#‘no face piercings while your under 18’
Text
Not That Kind of Guy
Part Fifteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series
Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, Gunplay, mention of past rape, homophobic comments GEN. SMUT [All possible tags, not all apply]
Info: Ghost = kinky, your petty plans are interrupted, frat guys are the worst, if any male says 'tomcattin'' run, very, very fast; as a southern gal trust me on this one, sudden remembrance that Ghost is a criminal [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+
Date & Time
September 3rd, 11:45
“Wine coolers in the hot tub, yes ma’am.” Luke sighed, leaning back against the rounded wall right in front of one of the jets, letting it pelt his back.
“You can’t stay in for long Luke it’ll irritate your sunburn.” Your sister spoke up, snatching the vape from your hands and hitting it.
“I know that, mother.” He grumbled, enjoying it while he could despite the nagging. He looked over to you and rolled his eyes when he saw you texting what he assumed was Anakin.
“Seriously?” Luke whined, reaching out for your phone but you held it up and away from him with a scowl.
“Leave me be.” You huffed, “I’m plotting.”
“Plotting?”
“Yes. Your demise.” You grinned and smiled wider when your sister snorted and covered her mouth, the drunken giggles making it more funny than it was.
“Shut up. