick now hmm? can’t take any more of me not being buried inside of you?” abby coos.

“shut up and fuck me already” you hiss back. abby’s eyes widen, “that’s a lot of attitude coming from someone so desperate. if i wasn’t so fucked up right now i’d put you in your place.” you let out a soft moan at her words. abby tilts her head at you, “oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

without another word, abby’s fingers are meeting the back of your throat while she’s bottoming out inside you. her creamy covered fingers toying with your tongue, causing you to almost gag, saliva pooling down on the bottom of your lip. her thrusts are deep and violent, she’s muttering drunken words with every pump of her strap that kisses your cervix. “good fucking girl uhgh yeah f-fuuck.”

“uuuh-ghhggh fee-s shgood!” abby laughs at your attempted pleads, you can barely speak with her middle and ring finger shoved in your mouth. her fingers are salty and thick, causing your eyes to water.

“doing so good baby, mmm, needed to fuck this pussy all night.” abby moans. out of nowhere, her voice is choked up and she’s throwing her head back. “c-can’t sto-p fff-uuckk, if you keep— fuuck! m-moaning like t-that i’m gonna fuck-ughing cum inside y-ou ohggh, you’d like t-that you fuckingugh s-slut? mm want my warm cum to f-fill you uhhh-up?” abby’s words are swarming you with butterflies, her needy yet dominant moans, she’s close to her orgasm. you clench around her cock, and she swears she can feel it. “mmm ye-yeah tighten ughharound m-me baby”, and with one final desperate thrust, you’re both spinning in euphoria.

abby slowly pulls her strap out of you, watching as your sweet white glaze drips onto the floor. the tall blonde licks her lips, still spinning from the 7 vodka shots from earlier her orgasm. she tries to catch her breath, “get on your knees.” she demands. and you do as you’re told because god, you’d do anything to get fucked like that again.

<3

a/n : eeeee i’m rlly proud of this ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ !! shoutout to @whore4abby who saw a lil sneak peek first hehe . i might make a tag list for my upcoming works so lmk if u want to be added ! lots of luv my filthy bbs ♡

[aemondsbabe]

Claimant

summary: you've been betrothed to jace and aemond simply can't have that

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, reader is described as looking like alicent (coppery hair, wide eyes) but no other descriptors are used, dark!aemond, targcest, incest, knife play (aemond has a thing for knives idk), knife fucking? she fucks the handle idk, no blood/injury, slight coercion, slight degradation, a very viserys (GoT) coded aemond, slight dubcon but the reader is here for it, fingering, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i genuinely don't know what to say about this. i got inspiration from this last night and became a woman possessed. thank you to @officerbrowneyes for entertaining my delusions.

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

creds to @tomblythsgf for the gif!

Your skin prickles, the hair at the nape of your neck standing on end as you feel his gaze on you yet again, making your heart hammer in your chest as you nod along to whatever Lord Tyland is saying, your lips stretched into a polite grin while he drones on and on about something or other. The sweet, heady taste of Dornish wine fills your mouth as you sip from your cup and your eyes flick up as you chance a quick glance to the other end of the great hall. 

A small gasp leaves your lips as your eyes meet his, one lilac and one veiled sapphire, both filled with barely contained rage as he sulks in a darkened corner by the doors. 

“Are you feeling well, princess?” Tyland questions and it’s only then you realize how hard you’re breathing, chest heaving as you pant.  

“Of course,” you manage a tight-lipped, courteous smile, “The excitement of the day must be getting to me, if you’ll excuse me.” Quickly, you make your way back to the main table in the center of the room, smiling gratefully as you lay your eyes on your husband-to-be.

“Prince Jacaerys,” you smile, setting your cup down on the long wooden table, “Would you do me the honor of joining me for another dance?”

His dark eyes light up as you approach and he quickly nods, “How am I meant to say no to my future bride?” He chuckles, standing and offering you a hand, which you gladly accept. 

You try your best to focus on the music, the crowd, the loud hum of the conversations that fill the hall – anything but your older brother’s gaze that still bores into you. You can practically feel his rage multiply tenfold as the brunettes wraps an arm around your waist, your throat dry as you grasp his shoulder, fingers digging into the fine silk tunic he wears. 

“Are you enjoying the feast, princess?” Jace asks as the two of you move gracefully across the floor, the steps of the dance thankfully long-since committed to memory. 

“How could I not?” You smile as he twirls you, your long auburn locks swaying against the satin of the cloak that flows down your back before they settle across your shoulders once more, “This is a most joyous day for both of our families.”

“Of course,” the prince nods thoughtfully, though you can’t help but notice his tawny eyes are clouded with a certain sadness, “What I mean to say is, are you happy to be marrying me?” 

Your lips part to answer, though you don’t manage to get a word out before a strong hand clasps your shoulder, your steps halting immediately. You don’t need to turn your head to see who it is, although the sour look on Jace’s face clears any lingering doubt you may have had in an instant. 

“Nephew,” Aemond speaks lowly over your shoulder, standing so close to you that your back is nearly pressed against his chest, “Could I borrow my sister for a dance?”

The prince steps back with an annoyed sigh, shooting you an apologetic look before nodding at your brother, “Of course, uncle,” his voice is monotone as he speaks, though his eyes brighten once more as they land on you yet again, “Until later, princess.” He whispers, dipping his head down to press a soft kiss against the back of your hand; Aemond all but growls behind you.

Your older brother sweeps in as soon as Jace’s back is turned, tightly wrapping an arm around your waist as the two of you continue the dance from where you’d left off. “You know I hate seeing you with him,” Aemond rasps, threading the fingers of one of his hands together with yours, “You belong to me, sweet sister, no one else.”

Your heart twists in your chest and you know deep within yourself that his words are true, not that it matters. “There is nothing I can do, brother,” you whisper, your eyes flitting over to where your mother and grandsire sit, “I had no choice in the matter, you know this.”

Aemond hums lowly in his throat as the two of you sway to the soft orchestral music, his hand untangling itself from yours to grasp your chin, tilting your head up to face him. His lilac eye all but burns with fire as he gazes down at you, “You should be mine, you are mine,” he seethes, words hissed through clenched teeth, “Our fool of a mother should’ve known better than to shackle you to some bast–”

“Do not speak ill of mother,” you admonish, shaking your head free of his grasp, “You know she had as little say in the matter as I did.” 

He huffs a quiet laugh out through his nose, teeth gleaming dangerously as he smiles ruefully, the hand at the small of your back tightening still. “You don’t actually want the Strong bastard,” he whispers, careful to hardly breathe the treacherous words in the crowded hall, “Do you, little one?”

Little one. You shiver at the name, one he had called you since childhood, blushing as he smiles knowingly. “Of course not–!”

“Do I need to remind you who you belong to?” He whispers hoarsely, eye flitting to your lips before he can stop himself, “Of where your true loyalty shall always lie?”

Before you can answer, he’s leading you from the hall and you willingly follow, his dutiful shadow as always, grasping tightly to his arm as he leads you through the familiar winding corridors of the keep until you come to his chambers at last. 

You gasp as he all but pushes you through the entryway before slamming the heavy wooden door closed behind you. Your wide eyes follow him as he circles you like a shark circles its prey, smirking as he looks you up and down, his intense gaze igniting a fire within your belly. 

“Tell me, sweet sister,” Aemond rasps as he comes to a stop before you, one hand grasping your jaw as his lips skirt over your neck, “Does the Strong bastard still believe you to be a maiden?” 

You whimper softly, the feel of his soft lips against your skin sending you into a tailspin as they have so many times before, “Yes, brother.” You answer simply through a gasp, shivering as his teeth graze against you. 

Aemond chuckles lowly in his throat as his hands make quick work of your gown, his deft fingers undoing various buttons and ties until the fine silks sink to a pool at your feet, leaving you bare before him. 

He takes a second to appreciate you, his eye roaming over the soft curves of you he hasn’t seen in so long — ever since your mother had gotten wind of the maids quietly bringing moon tea to your chambers. 

Without a word, he leaves you and saunters over to his bed. You watch him curiously as you stand on the soft rug spread over the floor in front of the fireplace, a cold shiver running down your spine as he pulls his dagger from his belt and traces the long, silver blade of it as he turns back to you. 

“I cannot be so bold tonight as to claim you with my cock, little one,” he whispers, grinning at the blush blooming over your cheeks, “But I will have a piece of you even still.” 

“Aemond,” you start, voice shaking even as you feel slick beginning to coat the insides of your thighs as puzzle pieces snap together in your mind; you haven’t played this game with him in a very long time, “Pl—“

Your words are cut off with a shriek when the sound of fabric ripping echoes throughout his chamber as Aemond pierces his plush mattress with the dagger, leaving the dark leather hilt protruding from the fabric. 

“Come,” he beckons you over with an outstretched hand, “Prove your devotion to me, my Strong girl.” 

Your lower lip wobbles slightly at the double meaning of his words, the fire within you burning bright as you move to him without a second thought, determined to show your brother where your loyalty still lies. 

Aemond laughs softly as he helps you onto the bed, always stunned at how easily you give into him. He holds you steady, his warm hands on your bare hips as you kneel over the knife’s hilt. “You have always been mine,” he murmurs, one hand trailing up your body until it’s cupping one of your breasts, “After tonight I’ll make sure it remains that way.” 

Before you have time to question him, he presses you lower and a whimper leaves your lips as your center brushes against the handle of his blade, the smooth leather gliding seamlessly against your slick folds as you move your hips over it. 

“Oh, Aemond,” you squeak out, eyes fluttering shut as your pearl moves against the hilt, a whine leaving you as you move your hips, trying to position it at your entrance despite yourself, “Please, brother.” You whimper, growing desperate to be filled, even with this part of him. 

Aemond shushes you softly and abandones your breast to grasp at your hip again, pressing soft kisses to your neck as takes heed of your pleas and helps you lower yourself down. His cock stirs within the leather of his trousers, already straining against the fabric as he watches your sweet cunt swallow the hilt of his precious dagger. 

“That’s it,” he coaxes, guiding your hips with one hand as the other snakes up to your throat, smirking as he feels your moan vibrate against his palm, “There’s my strong girl.” 

Your eyes flutter shut as you lower yourself down fully, sheathing the dagger within you. The smooth leather of the hilt presses against your walls deliciously, the various curves and bumps pressing into each sweet spot within you with dizzying precision. 

You cannot help the whimper that tumbles from your lips at Aemond’s words, your walls clench at the leather shaft as you begin to move, impaling yourself on the stem again and again as your brother’s lilac she watches you with awe, his own chest heaving as he notices the way your slick shines against the leather, glowing in the soft candlelight of his chambers. 

“Our sweet nephew will never have you,” he says, shaking his head as his eye once again meets yours, “I’m the only one who should see you this way, writhing and wanting.” 

You nod your head as you lean against him, fingers bunched in the fabric of the black tunic he wears. “Only you, brother,” you whisper, capturing his lips in a frantic kiss as your movements grow quicker, “I don’t want anyone else.” 

Aemond gasps against your lips as you grasp his length through his trousers, rubbing over the bulge before desperately pulling at the laces of his breeches. He helps you, taking pity on your shaking hands, and groans lowly into your mouth when your hand wraps around his length, quickly stroking him from root to tip. 

One of the decorative curves of the handle brushes perfectly over the sensitive spot within you each time you buck against the dagger and you melt against his chest as you swirl your hips, grinding yourself on it. 

Aemond is all but animalistic as he groans and growls and licks into your mouth desperately before pulling away from you with a sigh, only to press hot kisses to the column of your throat; one hand once again cups your breast, his thumb teasing over your pert nipple, as the other leaves your neck to tap over your aching pearl. 

“Gods!” You gasp loudly, stroking over his thick, pulsing cock with one hand, keeping time with your hips as you sink over and over onto the handle of his dagger, your other hand weaves into hair at the nape of his neck, eager for something to anchor yourself with. 

“I would sooner gouge my eye out than let him take you,” Aemond groans, his own hips rutting into your touch as the head of his cock leaks steadily between your bodies, “You are mine, I will not stop until it is so.” 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you pant, the fire in your belly threatening to consume you as your brother’s fingers firmly circle your bud, “Aemond, I—“ 

“Let me have it,” he grunts, determined not to finish until he sees you breaking apart in his arms, “Give yourself to me, little one, let me have it.” He coaxes, doubling his efforts on your sensitive pearl. 

All at once, your high washes over you and go limp against him, a high keening sound escaping from your lips as your walls pulse over the hilt of his blade, pleasure zapping you like lightning as you coat the leather with your release, your slick dripping onto the mattress below you. 

You’re so lost in the fog of your own pleasure that you hardly hear Aemond grunt against your throat, muting his own sounds of pleasure as he bites into your soft skin. His cock twitches between you, his thick seed coating both of you as it drips down your hand. 

The two of you remain still for a moment, your brother holding you protectively against him as he smoothes a hand up and down your back. His kisses you softly as he helps you pull yourself off of his dagger before he lays you on his bed, his fingers combing through your coppery hair as it splays around your head like a halo on his pillow. 

“Stay,” he commands softly, rising from you and plucking his knife from his mattress, groaning appreciatively at the way your juices still shine on the handle, still warm against his palm from where it had been so deeply pressed within you, “I will be back shortly.” 

“Where are you going?” You question, watching as he sheaths the dagger once more into the small scabbard hanging from his belt before he tucks his softening cock back into his trousers, agile fingers quickly re-tying the laces. 

“To make you mine.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0, @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @demirunner @eponaartemisa, @trshgyn

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Breeding | Choi Seungcheol

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Fem!Reader (established)

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Kinktober 2023

Summary: You and Cheol had talked plenty about the future, but nothing could have prepared you to see his huge frame cradling a tiny baby and the absolute reaction you'd have to it

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: Seungcheol with a baby, very baby-centric breeding, baby fever hits Reader like a train, breeding, unprotected sex (obviously, I'm not even gonna apologize for this one), fingering, Cheol goes feral, talk of having kids, Seungcheol runs his mouth, petnames, Daddy kink, reader is referred to as a mommy like once, multiple orgasms, slight body worship, praise

A/N: Let me know if I missed anything in the warnings and, of course, I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

Maybe going to your friend's house with Cheol was a bad idea. Maybe visiting Joshua and his partner to finally meet their baby was an experience you weren’t altogether prepared for. It had been a few months now since their little boy had been born, and you had only seen him through pictures and facetimes, wanting to give the couple a bit of space to settle into the new dynamic.

But now you were sitting on their couch, trying desperately to have a conversation with your friends while being distracted by the little swaddled bundle cradled carefully in your boyfriend's arms. The delicate little thing, pudgy cheeks and drool running from his lips that Seungcheol delicately wiped away, all fragile and peaceful against his chest. You were always aware of how handsome Cheol was, how hard he worked to keep his physique, but it wasn't something that had ever fully sunk into your psyche until you saw the way his biceps looked with something so tiny sleeping on them.

A voice caught your attention, a gentle call of your name, and you looked up, a little shaken from how deep in thought you'd been.

"Do you want to hold him?" Cheol asked, nodding to the sleeping infant in his arms. Your face split into an adoring grin, and you nodded eagerly. The care with which your boyfriend handled him was enough to make your heart skip in your chest as he carefully transferred the baby into your arms. The boy fussed a little, and you shushed him gently, swaying back and forth until he was sound asleep again.

The others continued talking, but all you could think about was having one of your own. Maybe a little girl, one with Cheol's eyes and your nose. A family where the two of you became three, a unit that always took care of each other.

When the two of you got home, Cheol dragged you to the bedroom, pulling you close and cuddling up to you in the comfort of your bed. You curled closer, letting him trace your arm quietly.

"What's on your mind? You've been in your head all day." He asked you. You hummed thoughtfully. You and Seungcheol had talked about it before, having kids, but you had never fully planned anything. You were still so young, and you hadn't fully settled on whether or not you two were ready to take that step.

"I'm thinking about Jaehan." You said, finally turning your attention back to him. "He's cute don't you think?"

"Yeah, he's adorable. Looks like his dad." He said. You nodded, propping yourself up on your elbow.

"Keep thinking about how natural you looked holding him. Didn't really know that it would be so...attractive seeing you hold a baby."

Seungcheol hummed, placing a large hand against your hip to pull you onto his lap. You looked down at him, smiling brightly at the sight of his dark locks in a wavy halo around his head.

"You think I looked hot?" He asked, a playful tone creeping into his voice. You rolled your eyes.

"I said it was attractive. I kept thinking about how maybe one day you'd be holding our kid, I guess. You'd be a good daddy." You said, your hands smoothing aimlessly across his chest, up, along the curve of his shoulders, then down his arms and back up again.

You watched his eyes darken, his hands moving to rub gently over your tummy.

"Could be sooner than later if you want." He said, eyes still trained on your stomach, imagining how pretty you'd look round with his child growing inside of you. Some primal, desperate part of him was awakening at the thought. A part of him tying itself to a part of you and giving you something to share and teach and care for. He was already starting to harden underneath you at the thought.

"Do you mean that?" You asked seriously, your hands stilling against his chest. "Because I don't want you to do something you're not ready for. Don't just want it to be an excuse to fuck me."

He softened for a moment, guiding your face gently towards his to capture your lips in a warm kiss.

"I promise I mean it. Want to have a family with you, wouldn't even think of lying about that. Let me do that, please." He kissed you again, his kiss just as desperate and sincere as his words as he flipped the two of you over so you were laying underneath him. You melted into the kiss, your hands tangling into his hair to hold him close as if he'd disappear if you didn't.

His tongue teased against your lips, coaxing you open for him and drawing the sweetest whine from your throat. He pulled away after a bit, breathless and flushed. He sat back, stripping your shirt off with ease, then letting his follow.

"Gonna take such good care of you. You and our baby," He hummed, leaning down to press a string of wet, warm kisses to your chest, along the swell of your breasts, and down until his lips could wrap around your nipple, sucking gently. Your back arched off the bed, and his hands stroked along the curve of your waist, holding you in place so he could switch to the other side and give it the same gentle treatment.

You weren't a stranger to having Cheol worship every inch of you, but this felt different. It was heavy and warm and nearly suffocating in all the best ways, anchoring you to each other and letting the rest of the world fade into blank space. He slid lower, kissing down your sternum, along your stomach until he reached the space just above your panty line. He looked up at you then, a large palm coming to rest against the spot.

"Gonna grow our little one right here. Gonna fill you up so full, make sure it takes. Do it over and over until we're sure." He mumbled, kissing your lower stomach again before tugging your panties down your legs and leaving you bare beneath him.

You were already aching, thighs wet with your arousal. Seeing him so wound up at the idea of you carrying his child was doing things you had never imagined. He pushed your thighs wider apart, hungry eyes burning into the sight of your dripping core. He brought his hand down, thumb swiping through your wet folds before nestling against your clit, pressing heavy, slow circles against the bundle of nerves.

"Fuck," You keened, thighs twitching, but he pressed his free hand against one of them, continuing his work. "Cheol, please. Need more."

"I got you baby, don't worry. Know just what you need." He promised, speeding up his movements and making your head fall back against the pillows. He slid his fingers down, pressing his middle finger into you and pumping it slowly before he added a second.

He was good with his hands, never having any problem getting you worked up or stretching you out with his fingers alone, and this was no different. You watched the way his brows furrowed, his lips curling into a concentrated pout while he worked his fingers into you, curling them to find your weak spot and continuing to grind his fingertips into it when he felt it.

You were breathless, squirming and gripping at the sheets as he fucked you slowly with his fingers. Your sounds were nearly incoherent, just breathless whines and gasps of his name as he milked your first orgasm out of you. He praised you all the way through it, his hand never stopping as you coated it in your wetness. Once the waves of your orgasm subsided, he pulled his hand away, reaching up to slip his fingers into your mouth and watching as you obediently sucked and licked them clean of your cum.

"That's my good girl. Doing so well for me. Deserve to feel good." He hummed, standing up to kick his pants off. His cock stood at full mast, the tip leaking and flaring pink. He stroked himself slowly, just admiring the way that you were sprawled out for him.

He quickly settled himself between your legs again, and you welcomed him just as eagerly. He pressed the head of his cock against your hole, and you whined when he didn't move.

"Baby, please. Don't tease me," You huffed, and he chuckled leaning down to capture your lips in another long kiss as he rolled his hips forward, filling you up in one steady thrust. Your walls clenched around him, adjusting to the way he stretched you out, and you moaned into his mouth. Your hands found his waist, nails digging into the sensitive flesh and reveling in the way he hissed out.

He stayed buried inside of you for longer than you would have liked, but soon enough his hips were rolling, dragging out before punching back in and stealing your breath away. You never got used to how well he fucked you, how perfectly he fit inside of you and hit spots you could only hope to reach on your own.

"So perfect, taking me so well." He praised, his hands settling on your hips and pulling you to meet his thrusts. The only sounds in the room were the slick sound of your pussy sucking him in, and the soft sounds shared between the two of you.

"Cheol, 'm close." You mumbled, eyes falling shut as you focused on the warmth running through you, the tension pulling tight in your stomach and the way his thrusts got harsher at your words.

"Go ahead, pretty girl. Cum on my dick, lemme feel it." He grunted out harshly, his head rolling back as your walls clenched around him, trying desperately to keep him inside of you. Then you were gone, trembling underneath him as your second orgasm hit, a silent moan parting your lips. He continued fucking you through it. He didn't stop even when you came down from your high, chasing his own pleasure.

"Cheollie, please," You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, dragging your nails over his broad shoulders. "Want you to cum. Need to be full. Please, Daddy."

He moaned, full and from his chest, his thrusts becoming harsher, less calculated, and then he was burying his face in your neck. His breath hitched, a broken moan of your name, and a sloppy kiss against your neck followed as he spilled inside of you.

The moment after was filled with heavy breaths and the sweetest kisses to your shoulders and collarbone. Finally he pulled out, looking down at the way that his cum dripped out of your hole. He huffed a little, reaching down and using his fingers to stuff it back inside of you. You whined, hips jolting a little from the sensitivity.

"Gotta make sure it stays in so it sticks. Gotta get you knocked up." He said, but it almost sounded like he was talking to himself, voice gravelly and barely audible. Then he was tugging at your hips, flipping you over. You let out an indignant squeak at how easily he maneuvered you around, hiking your hips up so your weight was on your arms folded under your head. "Gotta give you another one. Need to make sure."

You didn't have time to think before he was sliding into you again, still achingly hard and desperate to fill you up just a little more, to give you the baby you were both so desperate for, to start a family and have another precious piece of his life to care for. He needed it, the thought of it taking over the most primal, desperate part of his mind.

His thrusts were harsh, and probably would have been pushing you up the bed if it weren't for the bruising grip on your hips, pulling you back into each thrust and making you absolutely see stars.

"Daddy, 's too much," You whined, burying your face in your arm. His hand smoothed over your back, his pace never faltering.

"You can take it, baby. Just gotta get you nice and full. You wanna have my baby, right? Gotta take it," He cooed sweetly, even as you whined and squirmed. The heat searing through you stung, nerve endings on fire, but it only added to the pleasure that was taking over. You could barely form words at this point with Seungcheol hitting so deep inside of you that you were sure you wouldn't be able to walk, and with the gentle way he stroked your back and sides as if he wasn't fucking you dumb.

"I'm gonna-" You whined high in your throat, a broken moan following as you tried to warn him, but he knew your body better than you did, and he could tell just by the way your hips were pressing back insistently that you were gonna cum again.

"Go on, pretty. Cum for daddy. Cream my cock, please baby. Wanna feel it, know you can gimme one more." He urged you on, and you sobbed as the feeling rocked through you. Your thighs were trembling, and your toes were going numb. You didn't try to open your eyes, but you were sure your vision would have blacked out if you had.

His second orgasm followed not long after, filling you up with his seed again. He leaned against you, one arm holding the both of you up, the other wrapped around your waist to keep you pressed as close as possible to him. You were both breathless, bodies exhausted and minds fuzzy with the blend of pleasure and exhaustion. Once you both were back in reality, he pulled out of you carefully, easing you onto your back and curling against your side. His hand traced against your stomach.

"Was I too rough?" He asked quietly. You shook your head, turning to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You know I can take it." You promised. He smiled, reaching up to wipe the drying tears from your cheeks

"I know you can. But it's my job to take care of you. And the little one." He said. You laughed lightly.

"Cheol there isn't even a little one yet." You said, your hand landing over his on your tummy and tracing the length of his fingers. He linked your hands together, smiling brightly.

"There will be. If it doesn't take this time I'll just keep breeding you until it does. Wanna make you a mommy. Want our baby to look just like you." His eyes were alight with pure adoration, and you had to admit as you snuggled closer to him that having a couple of mini Seungcheols running around the house sounded like a dream come true.

copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

[mj0702]

The other Bronze – pt.7.2

For all that patiently waiting readers (including @samkerrworshipper and @valewosomtb)

“Are you good to stand on your own for a second little Bronze? I need to see what the shower temperature is – I don't want to freeze you or cook you.. Alexia wouldn't let me hear the end of it” Jenni asked you gently letting go of your waist slowly

“Yep... me good...” you slurred but took the opportunity to swayed away from her just to have Jenni grab your waist tighter again

“I can see that... come on little Bronze – we'll just bite the bullet and hope the temperature is okay” the dark haired spaniard sighed pushing you forward under the shower

“No no no no no...” you squeaked as the football player effortlessly pushed you forward

“Sí... don't worry little One... I've got you” she said soothingly as she held you upright

“Ugh... I don't like it...” you pouted

“You didn't like the sand either...” Jenni chuckled as she got you out of the shower again “See... that wasn't so bad now, was it... all clean and sand free”

“Sexy spaniard?” you asked a little shivering since the water was a tad too cold

“I'm not sure if I should support this or if I should yell at you” the dark haired woman mumbled just loud enough for you to hear

“Why would you yell at me?” you asked confused

“It's okay....what do you need little One?” Jenni sighed seeing there was no use in argue with you

“Do you have a phone?” you slurred grinning widely

“I... do have a phone” Jenni answered carefully not knowing where this conversation is heading

“I have a phone too” you smiled proudly “It's blue... I like blue”

“That's... nice” the dark haired woman nodded slowly “maldición... I have to speak to Ona about these meds... this can't be healthy”

“Sexy spaniard...” you whispered like you had something important to say

“Yes little One?” Jenni answered just as secretive deciding playing along would be the easiest way to handle you – just like Alexia told her

“My phone has it's own number” you whispered slurring a little bit

“Really?? That's... cool... “ the spaniard said bewildered not knowing how to react accordingly

“Bet yours doesn't have a number” you huffed internally congratulating yourself for pulling THAT off

“I'm sorry to disappoint you little One... but my phone does have a number” Jenni smiled reluctant

“Noooooo” you whined “Your phone can't have a number”

“Oh really.... and why's that now?” the black haired woman smiled now amused

“Because my phone has a number” you pouted

“Every phone has a number little One” Jenni chuckled

“Prove it” you crossed your arms in front of your chest trying to look “intimidating” while internally grinning thinking “Gotcha”

“I don't have my phone on me little One... it's with Alexia at the moment” Jenni answered carefully trying not to upset you

“Why?” you looked at her confused groaning on the inside

“It would have gotten wet if I had it on me” the dark haired explained

“That would have made two of us” you mumbled

“Disculpe?” Jenni asked shocked

“Huh?” you asked back confused

“What did you just said?” Jenni asked and you decided to shift a gear down

“I want two” you said slowly like you were speaking to child

“Two what?” the dark haired looked so SO confused

“Scoops... the colorbook spaniard owes me ice cream – she made me drop mine” you slurred again changing the topic once again

“Okay... yes... okay... how did Alexia managed to get through yesterday I do wonder” Jenni sighed deeply massaging her temples

“Who's Alexia? Is she your girlfriend?” you slurred grinning wriggling your eyebrows

“Definitely not my girlfriend... she's a good friend... you call her pretty spaniard” Jenni snorted as you asked if Alexia was her girlfriend

“Uh.... you know the pretty spaniard?” you asked happily

“I do... and we probably should get back to her...” Jenni smiled

“Yeah... you don't want to make her angry... do you know she makes the colorbook run laps? Like... a lot of laps...” you started to talk while Jenni pulled you into her side once again starting to get you back to Alexia and Keira

As you passed your sister your eyes met and you simply winked at her which caused Lucy to choke (again) and coughing hard

“Lucy!!” you yelled happily as you pushed away from Jenni stumbling towards your sister pushing Ona out of the way to fall around your sisters neck hugging her tightly

“Your Cupra is mine” you whispered in her ear grinning as she pretended to catch you

“No way you got that number” Lucy gritted through her teeth putting on a smile for everyone around

“I am just that good” you grinned against her neck as you keep hugging her

“Fuck” your sister sighed under her breath “please don't destroy my car”

“Luuuucccyyyy” you whined as you could feel some pair of eyes on you

“Whaaaaaat” your sister mocked you

“You're not nice...” you whined before turning around “friendly spaniard... you tell her”

Ona looked like a deer caught in the headlight not knowing what to say or do

“Okay little One... come here... Alexia is waiting and if I come back without you I have to run laps” Jenni interrupted your interaction with your sister

“Go on Bubs... go with Jenni...” Lucy slightly pushed you which caused you to stumble (this time for real) and falling into Jennis arms

“Careful there little One” the dark haired woman chuckled as she easily catches you

“She pushed me” you whined

“I saw... I'll make sure she gets punished for it, okay... but now lets go and let your sister enjoy her day off” Jenni said understanding as she pulled you along

“Behave devils spawn” Lucy yelled after you and you just flipped her off

“I was about to come looking myself where you were” Alexia said as soon as the two of you were in earshot

“Yeah sorry... she gets distracted easily” Jenni chuckled as you poked a seashell with your toe

“Don't I know it... I spent the better half of my rehab session yesterday telling her not to touch anything” Alexia huffed but smiled noneless at your innocence

“Yeah... I just had a conversation about phone numbers... and how she wants two scoops of ice cream” the dark haired shrugged her shoulders before addressing you “you want to sit down little One?”

“Phone numbers?” the blonde one asked confused “told you you won't make it long without giving her a nickname... she's just too precious in her own way”

At the words “phone numbers” your head snapped up and you grinned loopy at Alexia

“Did you know every phone has a number, pretty spaniard... the sexy one said so... but I think she just said that to shut me up... she didn't prove it” you slurred

“Ah...” was all Alexia said as she was thrown off completely while looking at Jenni with a “What the fuck”-look on her face

“See” Jenni grinned widely “that's what I'm talking about” as she grabbed her phone showing you her number “See little One... every phone has a number”

“Bet that's not your phones number... that's probably just some random numbers” you mused concentrated already saved the phone number in your head – perks of having a good memory

“How should I prove to you that this IS my phones number?” the black haired woman asked even more confused

“Just call her... or let her call herself from your phone” Alexia said nonchalantly

“Do you know your phones number little One?” Jenni asked really wanting to end this topic but also knowing that you wouldn't let it go until she “proved” to you that this was in fact her number

“No” you pouted sadly (of course you knew – but you were “high”) “But Kei knows... Kei knows EVERYTHING”

“Keira!” Alexia yelled over to your fellow Englishwoman

“Que?” the blonde yelled back not even bothering sitting up having watched the whole interaction

“You know the number of the Cariño over here?” the spaniard asked Keira

“Of course... she has the same number since she was 12 and Lucy bought her her first mobile phone +44-8395-533-104... why?” Keira answered rattling down your number

“Slower please....” Jenni said as she punched the numbers into her phone

Keira repeated your number slower as you plopped down into the sand next to Alexia leaning your head on her shoulder

“What's going on, Cariño” the blonde asked softly as she took your bad wrist in her hands massaging it carefully

“Thank you for being so pretty” you sighed out pretending to fall asleep on her shoulder

Alexia chuckled lowly but shrugged the shoulder your head occupied “waking you up”

“Non of that... you of all people shouldn't fall asleep in the sun – you want to go over to Keira?” she asked you softly as you nodded and grunted in agreement

“Keira... pick your child up” Alexia yelled again but smiled over to the Englishwoman

“MY child?? If she was mine she wouldn't be here right now, she would be home asleep... she's high as fuck, she isn't used to the barcalonean sun AND the responsible adult is drinking sangria at the beach bar feeling up her girlfriend” Keira answered as she pushed herself up on her elbows raising an eyebrow

Her comment made you eyes pop open as your head flew in the direction of your sister seeing that Keira was right and Lucy indeed was feeling up Ona even tho it was very subtle. You immediately started to heave and Alexia really thought you needed to vomit jumping into action trying to get you some shade by throwing a towel over your head which caused Keira to burst out laughing as she made her way over to you

“Come on Bitsy... some shade will do you some good” she gently said as she pulled you up

“She scarred me again... and the whole public” you whine from underneath your (Alexias) towel

“I know...” the blond Englishwoman said sympathically “... and your phone rang”

You smirked victorious under your towel but threw a “Georgia?” in to keep the charade up

“No... a spanish number” Keira said softly

“I don't know anyone in Spain” you said confuses as you felt Keira sitting you down in the shade of her beach umbrella

“Did you really pulled all that off for Jenni Hermosos number?” Keira whispered and pushed a water bottle into your hand

“Hell yeah” you grinned back the towel now around your neck

“Why for good heavens” the blonde asked outraged

“Lucy said if I can get her number in my current not state she'll let me drive her Cupra in the Camp Nope parking lot” you put your head on your knees but Keira could hear your smirk

“She doesn't know what Millie, Rachel and Jill got you for your birthday, does she?” now Keira was smirking as well knowing fully well what the three Lionesses got you since she was asked if she wants to chip in

“Hell to the no” you smirked you head laying on your knees pretending to keep deep calming breaths

“She's in for a lovely surprise then... but in all seriousness now Bitsy... are you feeling okay?” Keira smiled but you could tell she cares

“Yeah...” you lifted your head slightly to shoot her a small smile

“No dizziness or lightheaded?” the blonde checked again

“No... but the water was nice... thank you” you answered honestly

“No problem Bitsy... for how long do you plan on keeping this going?” Keira asked as she got comfortable on her towel again

“At least till Mapí bought me my ice cream” you grinned

“Then lay down... Alexia is still watching you... you really wormed your way into her heart” Keira closed her eyes relaxing

“But laying down is boring” you huffed

“Laying down is relaxing... which I try to do – relax... so relax too” the blonde told you and you knew it wasn't an offer

You shuffled forward to the edge of your towel thinking about how you could get away from Keira to investigate what Mapí and her friends were doing as you heard a throat clearing behind you. You huffed annoyed but shuffled back until you were at the same height as Keiras shoulders as she smiled slightly

“Thank you” she said sweetly her eyes still closed

“Sometimes it's really annoying you know... I don't even know how you do it – your eyes are closed” you grumbled

“Call it motherly instinct” the Englishwoman grinned not even bothering to open her eyes and yet she knew exactly that you pulled a face “... or call it Bronze proved”

“You suck” you huffed again

“Whatever makes you feel better Bitsy... and now be good and let me relax – please” the blonde smirked before sighing out deeply

After about five minutes you noticed Keiras breathing evening out and you tried to carefully bolt again only to be hold back by a warned “Bitsy” and you swore under your breath. Your mood increase significantly as you saw Mapí making her way over, Patri and Pina hot on her heels. She stopped right in front of Keira and you her hands folded behind her back a ashamed look on her face as she cleared her throat repeatedly. With an annoyed sigh Keira opened one eye looking expectantly at Mapí

“Qué??” she asked irritated

“Can Baby Bronze come and play with us? Ingrid said she'll watch that nothing happens” Mapí looked like a 10 year old who’s scared of her best friends mom which made you chuckle knowing first hand that Keira can in fact get very scary

“No” was the short answers before the blonde closed her eyes again

“Keira por favor” Mapí started to beg “We promise we look after her”

“That's nice... and who's looking after you?” Keira asked slowly giving up on her plan of an afternoon with just relaxing sleep

“Ingrid” the blonde spaniard answered quickly as Keira raised an eyebrow looking at the Norwegian

“Pleeeaaaase Kei” you begged lulling the plead “so boring here”

“María León... if you bring her back with just a hair out of place I WILL have your ass” Keira pointed threatening at Mapí nodding her head towards you as a sign for you that you can go

You quickly scrambled away holding on to Mapí for leverage as she grabbed you securely around your waist “dragging” you away

“I love you colorbook spaniard” you slurred happily “Thank you for saving me from the boring death”

“Ningún problema niñita” Mapí whispered grinning

“Ninja what?” you slurred looking at her confused

“No problem” the blonde repeated in english as she dragged you past her girlfriend who slept soundly in the beautiful afternoon sun in Barcelona

“You said she'll look after us” you stumbled next to Maps who just shushed you while Pina and Patri chuckled quietly

“The mean Englishwoman would have never let you go if she'd known Ingrid was sleeping” Mapí grinned

“I like you colorbook spaniard” you grinned “You're cool”

“Told you I'm her favorite” the blonde grinned to her young teammates

“We want a spaniard name too” Patri said in her broken english making you stop dead in your tracks

“And you are who?” you asked confused looking at Mapí for explanation

“This is Patri...” the blonde pulled the bigger one closer and continued “.. and this is Pina”

“You look scaring” you mumbled pushing yourself more into Mapí looking at Patri

“I'm very nice, I promise” Patri said quickly smiling at you and Pina nodded behind her

“Which one were you?” you asked again smiling internally at their falling faces

“Patri... Patricia Guijarro... Patri” the taller one said her look at you with hopes in her eyes as you started to giggle

“Bond... James Bond... Bond” you giggled at your own joke

“Come on Baby Bronze... I wanted to show you something” Mapí interrupted your giggling as she pulled you along past your slightly tipsy sister (she really was just slightly tipsy since she had training the next day) who didn't said anything thinking if Keira let you go it would be okay for you to hang out with the “Trio of Trouble” as the older Barca player named them.

“Have you ever rode a jet ski niñita?” Mapí smirked mischievously

“Uh jet ski” Pina clapped her hands happily

“Jet what?” you asked confused even if you knew fully well what jet skies are

“It's like a motorcycle – just for the water....” Pina explained smiling excitedly

“Water?” you smiled happy

“Yeah... driving motorbike on water... it's so much fun” Patri said her grin widen

“I want that” you couldn't stop grinning swaying as Mapí shortly let go of your waist

“Do we really think that's a good idea? If she dies we're dead” Pina now asked a little concerned as she saw your swaying form

“Why would she die? You can swim, right?” the blonde spaniard asked you

“I can... Jordan Nobbs can't... 31% of english people can't swim... that's why we live on an Isle – so we don't flee and succeed in world domination” you slurred smirking

“Oooookay...” Patri said only understanding half of what you said “... maybe she shouldn't ride on her own...”

“Meeh... she'll be fine” Mapí waved off as she strapped a life jacket around you “See... I make sure she's save”

You quickly got a run down of how everything works by the guy who's renting out the jet skies and after taking some pictures with the three Barca girls he send you happily on your way. You climbed on your own jet ski needing a minute to get used to the feeling of the heavy vehicle under you but a encouraging smile from Mapí and with Patri and Pina flanking you you carefully started the engine and slowly drove out of the small bay into the open sea. You quickly found acceleration and off you went once you were steady enough with the balance. Mapí, Pina and Patri laughed loudly as they followed you cheering you on while you got more and more fun out of it cutting turns and even starting a game of tag with the three other women. Unknowns to the four of you half the beach was in distress as Keira decided to go over to Ingrid after she couldn't locate you and the other three women just to find Ingrid fast asleep. It was a no brainer that Keira cursed first at Mapí then at herself for not double checking with the Norwegian. So of course hearing Keira of all people swear loudly peaked the interest of several older players such as Alexia, Jenni, Ingrid, Marta, Ona and last but not least Lucy.

“What happened?” Lucy asked her fellow english teammate as she saw Keira in pure distress

“They are gone” the blonde answered through gritted teeth

“Who?” your sister asked again confused

“y/n and the trio of trouble... Mapí came over asked if y/n could come play with them and that Ingrid would have an eye on them... now they're gone” Keira explained quickly looking around the beach

“I'm sorry... I really had no idea” Ingrid apologized over and over again

“No one is blaming you, Ings... It's my own fault” Keira reassured the Norwegian smiling slightly “I should have double checked”

“I'm going to let them run laps until they can't walk for a week” Alexia seethed as Jenni chuckled beside her

“What's so funny, Hermoso??” the blonde snapped at Jenni

“Nothing Capi... just the fact that you actually need to find them first” the black haired spaniard grinned having spotted you a little over two miles out in the open sea

“I'm pretty sure I have the dino-harness laying around somewhere” your sister mumbled trying to find just a small trace of you

Jenni loudly cleared her throat getting everyones attention

“What??” Alexia growled at the black haired one

“This sexy spaniard found your missing children” Jenni grinned pointing at herself proudly

“Oh really” her blonde companion said sarcastically “Please do enlighten us”

Jenni just pointed out to the sea where you just jumped over a small wave that was created by Pinas jet ski

“I... I... I... I can't believe what I'm seeing” Alexia stuttered out as she watched in horror (like everyone else except for Jenni who can't contain her grin) as you cut a corner dangerously close to Patri

Ingrid was the first who recovered from the initial shock springing into action by whistling loudly knowing Mapí would hear it loud and clear. Just as she thought she saw the head of her girlfriend snap into the direction of the beach and even with the distance she could see how Mapís face turned white like a wall.

“We're in trouble” Mapí said out on the open sea as you and the other two spaniards stopped next to her “they discovered sooner than I thought that we were gone...”

“We... could just stay here?” Patri shrugged her shoulders “... there’s enough to eat” she said looking down into the deep water

You couldn't contain your loud laughter which carried all the way to the beach where it got reconized by Lucy and Keira immediately

“I swear Ingrid if my sister gets eaten by a shark I'll break your girlfriends legs” Lucy threatened the poor Norwegian

“You'd have to get in line for that” the normally so contained Scandinavian grumbled back “I can tell you who will sleep on the couch for the foreseeable future”

“Lucy... do you hear that?” Keira suddenly said shutting her ex up successfully

“What?” your sister asked confused

“She's laughing... Bitsy is laughing... a REAL laugh...” the blonde said looking back out to find you having your head thrown back laughing wholeheartly “I haven't heard that for a long time”

“You're right... I think the last time I heard a laugh like that was when she was... 11? 12?” Lucy said stunned

“As much as it pains me to say... but Alexia” Keira turned towards her captain and friend

“Sí?” the Catalonian woman asked raising an eyebrow

“No punishment for the trio of trouble... you can't punish them for making her laugh like this... please” the blonde Englishwoman pleaded with her captain

“I can't let them get away with something like this” Alexia got a little fed up

“Just this once... Please capi” now your sister spoke up as well “I swear they did more for y/n than Keira, me or anyone in the last five years... I haven't heard her laugh like this since...” your sister stopped herself from spilling details of your injuries knowing your very insecure about them

“Since her injury?” Alexia checked if she understood it right

“Yeah... how did you know?” Lucy asked after nodding

“Please... I'm just coming back from an ACL... I recognize an ACL scar if I see one” the blonde rolled her eyes “But... left AND right?”

“Once left, twice right.... she hasn't be the same since... she pretends but she's not the same...” Keira answered instead of Lucy who keeps an eye on you

“Care to explain” Jenni now speaks up getting interested

“Not a lot to explain... she won't talk to anyone about it... we tried to get her to talk to us.. or to a therapist since we thought it might be easier for her to speak to a stranger but no... she just wouldn't open up... she just pretends to be happy and everything is fine but if you knew her from when she was younger she's a completely different person” Keira said her voice a slight sad undertone

“Should we try? We're not strangers but also not close enough for her to consider us family” Jenni offered

“No... it won't be no use... Luce and I accepted a long time ago that if she wants to talk she'll find the right person and just starts talking... maybe that's one of us maybe that's someone completely random... as long as she talks to someone” the blonde Englishwoman said shooting Jenni a thankful smile for her offer

“Okay... but here's the question... how will we get them back here... on safe land?” Ona asked a little concerned for your safety

“Oh let me help you with that” Ingrid smirked whistling again even louder knowing her girlfriend will get the warning

“That was Ingrids last warning whistle” Mapí shivered on her jet ski knowing if they won't go back to the beach now they would all be one head shorter once her girlfriend will get a hand on them

“Your girlfriend has a last warning whistle?” you raised a brow at the blonde spaniard

“Yeah... when she whistles like that... it means last warning or serious trouble” the blonde said

“Why does she have something like this?” you ask getting even more confused

“I may or may not cause trouble sometimes...” she grinned at you sheepishly

“... so... we go back?” you asked looking at your three new friends

“Yeah we better... when Ingrid is mad it's nearly as bad as when Alexia is mad” Pina said in a small voice

“Then let's do it with style since they won't let us get away together ever again” you shrugged your shoulders smiling

The other three grinned back at you before following you back to the beach as you pushed the jet ski to it's limits

You let your jet ski skillfully slide onto the sand back on the beach looking around confused as the other three followed your lead

“What's wrong, niñita?” Mapí asked happily as she got of her vehicle

“I just wondered... I expected a angry mop with pitchforks and torches” you raised an eyebrow looking around to find your sister and her girlfriend still at the booth sipping on her Sangria “Maybe I'm just paranoid” you shrugged your shoulders

The four of went inside the little shop that rented out the jet skis giving back your life jackets and the three players were nice enough to take some pictures with the staff which you happily took since you didn't want to appear on any of them anyway. All of you said your goodbyes and stepped back out in the sunshine. A little nagging feeling in the back of your head didn't let you get any peace. You realized a split second too late that you stepped right into Keiras trap which caused you to stop walking as Mapí, Patri and Pina walked straight into to

“TRAP” you screeched trying to push back against Mapí but it was too late.

You felt your ear getting gripped in a dead grip as you get pulled down a little bit and immediately you knew it was Keira. In the corner of your eye you could see Ingrid gripping Mapís neck tightly while Alexia had Pina and Patris ears in her grip.

“This time you definitely went overboard Bitsy” the Englishwoman growled at you and you knew you were in some serious trouble.

The other three of your companions already got yelled at in spanish by their captain still all held in place but Alexia handed Pina and Patri off to Marta.

“Damn... she seems arrogated” you looked at Alexia shocked as you could spot a vein popping on her neck

“With me” Keira just said as she pulled on your ear

“Ow ow ow ow ow...” you whined stumbling after the blonde

“Sit” the blonde said strictly as she pulled you past Lucy and Ona pointing to her towel

You knew better than to piss her off even more so you plopped down on the towel seeing your sister already approaching

“Did you hit your head?” Keira asked surprisingly very calmly

“Ehrm... no?” you shook your head confused

“Did you drink?” the blonde ignored your confused face

“No?” you answered carefully

“Do you do drugs?” the Englishwoman kept on asking question after question

“Again... no... nothing other than the painkillers Ona pulled off for me” you said not knowing what answer Keira was after

“Did you smoke weed?” Keira asked again too calm for your liking

“Tried it once... not for me” you answered truthfully

“THEN WHAT IN BLOODY HELL POSSESSED YOU TO GET ON A JET SKI?????” Keira exploded in your face

“Ah... there it is” you deadpanned before looking at her “I didn't knew... Mapí pulled me along, threw me in a life jacket and sat me on the machine of funnies”

“You are capable of saying no aren't you... you have a fucked up wrist, you are on painkillers that would probably send an elephant tumble over and you think it's a GRAND idea to jump on a jet ski doing hopps and flopps in the open sea... you aren't the best swimmer y/n..” Keira went full on mom rant on your ass – for her to call you your name... that was bad.

“That's what the life jacket is for” you defended yourself “so I wouldn't drown”

“DON'T you dare go all smartass on me... you are grounded” Keira put her foot down “And before you start to whine and throw a tantrum I'll let you have the afternoon here at the beach but after that your ass comes home with me and you'll stay in my eyesight all the damn time”

“That's not fair... Mapí is still allowed to play next game and tweedledee and tweedledumb are also not grounded... and... tweedledee I think even suggested we stay out there... but I said we should go back” you rambled trying to reason with the Englishwoman

“Look at me” Keira said softly waiting until you met her eye before continuing “Do I look like I care?”

You groaned defeated as you turned to your sister “Luuuuccyyyy” you whined

“Oh no... I learned pretty early NOT to get involved when Keira is pissed” she held up her hands in surrender

“You know Bitsy.. I can always send you home with Lucy” Keira smirked evilly

“No... no... I'm happy to be grounded at your place” you smiled fake your eyes wide in shock remembering what Keira told you early

“Mhm... thought so... now you go over to Alexia and apologize for causing trouble” the Englishwoman nodded

“But I for once didn't do anything” you whined

“You caused that woman nearly a heart attack” Keira shot back “Off you scramble...”

“But...” you started just to get interrupted by Kei

“Off” she said with insistence

You grumbled under your breath but pushed yourself off the ground walking over to Alexia who was on the phone. You waited patiently not wanting to interrupt the call until the blonde spaniard raised an eyebrow at you

“Sí?” she looked at you expectantly

“I came to apologize” you mumbled suddenly feeling shy

“Un momento” Alexia said holding up a finger telling you to wait before returning to her call

You started to kick the sand a little after about three minutes getting bored. After two more minutes you sighed loudly but got ignored by the Barca Captain. One more minute and you started to whine. With a huff Alexia turned to you

“Didn't I tell you to wait?” she asked sternly

“Waiting is boring” you whined

“You are 16 not 3” the blonde said severe “You wait”

You whined loudly and desperately now REALLY felling like a small kid.

“Why did that sound like a Bronze whine?” it suddenly spoke out of Alexias phone

“It was a Bronze...” the blonde spaniard looked confused at her phone “How did YOU hear that?”

There was a loud laugh from the phone and Alexia angled the phone so you could make out a friendly looking face with dark brown hair and a kind smile

“There... the small Bronze” Alexia said apparently showing her friend how she makes you wait till they're done with whatever they're discussing

“Hola BB” the other woman smiled

“Leila” you shrieked happily basically falling on top of Alexia trying to get to her phone.

You now laid half on top of the Barca captain smiling happily into the phone where you could see one of your closest friends – actually she was more of another sister to you – Leila Ouahabi.

“You causing havoc in Barcelona BB?” she asked laughing as she saw how Alexia tried to firstly push you off her and secondly getting her phone back

“Yes ma'am” you grinned proudly

“Good girl” Leila praised you her smirk radiant

“Leila!” Alexia scolded “Don't encourage her... she's worse enough without your praising her”

“Oh Capi... you've seen nothing yet...” the brown haired woman laughed amused

“I've seen enough” the blonde grumbled “Can I please have MY phone back?”

“I swear Lei... there wasn't even blood” you said honestly ignoring Alexia

“Good girl” Leila praised you again looking impressed

“Blood??” Alexia asked shocked and bewildered at the same time

“Mostly it's not mine” you hold your hands up in surrender

“Ay dios mio” the blonde sighed

“Who is this mio... you mention him a lot today?” you asked confused and Leila barked out a laugh

“It means “my God” BB... like... we would say “Jesus fuck”...” the brown haired spaniard explained laughing

“Ah... makes sense... somehow... I thought it was her brother or something” you shrugged your shoulders

“How do you two know each other anyway?” Alexia asked now realizing that she never introduced you

“She plays for City” you said in a “Duh” voice

“She's a Bronze” Leila said in the same voice

“Manchester is my Home base... of course I know all the players of both clubs... my sister played there... her girlfriend – past and present – played for Manchester, MY girlfriend played for city... Hempo, ChloChlo, Steph, Ellie and Lexi play for City... of course I know Leila... how do YOU know her” you looked at her incredulously

“She's spanish... I'm spanish... we both play football... take a guess how I know her” Alexia rolled her eyes

“One night stand?” you smiled innocently which caused Leila to burst out laughing again

“Alexia wishes” she pressed out laughing as she stroke away the tears that formed in her eyes from laughing

“¿disculpe?” the blonde exclaimed loudly

“Dislocate yourself” you huffed

“God BB... you really are something” Leila couldn't stop laughing even more so when you started to comment on the spanish language knowing you like to do that when you didn't know said language

“Okay that's enough... what did you want earlier?” Alexia interrupted your interaction with her teammate

“Oh yeah... sorry for causing trouble even if it wasn't my fault... it was the colorbook spaniard and tweedledee and tweedledumb” you shrugged your shoulders again

“Colorbook spaniard?” Leila looked confused

“Lucy overdosed me yesterday and apparently I handed out spaniard names like they were coupons” you rolled your eyes “Uh... you want a spaniard name too?”

“We'll talk about it when you're back home?” the brown haired woman asked and you nodded smiling “Then go on,... give me a... what was it?”

“A spaniard name... and I have the perfect one... with the drugged power invested in me from this day on you shall be named... gorgeous spaniard” you said festively

“I mean... I AM gorgeous...” Leila grinned “... but I still don't get it”

“Oh every important spaniard I met got a spaniard name... this one here has one too” you grinned cheekily at Alexia

“Really? Do tell Capi” Leila teased

“No” Alexia grumbled “Knowing you you will spread it through national team and I'll never get rid of it again... just like La Reina”

“YOU named her La Reina...??” you asked Leila shocked

“No... but I found it online and made sure every team member called her that” she grinned widely

“I don't see the issue here... pretty spaniard” you smirked wickedly

“Pretty spaniard?!” the brown haired woman picked up on your nickname for Alexia immediately as said woman just groaned and rolled her eyes

“She's pretty...” you looked at the blonde innocently

“Don't let your girlfriend hear that” Leila smirked

“Oh she knows... she actually congratulated me for coming up with such fitting spaniard names even when being high as a kite...” you nodded proudly

“You two are really made for each other” the brown haired woman chuckled

“Funny... Kei said exactly the same” you mused “But yeah... sorry for causing trouble which wasn't my fault” you directed to Alexia

“You still owe me Laps...” the blonde said “... you just added more to that”

“Waaaaaaaiiiit a second... I don't owe you laps” you exclaimed

“Oh but you do... did you forget what happened first time we met?” Alexia responded calmly

“Oh BB... did you hit on her? She doesn't like that” Leila threw in chuckling

“I didn't.... did I?” you questioned yourself thinking about your first meeting before repeating “No... no I didn't”

“You swear at a guy who was twice your size” the blonde rolled her eyes “Because you said something very very bad”

“Oh yeah... but you never mentioned laps... you let Mapí do laps.... and Lucy....” you said as a matter of fact

“I thought it was obvious” Alexia looked at you like you grew a second head

“Yeah no... I'm not really made for running anymore” you waved off as Leila snorted loudly “Hm??” you looked at her

“You ran pretty fast when you stole Jill Roords last waffle thingy...” Leila snorted

“Short sprints are okay... a million laps with la reina here up my ass – not so much... and this stroopwaffle was delicious” you said insistent

“She'll make you run those laps BB... I know her long enough...” Leila said honestly

“I mean... she can try” you shrugged your right shoulder

“She can hear you... both of you” Alexia raised an eyebrow challenging

“Love you pretty spaniard” you grinned at her

“Yep... same... pretty spaniard” the brown haired woman grinned as well

“Okay... you” the blonde looked at you “... back to Keira... and you” now she looked at her phone “... we see us at Camp... you better pack the comfortable cleats... you'll wear them a lot running laps for me”

“Love you gorgeous spaniard” you yelled out after you pushed yourself off Alexia into a standing position

“Love you BB... text me later” you heard Leilas voice as you started to return to Keira

“M back” you said carefully not knowing if she's still angry at you

“I can see that” the Englishwoman replied dryly

“Kei come on... I'm sorry... I really am... but it was so much fun” you begged and whined knowing your best shot would be a perfect placed whine

“Not this time y/n” Keira responded neutral

THIS was the moment you realized that you are in real deep shit. Keira nearly never used your real name – ever. So for her to call you your actual name was bad.

“Kei...” you whispered sadly

“Gosh y/n... I already saw you drowning... and I couldn't do anything” the blonde said desperately “You just can't pull shit like this”

Okay... Keira swearing was even worse than using your name

“I... I... I... I didn't think” you stuttered out taken aback

“That's the problem... you never think... I love you.. I do... I would give my life for you because you are so SO important to me y/n... but you need to start and USE that brilliant brain of yours” Keira said firmly

“I'm sorry” you mumbled hanging your head low feeling ashamed of yourself

“I know you are... but fuck Bitsy... I was so scared” she sighed as she saw how you beat yourself up for it “I don't know what Patri said that caused you to laugh – really laugh and I'll be forever grateful to her that she did it because I haven't heard that sound in over three years but you really can't just fuck off on a jet ski... you can't Bitsy... you never swam in the Sea... you could have...”

“Kei...” you said in a low voice and as you look up you could see tears in Keiras eyes

You didn't know what to do – Keira was always your rock. She held you when you cried, helped you when you needed help, advise you when you needed advise and now you caused her so much pain.

“Can... can I hug you?” you asked carefully not knowing if Keira would want it

“Come here Bitsy” she said calmly as she opened her arms

You quickly shuffled over to her and threw yourself into her arms

“I'm so sorry Kei... I promise I try to never do stupid things ever again” you mumbled against the blondes shoulder squeezing her as tight as you could

“We both know that's a lie” the Englishwoman chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead “Just try to be more careful Bitsy.. that would be enough for a start”

“I promise” you mumbled

“Good...” Keira sighed out “... you ready to go home?”

“Can we have shepherds pie?” you asked hopefully

“If you can forgo cheddar... it's basically impossible to get cheddar here...” the blonde smiled as you asked for your comfort food

“Eeh... as long there's cheese...” you shrugged your shoulders as you started to throw all of Keiras stuff into her bag

“Eager much Bitsy” Keira chuckled

“Yes... I'm hungry and I just saw my sister playing tonsil hockey with the friendly spaniard... we need to leave” you answered quickly and threw stuff quicker into the bag – sand included

“At least it's the friendly spaniard and not the pretty or sexy one, hm?” Keira smirked as you stopped your “packing” for a second before starting to dry heave

When you were done packing Keiras stuff (and half of the beach) you quickly pulled her up and started to flee the beach without looking back to afraid to see things you never EVER wanted to see – again.

[chronically-ghosted]

Dry Run

rating: T

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 1513

summary: you meet javi in a club and he shows you his favorite way to foreplay sex.

warnings: no smut, no y/n, this isn't explicit but outrageously horny, naughty language and bad touching in public, slutty dancing

a/n: @ravensmadreads reminded me that the songs "Gasolina" and "Rompe" exist and then forced me at gun point to write this drabble. no one talks about what a good dancer javi would be and i've had enough!

🤍Masterlist

It started simple enough. 

A smile at the bar. The tang of tequila and the sour bite of a lime. A touch against your thigh to see if you are easily startled. He has to lean in close to ask if he can buy you your next drink, the deep rub of his voice only audible above the pound and hum of the music when his lips brush the shell of your ear.  

Then you tug him by that linen shirt, the tails already creeping out of the waistband of his jeans as if in anticipation of what comes next. His damp throat visible through the shamelessly undone collar, you wonder if he barely dresses himself because he knows some woman will just tear him naked again. His breath smells smoky, rich, like the mezcal he’s been sipping on, his broad chest warm under your palm as he now herds you onto the dance floor. There’s a grin on his face, a dark fire in his eyes that tells you he likes to play with his food, that this is nothing more than foreplay to him. Practice before the test. A dry run. 

He wants you to know exactly where you liked to be touched before you bring him home, to surprise and bewitch you as if he had known those places all along. 

But you’re not so easily convinced. Not so easily made dumb by slim hips and wide palms. He wants to dance, you want bailar. 

It starts simple enough. His head hung low, teasing grin on his face, he encourages your arms around his neck. You feel his hair stick to your forehead as he leans in rough palms easing down over your wrists, your elbows, your shoulders, then steadying against your hips. He moves like many men in this country do, with the self-assuredness that the music listens to him and not the other way around. He’s light on his feet, cowboy boots taking two steps forward, one step back, and you wonder what kind of a job he has. What kind of a man he is, that he can dance like this but his palms are so rough. You wonder how he would dance if he didn’t have plans of fucking  you in the club’s bathroom. His hands rest lightly on your hips, hardly respectable but a little possessive, a promise and a warning that you are going to only dance with him tonight. 

You watch his eyes flick down to your chest only a few times. 

But then the music changes, the crowd drunk and eager for something stronger than seduction. The bachata gives way to music not about love but lust, its desirable twin. It’s faster, something more metallic and driven. 

The hands on your hips tighten and the pulse in your wrists quickens. It comes as no surprise that this stranger, this man can easily handle the switch – the slide into something that demands a change of pace, the roll of the hips instead of a sway. 

He is never rough and never grips too tight. His hands glide up to the arch of your back, hot and rolling like candle wax, as he suggests silently that you come closer, that you let him feel only what you’ve been showing. You go willingly, curious and painfully turned on. What is he capable of? What can he do to you? What would you let him do to you?

His feet widen apart and you slot in like you’re supposed to. He seems surprised by it, as if every move you’ve made towards him all night hasn’t been bold, hasn’t explicitly told him what you want. His arm now up around the low dip of your ribs, the thumb on the other hand brushes under your lip. He won’t kiss you, you don’t kiss to this music, but you see he wants to breathe you in, wants to make your air his. 

“Hermosa,” he murmurs, everything about him from his hair, to his mustache, eyes and eyebrows dark and heavy. “Que hermosa.” 

You don’t realize you’re pinned to his chest until his arm has nowhere to go, trapped between you two. So he doesn’t move it. He cups the back of your neck, fingers pressing into the damp lining of your hair above the knot of your spine. This isn’t what he expected to happen and neither did you. His belt buckle digs into your hips and you can’t resist pushing into that cold pinch. His nostrils flare, eyes searching, breath short. Sweat drips over his left eye and you half-bite, half-kiss the spot on his forehead, tongue printing on his skin. 

You feel more than hear the groan in his chest. 

The music changes again, the lights spinning and dropping in the low beats. In the half-dark, he tugs your elbows from around his head, finger rubbing over the lining of your panties over your dress, and he turns you, barely allowing an inch of space between you. 

You feel his breath on your neck before those wide palms curl around you, that hot, damp chest curl around you, and he’s dragged you against him, all without missing the flow of the music. You moan when his hard cock, confined by the seam of his jeans, spreads your ass cheeks apart and you drop your head onto his shoulder. His fingers twist the hem of your dress but don’t move it. The bareness of your skin is for him alone, in private, in the half-darkness. Instead, he palms the hand pressing into your thigh, your legs screaming from the constant movement, and brings it up to your chest, his fingers intertwining with yours. He nudges your jaw with his nose, breath heavy against your ear. 

He likes to fuck like this too, you realize.

His hips flow and buck with the music, yours nestled as tight as you can without him physically being inside you. You purposefully fall out of sync for a fraction of a second, your ass grindings against where he is so deliciously hard and he grunts. He drops his head, tongue then teeth digging into the muscle between your shoulder and your neck. You intentionally rub against him again, in the opposite direction, and his other hand again overtakes yours, threading his fingers and yours together, and wraps your arm around your ribs, his own like a hot steel bar across you. 

You toss your head back, gasping for air before you are pulled back under. 

Wrapped around you, he fucks you without penetration, the music a whispered instruction to the pace of his hips. You turn your head and bite his ear, making him groan deep, the metal teeth of his jeans imprinting their shape onto your ass. His eyes closed, his fingers dig into your palms. Hot, humid air puffs from his wet mouth over your shoulder, into the curl of your neck. Your skin beneath your wet hair twitches with sudden goosebumps. 

You realize, in a daze, he’s muttering the filthy lyrics to you, smearing promises into your skin long before you can reciprocate that pleasure. You push back against him, a reward, and this time, he purposefully rubs against you, against the music, his hand over yours dropping to your abdomen, just where your panties sit under your dress. He cups you as if he could mount you –  drive you under him, and eat you out on his knees.

On the next flash of light, the drop of the beat, you slide your hand out from under him and wind up into his hair. His free forearm binds you just under your tits, keeping you against his grinds, his sweat-damp body, so you curl your fingers into his hair and yank. His head drops back as he pants from the sharp spike of pleasure and pain. 

His heartbeat is the same as the bass, you think. Maybe yours too, the heat of his chest felt all the way down your spine. 

He is minutes away from unwinding himself from you, from flushing you cold without the fervor of his body, your own drenched in sweat, only to all but drag you into the nearest bathroom, shove your panties down to your knees and actually, properly fuck you until you have bruises and beg him for more. But not yet. 

There’s an intimacy in dancing like this. A familiarity that is too often rapidly lost and gained in the physicality of later acts. 

You think deliriously that all couples should have to dance like this before going out or even hooking up. Because this, this chemistry, this natural heat and rhythm, can so often provide honesty that can rarely be spoken about so early. This, this dancing, asks, “are you going to fuck me like I need it?”

Yes, his body proves as his strong, thick thighs cage you even further into him, yes, he can. 

He will fuck you. He will, he promises every time he makes you squeeze yourself with his hands. 

But not yet. 

Not yet. 

[satorusugurugurl]

The idea of yandere gojo and geto (both at the same time) plotting against their darling reader using geto's cursed spirits to make her on them gets my mind reeling for nights 👀 wonder if my favorite writer has any thoughts on this

Perfect Prey

Characters: Yadere!Geto Suguru, Yadere!Gojo Satoru,FAB!Reader

Warnings: yandere!Geto/Gojo, manipulation, dub! con read is unaware that the boys are manipulating her! (consent is vital for me!!) double penetration, smut, mentions of wounds, cursing

Word Count: 3,404

A/N: Ah! thank you Nonnie! This made me smile! Oooh, this, this was fun. I loved getting into this! I hope y’all enjoy it!! (I really enjoyed writing for Suguru 🥵)

“I finally got my own mission!” Geto and Gojo glanced up at you as you proudly walked into the first-year's classroom. “Took years, but I think they finally realized I’m fully capable of destroying a curse or two by myself!”

Geto gave you a warm smile, resting his chin on his fist. “Is that so? Funny, I thought we made it clear one of us was supposed to accompany you on any mission.” He shut his eyes, tilting his head slightly to the side.



“Oh, that’s a good one, Suguru!” You excitedly plopped down on Gojo’s desk, kicking your feet back and forth. “All jokes aside, they did want to send one of you with me.”

“Wanted to send one of us?” Satoru questioned, dipping his chin to watch you.

The two men watched you closely as your pretty head nodded. “Yaga said,” you tilted your chin at Satoru, “You were assigned to come with me, Satoru. But seeing as you just returned from your mission, I insisted that I could handle a couple of curses on my own.” Gojo scoffed, his head turning to give Suguru a look of disbelief. “Oh, don't look at him like that!” Sure, the duo were best friends, but their silent communication between stolen glances made you feel left out.

“I don't think me coming back from a mission, which I handled easily because I’m Gojo Satoru, of course. Means I can't come with you. They assigned us this together.” The white-haired man’s time was thick with annoyance. “For a specific reason, I’m assuming.”

You cocked an eyebrow, eyes darting between the two men. “Why would the Gojo Satoru be needed to exorcise a handful of low-grade curses?” Looking at Gojo, you could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “You know what—why do they even send you both you're Special-grades?” Before you could question them, Geto chuckled, soft and rich.

“Ignore Satoru; he’s just being clingy. Congratulations on your first solo mission.” Pride swelled in your chest at his acknowledgment. You happily kicked your feet faster as Geto reached over, ruffling your hair. “Just promise to be careful, and if you need any help, please know we’re but a phone call away.”

“Thank you.” The condescending tone of your voice has Satoru clenching his jaw. “I’ll get this mission done so fast, you won't even notice I’m gone!”

Geto pulled his hand back, nodding, dark hair swaying as you slid off the seal. “Be safe; we’ll see you at home.”

“I will! See you both later!”

Geto smiled, waving until the door shut, and he could no longer hear your footsteps down the hall. The instant he was confident that you weren't around, his smile fell, eyes narrowed at the door. Gojo was fuming, pulling his blindfold down, letting it pool around his neck. Between the two men, their anger could freeze Hell over.

“This is problematic.” Geto rubbed at the pulsing sensation in his temple.

“Problematic? No, this is a disaster if she gets through this mission, which we know she will! She's going to get more solo missions. Solo missions turn into group missions, with other sorcerers, other men.”

“And we can't have that. No one is good enough to protect her, let alone breathe the same air.”

Gojo sat on the edge of the desk, watching as his best friend tapped his thumb against the center of his forehead. Between the two of them, they would find a way to fix this sticky situation. Their solution had to be clean. They couldn’t have you finding out that they were the ones responsible for your lack of solo missions. The two pulled strings to ensure you were always with them.

Some might call them possessive and obsessive. But they didn't see it like that. They just knew no one on the face of the planet would ever be good enough for you. You were their darling little princess. The keywords are theirs and theirs alone.

“We could tell Yaga to pull her off, tell a white lie like maybe she changed her mind.”

“No, no, that would look suspicious. She went through all the trouble, convincing him to let her go alone. After all that, for us to ask that, she would start asking questions. We can’t have her knowing we’re responsible for her lack of solo missions.”

“Okay, do you have any ideas?” When Geto said nothing, Gojo sighed, exasperated, feeling Geto’s eyes on him. “It would be easier if we showed her how ‘dangerous’ these solo missions can be.”

A lightbulb went off in Geto’s mind. “Satoru~” he purred, “that’s a brilliant idea.” The other man furrowed crisp white brows in confusion. “She thinks it’s just a handful of curses, right?”

“Yeah?”

“It would be a shame if there were more curses than she could handle,” Geto smirked, specks of black forming behind his shoulder, his curses coming to life, revealing his intentions.

Satoru grinned wide with a sharp laugh. “That truly would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Poor sweetheart will have to call us to help.” Geto nodded, motioning for Satoru to follow.

“Come on, we got shit to do.”

Later that night, you were scrambling off the ground, wincing as the fifteen curses chased you around the corner of the abandoned building. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You screamed, palms bleeding, knees scraped up as you stumbled back to your feet, barely avoiding the sharp teeth of the curse behind you.

This was supposed to be a simple job! One where there would be maybe two or three curses to take out! Three were okay! You were able to handle that on your own. But after you took them out, you suddenly found yourself surrounded by dozens of curses. All of them ranged from different grades, from four to two, but a couple gave off a darker presence, possibly special grades, which was not good.

How the hell did three curses turn into three dozen?! How could the intel be so off?! And how the hell were you going to get out of this?!

A low snarling snapped you out of your frantic thoughts before the curse in front of you swiped at your stomach with very long and very sharp claws. You dodged, falling back onto the ground, watching it close in on you. This was not good, not in the slightest, and it didn’t help that you were all alone!

Scrambling back, you pushed yourself off the ground, ducking into a room, slamming the door. “Goddamn, fuck me.” Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you called the two strongest men of the modern age. Sure, there was a one hundred and fifty percent chance they'd boast about how they were right, how you needed to listen to them, but that didn’t matter right now! “Pick up! Pick up, pick up!”

The phone rang and rang and rang. Just when you thought it would go to voicemail, the line clicked. Gojo yawned on the other line without a care in the world. “Hello~?” He cooed, listening to the raspy breathing.

“Satoru!” You gulped down breaths of air. “Toru, I need help!” You screamed as a curse slammed against the door.

Gojo covered the receiver, snickering as Geto eyed the building you were in. “What was that? You need our help?”

“Yes!” you cried out, “Satoru! Please help!!”

“Are you sure? I mean, I am considered a Special Grade; low-grade curses are something I shouldn’t worry about, right?”

Geto’s curse smashed through the door, dashing at you. He swore he could hear your scream through Satoru’s phone. His poor princess is getting chased around by his curses. This could have been easily avoided if you didn’t insist on taking on this mission alone. Unfortunately for you, the choices you made led to this outcome.

Your heart was hammering against your rib cage as you slipped and maneuvered around the curses slowly surrounding you. This was way out of your league, and you were beginning to regret now bringing one of the boys with you. Plus, Satoru wouldn’t drop everything and come running to your rescue, not after everything you’d said earlier.

“Toru, please.” Pleading was something you rarely did, but Satoru’s ego had been bruised, so you had to do what needed to be done. “Please, I'm begging you.”

Both Gojo and Geto exchanged a look with each other. “You beg so nicely,” Satoru commented, listening to a loud crashing sound followed by your curse. “I suppose I could come, maybe bring Suguru too.”

“Y-Yes! Yes, please!”

“On one condition.”

Despite the fact dozens of curses were chasing you, you stopped dead in your tracks. “Condition?! What fuckin’ condition?!”

“You never take a solo mission again.”

After this endeavor, he didn’t even have to ask you to do that. “Y-Yes! I agree. Just fucking hurry!” In the blink of an eye, the tall white-haired man teleported before you with Geto by his side. The curse that had been charging at you slammed hard against Gojo’s infinity before being forced back as the white-haired man stepped forward.

You fell to your knees, panting heavily as Geto peered down at you from over his shoulder. “Are you alright?” You just nodded your head, glancing down at your bleeding hands. “You don’t look alright.” You could smell the woodsy musk

as Geto knelt in front of you. “Give me.” He gently grabbed your hand, examining the scraps on the heels of your hand.

”Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Gojo chastised as he grabbed you and Geo, teleporting the three of you back to their apartment. “Guess your first solo mission didn’t quite go as well as you planned now, did it?”

There was no retort or sharp comeback because he was right. Even if the intel had been wrong, you couldn't handle this mission on your own. You had failed after you insisted that you could handle this mission without any hiccups. Now, that confidence was replaced with shame and disbelief. You had to call on your colleagues for assistance. After they warned you that this is something you wouldn’t be able to handle.

The two men who had orchestrated this scheme watched you with unreadable expressions—on the outside, their demeanor seemed unnerved, while on the inside, they were swelling with pride and excitement. Seeing you so distraught and broken had their pants tightening at the almost broken, blank look in your eyes.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” Suguru announced, lifting you and ushering you towards the bathroom. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about. You’re not the only sorcerer who isn't capable of handling three dozen cursed spirits on their own. Not everyone is as strong as Satoru and I.”

Suguru moves to the shower, turning it on as you remain still, the events of the evening replaying over in your mind. “Suguru’s right. Not everyone would have handled a situation like that. You should be grateful, though. You’re lucky enough to have us willing to come to your beck and call.” Satoru is moving in front of you, holding your hands over the sink, running hot water over the wounds. “If we hadn’t shown up when we did, you could have died.” The truth of his words had your head jerking up, meeting crystalline eyes.

“I-I could have died.” The monotone repetition of his own words had Satoru’s cock throbbing at the broken throaty words that left your mouth.

“You could have.” He agreed, pressing his lips against your neck. “But you didn’t because we saved you.”

“I-I know.” You whispered as Geto joined your side. “You saved me.”

Hands, hot and rough, ran over the mounds of your breasts, gripping your hips, manhandling you in ways they had done in the past. There had been nights when the three of you had been so bored you just decided to hook up or when they just needed a little stress relief. This time, however, felt monumentally different. Like they were holding their breath, holding themselves back. Their stoic bodies jittered with anticipation, waiting to see what happened next.

To you, it was them being pent up, maybe the adrenaline rushing through their systems. Because if you were being honest with yourself, you felt just as pent up. Almost dying had you wanting to cave into your raw human desires. While the men standing on either side of you shared one of their infamous knowing glances. They weren’t driven by the adrenaline and passion of what had happened. Not in the slightest. No, their desire was driven by pure, unfiltered joy.

They finally had you right where they wanted you. Broken. You had lost a fight you knew you could have won. Due to them, your confidence in your abilities was clouded by a fabricated series of events.

First, you’d be broken, not taking missions alone any further. The next phase would be to distance you from the school slowly. Trying to convince you that you didn’t need to worry about working, the two made more than enough money to provide for the three of you. If all went according to plan, you would be their perfect little live-in girlfriend in no time.

What made all of this ten times better was the fact that you had no idea tonight's events had left you in their web of lust and desire. They were the spiders, and you were the poor innocent fly—a fly about to be devoured in the most primal ways imagined.

“Thank you for saving me.”

”Nu-uh.”

“We did save you, so you need to thank us properly.”

The men pressed lips against you, hands trailing over your body. You melted against them, gasping as hands cupped your breasts, hard cocks rubbing against your hips as they ground against you. They did save you, didn’t they? They went above and beyond to stop what they were doing and come to your aid.

“Y-Yeah, I think I will.” You whispered, turning to kiss each man on the mouth before sinking to your knees. “Please, let me thank you.”

Two thick long cock were suddenly in your face, throbbing and leaking pre-cum from angry, flushed tips. Seeing as your hands were scrapped up and ran, you took turns sucking and licking each man's cock, while they jerked off. Your tongue flicked, swirled, and lapped the two cocks, until their cum spurted over your face coating your lips and cheeks. Your appreciation didn’t stop there. You pulled both fully clothed men into the shower with you, tugging their clothes off and discarding them over the shower door.

Satoru and Suguru both help you, lifting you, your legs wrapping around Satoru’s waist as Geto’s wet, chiseled chest pressed firmly over your back. Both cock’s teased your wet cunt’s entrance, rubbing over against each other as you whined softly, tilting your head back. Their cocks both pressed past the tight opening of your pussy, stretching your walls in a painful yet pleasurable way, leaving your cock drunk the deeper they sunk into your wet heat.

A minute was all they allowed you to take to attempt to adjust yourself to the sensation of having two cocks buried inside of you. They were bullying inside of you. Satoru’s cock kissed your cervix with each thrust, While Suguru rubbed against your g-spot in the most heavenly way. Perhaps if you had been a good girl and just left everything as it was, they would have taken it easier on you. Regretfully, in their eyes, you had almost ruined their carefully constructed ploy to make you theirs in every sense of the word. Due to that, you were going to be punished severely.

Their thrusts were hard, deep, and almost painful. Fucking into you as if you were just a sex toy rather than a human being. Satoru’s teeth dug painfully into your shoulder, leaving indentations in his wake. Suguru’s mouth trailed kissed over the nap of your neck, mouth gentler than Satoru but his hands were as cruel as the white-haired man's. He pinched and pulled at your nipples, yanking them until you cried out his name before releasing his grip. The relief never lasted long; as soon as the dull, stinging sensation subsided, Suguru returned to the painful teasing.

The kisses, touch, and thrusts weren’t the only way they were mean to you. Their words stung just as bad as the scrapes on your hands and the abrasions to your knees. If you hadn’t been crying from the mere overstimulation of pained pleasure, their words might have had your eyes watering just as much.

”Our stupid dirty slut, getting herself into such a fucked up me.”

”Yes, dragging us both out to save her.”

“Then, on top of everything we did. Going out of our way to save her after she blatantly told us she was fine, she still gets fucked good like the whore that she is.”

”Yeah, she might not be able to take on a cursed spirit, but she’s sure good at taking two dicks at the same time.”

Their words had your skin flushing in shame and need, your mouth dropping into an ‘O’ as the abdomen in your lower abdomen started to tighten. “Oooh, fuk, please, ha—ah fuuck.” You were so close, so damn close to either passing out or having the most intense orgasm of your life. If you were lucky, which didn’t seem likely after all the mishaps today, maybe, just maybe, you could experience both. “G-Gonna cum, please.”

”You hear that Satoru, our little cock slut wants to cum.”

Satoru’s hips began to jerk faster, the head of his cock slamming into your cervix thrust after thrust. “Does she even deserve it?” He continued, leaving pain over your skin, his tongue brushing over the marks.

“P-Please, oooh god, please don’t tease”

“Hm, what do you say, Suguru? Nngh fuck—“ Satoru hammered his hips into you, thrust after thrust, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. “Should our precious girl cum?”

“Aaahh yes~ let her cum, make her take both our loads, then once she catches her breath, we fuck her even more.”

Reaching between your bodies, Satoru rubbed your clit, making your walls twitch around the two monster cocks inside of you. Their pace matches the others, working in harmony to send you over the edge. A scream, one that had never left you before, echoes inside the steamy shower. “C-Cummin! Cumming!” You screamed over and over until both of you stiffened, ropes of thick hot cum filling you.

“Take it bitch, take every last drop, milk me dry.” Satoru was always more vocal, nipping and sucking at your ear as his whiny groans invaded your mind.

“P-Princess, mmmhm, fuuuck.” Unlike Satoru, who was all about talking and heaving his voice, Suguru was softer, moans deep and feral, but he didn’t feel the need to announce it to the entire apartment complex. “Fillin’ you up so good~”

They both did; their hot cum leaked out of you, running down their softening shafts. In the shower, you hummed, listening to the tittering splatter in the water washing over you. The peaceful moment lasted for but a second as both men pressed kisses on your shoulder.

“You belong to us.”

“Do you understand?”

As their wandering hand dug into your skin, you nodded. Rocking slightly against them with a helpless whine. “Yes, yeah, I belong to you both!” The two friends shared a cold, knowing smirk as you began thrusting into you harder, making your eyes roll back into your head as loud moans wrecked through you. Little did you know how serious they both were.

You belonged to them in every way, shape, and form, whether you liked it or not.

[enbesbians]

'TOUCH ME'

bottom ellie x top!reader

cw: oral (e! receiving), spit play if you squint, fingering (e! receiving), hickies, nipple play, clit rubbing, oral, no use of y/n, reader struggles with self identity

MINORS DNI

if you enjoyed this, read part two and part three.

summary: ellie and you were childhood neighbors, with you battling your sexuality and ellie's being a mystery (she's a lesbian but never told you you've always questioned if your attraction was mutual but there's an undeniable lust between you two that you both choose to act out on. with her being a virgin and you wanting to touch her and make her feel what she's always deserved to feel.

a/n: this is my very first tlou fic... please be kind and if there's any mistakes i truly apologize.

the rain poured heavily, with the strong smell of cement filtering the air— the shiny green leaves fluttering from each droplet while the trees sway at the surprisingly calm wind. there you both sat, underneath the bus stop arch, your mitten covered hands clasping tightly on the plastic handle of your umbrella and ellie's eyes latching on the puddle that rippled a few itches away from her feet.

despite its gloom, it was a weather that you both loved— the grey skies and lack of sun, the rain gave you comfort.

you grew up near one another, meeting for the first time when ellie's family introduced to your family as the new neighbors. she wore some faded band tee shirt and dirtied dark blue ieans with red converse that looked like she had them in her possession for a decade. at first, with your shy personalities, it was a bit hard to bond with one another. the consistent neighbor dinners and (by default) going to the same schools, it was almost like you had to see each other by force. yet, one rainy day during the year you both turned 16, ellie's family was over, with them to be found in your bedroom, briefly talking about the weather.

"the sky looks so sad..." you sulked, your attention fixated on the raindrop covered window.

"it's just the earth leveling itself up. think of it as it's rebirth, the greens will grow... the sun will shine again... you know?" ellie replied, her response sounding very nonchalant, silly even but flowed sweetly, her attention only on her sketch pad where she drew different characters she'd usually draw randomly. she didn't notice what she had said, if it was in any way serious or logical but you took to heart, your bored eyes widening like you had been introduced to a new way of thinking.

"yeah.." you replied.

it was simple interaction. awkward even, but that's how your relationship was. from age twelve to now, both twenty one. there was an evident space between the bench you both sat on, the metal seat feeling like it was freezing through the thick jean of your pants. you turned your head, looking at ellie who usually never notices when you would stare—or you think—seeing flashes of her drawing in her sketchbook—the same stare, her auburn hair fluttering against the light scatter of her freckles that painted her skin. you didn't know why, but you wanted to smile. something about how ellie always seemed like she was in her own world, not paying attention to what surrounded her and zoning out, that's what she always did. you felt different from her- your thoughts were always so loud. jumbled, thinking and worrying, it made you sick, but just from the sight of ellie's peace, her patience and her sense for life felt like a bandage on a wound.

"how do you feel finally coming home?" you asked. you had both went to college with you attending different universities. you were accepted into one a few months after her, during your 18th year (of age), and since then, it was rare for you to see each other. yes, there were glances whenever you both came home from break, but since majority of your time was spent apart in your own universities and dorms, it felt like each time you saw each other, it was like you were strangers.

"weird..." she replied, her response having an elongated pause before turning her head to return your stare.

your heart felt as if it dropped. it was an immediate feeling, sighing out a nervous laughter with staggered nodding and your tongue gliding against your dry lips.

"it also... feels weird seeing you as an adult... you know?"

‘why was she so pretty?’ you thought.

•••

"it was loving seeing you girls! we won't bother you anymore!" both your mothers chirped as both her and your parents situate themselves in your family room. the both of you smile, full from the meal your families prepared, walking upstairs to be greeted by your bedroom. memories flooded you both, with a bitterness filling your stomach, remembering all the feelings you had dealt with in here.

"wow." you breathed. the coldness of the air was sharp, stabbing your lungs, hurriedly needing to escape with an exhale full of tension and worry.

this bedroom held a lot of grief. coming to terms with your sexuality, not allowing a single soul to know. the bed all made up in your dark blue comforter, a plush toy in the shape of a dog probably still wet from your tears you mindlessly wiped against its soft surface. those memories fueled you, your eyes wondering like a deer in headlights not knowing how to remain calm or even face ellie. this room was filled with sin. being gay was hard to grasp, being in the closet was even worse and to have a person you'd often day dream about made it all but impossible to relax.

"there's still that burn spot on the floor." ellie pointed out. the dark mark against the light oakwood floorboard due to you both trying to light a defected firework. it was stupid thinking back, but luckily it had a small reaction, with the floor catching fire for a good five seconds before ellie splashed water from a cup that had been resting beside her.

your attention turned to the floor, laughing, allowing this fond memory of your stupidity bring you happiness. her awkward yet hysterical laugh afterwards and the look of embarrassment when your mom scolded you both. "oh yeah. still can't believe... we did that and how it's still on the fucking floor no matter how much we scrubbed it."

"your mom was so mad." ellie laughed. her low voice rumbling within your eardrums. she turned your way, taking off her big raincoat, occupying it against the door hanger. you did the same.

it was safe to say the two grew into women. your bodies more defined and grown, with ellie's arms occupying itself with muscle and your hips dipping in its wonderful curves, it was hard for you both not to stare. for ellie, she was questioning herself when it came to relationships yet she's never been open about her interests or intentions when it came to partners. growing up, she never talked about boys or girls for that matter. dating seemed nonexistent to her while you on the other hand had many boyfriends. all ellie could think of while seeing your body and how your sweater clasped so heavenly against your frame was how lucky any guy would be to have you.

in unison your eyes drifted apart, looking for something else you could bring up and talk about. unfortunately nothing came along. between every conversation came a long pause, the connection of your eyes lingering each time.

"so." ellie sighed, "ya' have a boyfriend?" the question abrupt but she needed to know, for what reason? maybe curiosity or did the question have a purpose? you and her now sitting on your bed, legs crossed with the familiar view of ellie drawing in her sketch pad she'd always do whenever she came over, with you being drawn, by your own request.

"no."

"no?" her head raised, as well as her eyebrows. "don't believe it." a quiet laugh filled the silence of the dead, cold room, allowing the sounds of her pencil on paper and staggered breathing to filter through. your eyes couldn't look at ellie even if she, herself wasn't even looking at you.

it felt like you were forced not to look at her. your eyes watered at how they bounced everywhere around her, chewing at the loose skin on your lips. you had forgotten that ellie wasn't aware of your own discovery, about you being lesbian, as if at some point, even if not brought into conversation that she'd know that you were and that she was the culprit of your dreams.

"what about you? you dating anyone?" you breathed, clearing your throat as your eyes studied the pen being gripped by ellie's delicate fingers. the way the veins poked through at each sway and scratch of the pencil. she shook her head shamelessly. she didn't have any want for a partner, since she was the type of girl to be too 'busy' to mind. everything she did had a purpose and was too time consuming to venture out into romance. "no, haven't really gotten into the dating thing."

" never see you in relationships." and that was true. your eyebrows furrowed realizing that whenever you hung out as kids or have family dinners, 'no' was always her answer when a relationship was asked. at that moment your heart dropped. is it possible that she was gay too? you wanted to question but you didn't know if that was too forward. it shouldn't be, but it was. a soft broken hum left your throat, your own fingers tearing the side of nail out of nervous habit.

"what about.." the question now being out into the air, your eyes now finding the confidence to look at her concentrated face who has yet to look up from her sketch pad. "a….. girlfriend?"

ellie chuckled. she caught onto your nervousness as she simultaneously felt nerves fill her chest. at a tilt, her head rose, and her green eyes looked up at you who sat erect opposed to her slouch. she shook her head no.

ellie was awkward. you and her both. she rarely showed affection or even got close to people within her circle but when she was given affection, it was always so awkward and hard to watch in an endearing kind of way. the only thing you knew was that she loved to draw, she liked comic books, she knew how to play guitar and her favorite foods, her favorite color. you knew the basic stuff. things a 'best friends' should know, you didn't. maybe if you had just asked, ellie would answer like she had just now. a simple answer to a anxiety filled question.

"you?" ellie asked. with that you couldn't sit still, clearing your throat and fixing your posture, rolling your tongue over the exposed skin of your lips from biting them.

"i…..im... uh." there was your chance. the pale sky glowing off of ellie's face, with anticipation written all over it. she looked like an angel. her stare was strong, piercing through your body with a need for an answer that you seemed to struggle to give. this was now the time to tell her, lay it all out after all these years. all the years of hiding from others and yourself, to tell her that you were lesbian.

the air was heavy and the tension grew. if cut with a knife, emotions would spew, drowning you both.

"can i kiss you?" ellie asked, her voice deep and raspy.

a gasp was given in return. nothing had to be answered to ellie's previous question. your actions showed that this was what you wanted. though ellie's oblivion was high, she paid attention to your body language, your words. she felt your stares.

you didn't say a word, only a slow hesitant nod.

she leaned forward, both of your lips parting, with the creek of the bed as she set aside her sketch pad. the palms of your hands held gently over ellie's shoulders, faces inches from one another as her eyes fluttered shut. a soft press of your lips was given. your gut dropping, finally feeling the lips of who you had imagined all this time. they were soft. they were sweet. you both sat there stiff and still, breathing in heavily, holding your breath, pushing your face in to chase her lips as if you wouldn't be able to again.

noses nudged against one another's, with awkward laughs that made you both embarrassed but the lust between you both overlapped that quickly. "was that okay?" you whispered, feeling ellie's hair tickle the side of your face.

"again" she replied.

"okay."

your lips connected. more eager this time, your faces smashing into each other's, with ellie's hands inching to hold your face. she couldn't though, her fingers curling right before she touched you, lowing her hands into her lap as you continued to press your lips on hers. no movement, just a press. like you had never kissed before. you changed that, your lips parted and your tongue grazed the bottom of her lip. she followed. tongues slipping into each other's mouth with sweet gasps being drowned in your mouths.

it started to get hot, ellie's heart beating like it needed to escape her chest. it hurt, but she wanted more. how though? how could she if she had never done this before? if she never had any interest in doing this with anyone other than you right now? she didn't care for romance, porn, anything of the sort. she knew she liked girls but she was too fearful to pursue them. you on the other hand did. you never explored another woman's body but it shouldn't be any different than being with a man, right? but it surely felt different. your body roared in arousal. the simple feeling of her lips made your body tingle like static. you felt heavy, like you couldn't move. your tongues hadn't stopped, and you really didn't know how to use them. it turned sloppy because of it, your chins glistening in spit, all around the upper and lower part of your lips and somehow beneath both of your noses.

she pulled back, wiping her lips with the sleeves of her shirt, swallowing the large lump she had in the center of her throat.

"can i... can i touch you?" you asked, your eyes still looking at ellie's now swollen lips. her chest heaved at how heavy she breathed, trying to catch her breath from holding it as you kissed. she nodded.

your hands occupied itself at her clothed abdomen, running them up and down, feeling the outline of her stomach. ellie leaned back, resting on her hands, allowing you to touch her. your fingers slid underneath the fabric of her shirt, finally feeling the softness of her skin and the patch of her happy trail that stopped at her navel. she gasped, the cold sweatiness of your palms startled her yet excited her. your hands slowly slid up and down just below her breasts. the tips of your fingers felt the warmth of her bra, cupping them and giving gentle squeezes. you could feel your body shudder, you couldn't believe that you were touching her and with her lips parting, a low sigh filled your ears, you felt like you would pass out any second.

she continued to look at you with her pale green eyes, slightly raising her shirt just to see your hands play with her. you pushed them together, seeing them squish against one another, and the grip of your fingers pressing down into her skin. you leaned your face closer, pressing it right at her center, pressing wet peppering kisses at her cleavage.

“fuck…" she sighed. you could feel her heart racing against your lips as they sunk into her warmth. each kiss was filled with intent, love and affection. opening your lips, letting your teeth graze against it, sucking softly at her skin. her face followed you, a strand of her hair falling down the middle of her eyes, blowing at each deep breath she took. you pulled away, biting down at your lips as you see the faint pink marks coat her breasts.

with your eyes looking directly at her face, watching how her lips parted and exuded a shaky sigh, wondering how it felt to be touched by your hand, does she feel good? as stupid as that question may be, you wanted to know so badly. it certainly made you feel good.

"ah? it... feels..." ellie sighed, the pained pleasure feeling foreign but enticing. she jerked at the sharpness of your scratches, the fresh bitten nails was starting to hurt, but it molded itself into pleasure shooting it directly at her now throbbing clit.

"do you want me to stop...?" you asked, your hands halting.

"no... just wait." she grunted, taking her shirt to see the markings that you had painted on her, it was pretty. looking ahead, you could see the pink tint that resided against her cheek. the hunger in her eyes, the need to continue. "keep going..." and that you did. this time holding her waist, pressing your fingers deep into her skin as you pulled her closer. your hand hovered her jeans, cupping it as you press down at an achingly slow pace and that is when you felt the heat she made at your palm.

"oh my god..." you're doing this. you couldn't believe it. this felt entirely different from any other time you had done this. with men you felt unsure, unaroused like you were lying to yourself. you felt so free and alive yet scared and tensed. ellie's mouth ajar, eyebrows knitted inward as she sucked in air, exhaling a moan.

“feels good?”

“feels good…”

ellie hummed, her fists turning yellow from the tightness of her gripping the bed's comforter. her hips bucking upward barely moving yet rotating it in circles. the friction from your hand was sending shocks up her body and you weren't even touching her skin. ellie felt a thrill like no other. you on the other hand, felt like nothing can stop you (despite your parents walking through the unlocked bedroom door). all these years from your closeted fears, are being in play with the both of you. no confessions, just allowing your wants do the talking.

your fingers grasp the button of her jeans, unclasping it and undoing the zipper, her thin boxer briefs being showing through the heavy jean. you pulled them down, her hips following by lifting up for it to puddle down at her ankles. there, more skin. her thighs, so toned and soft.

"fu...ck" you staggered. it was impossible to think a person like ellie existed. how? "what do you want me to do?" you asked wanting her input since no words were really coming from her besides those godly expressions.

"uhm." she had to think. nothing came to mind though. all she wanted was you to just touch her in any way you wanted. it didn't matter, whatever you were doing already was enough for her. being a mindless virgin pissed her off at this very moment, she wished she could be more or do more. maybe this wasn't enough for you? like she was disappointing you? "you can do Whatever you want, it's okay."

you were in awe. it didn't matter that she didn't know what to do. it felt nice, it felt raw. it felt like this was both your firsts. the feeling of exploring ellie's body made happiness overflow within you. she felt like she was going to explode- her exposed abdomen, with marks all over, breathing so deeply and out of sync. now with her bottom half nearly naked. what a masterpiece.

your hands rest at her knees, running up her legs. your soft calloused hands massaging ellie, with her watching your every movement. the dip that resided at the bottom of her stomach took her by surprise, gripping the deep blue blankets underneath you both. everything went so slow, even still you both savored every second.

you bend down, your lips pressing against the elastic of her briefs, kissing alongside it as you breathed in heavily, inhaling her gentle scent. your finger pressed down at her clit, running it down her clothed slit to feel a patch of wetness. she was so wet, it stuck against her pussy and it's slick was thick, coating your fingers.

"that... that feels good." her eyes closed as she leaned her head back, her chest heaving as she let out deep, breathy moans. "oh god that feels so good."

you continued to rub over her underwear, pressing firmly to feel her clit pulse like irregular heartbeats.

"allow yourself to feel good ellie... feel it." you reassured, your voice vibrating against her pubic bone as you continued to kiss her there. the scent of her arousal was a drug. her body exuded such a wonderful scent and the sound her pussy made just from your rolling your fingers over her clit was addictive.

"you're so wet."

she laughed, biting down her bottom lip as she returned her gaze to you, admiring your face and how focused you seemed to be. "because of you."

"can i do more?" you sigh, your eyes looking down to see the small imprint of her clit puffed out against her briefs. she nodded. your fingers curled at the elastic, her hips lifting as you pulled it down to see her swelling clit. what a sight- the connection of her happy trail to the light pubes that spread at her pubic bone. you could see her clit glisten with her own mess, how fleshy it was and how it sat so nicely above her slick folds. "your pussy is so pretty."

it was better than you imagined. all you wanted was to touch it, run your tongues against it, see what she tasted like and the sounds that could from her mouth.

"im gonna touch it." you announced, your hand inching towards it.

"okay." ellie moaned back quietly, her expression full of lust.

you situated yourself, almost laying down with your hands flatly pressing down on her tense thighs. leaning down, you gathered spit, letting it drop down on her clit, watching slide down her folds. your thumb pressed down on it, letting it circle against it just to see the bud of her clit being exposed as her clit hood would move with the way you rubbed. you could hear how wet she was, seeing her slick run from her pussy and down onto the bed. ellie and let out little mewls. her sounds so deep and seductive, rolling out from her throat more often than you thought she would.

ellie clearly embarrassed at the fact that she's making this much noise, her hand covering her mouth as she moaned into her palm. you would've moved it for the sake of hearing her but there were people downstairs and you didn't want them to hear, only you. the muffled sounds still tickled your chest. your heartbeat was quick and erratic. eyes connecting as one.

your finger slid down with your thumb still on her clit, her pussy lips almost hugging your finger, feeling the warmth she had. "you're driving me insane." she announced, her hips rotating and flexing just enough for her faint abs to seep through her stomach.

"so are you. i wanted this so bad ellie. so fucking badly"

°i want it in my mouth' you thought. 'i want to know how she tastes'. it took everything in you to do it. a few extra rubs and you couldn't help yourself, opening your mouth as you lower your head and latched yourself on her clit replacing your thumb. ellie jerked upward, her hand mindlessly holding the back of your head, letting out a gasping moan.

"oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck... god." she grunted, trying to be quiet as her eyes squinted shut. rose painted her cheeks as her hand pushed you down further into her pussy, your nose pressing deeply into her pubic bone. she tasted sweet, taking in all the mess she made and continuously inhaling her natural arousal. your cheeks hollowed itself, feeling the flesh of her clit being suck against your tongue- it twitching vigorously and your chin getting wet from her slick.

"don't... don't stop... please. please don't fucking stop. it feels so good. i don't why it feels this fucking good." she rambled, her words coming out like she were drunk.

her hips continued to buck upwards and grind into your face, humping it as she got off to it.

all of this made you both go crazy. your minds flooding away within the pleasure you both shared. with your lips wrapping tightly around her clit, humming, sending sweet vibrations that made ellie feel as if she was going to see stars. your tongue lapped against her lips, running it over her opening. her hips fucked itself upwards, tilting her head to see your mouth pleasure her. the way they expanded, the obnoxious noises it made. you popped yourself off, seeing how wet your spit glistened against her clit, pulling back the skin from her pubic bone just to see her clit dance as it throbbed.

"do you see that? looks like you really like my mouth." you teased, you both laughing as you watched her clot continued to move.

your finger pressed down her hole, looking up at her as she looked at you, her bottom lip being bitten. "is it okay if i finger you?" she nodded.

"tell me if you feel uncomfortable."

"okay." she hummed.

you smiled, not realizing how wet the ring of your mouth looked but none of you seemed to care about that. "wait." you whisper, lifting your body as your face levels itself with hers, your hands clasping her face as her press your lips against hers. this time, the kiss wasn't shy or slow or awkward, it was full of hunger. your tongues plunging in each other's mouths as ellie tasted herself on your tongue. noses nudging and faces tilting, rolling your tongue at her bottom lip as you bit it, pulling it back. ellie moaned pathetically in your mouth, her hips still moving, needy for your touch that had been removed.

removing your lips, your squeeze her cheeks with your hand, her eyes glassy as if she were about to cry. she was so laced with lust that all she was able to see was you. nothing or anyone was able to distract her from this very moment. she only wanted you. she wanted to feel good by you. she wanted to be good for you.

"open your mouth." you whispered, your eyes dancing along her swollen lips, seeing how she obeyed. you gathered spit, allowing it to drop in her mouth with some sliding down her chin. "good girl. taste yourself with my spit.”

she swallowed it, her eyes doe.

you started to kiss her neck, trailing down to her collar bone then the center of her chest against the faint marks you had already created, unclipping her bra and seeing her fully exposed by your hand. she was so beauty. she was so fucking cute. you could see how shy she was just by this alone but she wanted you to see. she wanted you to see her from the inside out. she felt safe with you. clasping on one breast, your mouth did with the other, suckling on her hardened nipple, feeling her skin mold itself by your sucks.

she grunted, looking down at you as you continued to praise her body with your mouth. she felt the sharpness of pleasure electrify her body, through every vein and blood vessel. her sounds ran through you, soaking your panties and probably even through your jeans. before giving the other nipple some attention, you let your hand go to your lips, sitting on it and hover over her pussy, rubbing her clit once more before you slide down to her opening, rolling the pad of your finger as you teased it slightly.

"im gonna put it in okay?"

"okay."

and so you did. your finger slowly slid into her, watching her as her face formed a pleasured yet unsure expression. her pussy was hot and immediately clenched itself around your finger, her walls beating a you pushed little by little before it was all the way inside.

"you okay?"

"im okay" she breathed while you pressed gentle kisses against her breasts. your finger held still, allowing her to get used to its form before you pumped it in and out. each movement could be her as her slick dribbled out as your finger fucked itself out.

ellie never felt this before and it showed. her body reacted without her realizing it did. she made grunts that didn't understand if this felt good or not but her restraint went away each time she pushed her finger in and pleasure deepened. tightening and dreading your hand, it's pace quickened, feeling her walls brush up against your finger. «it's starting to feel good." she admitted, looking down at her own pussy to see your hand thrusting itself as your finger disappears inside of her.

"good. take it."

your face again in front of hers, foreheads pressed against each others, lips ajar, moaning at each other like that was the only language you spoke. she breathed heavily, her hand occupying itself at the back of your neck, gripping tightly so you wouldn't move. her eyes and your eyes studied each other. they made love with one another, seeing her pupils expand and the green of her eyes disappear.

rub your clit for me." you instructed which she did without hesitation. two fingers pressing down, rolling it over her clit mirroring the pace of yours. "im gonna add another." your ring finger slowly pushing itself in her entrance. little by little both your middle and ring was inside of her until it reached your knuckle, curling your fingers.

"holy fuck. fuck... it really feels good."

you kept pumping. her pussy so loud mixing in with your breathy moans. you created music with her pleasure. lips tickling each other as they ghostly press against one another, breathing down into each other's throats. she could feel her get closer by the second, her toes curling and hips lifting like she was chasing her own orgasm.

"i can't- wait... wait... fuck-" she announced, her body jerking forward as she roughly pressed her lips against yours, needing you more than ever, tongues fighting as they went down both your throats. her body twitch, paused then trembled. the feeling shot through every inch of body.

"cum for me ellie." you pleaded in between kisses. your fingers didn't stop it's pace, they couldn't. you fucked her through her high, taking in all of what she was feeling, moaning roughly down her throat, feeling her pussy tighten around your finger as her walls pulsate. her thighs trembled, closing themselves, capturing your arm almost halting your movements but you stopped her by grabbing her knee and pressing it further down the bed. a white ring formed at your knuckles, sliding down the palm of your hand as she continued to cum.

finally, ellie's breathing started to calm itself, her chest heavily heaving as she leaned back onto the mattress. her breast expanded as she lay and her eyes closed while recollecting herself. the sight of her was perfect. she was perfect. the gloomy sky painting it's light against her skin with the reflection of the rain's droplets from the windowpane. you now know what your dreams looked like in reality. ellie felt so warm and soft and her moans were like notes of a song, so deep and beautiful.

"you did so well." you breathed, giving her a few more pumps before you slid them out. you looked at your finger laughing as you lay beside her, "look." hovering you hand covered in ellie's cum in front of her face.

"oh my god.." she laughed, "i did that?" you nodded and a silenced hum ran through, admiring the work she made and you gave her. her slender fingers wrap around your wrist, lifting her head just enough for you to see letting her lips take them both into her mouth. she sucked them so gracefully, her eyes watching you as she bobbed her head slowly, tasting her own cum.

"you're so fucking hot." you told her, hearing the pop of her mouth as she releases your fingers.

"no you.” she admitted, "but what about-"

"GIRLS WE HAVE A GIFT FOR YOU!" ellie's mother yelled from the family room downstairs. you both jumped up, scattering to clean yourselves up and put on your clothes. luckily you and ellie weren't too loud or but you wished there could have been more. you didn't want to stop, you wanted to do this forever. being with her felt like you were reborn. you felt comfortable knowing that you were able to be yourself, be with a woman and the woman being someone you had long desired for.

[spiderispunk]

Use Me

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: Smut (18+). Mentions of Alcohol Consumption. Semi-Tipsy Sex. Thigh Riding. Unprotected Sex. Dirty Talk.  A/N: Breaking my writing drought with the horniest thing I've written in recent history. Like all good fics, this one started with a porn video. Hope you all enjoy.

I did my best proofreading, but I probably missed something. All mistakes are my own.

You follow Bradley into his apartment building, giggling quietly as you stumble along behind him. His hand is warm and solid, his fingers tangled in yours. A steady guide as he leads you up the stairs and down the dim hallway past the other quiet apartments.

Your blood sings in your veins, dancing with the high buzz of a night out with friends. The whole night is awash with a shimmering silver glow. You can still feel the pulse of the music and the warm ocean breeze on your skin, and taste the faint salt and lime flavor of the three margaritas you had earlier tonight. 

You’d started feeling frisky half-way through your second one. Something about the salt and tequila had you eyeing up your boyfriend and slowly sliding your hand up his thigh. You’d seen his smirk and raised eyebrow out of the corner of your eye, but he’d made no move to stop you. Instead he’d continued on with his conversation without breaking a sweat, as if his girlfriend wasn’t feeling him up underneath the booth.

And really, how could you keep your hands off of him when he looked so good? Dressed in a fitted pink silk shirt with the first two buttons undone to show a golden chain resting atop the smattering of dark hair that covered his chest. Jeans so fitted it was like he was on a personal mission to ruin your life. And his hair, curling slightly from the spray of the sea. It was all too much for your tipsy self to handle. 

Things had carried on from there. You’d danced a little too indecently in the center of the dancefloor; your back pressed against his broad chest with his hands gripping your waist, controlling the grind of your hips. You threw heavy lidded looks over your shoulder, and Bradley answered them with lewd ones of his own. You could feel his cock straining through his jeans, so obvious through the thin material of your dress. At one point his hand slid up and under the back of the flowy skirt, toying with you briefly.   

Maybe that was the breaking point. The moment that had you abandoning the dancefloor at Mach 10 speed, dragging Bradley behind you. You hadn’t even bothered to give a flimsy excuse to your friends, almost certain they could suss out the true reasoning behind your sudden exit. 

You probably would have fucked in the parking lot if it wasn’t so crowded. Instead, you had to settle for heavy petting on the way home. One of Bradley’s hands gripped the steering wheel, the other sat on your thigh, pushing your dress higher and higher until his fingers rubbed against the lace of your underwear. Your hands were plenty busy as well, rubbing the stiff erection his jeans failed to hide. 

Now you’re back home in record time, watching the relaxed sway of Bradley’s broad shoulders as he walks in front of you. He stops in front of his door, and shoves his free hand into his front pocket to grab the house keys. 

“Gonna need this for a minute,” Bradley smiles and kisses the back of your hand before gently placing it back at your side.

Impatience flitters through your body as you watch him slowly sift through the many keys on his chain. Seriously, how many keys does one man need? He has to be doing this on purpose. Prolonging the search just because he knows it’ll make you squirm. 

“Hurry up.” You wrap your arms around his waist and trail your lips across his shoulder.

Bradley chuckles. “Someone’s eager,” he teases. 

“I wanna fuck my boyfriend,” you mumble, fingers trailing up and under his shirt to run along the length of his waistband. “That a crime?” 

He finally selects the correct key and pushes it into the lock. “Nope,” he says, but still doesn’t unlock the door. 

“Well unless you’re going to fuck me right here in this hallway, I suggest you open the fucking door.” You punctuate the request with a squeeze over his clothed crotch. 

“Bossy,” Bradley says and finally unlocks the door. “It’s kinda hot. Wanna boss me around tonight, baby? Want me to let you call the shots?” 

There’s a deep timbre to his tone now. The words are rich with desire. You feel his entire body rumble with it. You feel your own yearning slide through your body. Slow and heated like molten metal. It pools low in your belly, sending an ache through your cunt. 

Your clit throbs and you bite your bottom lip. “Inside. Now.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He pushes the front door open and pockets his keys. There’s a smirk on his face when he turns to face you. “Where do you want–” 

His question is cut off by the surge of your lips. You mold your body against his, holding him close with your fingers tangled in his hair. Bradley backs into the apartment and kicks the front door shut. His hands slide down the curve of your back, and Bradley grabs your ass, keeping you pressed firm against him as he teeters further into the apartment. 

You tease his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue, lightly tracing the pink skin until his mouth parts in invitation. You moan quietly as the taste of him– faint traces of fruit from the cider he was drinking, a bit of mint from the Altoid he’d slipped earlier- greets you. His tongue slides against yours, hot and eager to taste you in kind. 

How many surfaces does Bradley press you against before deciding on the couch? There was the console by the front door, where he stopped only briefly so you both could kick off your shoes while he kissed and licked down your neck. The kitchen door frame so he could grind his hips against yours until you whined. Then he’d deposited you on the arm of the sofa, only to sink to his knees a moment later and bury his head between your thighs. Only then did he settle on the couch with you on top of him. 

You reach for his belt immediately, undoing the buckle and then popping the button on his jeans. In no time you’ve got a hand wrapped around his cock, and are stroking him slowly. 

“Not that I don’t enjoy where this is going,” Bradley groans, voice muffled by your tits as he presses open-mouthed kisses along the plunging neckline of your dress. “But what’s gotten into you?” 

“Three margaritas and my smokin’ hot boyfriend,” you say, twisting your wrist. 

He groans, and the pleasure-warped sound sends a jolt through your body. “Haven’t gotten in you yet.” Bradley chuckles, low and throaty.  

 “Yeah, well what are you waiting for?” You ask. 

“I’m waiting for you to tell me what to do.” His smoked-whiskey eyes meet yours. “You’re calling the shots, remember?” 

You sit back slightly. “Take my dress off.” 

A grin slowly spreads over his face. “There you go, honey. Now we’re in business.” 

He gathers the skirts of your dress in both hands and slowly slides it up your body. The heat of his calloused fingers sends goosebumps rippling across your skin. You lift your arms, and Bradley eases the dress over your head and tosses it onto the ground. 

He tilts his head to the side. “And?” 

“And your shirt. I don’t want to rip the buttons accidentally.”

Bradley kisses along your jaw as he unbuttons the shirt with steady fingers. “You like the shirt?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders out of the silk and dropping it on the floor near your clothes. 

“Love it. I want you to wear it again.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He grins. “You got it, babe. What’s next?”

“Next, you kiss me,” you whisper and slot your lips against his. 

Bradley’s mouth devours you, hot with a passion that makes you dizzy. His hand trails up your body to cup your breast. His fingers slip past the lace of your bra and flick at your nipple until it hardens. You grind your hips down onto his thigh, gasping against his lips when your clit catches on the rough material of his jeans. 

“Fuck, baby.” Bradley breaks the kiss to watch your desperate movements. “Look at you all worked up. All because of me and that fucking shirt?” He asks and fits his other hand against your hip to guide your stilted rhythm.

You nod, head tilting back at the delicious friction. Your toes curl as the fierce heat of pleasure overtakes your senses. You’re greedy with it, chasing after the spark that will set the smoldering flames ablaze. You get closer to it with every desperate rock of your hips. 

Bradley leans back against the cushion. “That’s it,” he murmurs encouragement. “Get yourself off on my thigh. You’re so fucking hot.” 

You whine, nails digging into his shoulder as an anchor. “Bradley.” 

“I’m right here, honey,” he grins up at you. “Keep going. Make a mess all over me.” 

Shivers wrack your body, and something akin to fire rushes over your skin. The beginnings of something heady and sweet swells within you. You rock your hips steadily, bottom lip trapped between your teeth, and eyebrows furrowed in concentration, intent on reaching it. 

Bradley’s mouth charts a wanton path over your skin. From mouthing at the pulse point of your jaw, to a chaotic, sloppy zig zag down your throat. His tongue darts out to taste the salt on your skin, the perfume dabbed in the hollows of your collarbone, until he reaches the barrier of your bra. 

It’s off in seconds, clumsily joining the growing pile of clothes gathering at the foot of the sofa. The tip of his tongue traces the swell of your breasts. His teeth scrape the sensitive skin, teasing goosebumps and blood to the surface. Then his warm lips chase the sting away, pressing soft kisses over the secret blossoming marks. 

You cry out when his mouth closes over your nipple, sucking and gently biting. You arch into his touch, a silent plea for more. Your orgasm so close, you can almost taste it, sticky and sweet, in the back of your throat. 

“‘M close,” you whisper, fingers gripping Bradley’s shoulders like a life raft. 

“That’s my girl. Come for me, baby,” Bradley mumbles against your spit-slicked nipple. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Wanna see you come all over my thigh. Give it to me.” 

Your head tilts back further, a silent moan on your tongue as the end rushes up to meet you. When you come, you come hard. Tiny peals of pleasure fall from your lips like a prayer. Gratitude and joy wrapped up in quiet moans and whimpers. 

Bradley groans, watching you with hungry eyes. He takes in your every move. Each flutter of your eyelids, every twitch of your lips. The slack of your jaw, perfect lips shaping the syllables of his name over and over again. The way your body shudders as hot pleasure takes over. 

You slump against his chest, boneless. Your chin rests on his shoulder as you catch your breath. 

“Goddamn,” he whistles. “I love watching you come.” The hand on your hip slides down to where your body is joined. His fingers swirl around in the slick mess pooled between you. “Look at the mess you’ve made.” He holds his fingers up to the light.

You blink, suddenly a little bashful about the growing wet patch on Bradley’s jeans. You avert your gaze, but Bradley clicks his tongue and shakes his head. 

“Look,” he says again, and this time you do. “That was all you. My perfect, gorgeous girl.” He brushes his thumb against your damp cunt and you groan. “So fucking wet. I can’t wait to be inside you.” His damp fingers wrap around his stiff cock. “What do you want, baby?” 

You gently wrap your fingers around the gold chain hanging around his neck, and pull him closer to kiss him briefly. “Take your pants off,” you whisper when your lips part. “And then, I’m going to fuck you.”

Bradley must set a world record for how quickly he manages to get those jeans off and onto the floor. It’s a wonder you managed not to fall off of the couch. 

You settle on top of him again and slide your panties to the side. You knock his hand out of the way and stroke his dick slowly. The groan Bradley lets out when you slowly sink down onto him borders on painful. His jaw flexes and he breathes deeply through his nose. 

“Jesus,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking tight. Feel fucking incredible.” He wraps his large arms around your body and holds you as close as he can. 

You whine at the stretch as you take him completely. You set a leisurely pace, allowing you and Bradley to just feel each other. Letting the heat build in your chest and well over. Your breathing slows, matching the steady up and down of Bradley’s shoulders. He’s got his head buried in your neck, and you can feel each of his dewey, warm exhales on your skin. 

“Just like that,” he whispers, his voice tight with the last remnants of his self-control. “Fuck me, baby. You do it so well.” 

That sets you off. You abandon the slow rock of your hips and fuck him desperately. Your hips meet his in a sloppy rhythm. It’s a race towards the finish, towards satisfaction. You lean back, balancing your hands on Bradley’s knees in search of that angle that’ll have you seeing stars.

“Right there, right there, right there,” Bradley groans through gritted teeth. “That's right. Take it, honey. Use my cock and make yourself come. Wanna feel you dripping all over me. Shit.” A long, drawn out sound as your cunt squeezes around him, making his hips buck up to yours. 

“Fuck, it’s so good,” you whine. Your nails dig shallow marks down his chest. 

“Yeah. I know, sweetheart. I know.” He presses his thumb against your clit and rubs in time with the sloppy grind of your hips. “Wanna come, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” You nod. “So bad.”

“Whatever you want. It’s all yours, baby,” he whispers. “Just take it.” His jaw clenches, and you can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s so close to the edge. And you’re millimeters away from it yourself. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and concentrate on the slick circles he thumbs against your clit. Warmth bursts low in your belly, growing ever brighter with each needy roll of your body. Between the thumb on your clit, and the gruff praises Bradley whispers, you’re wrecked. Shattered. Barely hanging on to your sanity. 

“Gonna come,” you whimper. 

“There’s my girl. That’s it, baby,” Bradley praises, making your stomach flip. “Let go for me.” 

Your thighs grow taut, legs trembling around his waist as you reach the blissful peak. You fall against Bradley’s chest, but he’s right there, sturdy and strong. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close as his hips fuck up into you, shoving you deeper into the throes of passion. 

“Fuck, honey. Shit. Feel so good when you come.” Bradley’s right behind you, coming inside you with a strangled groan. His grip on your body so tight, you know you’ll have some bruises on your hips tomorrow. 

You melt into his arms, body lax against his as your heartbeat resumes a normal pace. 

Bradley nudges his nose against yours and kisses your lips sweetly. “You good?” He asks. 

“Better than good. On Cloud 9, actually.” You run your fingers through his hair and play with his damp curls. “Feel free to wear that shirt more often.” 

He laughs. “Oh, I will. Especially if it’ll lead to this.” Bradley smacks your ass. 

You give him a smirk. “I never stood a chance. You know what they say about giving a woman margaritas.” 

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle │ jjk - two

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - just a littleeee (read: mostly) smut... fingering, titty sucking (his fave <3), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (female), creampie, post-creampie-pussy-eating, cum swapping, a little spitting i guess, titty worship, ?? more, maybe ??, idk, you get the idea. oh, and also dangerous driving and jk being down bad within like 5 seconds flat

word count - 13.4k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

Jungkook's cheeks are red, his nose blushed from the chill of the wind by the time you reach his place. It's just on the outskirts of town, past the jewellers' district and out towards the station, and it has you wondering why he's always getting fuel from your neck of the woods. It seems inconvenient, and if you were sober, you'd be questioning it. 

Sober, you might have even made assumptions about it.

Hell, you know you would be making assumptions about it.

But you're not sober, and he's got a hold on your hand like you're one of the priceless jewels in the windows you've just walked past.

You're gold dust; a diamond in amongst the rough of downtown Daegu.

In fact, he's holding you so tightly that it's almost as if there's a price on your head, and he wants to be the one to reap the rewards. No sharing. His, all his.

He doesn't loosen his grip on your hand as he begins to punch in the code to his apartment door. It's steel, and robust, hiding everything that Jungkook is behind it. You don't know him, not really - not like you want to - but there's something so painfully intimate about being invited into his space. Has you thinking that maybe you'll get the chance to know him. For a few hours, at least.

The lock beeps, a mechanical whir sounding as the bolt retracts, but he pauses as he puts pressure down on the handle.

"Can you, like, close your eyes?" He grimaces, glancing back around at you. His tongue is tipsy, about to make admissions he never would do sober. "I left in a rush, and there are clothes everywhere 'cause I couldn't decide what to wear and I-"

"Wait, wait, wait," you grin, eyes centred on his. "Did someone get pre-date nerves?"

Jungkook presses his eyes shut, smiling as he rolls his head back. He's never nervous. Always cool, calm, collected - but he can hear your little drunk giggles, and his heart rate is up, and shit, he thinks he might be nervous.

He knows he was nervous before he left. 

"I just-" he says with a frustrated groan, too exasperated to finish his sentence before he starts laughing, too. 

You're both a little tipsy, swaying, drawing closer to one another. It's innate, the way your body leans into his, with zero resistance from Jungkook as your hands grip the front of his coat for support.

"Shuuuush," he whispers, all giddy and coy, holding his index finger to your lips. It's almost as if he gives a fuck about his neighbours.

He doesn't.

He's just using it as an excuse to get closer to you.

"You shush!" You whisper back, mirroring his actions and holding your finger to his lips, too. 

His smile is so big that his dimples are on full display. They're as deep as his eyes are dark, and you just know he must have broken his fair share of hearts in the past. His hands cup your jaw, thumbs resting on the edges of your smile as if he's framing a work of art. He'd argue that he is. 

You look so dainty in his hold, and he finds himself overwhelmed with the need to savour your pretty little laugh. It'll taste just like his, but he doesn't care. Thinks it'll be sweeter coming from your lips. 

And, so, somewhere between your simpering laugh and his darting eyes, as a flickering light in his hallway beats in unison with your hearts, his lips find yours. 

He's still telling you to shush as he does so, and you tell him it back -  but neither of you actually shush until your tongues are in each other's mouths. 

He fumbles the keypad of his door again, getting you both through the threshold and into his tiny studio before you can even look at the mess of clothes everywhere.

The nerves he once had are gone, because he's confident about this; about you.

The movements of your bodies bleed into one another, neither one of you taking the lead. Instead, it's as if you're a pair of figure skaters gliding through his apartment, eyes closed - not that it makes much of a difference. The lights are off, and a string of fairy lights left up since Christmas provides the only source of illumination. 

Jungkook hadn't entirely planned on stumbling home drunk with you, but he knew he'd be stumbling home in some capacity, so leaving them on had seemed like a good idea at the time. He's proven right.  

And even though this night hasn't gone exactly how he had planned, he's not complaining. Especially not when your hands begin to fumble with his jacket. You undo it, push it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. 

Casual arrogance graces his lips as he smirks against you, unbuttoning the top of your skirt.

"I don't fuck on first dates," you tell him, but you don't stop him as he pushes the black denim over your hips and lets it fall to the floor. In fact, you're kind of giving him mixed signals as you reach for his belt, sliding the leather through its buckle.

"We've had, like, 300 GS25 dates," he mumbles into your lips between kisses, so casually that it's almost believable.

He pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it to the floor, and grabs your face just to kiss you again as soon as he can. 

It's about now, just after he's finished evaluating your 'dating' history, that you notice the pressure of two small metal balls flicking against your tongue. They're evenly spaced across the centre of his own tongue, and the mere acknowledgement of them has your legs clenching together. The lip ring was bad enough, but a tongue piercing? Fuck. 

He smiles as you moan into his lips, and assures you: "I think it's okay if we fuck."

Your hands are in his hair, his gripping onto your waistline before he rids you of your sweater, and all you can do is nod. Playing hard to get is a game for fools, and you're not really sure why you tried it in the first place. You're gonna be winning either way.

"Yeah, you're right," you mumble into his mouth. "We're basically married."

He laughs, and for a second you think that he must have been made by the Gods. It's the only way to explain how a human could be created so heavenly, even when they're about to commit enough sins to send them straight down to the pits.

"Happy honeymoon," he smirks, assisting you as you begin to push his jeans past his ass and down his thighs. Teamwork makes the dream work, after all.

You're both in your underwear, yet neither of you have even looked at the other's bodies yet. Too preoccupied. Too eager. Too consumed by the overwhelming need to feel one another.

His skin is warm, but the ridges of his torso are so hard that you'd be forgiven for thinking he's carved from stone.

Nudging his parted lips against yours, you gasp as his fingers curl in your hair.  Jungkook just claims your breaths as his own, pressing his lips firmly shut against yours.

One hand clasps your throat, keeping you secure, as the other trails up your thighs.

"Sure you wanna consummate this marriage?" He asks a little breathlessly, playing on the narrative you built up for this moment, just checking before he does anything he can't take back.

But you're impatient, and you don't think you could be any clearer even if you tried.

"Oh my god," you whine. "Just finger me already." 

Your words have him laughing all over again. He likes this, likes that you're not afraid to ask for what you want. He hadn't expected anything less, but it's satisfying to have his assumptions proven right. He kind of gets why you like making so many of them, now.

He fumbles about a little bit, not bothering to turn on the lights. It's not his first rodeo, and he doesn't think it's yours either - in fact, he knows it isn't. You wouldn't be so bold if it was. He doesn't embarrass easy, and knows that there are lessons to be learned with every new woman he acquaints himself with. You're no exception. 

"Gotta tell me what you like," he notes as he presses a kiss against your neck, the smell of your perfume so divine that he thinks you must be some kind of lorelei. It's like a meeting of black cherry and vanilla, but when his nose nestles into your hair, he can smell gasoline - and he thinks it might just be the hottest thing about you. 

You hum a response, the anticipation causing your heart to beat a mile a minute. He pushes the lace of your underwear to the side, his middle finger running between your folds. You're slick from his kisses alone, but so is he is. As you palm at the bulge in his pants, you can feel the wetness of precum leaking from his tip. He wants this just as much as you do.

"You can do better, little miss clutch control," he teases you. "Speak up."

Part of you wants to kick him in the balls. He's so sexy but so fucking annoying - he can hear how much you're enjoying his touch. He doesn't need confirmation - he just wants the gratification of hearing you say it. It's a power trip for him. You don't like giving men power.

"I like it when you shut the fuck up," you reply, hands in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. If your words won't do it, then at least your lips will. The vibration of his laugh hums into your mouth, before he pulls away - only by an inch or so.

"That's more like it."

His lips return to yours, as quickly as they left, while he continues to roam. His fingers stay in your underwear, the very tip of his index finger mapping you out. Your body shudders when he brushes your clit, the direct contact a little too much.

He dips down to your entrance, pauses, and says "been thinking about this since the moment I met you," and then pushes two of his fingers into your cunt.

Your walls are tight and hot, but oh-so fucking wet. There's nothing about your pussy that he doesn't love. His thick knuckles are celestial inside of you, just as cosmic as the reflection of his fairy lights in his eyes, and you find yourself thinking that maybe those tattooed hands of his are something special, after all.

"Bra off," he husks, and you do as you're told. He'd have done it himself, but his hands are a little preoccupied. 

He adjusts the pair of you as your bra hits the floor, encouraging your legs around his waist.  Hoisting you up before you really have a chance to comprehend what he's doing, you're pretty certain that this is just an excuse to display his strength. You're impressed, so it's working, but you're also unable to really think about anything other than the way he feels inside of you.

Your back is against the wall, the weight of his body keeping you pinned in position as he fucks his fingers into you. There's no real calculation to his movements, just an awareness that he absolutely cannot fuck you yet. He'll simply finish too quickly. 

It's not that he doesn't enjoy a quickie - truth be told, he finds them far more convenient - it's just that it would be mortifying. 

He's not sure he'd actually be able to show up at the gas station ever again if you heard him whine like a little bitch and unload himself in five seconds flat.

Equally, he doesn't want you to dread his car coming into the forecourt. 

He wants you daydreaming about him, all hazy-eyed, like you are when you're drunk, waiting for his car to roll in. He wants you musing about the way his tongue feels against your neck, and your coworker asking why you're smiling so much. He wants you blushing as you try to think of a justification, and he wants you excusing yourself to go to the bathroom to sort out the wetness pooling in your underwear. 

So, yeah. A quickie simply won't do.

He grips onto the side of your neck with his spare hand as he sinks his fingers into your pussy again. The way you gasp is like music to his ears, every single one of his senses overrun by the entity that you are. 

It's mutual though. You're consumed by everything that he is; his scent, the sound of his laboured grunts, the taste of his tongue and the feel of his hands all over your body. The only sense he isn't violating is your sight - but it's only 'cause he's making you feel so good that your eyes are forced to rest shut. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, exclusively watches you. He marvels at the way your head leans back against the wall, neck exposed for him to leave a trail of pretty purple bruises. He knows he shouldn't. Knows he shouldn't leave a single mark on your skin. Knows better than to leave evidence of his crimes, but it's a sin he thinks he'd quite like to commit over and over again.

You're pretty good at faking it. A string of careless lovers, of whom you used to entertain prior to learning your worth, had helped you to perfect a moan. You can manipulate your body, make your chest heave with exertion, your pussy throb around their fingers, their cocks. You can make it leak, get yourself looking like a fucking mess for them, as if it's because of them. It's a fine art. 

Botticelli would admire you, you think. His Venus couldn't compete with you. Femme fatal; a kisser of jaws, a killer of the men you have to let down gently because they fall too in love with you for your liking. Understandably, given what you can do. You've mastered it. Mastered men.

And it's for this reason, that you don't fake anymore. If someone isn't pleasing you, you let them know. You view it as a way of helping humanity - or their future girlfriends, at least. Why waste time letting someone else think they're getting you off, when it's you doing all the hard work?

You'd gone into this prepared; ready to remedy what would inevitably be a disappointing shag with a near stranger.

But you're not throbbing around Jungkook's fingers - you're trembling. There's no self-made stutter in your chest, but there's one a little lower down, one that you've got absolutely no jurisdiction over. Y'see, the way you're gasping, like you're struggling against a riptide, caught in the wave that is Jeon Jungkook, can't be faked. 

It's what has him smirking as he puts pressure behind the kisses he's placing on your neck. It's the fact that every time you try and speak, even if it's just a curse or the sound of his name, it's cut short. You've no control. Fuck all. It's all on him, on account of him being inside you. If he's learnt anything about you in the short time that he's known you, it's that you're never speechless. Always getting that last word in. 

But you can't even formulate one now, his fingers pumping into you at such a speed, that the lewd wet noise is almost louder than your moans. Almost.

Jungkook isn't a jealous kind of guy, especially not when it comes to casual hookups - but he kind of thinks he's jealous of his own fucking fingers. 

Every single part of him wants your pussy; his tongue, his cock. You feel so good around him that he regrets not making a move sooner. Should have asked to fuck you as soon as you started talking about his car on his first visit to the gas station. Lord knows he thought about it.

His lips are on yours, not really kissing you, resting open, his breaths heavy and laboured. The way he's pushing into you, deeper, deeper, has you mirroring his expression, small moans pouring into his mouth. He wants to eat them up, devour them, use them as fuel.

You loosen the grip you have in his pale hair, gripping onto his neck with one hand, the other falling to his bicep. He likes the scratch of your nails against his bare skin, but there's a distance between you both that he wants to close. He pulls his hand from beneath your ass, relying on his core strength alone to keep you pressed into the wall, and reaches for your fingers. Intertwining them, he places his hand, with yours beneath it, back against the wall, above your head. 

The change in position has your chest lifting, almost as if your tits are begging to have his lips around them - and who is he to refuse?

His tongue finds your nipple, flicking against the hardened nub before sucking it between his lips. The vibration of his studs against your sensitive bud has your back arching. He sucks you further into his mouth, tongue lapping against you, before he releases your nipple - but it's so puffy, and wet, and perfect, and fuck- he can't help himself, teasing at it again with his tongue. 

So fixated on how you feel in his mouth, he's forgotten that he meant to be fucking you. His cock throbs beneath his boxers, as his fingers are kept warm by your walls, slick wetness creaming around the base of his knuckles and dripping down his palm.

His apartment is small, so it only takes him a moment to move you from the wall and toss you down into his sheets. There's a waft of his fabric conditioner as he does so, floral and soft. It's hard to imagine a man so broad, so handsome, so god damn irresistible, paying any attention to laundry - but you suppose it must just add to his charm.

"C'mere," you whine, as he takes a moment to take in the sight of you. Missing the way he feels, you pull him down onto the bed -  but he's scared that even just rutting against you will have him spilling himself all over your stomach. Instead, he places himself beside you, and gets to work.

There's a familiarity now, his mouth taking your nipple again, wet and wanting, as his fingers toy with your pussy. He's not sure which he prefers, your pussy or tits, but he's more than happy to play with them both. His thumb presses on your swollen clit, and you writhe beneath him. "You like that, huh?"

You try and respond, but his thumb begins to rub languid circles against you. If you couldn't muster a word before, then like fuck can you speak now.

"Huh?" he teases, teeth grazing your hardened nipple, now. His finger strokes at your walls as he sinks into you once more, on the hunt for something that no one has ever been able to find, except you. The way your legs are tensing lets him know he's close. 

"I asked if you like that." He's only a knuckle deep, stroking pretty little circles against your walls. Closer. You whine. "Don't go all shy on me now, doll."

Your body writhes beneath his, toes curling, teeth digging down on his shoulder in a failed attempt at keeping quiet. He hopes you'll leave a mark. His thumb presses a little harder against your clit, encircling it with pressure so deep that you're almost certain you'll die from his touch.

"Don't stop," is all you can manage. "Don't stop- fuck."

"Better," he says, pressing a kiss into your neck. You can feel his precum leaking onto your thigh, and the idea of him dirtying you has you insatiable. He can tell you're at his level now, so close to finishing that it won't be embarrassing when he's done in five-seconds-flat -  but the way you're putty in his hands has him unable to stop himself. He's gotta make you cum. Needs to. 

He presses his thumb down, fingers up, as if he's pinching them together, and then he's stroking and - "Oh, fuck it. Right there. Right fucking there." - he's found it. 

He's fucking found it, the little ridge in your pussy that up until now has been just for you. You've lied before, told guys they've hit your g-spot and faked a little something that convinces them of it - but it's never been like this. Ever. Not even when you find it. 

Jungkook follows your commands. He won't stop, doesn't stop, not even when your nails grab at his wrist because the pleasure is so unbearable, so intense, that it fucking hurts. 

"Like that," you encourage, knowing your grip probably says otherwise. "Like that, fuck."

He does as he's told, and keeps like that, lips latching onto your nipple, sucking just as hard as his fingers are massaging. The slickness of your walls compared with the texture of your g-spot has him going insane. He doesn't think it's his first time finding such a sacred spot, but it's never been this easy, and the reaction has never been this good. 

You moan out his name, 'cause he's all you can think about. Any and all articulation of your pleasure goes on him.

"Yeah, baby?" he asks, forgetting that he doesn't know you nearly well enough to be addressing you like that, but he doesn't slow down. You just moan. He can call you whatever the fuck he wants at this point. It's too good. Too much.

"Kook, I-" you try, but your hips are bucking, and there's fuck all you can do to stop it.

"Just a little more, baby," he promises you. 

He will make you cum. Will do whatever it takes, if needs be. The tip of his cock is red and leaky against your thigh, ready to fuck into you, but he doesn't give a shit. Your walls are hot. Burning hot. And then they're throbbing, and your torso begins to tense. You whisper his name like a secret prayer, legs trying to close around the welcome intrusion of his hand. 

"That's it," he keens. "Cum for me, doll. All over my fingers. That's it."

You're fucking mewling as your body shudders against his. There's no dignity left in your body. It's pooling in the palm of his hand, slick and slippery, just where he wants it.

"You're unreal," he hums, drawing the last of your little death from you. "Fucking insane, babe. So fucking hot."

Turns out the Grim Reaper had made an appearance that evening, just in the form of a 6-foot adonis, who knows his way around a pussy like he does a bloody electric switchboard. 

You're panting, and so is he, his lips curving against your skin. Neither of you speaks for a minute, both casually aware that it - this, the night - isn't over yet. 

And then Jungkook just thinks to hell with acting coy, or playing it cool. You're naked in his bed, and so is he. No point in beating around the bush (unless you're into it).

"Wanna eat you out," he says as he presses a kiss into your neck, placing himself more centrally over you. Your chest is still heaving, and the thought of cumming again makes you feel all dizzy. His elbows are rested by your head, cock stiff against your tummy. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with his pretty blonde hair. "Wanna fuck you first, though."

There's a logistical step to be taken there. You're on birth control, and the subject of regularly testing had come up during a particularly suggestive conversation over dinner. You both know he'll be fucking you raw - which means he's finishing raw, too.

"But-"

"I don't care," he mumbles into your lips, a little rough, claiming them as his own. He really doesn't give a fuck if it means eating his own cum. Not like he hasn't done it before. He's probably just gonna spit it into your mouth, anyways.

He pulls his hips back to line himself up. The tip of his cock nudges into you slowly, gently, and then he eases himself forward. It burns, the thickness of his shaft spreading you in a way that his fingers couldn't. It's bliss. Divine. Heavenly, and yet absolute sin. 

He revels in the way you feel, for a moment, letting your walls stretch before he sinks into you fully. You curse as he does so, the pain overridden by pleasure. His hips begin to pick up pace, eyes on yours to make sure that you're okay as he ploughs into you. 

It's like he's digging for diamonds, almost. Funny thing is, when you gasp, eyes all wide and focused on his, it's looks like he's found them in your eyes. It's just the reflection of his fairy lights, but the illusion fools him.

Looking at you is too much for him to handle, so Jungkook kisses you as his hips begin to stall. He really wasn't kidding when he figured he'd finish in no time at all. His brows are creased, moans muffled against your lips. His torso shudders, abdomen as tight as his balls.

"Gonna make me cum," he drowsily mewls, fucking himself into you like it's where he belongs. 

His body is clammy against yours, stamina impressive but dwindling. His thrusts are getting sloppy, and so are his kisses, but you kind of love it like this; Jungkook so out of control he isn't even trying to keep a pace anymore. The rhythm of your body beneath his, the way he fits inside of you, how soft and warm your tits are as they pillow against his chest, it's all too much for him. 

He's so deep he's practically kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, and yet he still hooks your leg over his elbow. He needs to be deeper. 

"Gonna make me cum so much. You want that, huh? Wanna be the reason I cum?" he grunts, and then his words become needy. "Tell me you want it, doll. Tell me."

He licks into your mouth, toying with your tongue before you even get a chance to respond.

"Don't want it," you pant, his harsh thrusts interrupting your words. He's about to be offended, all needy and pouty while he's buried inside you, but you're biting down on your lip and - oh, god - he's obsessed. "Need it. Cum for me. Want it so bad."

He smiles against your cheek as his hips move languidly between your legs. One of his hands comes down to your hip to help him control himself, but he can't. Not when he can feel you smiling, too. He laughs a little, soft and mellow against your skin - and when you do the same thing back, Jungkook knows he's absolutely done for.

"I'm gonna-" he rasps, unable to finish his sentence. "Where? Where do you want me?"

You don't say anything, just tighten the grip of your legs around his waist. You're a fucking mess, mentally, physically. He's ruined you in every sense of the word.

"Sure?"

"Sure," you pant against his skin, before repeating your earlier claim. "Need it. Need you."

It's a lie. You don't. You barely know him - but you feel so in tune, so aligned, when he's inside you that it feels like your pussy is the only place his cum deserves to be. It'd be wasted on your tits (though Jungkook would definitely disagree).

"God," he groans. "Don't say shit like that."

Jungkook has severely underestimated just how much of a little bitch you can be.

"Like what?" you pout as his thrusts get even sloppier, his skin slapping against yours. "What can't I say? How much I need you?"

He curses your name, lips showering you in pretty kisses. His tongue finds its home inside your mouth, but it's just an attempt to shut you up. A pretty good one, in all fairness. The way his studs feel against your tongue has you dripping around the base of his cock.

You can hear it; Jungkook slipping in and out of your soaked pussy like you're fire and he's ice.

"Need you," you simper again, just to fuck with him a little more. "Need to feel you fill me up."

"You want it that bad, huh?"

He pulls himself back a little, sitting up on his heels, holding onto your hips as he fucks himself into you. Your tits pillow on your chest, bouncing in time with his thrusts, hypnotising him, almost. You're smiling as your forearms cover your eyes, a little shameful of being caught in such a compromising position, but loving it nonetheless.

"Looking a little shy, there," he says, but his tone is so low it almost sounds like a growl. You pull your arms away, and he's amazed that you can still manage to raise a brow and throw him a pissed off glare even when he's balls deep in you. Truth be told, it just makes him want you even more. He's fond as he smiles at you. "There she is."

Even if you can't fake your orgasms for him, you can still fake annoyance.

"You gonna cum, or what?" You sigh, and then he's laughing, sinking back down, elbows either side of your head as he kisses you. "All men do is lie."

"Not gonna cum," he says, and you're right - it is a lie. "Just gonna keep fucking you forever."

"I have work tomorrow."

"Fuck if I care," he sinks his tongue back into your mouth, briefly, just to remind you who's really in control here. "Said I'll fuck you forever, so forever it is."

There's a bell chiming in your tummy, and you're not able to convince yourself that it's just another building orgasm. It's still him, though, in a round about way.

"We're not allowed to bring our pets to work," you deadpan. "No can do."

Jungkook stops thrusting, and pulls his head back, almost to look at you in disbelief. He's smiling, and he's so desperately turned on that his balls fucking hurt, but he's never been more perplexed in bed. You're equal parts a siren and a little shit.

You're grinning too, pleased to have rendered him speechless. "What is it, huh? Cat got your tongue?"

He smirks, now. "Nah. Not yet. But it will."

And then he's back at it, hips erratic, building such a pace that you can't even think, let alone come out with some dumb remark.  

"Still need it, huh?" He recites your words back to you, voice raspy and hushed, so close it feels like his body could give out at any second. He's edging himself, trying to make it last just a little bit longer, but it's so wet, and you're so fucking tight, and he's throbbing, and grunting and - fuck - it's so fucking good he might just die. 

"You're gonna look so pretty when I fill you up," he moans, before correcting himself. "Already pretty. So fucking pretty."

His hips slap against yours, once, twice, and then it's happening. 

He buries himself in you, body tense as a shiver runs down his spine. Your nails dig into his back, a hushed whine escaping from his mouth and getting lost in your hair. 

His cock unloads thick creamy spurts with every stroke of your pussy, coating you with the very essence of everything that he is. It's overindulgent and unrestrained. Fuck if it isn't the most full you've ever felt, ropes of thick cum spurting into you like he was built to fucking breed.

He pumps himself gently inside you for a moment or so, just to ease the remainder of his hot cum into you. The sound is lewd as he adjusts, his job very much done.

Neither of you speak for a moment, hedonism taking heed. The way his heart beats in his chest is unlike anything you've ever felt before. In fact, you're almost in a state of shock, and so is he.

Only for a moment, though. He's not actually done yet.

Your first orgasm was cute - but there's no way he's letting you see him that pathetic, that weak, without making sure you end up in the exact same state. 

He presses a few kisses to your damp neck, laughing softly. "Get what you wanted?"

Looking at you, brown eyes all big and sparkling, he pulls his torso back up, ass resting on his heels, before checking the state of his cock as he withdraws himself. 

You're smiling as you watch him stare at where the pair of you meet with such devotion that it's hard not to feel a little enamoured with him. Even if it is just a casual fuck.

"Got what I wanted." Your voice is light and airy, like you're a Disney princess waking up from centuries of slumber. Might not have had true loves kiss, but you bet none of them has ever had a fuck like Jungkook. 

You pout a little when he finishes pulling out, sad to have lost the feeling of fullness. He catches your expression, and smiles. 

"Cute," he says a little mindlessly, articulating a thought that wasn't meant to be shared.

"Shut up," you reply, embarrassed, but he doesn't mind. Not in the slightest. In fact, he loves that you didn't want him to leave. Kind of wishes that he could have kept his cock buried inside you, instead.

But Jungkook is a man of convictions, and a firm believer that he'll simply die if he can't eat you out.

You sort of think the moment has passed, that it was something he said in the heat of the moment. Figure now he's orgasmed, he's finished - but Jungkook is an endurance athlete, not a sprinter. There's still a hurdle left to jump.

He presses your legs apart so that he can look at you. Your hole is creamy and fucked out, his load slowly seeping out of you with every beat of your heart. His fingers dip just beneath your entrance, collecting his cum on them, before he pushes it back into you. He doesn't look at you, just your cunt, as he says, "told you you'd look pretty full of my cum."

The way he's staring at you, like a man who hasn't eaten for days being presented with a three course meal, has you feeling all hot and bothered.

You're satisfied. The sex you just had was enough. More than enough - but you're getting weak at the knees again, his desire infectious. You can't remember a time you've ever wanted someone as badly as you want him. Not for any deeper reason than the selfish fact that he makes you feel good. It's pure lust, no romance about it.

His fingers continue to push his cum into you, stroking up and down your walls, applying just enough pressure to let you know he's there.

He moves his body back, keeping his fingers snug inside you - and then he lowers his body, just a couple of inches from you. His breath feels cold against the slick wetness covering your pussy. 

"Also told you I wanted to eat you," he adds, as if you need reminding.

His spare hand strokes down the inside of your thigh before it reaches your hot core, and he begins to toy with your pussy. He spreads your lips open, just like he did your legs, and then he's studying you. Figuring out ways he can get your squirming. 

The first initial contact is brief; the tip of his tongue licking across the top of your clit. A parched moan escapes your lips, and he smiles. "There?"

"There," you moan, eyes closed, head pushed back into his pillows. 

He does it again, tongue a little flatter, a little firmer. You feel his piercing against you this time, smooth and hard. Your clit is snug between the two studs, like it was made to be there. He does it again. Wetter, deeper. And again. Slower, harder - and then his speed builds. 

He licks up and down across your clit, rolling it beneath his tongue, once, twice- and then you lose count, so lost in ecstasy that all you can think about is his tongue lapping at your cum-filled cunt, plugged with his fingers.

Occasionally, he sucks gently on your clit, just to earn a little extra moan from you. It works every single time.

You're leaking around his fingers at this point, so close to cumming again that it's impossible to keep your legs open. He feels the pressure of your thighs against his head, and it only serves to encourage him. His speed builds, both his tongue and his fingers meeting with your pussy at such divine speeds that you're sure you'll cum in such an undignified manner that'll he'll perhaps regret his choices.

As your muscles begin to tense, his head in a literal death grip, he smiles, dimples deep and lips pretty against your pussy. Jungkook is utterly enthralled with how it feels to have his face between your thighs. 

He keeps his eyes closed, letting himself experience the sensations of your body completely unadulterated. If he could see you, he'd be so obsessed with the view that he might not savour you in the way that he wants to. He wants to taste you, to smell you, to feel how soft and warm you are. If he wasn't obsessed before (which he was), then he definitely is, now.

The pressure builds, his tongue lapping against you, one of your hands tangled in his messy blonde hair, the other holding one of your boobs for a little moral support. 

You're too far gone to even let him know you're about to come undone all over again. He knows, though. He can feel you pulsing, and then you're gasping, and panting, and mewling and fuck, he loves the way you sound.

Your muscles throb as he brings you to orgasm. It's so undignified that you're certain you'll never cum like this again. Your abdomen flexes involuntarily, making sure your orgasm is signed, sealed, delivered to you. He pushes your legs apart again, glancing up towards you as he licks one final stripe up your exposed mess.

You ignore the slick on his fingers that's now coating your thigh as he spreads them apart, too busy with the fact his chin is soaked, hair a mess, nose blushed. He's watching your entrance seep; a mixture of himself and you. 

It's hard to know what belongs to who, but as he dips down and licks it up with the tip of his pointed tongue, the ownership is clear. It doesn't matter whose is whose, because your pussy belongs to him, now. 

It's all his. 

He gathers the creamy slick on his tongue, and then he pulls on your hand to encourage you into a sitting position.

You're putty in his hands, doing whatever he tells you, which is albeit very little. In fact, he doesn't say anything - just looks at your lips, then your eyes, and clasps your jaw. 

He opens his mouth and pools his tongue, letting the mess that you've both made sit prettily in his mouth, dancing over his studs. He nods gently, moving his thumb from your jaw to your pillowy bottom lip, pressing down on it. 

Open. 

He's insatiable. Wants his cum on your tongue, but wants yours on his, too.

You spread your lips apart, eyes exclusively on his. Your tongue flicks against his thumb.

And then you nod.

Please.

Jungkook is slow in his approach, tentative as he holds your jaw, bringing your closer to him. His tongue licks into your mouth, swiping against yours, swapping his cum between the pair of you. It's a languid exchange, slow and sensual, neither of you caring for the boundaries that are being crossed. 

He pulls away from you, hand gripping your jaw again. You open your mouth instinctively, just like he wants you to. Neither of you pay any attention to his phone, which is flashing on the floor next to his bed. 

Spit gathers in his mouth, rinsing himself of the pair of you as he draws you closer to him, your mouth still resting open. He spits directly into it. You whimper a little as he does so, his grip on your jaw keeping your mouth open for him to observe just how messy it is; all thanks to him.

"Swallow," he tells you, easing his grip, and so you do. 

Lips closed, you swallow everything; his spit, his cum, your cum, all of it. When he grips your jaw again, you know the drill, but it doesn't stop him from commanding you. 

"Open."

He's pleased when you do, mouth all pretty and clean for him to ruin again - but instead, he just kisses you softly, hands on your cheeks, pushing your bodies back down into his sheets. There's a tenderness to the way in which he touches you; as if he realises you sacrificed a little dignity for him, so he's trying to restore it.

He's hard again - had never really softened, in all honesty - but he's too sensitive to do anything about it.

"Stay," he mumbles against your lips. Your hands are in his hair, keeping him close, as your legs wrap around his waist. "Stay the night. Wanna wake up to this."

You moan into his lips. His cock is firmly pressed into your stomach, his naked body warm against yours. 

There's something about the weight of his body, the firmness of his muscular chest against the soft pillow of your own, that is unrivalled by any other sleeping arrangement you could think of.

And despite knowing exactly what he's saying, and being far too skeptical to think he means anything other than sex, you still choose to toy with him a little.

"Wake up to what?" You purr into his lips, aware that your hips are languidly rolling against him again. 

He kisses down your neck, laughing softly to himself. His smile vibrates against your skin, and, for a moment, it's your favourite feeling in the whole entire world.

"To you."

You're pretty sure he can feel the way your pulse skips a beat in your neck. But again, you're difficult. And this arrangement definitely isn't anything more than just sex.

"You mean to my pussy, right?"

He presses pretty little kisses back up your neck, along your jaw and into your lips. They're cute. Kind. Romantic, even. 

"Oh, a hundred percent," he grins against your lips, and then you're laughing too.

"You're so mean," you pout, as if you weren't the one to put the words into his mouth. There's a dimple etched into his cheek, eyes all hazy and sparkling as he shakes his head. He thinks you look adorable when you pout. So damn cute. He steals another kiss, and protests.

"Made you cum twice," Jungkook says, and has the audacity to scrunch his nose, acting all cute and shit. You're embarrassed, bringing your hands from his hair to cover your face, which you just know is flaming red. "I think that's actually pretty nice of me." 

He pulls one of your hands away from your face, and kisses your knuckles. His smile matches yours - because while yes, you're embarrassed, you're still riding the post-fuck high, too.

"You also spat in mouth," you remind him, and then he's cringing. Jekyll and Hyde have nothing on Jungkook when it comes to him and, well, him in bed. "That's not very nice."

He covers his eyes with his hands, but his teeth are still on show, smile prevailing. "Shut up."

And then he's kissing you again, 'cause fuck it, he just can't stop himself. 

It's been a while since he last got like this. In fact, he probably hasn't been this giddy post-fuck since he was a teenager. He's normally in the shower by this point, ridding himself of whoever he's been inside - but he doesn't have the compulsion to do that with you.

He knows that when he breaks from the spell you've cast upon him, he'll be back to reality. The fairy dust will settle on the ground like ashes, and the magic that once was will become nothing but malice.

There's a bridge to be crossed.

Jungkook has been fixing it up - repairing the cracks, making it sturdy - but he's not sure he wants what's on the other side, anymore. Not when you're in his bed, not when he can feel your chest wobble with every little laugh you do, and not when your nails are tenderly scratching at his scalp.

See, he likes being on this side of the bridge. Likes being with you.

But if he doesn't cross it, the trolls beneath it will inevitably come for him.

And so he asks you to stay again, but this time he says it like he means it.

"I want you to stay with me," he speaks quietly, rolling off of you and curling up beside you, reaching for the duvet that ended up at the end of his bed. He brings it back over your bodies, as if he's locking you in. You have to stay now.

You turn to face him, curling up too, mirroring him. Your fingers delicately tuck strands of his beautiful blonde hair behind his ear, ignoring the way his eyes are focused on you. Instead, you watch your hand as it moves, curiously touched by the fact he wants you to stay. You don't peg him as guy who often wants a girl to stay.

You're right to assume that.

Right to assume that he normally doesn't do this.

One night stands? Yeah, sure. He's had a handful - but never at his place. He doesn't like inviting people back to his apartment. It feels too personal. He likes being able to leave. He doesn't do the whole waking up together thing - no matter how much he likes morning sex (of which he does ( a LOT)).

But Jungkook's thinking about that bridge again.

He's thinking about the fact he knows shouldn't be at home right now.

He's thinking about the fact that you should be at home right now.

He's thinking about the fact his phone is on silent, and that Namjoon is probably cursing him out on voicemail right now.

But then you kiss him, and for a moment, he forgets again.

"I get grouchy when I'm hungover," you warn him, giving him an out, just in case he wants to retract his offer.

"Mhmm," he hums, pulling you into his chest. Your legs intertwine as he squeezes you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're grouchy when you're not hungover."

You laugh, cheeks plump and full, resting right where his heart is pumping a little faster than usual.

"You're lucky you're a good fuck, or else I'd be out of that door ASAP."

It's a lie, and you both know it.

"Thank god for my cock," he says, grinning like an absolute twat. 

He decides that he's still really drunk. It's the only way to explain how his body feels all disjointed but perfectly together at the same time.

"Thank god for your cock."

────────────

You're still awake as the sun begins to rise. He's mumbling, saying something about how a town in Alaska has a cat for a mayor, while your head rests on his bare chest.

He's a little clammy, the smell of sex stuck to him. Neither of you have showered yet. You enjoy the way your bodies are a little sticky, skin on skin, as if you're made for his bed; for him.

Every now and again, his hands roam out of the realm of safety, and you find your breath hitching, toes curling, lips parting. It's always accompanied by the sound of an airy smirk from Jungkook.

You learn that he's obsessed with your chest. Your tits, more specifically. So pillowy, so soft. A gift bestowed upon you from Venus herself, he thinks, or at least he would, if he knew who Venus was.

He just wants to hold them forever. In his hands, in his mouth, he doesn't care. He'll put his dick between them too, eventually. Another time. He's too sensitive right now. But definitely one day, and definitely soon.

A little sunlight pours in, and you watch speckles of dust as they dance around in the air. When he laughs, soft and serene in the hazy atmosphere of a post-fuck come down, it's nice. You imagine that you'd quite like to do this again. You hope he feels the same.

"Just think it's funny," he says, toying with your fingers. "How a cat can do a better job than fully grown men."

"Pussy power," you smile, and so does he, before he presses a kiss into your hair. It still smells like gasoline and he still thinks it's the sexiest thing in the world. It's funny, 'cause if you knew it smelt that way, you'd feel insecure about it. It's why he doesn't mention it. Doesn't want you withdrawing from his touch.

He nestles down, shifts his naked body beneath his duvet but keeps you close. His legs interlock with yours and his lips find a home on the curve of your shoulder. "I'm really glad you said yes."

The comment seems out of the blue, but it's not. Your thoughts have been echoing in his mind, too. It sounds a lot like vulnerability. To him, it feels more like he's laying down a safety net. Making his intentions clear. Doesn't want you second-guessing. Not this, at least. He knows the way you like to theorise.

"You didn't really give me a choice," you rib, as if that chime isn't back in your diaphragm.

He squeezes you tightly. "Don't say that. You could have said no."

You shuffle down, tilt your head, and press a kiss into his chest, just between his pecks. Sweet like honey, your lips trail across, placing delicate kisses in pride of place.

His firm muscle; one, two. His dark nipple; a flick of your tongue, one, two. Just above his beating heart; one, two, three.

Your lips feather across his collarbone and land where tattoo leaks ever so slightly onto the top of his chest. You sign the art with your kisses like the ultimate thief. Stolen. Yours, now.

"You'd have still shown up regardless."

And you're right, he would have done.

Not for any grand romantic gesture, nor to coerce you into something you didn't want. He's just got a job to do, that's all.

He doesn't respond, but you don't really notice.

By the time you're dressed and leaving his apartment, the 503 is running. He offers to pay for your fare, but you tell him that it's fine, and hop on the bus as if your insides don't burn. It's been a while since you had a workout that vigorous.

There are a few old women and a middle-aged man in a business suit taking the same journey as you.

Your cheeks flush crimson when you start to think about the ache in the pit of your stomach, right beneath that little chime that likes to ding every now and again. That feeling? The one that made you quietly gasp as you sat down? That's Jungkook.

The acknowledgement ruminates. It's insidious. Has you feeling all dirty.

You wonder if they know. The people on the bus, the one's sat around you. They couldn't possibly know, not really, but you brood over the notion that you give off an aura; one that says you've just been fucked by the most beautiful man you've ever laid eyes upon.

You wonder if the old ladies glance at you and long for the days when they'd go home with strangers.

You wonder if the middle-aged man is responding to the pheromones you're releasing without realising it, cock a little plump in his pants.

It's a morbid curiosity, but one that makes you feel all hot, and sticky, and sordid. Makes you feel good, too. A little dangerous. A little bit like you wanna get off the 503 and leg it back to Jungkook's place.

It has you reaching for your phone, pulling up kakaotalk and clicking through on your most recent contact. There's still a message at the top of your thread, warning about spam, or fraud, or whatever it is. You don't read it. Too busy typing away.

You're about to press send on a poorly thought out message when your phone vibrates in your palm. You pause. Cringe. Are aware that Jungkook will have seen how quickly you read his own message that's just come through to you.

꾹:  i wanna do that again.

You: the galbi or the sex?

꾹: both.

꾹: mainly the sex, though.

꾹: the galbi i can take or leave.

Your legs press together, and realise you're squirming in your seat. It's subtle, but anyone who's looking at you must know.

You: funny, im the opposite.

You:  id die for the galbi.

You:  sex was alright.

꾹: wow, a glowing review.

꾹: can i add it to my tinder profile?

Like fuck you can, you think to yourself. If he's still active on tinder after the night you had together, you'll do the reasonable thing and learn witchcraft just so you can hex him. You tell yourself you're just joking, but honestly, the idea is tempting.

You: uh-huh.

You: you can put it right beneath a bullet point where you let them know how much you like eating your own cum :)

꾹:  technically, you ate it.

꾹: i just delivered it :)

You: thank you for your services.

꾹: any time.

You: tonight?

꾹: please.

And so he arrives at the gas station just before nine, hood up, angelic strands of blonde hair tickling over his eyes. He's got a mask on, like he usually does, a black turtle neck resting prettily around his throat. An earth-toned flannel shirt peeks out from the bottom of his jacket, where the hem meets a pair of black jeans. He has a charm about him that makes the world stop turning for a moment when you first look at him.

He's not really sure how to greet you. With a kiss? A high five? Neither of these seems like a good idea, so he just does an awkward half-bow, which leaves cringing.

"Just gotta cash up," you smile from behind the kiosk. "You walked?"

He shakes his head. "Parked around the corner again. Didn't wanna block the forecourt."

It's a reasonable enough excuse, even if a little weird. You finish what you're doing, cash up, give Jieun the keys (and ignore the way she's grinning at you) and then toss your jacket over your shoulders. He walks beside you as you leave the store, popping your hood up again just like he did the night before. "It's windy."

The forecast said it would rain, too, but Jungkook doesn't know this. Doesn't actually give a shit about the weather. Just needs excuses to put your hood up.

"So I've been thinking," he says as you make your way to the side lane.

"Dangerous," you quip, but he ignores it - though he does nudge you a little. You let your body move in accordance with his, swaying back into him slightly. Like a swinging pendulum, you're about to recoil, but Jungkook's arm drapes around your shoulders, keeping you close. The scent of his clothes is a mix of fresh cotton and WD-40. It makes you laugh, how much a walking juxtaposition he really is.

"I've been thinking," he reinforces, and pauses just in case you're planning on interrupting again - but you don't. You want to hear his thoughts. All of them. No matter how big or small. "What if... What if we skip the sex tonight?"

You don't respond immediately, walking around to the passenger's side of his car. He clicks down on his key, opening up the locks. The lights flood your features, illuminating you in warm hues, reds and oranges, as if to send Jungkook a warning: she's dangerous.

"Skip the sex?" You raise a brow, ignoring the butterfly atrium that has spontaneously constructed beneath your ribs. "You lured me here under false pretences, Mr Gimbap."

He doesn't question the nickname. Figures he'll find out its origins this evening. After all, all he wants to do is talk.

Talk about you, where you come from, where you plan on going. He wants to know more; what makes you tick, your favourite chocolate bar wrapper joke, if you really meant what you said about not fucking on first dates. Wants to know if he's special. Wants to know if he gets to you the same way you do to him.

He'll ask you about your favourite Shakespeare play, and he'll hope that you'll say Romeo & Juliet. It's the only one he's read.

You'll tell him that it's not a representation of love, and he'll say he knows. He doesn't - he just won't want you to think that he bases his idea of romance on such ill-fated endeavours. Thinks it's about stars-crossing, illicit affairs, love that prevails. Shit like that.

He isn't really sure what it all means, but he's seen the Baz Luhrmann adaptation, and that's enough.

You'll say that Romeo is an ass, and he'll feign offence and tell you that you'll never be his Juliet. It'll earn him a laugh from you. That's fine; you never wanted to be her.

You're a Beatrice in search of her Benedict, after all - and the way that the pair of you bicker, it seems like you might have just found him - even if he does think he's a Romeo. Twat.

"I didn't," he laughs in response to your earlier statement. "I just like to know the girls I'm sticking my dick in, that's all."

"Ohh, romance," you whistle through pursed lips, throwing him a coy smile.

He nods towards the buckle by your seat and tells you to do the belt up, as his key turns in the ignition. There's a small rumble, his exhaust rattling as fumes begin to bluster around the end of the pipe. He's listening again, revving the engine ever so gently, foot on the throttle.

The way he cares for his motor makes you laugh. He's so temperate, so careful - but you know he abuses the engine like no tomorrow whenever he races it. He treats it almost as if it's a racehorse; something with actual feelings.

You do as you're told, clicking the belt into place, and remind him to do the same.

"The girls?" You question as he passes you the aux. "Multiple?"

There's a static click as you plug it into your phone, before your playlist starts up again. His hands move like machines, smooth and automatic as he slips into first gear.

"The girls," he echoes, eyes flicking up to the rear-view mirror, and then over his shoulder to check the blind spots, before easing onto the main road.

"Charming," you say dryly.

It's not like you hadn't assumed this already. You had already decided that he at least had a friend with benefits lurking about (even if she had become too clingy (actually, no, especially if she had become too clingy)).

You'd figured that it was where he had been on the night that he was a no show - but then he'd shown up all apologetic and shit. You had let his innocent eyes win your skeptical mind over.

"Guys aren't really my thing," he follows up, sensing your discomfort. He knows he's beating around the bush, not giving you the answer that you want - and he also knows that you're getting in your head about it. Knows you'll be questioning what he means, and if he's sleeping with anyone else. He'd be within his right to. You barely know each other. Where he sticks his dick isn't really any of your business. "And I'm hardly a virgin, am I?"

"Gasp," you say. "You're not?! Could have fooled me."

He's smiling again.

You like how much he does that around you. Wonder if he's like that around other girls, too.

"Was I really that bad?" He flirts.

Jungkook knows how to fuck. He's been given enough positive reviews to know that he's anything but bad. Although... he kinda is. But in a good way. In the way that you want him to be bad.

"I've had better."

Liar.

"Ouch," he laughs as he presses down on his indicator for the next left. "Guess I'll just have to keep practising."

City lights cascade over the pair of you as his car rolls through the quiet streets, splintering like refractions of a mirror ball. He hates that he has to keep his eyes on the road. Wants to drink in the way you look almost as much as he wants to drink up the way you taste again. The night is dark, the moon hiding behind a fluffy cloud that looks like charcoal cotton candy beneath its radiant light. Jungkook loves nights like these; likes them even better with you in his passenger seat.

Green flashes over your features as he passes beneath a traffic light. You cross your legs, adjusting your posture. It's so subtle that you don't even realise you're doing it - but Jungkook does.

"On your other girls?"

There she is, he thinks. It's what he's been waiting for. Confirmation that the idea of him fucking other girls irritates you. He reaches across and taps your knee. He enjoys the predictability of you.

You resist the gentle nudge of his hand, the pads of his thumb and fingers resting on your kneecap. Your legs remain crossed, just as his hand remains on your knee. The stretch of road you're on is straight, requiring no gear change for a little while. He can play this game, if you really want him to.

"No," he says. There's pressure beneath his fingertips now. "Be a waste of time, wouldn't it? Everyone's different. If I wanna get better at fucking you, specifically, then I gotta keep fucking you."

He's not wrong. You can't fault his logic, and in all honesty, the way he's talking is so abrasive, so raw, that it's got you feeling all hot and bothered again. He may as well be stroking your pussy, not your knee, with the impact he's having on you.

His grip tightens, then pulls your knee back over. Commanding, not requesting. Your legs part for him, because of course they do. There's something about knowing he has options, knowing that he could be with someone else, but is choosing to be with you that gives you a little ego boost.

"Maybe I've changed my mind," you feign indifference, but Jungkook knows there's a handful of feelings beneath your words. "Maybe I don't wanna fuck you anymore."

He strokes his broad palm along the inside of your thigh. It's warm, wrapped in the sheer nylon cover of tights, and he'd obsessed with the way they feel. So smooth, so soft, so perfectly pristine. He wonders if you're making a mess of them. Hopes you are.

"I don't like maybes," he says. "Either you wanna fuck me or you don't."

"I don't like fucking boys who fuck other girls."

"Who said I was fucking other girls?" he smirks, and lets his hand trail a little further up. He squeezes the flesh of your thigh, getting a feel for you.

"You did."

"No," he corrects. "I said I've fucked other girls. Past tense. Never said I'm currently fucking other girls. You really gotta stop making assumptions, little Miss Clutch Control."

"I hate you," you say with a smile, and you really do mean it.

"I like girls who hate me. Makes the sex so much hotter."

"Despise you."

"Ugh," he grins, as he lets his hand reach the top of your thigh. He squeezes again, and you hum a little moan for him. "Doesn't sound like you hate me."

You giggle, soft and serene in the safety of his car. Reaching a junction, he pulls his hand back to change gear. You're at a four-way intersection, the light only just hitting amber, so he reckons he has a least a couple of minutes to toy with you.

When his hand returns to your thigh, just like you hoped it would, it's beneath your skirt. Right at the top. Right where it belongs. The pressure beneath his palm is firm, fingers sinking into the softness of your leg.

"But I do," you say, voice quiet, anticipation lacing your breath.

His pinky finger stretches out a little, just to stoke over the mound that rests between your legs. He can already feel the heat, but what surprises him - and excites him - is the slick that's seeped through your panties and onto the outer side of your tights.

"Doesn't feel like you hate me, either."

"No?" You toy. "Feel again."

And so he does. He points his index and middle finger, and holds them flat against you. They're instantly met with a slippery mess. He slides them up and down, once, twice, three times, and then cups your pussy with his palm. You're fucking pulsing in his touch.

"See?" You speak as if you don't wanna whine his name. "Loathe you."

"So you do," he mumbles as he presses his palm tight against you, inhaling sharply as he does so. One glance at his lap and you can tell he's just as turned on as you are. His cock is solid beneath his trousers, jeans tight, keeping him concealed. Part of you feels a little bad. Looks painful. He's too big to be confined by such unforgiving material.

"Still wanna skip the sex?"

Jungkook presses in index finger against where he can feel your entrance is. You're so wet that his fingers are already coated in everything that you are. He wants more. Wants your tights gone. Wants his fingers inside you.

But he's a stubborn asshole, and hates being proven wrong.

"Sex?" he pulls his fingers back, and rests the heel of his palm on the top of his steering wheel. They're covered in your juices. He considers licking them clean, but figures that might be a bit too brash - and then thinks fuck it, and does it anyway. There's a sweetness to your taste, one that has him holding back a moan. Absolutely fucking divine. You don't even realise that you're staring at his hands - the way they sink into his mouth - until he pulls them back out. He looks at you. Shrugs. "Yeah. Not really in the mood."

"Thank god," you say, not skipping a beat. Even when your need to fuck him is so intense that it manifests into a physical form and leaks onto his passenger seat, you're still able to bicker with him. It satisfies him like nothing else. Makes his cock so hard. "Me either."

The light turns to green, his hand is back on his gear stick. You stick to looking out the window, not favouring looking at him. The temptation to palm his crotch is overwhelming, but you're just as stubborn as he is. If you've said you don't wanna fuck, then you're damn well gonna act like you don't wanna fuck, until you simply can't take it anymore.

"Glad we agree," he says. "So let's talk."

You half wonder if this was his plan all along. You actually do think you hate him - but only cause he makes you feel weak. You don't enjoy that feeling, but you enjoy him.

"I'm an open book," you lie.

He flicks his eyes to the rearview and mutters under his breath, "shit."

"What is it?" you glance over your shoulder, noticing a pair of headlights flashing Jungkook. You can't make the car out. Its lamps are on full-beam. Blinding.

Jungkook leans over, the fingers that had been stroking against your pussy now pressing down into your buckle. There's a click as it releases, before he moves down and pulls up on the lever by the front of your seat, dragging you forward.

"Get in the back," he says, as if he isn't still driving. You go to question him, but he cuts you off. "In the back. Now. Middle seat."

You stare for a second, until he glances over to you, jaw tense, with no hint of a smile. "Don't argue with me, now. Middle seat. C'mon."

"Kook-"

"Now."

And as unsafe as it feels, you find yourself twisting, hands gripping onto the back of the passenger seat as you bring your legs up to crouch.

"Quickly, babe," he says, his hand reaching over to tap your ass gently. Your back is to the windshield, and Jungkook's terrified that the fucker behind him isn't gonna wait for a respectable start - but he's also anxiously aware of the fact he isn't explaining himself to you, and that it's gonna make you hesitant. "Please. Trust me."

And so you do. You wobble a little as your leg dips over the centre console, his hand still on your ass to keep you stable.

"That's it," he encourages. You make your way into the back, a little squeal as you leap soundtracking the move. "Seat belt. Now."

The leather of the backseat is cold against your tight-covered thighs, legs pressed together, feet firmly on the raised centre of the footwell. You do as you're told, all rather quickly.

"Hands on the seats," he tells you again, and you don't question it, even though it's all that you want to do. There's a time and a place for bickering with him, and while it's the perfect place, the urgency of his commands suggest that now isn't the right time. You grip onto the seats in front of you, and Jungkook reaches up to feel your hand, just to make sure it's where he wants it. His hand is clammy and warm, safe against yours. He lingers for a second, not wanting to lose the way your feel against his skin. "Hold tight."

He slows to a near stop, and you almost laugh when you realise where you are. That fucking bridge, again. The car behind you pulls up beside him, but it's hard to make it out through his back windows. They're so intensely tinted that all you can figure out is the rough shape. "Is that-"

"Yep," he cuts you off, knowing what you'll ask. "Car from the last time. It's cool. I got this. I will warn you, though, he's a little pissed with me at the moment."

"A little?"

You can hear the engine revving. Sounds more than just a little pissed.

"We're friends. It's okay."

Friends is a loose description. It would have been the right term, once. Jungkook thinks of him more as a colleague these days. A pain in his ass.

"Doesn't sound very friendly."

"I'ma need you to be quiet, babe," he says, voice soft. He isn't trying to be rude, he just needs to concentrate. Needs to win this. Needs to get Namjoon off his back. Needs to get you away from, well, here.

"Noted."

Jungkook watches the lights. It's how races like these work; the impromptu kind that first got him acquainted with Namjoon. They wait for the lights to shift, throttle teasing on amber, rubber-burning on green.

His gaze is on the lights and the lights only. The leather binding of his wheel almost squeaks as he grips against it, shoulders rolling back ever so slightly. Glancing over to the black SsangYong, he nods, and then his eyes are back on the lights. The lack of a flagger has never bothered them. In fact, Jungkook prefers racing without one. Fewer variables. Less chance of things going wrong. He knows the time of the lights. Trusts them. Trusts his muscle memory to do the hard work for him.

You can feel that chime in your stomach again - but it's different this time. It's a warning bell. The kind that tells you to get out of the situation you're in. Fat fucking chance.

There's a purr as the lights flicker into amber, Jungkook's rev count building. The sound of the SsangYong rips through the windows, letting you know just how powerful it is. Ain't no way Jungkook's fucking Pony is beating it. His grip adjusts, foot sinking further down onto his throttle. He builds it, 2, 3, 4 - and then the light is green.

The way Jungkook moves is as if he's at one with his car.

His movements are slick, well-oiled.

There's no hesitation, just an innate understanding of what needs to be done. His car tears from the starting line, and you forget all about the SsangYong he's racing.

It's hard to think about anything at all, in all honesty. Hard to comprehend the speed he's built so quickly; the control he has. There's a rush pulsing through you that you haven't felt since, well, ever. You don't enjoy racing, not really. You hate it whenever Yoongi rags his car about, but you trust him.

And you find yourself trusting Jungkook, too.

Maybe it's because you've already seen him tame his car when it's been out of control, or maybe it's because you've already trusted him with your body, so what difference does your life make?

His tyres are almost silent, moving at such a pace that there's no chance for anything to reverb. He grunts a little, pushing the car up to fifth, building, building and then -

"Corner," he braces you.

You're pretty certain you're going to throw up.

It's a route that Jungkook knows well, just a short circuit, over the bridge, sharp left out along the riverside road until they reach Kang's. Same every time. Hasn't yet thought about what he's gonna do when he gets there. Just knows he has to get there first to buy himself a little time.

He knocks the car into neutral, clutch down, brakes too, and then he's turning the wheel just a little. Not too sharp. Doesn't wanna oversteer. He coasts it round the bend, knowing better than to be in neutral, but he isn't thinking about that right now. He's thinking about the fact that Namjoon's car is fucking faster, and he needs every gain he can get.

Your hands grip into the padding of his seats, desperately trying to stop yourself from toppling over. Elbows locked, it's hard to determine the sheer amount of force you're putting behind your bones.

There's a screech as the tyres burn against the road, no doubt leaving thick black streaks on the tarmac. You're so used to seeing them on your way to work that you never really consider how they get there. Now you know.

He pummels the car forward, knocking it back into third, and then up into fourth. It's a miscalculation. Should have jumped right up into fifth - but he can lament that later.

He corrects his mistake. Strikes it into fifth. Namjoon is trailing. Jungkook has got this.

Eyes hard against the horizon line, Jungkook has no time to think. He flicks his eyes up to the rearview, catching sight of the SsangYong's bonnet. He's miles ahead.

Well, no. Not even a metre - but it may as well be miles. He just needs to keep up this pace.

Foot to the floor, he's tanking it. The shops you dart past become a blur of neon lights, nothing for your eyes to absorb other than the chaos of light beneath a dark sky. In the distance, you see Kang's.

"Shit," he hisses as the light at the intersection ahead begins to flash amber.

"Hold on," he says, as if you've even thought about letting go. Hands clammy from nerves, you adjust your grip. Tighter. So tight, your nails will leave prints in his leather.

He pushes further, further, further, but the lights are flashing quicker, quicker, quicker. "C'mon, beauty. C'mon."

He hits the junction line.

The lights are still amber.

And then he switches from gas to clutch. Easy does it.

Jungkook pulls the handbrake up. Clicks it into place. Pulls the car round with a single hand on his steering wheel.

He has full control over the vehicle as it roars into position right in the middle of the cross-section.

There's a blaring horn sounding behind you - but it's not directed at the Pony.

It's directed at the SsangYong, which has screeched to a halt. The oncoming traffic has been set free, lights fully changed. Jungkook made it just in time.

"He's stuck," you tell Jungkook, head over your shoulder, making sure that the SsangYong hasn't moved. "Can't get past the traffic. You're good."

You expect Jungkook to ease off the throttle, but he doesn't. He takes a sharp right instead, and begins to tunnel down back allies. Right, then left. Then left again, and another right. Takes so many rogue turns that you don't even know which direction you're facing in by the time he comes to a stop. It's been nearly five minutes since you lost the SsangYong - and yet he just won't ease off the gas. Not until he's certain Namjoon isn't lurking in the shadows of his exhaust fumes.

By the time he does eventually stop, his chest is heaving. Breathless.

You're down a back alley, across the other side of town. You don't recognise it.

Pressing down into the buckle, you undo your belt and clamber forward into the passenger seat again, feet up, body facing towards him.

He doesn't look at you for a while. Just stares ahead. Inhale, exhale. You can see his jugular vein beating.

"Hey," you reach out to his wrist, and stroke on his arm gently. He doesn't respond instantly. Just lets his eyes close. It's nice, the way you're so gentle with him, he thinks. So nice. So soothing.

And then his body acts before his mind does. He pulls on your wrist, grip firm, as his other hand pushes down the lever by the front of his seat. Weight on his feet, he pushes himself back, making space for you in his lap.

The way you clamber over the centre console is less than elegant, but he doesn't care. Just needs you on his thighs. Needs to suffocate in the scent of your gasoline tainted hair, and taste the sweetness of your tongue in his mouth. Needs to remember everything that you are, so he can forget who he is.

His hungry lips find yours, a hand in your hair, the other on your cheek.

There's really not enough room, your legs straddled over his, trapped by the door on one side, the gear stick on the other. It's tight and claustrophobic, but he likes it. Likes how ensnared he is by you. Wants to be even more trapped.

He licks against your lips and begs for permission to enter - as if you'd ever refuse. His tongue strokes against yours, the studs you'd (somehow) forgotten about making you whimper. He's rough and aggressive with his kisses, the adrenaline manifesting itself in the form of intimacy.

"I lied," he says breathlessly. "About the sex. I want it. Let me fuck you."

He wants to lose himself in you. Needs to.

"Backseat?" you moan into his lips as he begins to encourage the movement of your hips against his painfully hard crotch.

"Backseat."

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

The condensation of the glass drips from your fingers.. You hate the feeling, slick and slightly irritating. You switch hands as you sway to the music, penned in by strangers as you try to see past them. You’re a bit awkward, off on your own, but no one seems to notice as you stand nearly a head below the rest of clubbers.

You stand on your toes but it doesn’t help. The music and the haze of voices doesn’t help your search. You yipe as you feel a tug on your arm. You turn to Sabrina and Selena, the tall blondes with cocktails as identical as they are. The twins are stunning individually, but together, they’re gobsmackingly gorgeous. And, you must admit, chaotic.

“Where did you two get off to?” You yell over the music.

“Mom!” Selena teases as she rolls her eyes.

“Someone has to keep an eye on you two.”

“We were just getting drinks, duh!” Sabrina shows her bright pink cocktail and takes a slurp through the skinny straw.

“Right,” you look at your ginger ale, the ice has already melted. Responsible and bland, just like you. Designated driver and designated mom friend. “I’m sure that’s all you were doing.”

“Well,” Selena smirks, “we did meet a guy.”

“Really?” You tilt your head sardonically, “you said this was a girls’ night. No dudes.”

“Relax, we know Johnny would have a fit, alright? It’s not like that, we’d just go up for the drinks.”

“You have drinks,” you counter, “and go up where?”

“Private room,” Sabrina says, “come on, don’t be a sourpuss! When’s the last time you went to a private room?”

You almost snarl. They know you aren’t the club sort and it’s obvious you don’t have the looks to be invited up to some playboys crow’s nest. Besides, it gives you the ick. Those men standing up there leering from the windows like some deranged lookouts.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” You rebuff.

“Come on, pleeeeaaaaassseeee,” Sabrina pouts, “we promise, we’re not going to hook up. We’re just going to flirt our way into bottle service.”

“Look, you come up and we’ll pay for the uber. Since we won’t be paying for booze, we’ll be able to afford it,” Selena winks.

“I don’t really…” you sigh. It’s two against one, as always. Even if you wanted to drink, you know you can’t. You have to keep an eye on these two. “Fine, but I mean it. No hook ups. And I don’t want to be up there all night.”

“Yessss!” Selena throws her fist up.

“Ugh, you guys,” you roll your eyes, “you make me feel like a bitch.”

“No, you’re just the responsible one,” Sabrina chuckles and turns on her heel, “come on! Before someone else takes our spot.”

“Are you sure… it’s okay that I’m with you?” You ask as you trail after them, speaking to the end of their long ponytails.

“Of course, we said we had a third. Just… play along.”

“Play along? What does that mean?”

“You don’t have to make out with anyone but like, don’t be frigid.”

“You are making me regret my decision already,” you retort.

“Come on. You can handle it. You’ve never had any issue giving a guy a swat. He gets too handsy and–” she flicks her hand above her shoulder so you can see, “give him one.”

You hold back your complaints. You know once the twins have their minds set, there’s not changing them. All you can do is act as chaperone and make sure they don’t get too messy.

You follow them to a set of spiral stairs and climb up behind them, balancing your ginger ale perilously as you refuse to look down and see the height building below you. Sabrina leads the way, striding up to a door with a golden snake on it. She knocks and peeks over her shoulder, giving a wink. 

It opens and a man appears, clean shaven with neatly parted hair, a glint in his blue eyes as he smirks at Sabrina.

“Selena?” He asks.

“I’m Sab,” she chides.

“Ah, I’ll figure it out,” he kids, “come in.”

He leaves the door open as Sabrina enters, then Selena, and you reluctantly bring up the rear. The music is muffled by the walls as you do and your ears feel ready to pop. You take a drink of your soda to hide your discomfort. 

“Twins,” another man muses. He sits on the sofa, an arm across the back. A satin shirt is unbuttoned way too low on his chest, the mustache adding to the allusion to Tom Selleck several decades ago. 

You’re used to being overshadowed by the twins. You really don’t mind given the circumstance, you have a boyfriend. You nurse the ginger ale as a third man approaches; tall, blonde, and sleek in a powder blue jacket. Probably the best looking of the trio.

“Jonathan,” he introduces himself to the twins.

“Sabrina and Selena,” the man who answered the door stretches his arms around the twins’ waists.

“And our friend,” Selena makes sure to introduce you, waving you forward.

“Ah, pardon.”

“This is Ransom,” Sabrina leans into the man between them.

The man from the couch says nothing, almost scowling as he watches Selena, her eyes on Jonathan as she accepts a polite kiss on the cheek. Yep, doesn’t feel great to be third wheel, though it saves you a lot of trouble.

The girls fall into a low conversation with Ransom and Jonathan. You hover and hesitate before sitting on the other end of the couch, staring at the bubbles rising to the top of your soda. Awkward.

“Couldn’t have found triplets,” the man grumbles as he twists a golden ring on his finger.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you snip.

He looks at you, almost surprised to find you there. His cheek twitches and he sighs, pushing himself up with the armrest. “I need a fucking drink.”

So much for pretenses. You watch him go to the small bar in the corner and you turn your attention to the windows flashing with a spectrum of lights. It’s not entirely unexpected for the night to take this turn, you were just hoping it wouldn’t.

[crusty-chronicles]

Stubborn

Synopsis: In which our two favorite demons tend to and scold Reader for being careless during a fight. Separate drabbles btw

Kurama 🦊🦊🦊

The first thought that crosses his mind is one of anger. How dare that feeble demon even think to put it's hands on you. The next is that there's blood. So much blood seeping from the wound on your side. The decision of what to do is made without hesitation. He wasted no time rushing to your side. Lifting up your shirt slightly to heal the wound.

The others would take care of the fleeing demon. For now, his top priority was you. Making sure you'd be okay. But apparently that wasn't how you saw it. Pushing his hands away with the little strength you had.

“I'm fine. Don't worry about me. You should go after that thing with the others,” you tried to sway.

As if your life wasn't more important.

Like he didn't cherish you more than anything.

His gaze hardened, maneuvering you on your back to get a proper look at your wound. Summoning his spirit energy in his palm and pressing it firmly against your side.

“You'd think of me so callous as to abandon my injured lover?” He questioned.

His accusation temporarily shocking you.

“No but-” ‘you shouldn't be wasting your time with me.’ you wanted to say. But you were cut off before you could finish.

“Then there's nothing more to discuss. When I'm finished, we'll go right back home. Yusuke and Kuwabara are more than capable of handling this by themselves.”

You once again shifted around, trying to get him to stop. The case came first. It should've come first. Not you. You were hurt, but wouldn't die from it. It was pointless wasting energy on something you could manage with on your own. Kurama shouldn't be focusing on you when there was still an important mission at hand.

He gave you a glare and that was all it took to have you stilling.

“Why must you insist on being difficult? Don't you know that I'll choose you every time? I'll always choose you over any fight, any mission, any person. No matter what, it's always you, so sit still and let me heal you.”

—------

Hiei ⚔️⚔️⚔️

Impulsive, impulsive, impulsive.

He sees red the second your body hits the floor and you struggle to get up. A dark crimson trailing down your forehead.

Damn whoever hurt you, and damn anybody who dared get in his way.

He quickly slays the one responsible for your injury. Not even giving them enough time to process what's happening before it's over. When that's taken care of, he makes his way over to you. Shooing the group of your friends away so he can inspect your injuries himself. Despite the protests from a certain troublesome reaper.

“Let me see.” It's more of an order than a request.

But instead of complying, you turn your head and try to stand. Trying your best not to make a big deal out of nothing. Only for Hiei to shove you back down.

“I'm okay. It's just a scratch.” You brushed off, but he wasn't convinced in the slightest. Moving to wipe off the blood from your forehead.

You grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

“Don't. It doesn't hurt, so leave it. And anyways, you shouldn't have killed that guy. He needed to be brought in for questioning.”

Your words only further irritating the three eyed demon.

It seems you didn't quite understand the importance you held in his life.

He would have slayed thousands for even looking at you wrong. And here you were defending some cretin who'd committed an offense that was deserving of a fate worse than death. Sometimes he hated that human heart of yours.

“Shut up. You don't get to run your mouth after being so foolish.” He scolded. Moving to heal your injury with his spirit energy. He didn't do it often, but you were always a special case. You were special.

Yet you continued to try and avoid his help.

“I'm fine!”

“Argue any further and I'll put you to sleep myself. You think I care about some low life over you? You must have a concussion if you believe that.”

Then his next words were softer. For your ears only.

“Your life takes priority over anyone and everything, got that? You're mine, and any creature that dares lay a finger on you will have to deal with that consequence.”

----------------

[hiraya-rawr]

I wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead—

synopsis !! a burst of courage is all you need to ruin your friendship

characters !! diluc, kaeya, zhongli, xiao

cw !! sfw mature content, undefined relationships, somewhat friends with benefits? complicated relationship status, consented actions

D I L U C

Imagine clambering onto Diluc's lap at a dark corner of Angel's Share, noise playing in the background and drunkards swaying to the songs of bards. You've been trading teases and hints all night, more from you than from the redhead, hoping he'd get the hint that you want a little more than what his friendship has to give. His eyes widen a little, looking at yours with uncertainty as his one hand steadies your waist while the other hesitantly pushes you back.

"You're drunk," he mutters as if to warn you but you shake your head no, taking a sip from the wine glass you balanced between your fingers.

"I'm not." You lean closer, wondering if there's even any effort in the hand that's pushing you back.

"That's what all the drunks say."

A smile graces your lips as you slip the wine glass between your faces, tilting it to his lips and – despite his aversion for alcohol – he drinks from your cup, eyes never leaving yours. Droplets of dark red drips from his lips to his chin from your hold of the glass.

"How's the wine, master Diluc?"

"It's. . . grape juice."

"Exactly." You place the wine glass on the table next to you, feeling the way his arms snake around your waist to pull you closer. Who said you needed liquid courage to help you get a love life anyway?

K A E Y A

"So-" He pulls away but you're relentless: lips following his for another kiss. Kaeya indulges you –only for a second– before trying to escape the onslaught of a make out session that's been ongoing for the past 10 minutes or so.

"What does–"

Kiss.

"This make–"

Kiss.

"Us?"

Kiss. This one lasts a little longer. You try to register his words in your dazed mind. What does this make you two? You've been in love with him for so long now, dropping relentless hints to the point that you've dropped the biggest "hint" of all and pulled him into the Favonius library for a quick snog.

You pull away but your eyes settle on his lips, a blush filtering your face. Could you really handle facing his pretty little lavender eye right now? "I don't know, captain. What do you think this makes us?"

He shakily inhales, fingers reaching up to hold your chin, bringing your lips closer to his, "I'm not sure. We might need. . . a few more minutes of this to figure it out."

Z H O N G L I

"Friends don't do things like this," You breathe out against his ear as his lips pepper kisses to the side of your neck. You really didn't need to remind him. He knows all the formalities there is to a friendship, therefore you should know how he knows that this isn't something you do to a friend.

Yet, can you blame him for his actions of worship when you've been suggesting wanting more of him? How could he deny your "I wouldn't mind kissing someone like mister Zhongli" or "The funeral consultant is my ideal type" kind of comments? He's bound to pull his dear friend in by the waist one of these nights.

"Would you like to stop?" He pauses, lips a fraction away from the underside of your ear. He peeks at you from the corner of his eye and you shake your head no.

"Archons, no. Keep going." It's breathy and shaky, and if you paid a little more attention, you'd feel the smirk on his lips and he presses against your skin.

X I A O

"Hypothetically, if a friend were to kiss you, would you kiss them back?"

He gives you a look mixed between disgust and confusion. What kind of question is that? Sure, he's not familiar with human customs but kissing is done between lovers and not friends, right? His mind filters through the people he somehow considers a "friend". . . There's Ganyu, Traveler, Chongyun, Yelan, Shinobu, Yanfei, Itto–

"No." He answers and you pout.

"Did you consider Itto when I said a friend?"

". . ."

You giggle at his silence, eyes glancing at his as he stares away.

Biting your lip, you ask quietly, "Hypothetically, did you consider me?" You say, "What if I kissed you?"

He hums, obscuring his face from your view but you see his shoulders ease down. "Then. . . kiss back, I suppose."

masterlist 2 || consider supporting me on ko-fi !

note !! not @/ me adding xiao to my short drabbles after finishing his quest last night

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts

[mamani-bento]

citrus reflux (kento nanami)

nanami x reader, 2.8k

established relationship, fluff + emotional constipation + humour

thanks for getting me through last week nanami pls get me through this one as well love u

mamani-bento's masterlist!

he can't know, right? there's no way he can know. if he's continuing to do this after knowing, that's just cruel. and nanami's a lot of things, but cruel is certainly not one of them. there's no way he knows that his stupid apron covered in stupid clip-art lemon graphics does stupid things to you. things that leave you feeling like your stupid, wretched heart is pumping overtime.

to be fair, you hadn't realised for the longest time either. and you're not an oblivious person, you know nanami is an attractive man. even before you two started going out, started feeling anything other than a professional respect for each other, you had been able to appreciate that he's a looker.

so it's not just the sight of his broad back greeting you in the morning when you blearily stumble into the kitchen as he's making breakfast. and it's not just the brisk efficiency of his chopping during sunday brunch preparation, precise juliennes laid out on the cutting board and thick fingers curled firm around the handle of the knife. and it's certainly not just the tensing of his forearms, veins stark as he covers his hands in flour, pliable dough being moulded under his able kneading. no, all these things help, sure, but the real clincher - and you're aware of how odd this is - is that damn apron.

the first time you see him wear it, you get whiplash. it's still early, still some time to go for the sun to rise fully. at first, you can't tell what's woken you. it's a saturday, and your alarm hasn't rudely blared into the cozy cocoon of the bedroom like it does during the week. eyes still closed, you scoot a little towards the centre of the bed, seeking warmth so you can fall back asleep. and then you scoot some more. and some more. grumbling, you blearily open your eyes to see you've moved right up till the other end of the mattress with no warmth encountered in the workout. as if on cue, a muted sizzle disrupts the quiet of the room, and, as if on cue, you rise at the sound. that's where the warmth has gone then.

you don't bother wearing your glasses, not at all awake enough to start processing clear vision, and you think, as you step into the kitchen, that maybe what you're seeing is just a consequence of your bad eyesight. it's blurry but there's definitely a thin strap of cloth circling nanami's neck and a knot at the small of his back. they're bright yellow, stark against the dark navy of his soft, cotton t-shirt. are you imagining it, perhaps? or still dreaming?

you're sort of swaying in place, half-asleep brain struggling to comprehend what your eyes are relaying to it, when the man in question turns around.

blinding white assaults your vision. as if the glaring newness of the material isn't shocking enough, several bright neon lemons cover the body of it. the thing is shockingly ugly.

and there's no logical explanation for this. but nanami stands in this monstrosity, concern on his face at your set expression, spatula held out in one hand and angled so nothing drips on the floor, and the rising sun is streaming in through the kitchen window, bathing its favourite golden-haired child in a yellow glow, and your heart is clenching clenching clenching until it feels like it's going to burst from the pressure.

"are you alright?" he asks, setting the spatula down. his eyebrows furrow as your face does a weird mix between sleepy disgruntlement, revulsion, and whatever is happening to your insides.

"what are you wearing?"

he has the audacity to look confused at first. glances down at himself, as if somehow forgetting that he's clad in this absolutely revolting piece of fabric.

"oh, the apron?"

you scoff, finally moving. a cup of tea sits on the counter next to him and you don't bother asking for permission before you lift it to take a sip. something is happening and this seems significant for some reason and you feel sick.

easily, he gently takes the steaming mug from your grip before you can taste any of it, pointedly looking at the other cup you had missed a bit further back. this one is full, and, apparently, yours.

"do you not like it?" he asks, seeming genuinely bewildered. he leans his back on the granite next to where you've perched yourself. your legs swing, heels rhythmically colliding with the cupboards below.

you take a sip of your drink before thinking of an answer. do you not like it? it's terrible, sure. but do you like him? of course. these two facts in tandem are doing wonky things to all your internal systems.

"it's bright."

"yes, i suppose it is. was the only one they had in stock, unfortunately."

truly, unfortunate.

you both sip your teas in the silence of the morning. the eggs continue to cook. the yellow band positioned just under his hair looks at you mockingly. you've got the warmth you had come looking for - his body is a furnace and you perpetually run cold and he's standing close enough now for the side of your knee to be touching the side of his thigh - but something tells you you've got much bigger problems to deal with.

it's been a week since you saw the offending article of clothing, and a hellish one at that. so hellish, in fact, that you've basically forgotten about the apron. you've tabled all the lemon-spawned convoluted feelings for later (never, if you have it your way), and it's the farthest thing from your mind as you step into the kitchen on friday night.

you've reached home before nanami, and you know he'll be back soon, but you want to get to bed so this week can finally be over so bad that you decide to get started with dinner. you bring out the ingredients, just beginning to chop the capsicum when the front door closes.

seconds later, nanami pads into the kitchen, making his way towards you to carefully wrap two arms around your waist from the back. you still the motions of the knife, leaning back into his frame and breathing him in. the knot of his spotted tie digs into the side of your head.

"how was your day?" you ask, free hand coming up to tangle in his blond strands as he burrows his head into the crook of your shoulder.

"long. yours?"

"same."

his lips brush across the skin on the side of your neck in apology, in acknowledgement, in sympathetic support, even as you raise his left arm to place a kiss against a knuckle.

"would you like some help?" he asks, peering at all the ingredients you've got spread on the counter. his voice rumbles against your neck, low and spoken soft since he's so close to your ear.

you could do with some help. "sure," you reply, briefly missing his warmth as he pulls away.

you expect him to start washing the other vegetables or to get started on the sauce, but with a mumbled 'give me a second', he promptly walks out of the kitchen.

...and walks back in pulling that damn lemon-print apron over his head.

you watch in near disbelief as he evens it out down his front, over his blue shirt. he's removed his tie and the white fabric sits smooth and stretches across his wide torso. then he reaches behind, arms twisting as he does up the knot at the back. and then he takes off his watch and carefully places it inside the apron pocket.

then he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and starts washing the other vegetables.

on the outside, you're cutting capsicum in a very calm and dignified manner. on the inside, palpitations. you sneak glances at him out of the corner of your eye as surreptitiously as you can - take in the long, out-of-place flop of hair falling over his forehead, the deftness of his hands as he lets the water run over all the tomatoes in his grip, thumb gently rubbing over a stubborn patch of mud on the vegetable. but these things you know, have always known, have witnessed uncountable times. so why are they making your heart crawl up and get lodged in your throat making every swallow difficult?

"you're staring," nanami says, not bothering to look at you.

well. not so sly, then.

you're not a shy person. he's caught you staring at him before, ogling him even, in situations far more erotic than this, and you've never felt particularly ashamed by it, but you suddenly feel very flustered at being called out.

"and what about it?" you sniff, a petulance you'll deny possessing creeping into your voice. you doggedly focus on the cutting board.

nanami's amused huff precedes a bowl full of wet vegetables entering your line of vision. as you pause your chopping to grab a tomato, a single finger comes to raise your chin, letting your eyes sweep up the length of nanami's torso, waist to neck to slightly smiling lips to twinkling eyes, taking in every awful lemon on the way.

"please," he mutters, "stare away."

you can't stop the tiny, foolish grin from growing on your face, and you scoff at his words. there's a blush starting at the base of your neck and your face feels like it's on fire. you're scraped raw by his gaze, his words, his apron.

clearing your throat, you lean away from him, his amusement only increasing. he lets you go without complaint, taking his spot in front of the stove next to you and getting the pan out. great. now he'll start with the sauce.

as he adds and stirs, as you chop and garnish, as your hips check and fingers brush, as his bloody apron gets splattered with bubbling red sauce and as he has a small, private smile of satisfaction that the thing is doing its job, you know this isn't sustainable for your heart. something, at some point in what you think is going to be the very near future, will give.

"kento."

"hmm?"

"kento."

"what?"

"i have to talk to you about something."

nanami blearily shifts his grip on your waist, head surfacing from your neck to look you in the eye in sleepy confusion. the clock on his bedside table says '03:23 AM' in blaring red, but it makes no difference to you. you've just had a realisation, a fucking massive realisation.

"i figured out why i hate your apron."

"it's three in the morn–wait, you hate my apron?" he's a little more awake and a little more confused now as well.

you haven't slept at all, obviously. you had gone to bed per usual, looking forward to the weekend ahead, only lingering feverishness about the terrible, horrible garment in your system. and then, as nanami's breathing had started deepening, small puffs of air tickling the back of your neck, your brain wouldn't shut up about the bloody thing.

you turned it over and over in your mind. what is so earth-shattering, heart-melting, nerve-fraying about a damn apron? why is it affecting you so intensely? why do you feel yourself falling off the precipice of a cliff you hadn't even known was there every time you see nanami in it? it's a miracle that he didn't wake up from the sound of the gears turning in your head, a real testament to how tired he was. you suppose you should feel a little bad about rousing him at this ungodly hour, but you know you need the cloak of the darkness and the comfort of blankets to verbalise what you've hit upon.

you shuffle away from him a few inches to see his face clearly. his hand tightens in reflex, large palm setting warm on the curve of your hip and unwilling to let you move back any further. it'll have to do.

"yes, i hate your apron, but that's not important."

you can make out a single raised eyebrow as his vision slowly adjusts to the darkness and he focusses on your face with a well-deserved skepticism. "it isn't?"

impatiently you wave his question away. you'll lose your nerve if you don't get this out quickly, and nanami is a determined man. he won't let it go. "it looks absolutely awful, but that's not why i hate it."

if possible, nanami looks even more confused. he slowly says, "okay. why do you hate it, then? and also, why are you telling me now?" his voice is still low and scratchy from sleep, and it makes yours sound too-loud. but then again, you might as well be yelling for what you're about to say.

you take a deep breath. focus firmly on a point somewhere on his stupid, handsome forehead under his stupid, handsome bedhead. "i hate your apron because it's so you."

"oh."

a pregnant pause.

"are you saying you hate me?"

exasperated at your apparent inability to coherently express what you've just taken hours to hit upon, you let it all out in a mad rush, words nearly tripping over themselves in a haphazard effort to make sense.

"that's not what i'm saying! ugh, no, it's just–you're so practical. it's so you to buy the last and ugliest apron in stock to keep your clothes clean while cooking, and the implications of it, of how you come back after a long day and still do the dishes and you wake up early on sunday mornings and make breakfast, and you're so bloody committed to these things without even realising it and it makes me absolutely sick."

as you ramble, nanami's expression moves from confusion to concern to a gentle understanding that makes you want to throw up, and you're falling falling falling off that precipice you were unaware of again. you want to hide under your pillow, but you've got one more thing to say.

he opens his mouth, and probably firmer than really necessary, you place an index finger over his lips in a bid to stop him from responding before you get this out. obediently, he's silent, only gently nodding at you to continue.

you sigh. "i hate that apron so much, because it reminds me of all the things i love about you. and there are too many things for me to know what to do with them."

the relief at getting the words out is enormous. weirdly, you don't feel like hiding anymore, and you quietly watch as nanami formulates his response.

you don't even realise your finger is still over his lips until he mumbles, faint chap rubbing at your fingertip, "may i say something now?"

startled, you remove your hand and tuck it against your chest, where the other has been safely ensconced so far.

"would you like me to stop using the apron?"

"no! no, that's not why i told you this. actually, maybe get a nicer-looking one? but no, don't stop wearing the apron."

completely disregarding your attempts to keep space in between your bodies, nanami tugs at you until you're nearly nose-to-nose, just a few centimetres shy of going cross-eyed to look at each other. you imagine you look a bit like a trapped deer.

he's gentle as ever, palm solid against your back, all sleepiness replaced by his sheer concrete reliability as he replies, "alright."

you wait for him to finish. and then you wait some more. when it doesn't seem like any more is forthcoming, your eyebrows scrunch together. "that's it? alright? you're not concerned by this at all?"

you feel rather than see him shrug. "i appreciate you telling me. i was a little confused about how weird you had been acting, so it's nice to have that cleared up. but i wouldn't say i'm concerned, no."

"oh. okay, then."

"okay."

"so do we just...do we just go to sleep now?"

again, an eyebrow is raised. "would you like to do something else?"

you huff, not discounting the prospect entirely but recognising that you're both too tired for anything else. "no. i just thought this would be a bigger deal, is all." now that the crux of the thing is done, you shift so you can burrow your head into the crook of his neck as he tightens his thick arms around your frame.

"oh, it's a big deal. but i think it's one of those big deals that you don't really do anything about, you know?"

you do know, and you feel a weight lift at his sentence. you don't have to do anything with all the feelings that come rushing at you when you see him wearing that stupid thing. you just have to feel them. which is another battle for another day, but for now, you're content at where you've weirdly ended up.

nanami continues, even as a hint of drowsiness begins to enter his voice, "i'd be concerned if i didn't feel the same way, i suppose. but you'll be seeing me in that ugly apron for a long, long time, so i think we're good."

you drift off to sleep like that, something shifting inside you at his words, fundamentally and irrevocably.

"what's this?"

"new apron. please throw that monstrosity away, this one is much less bright."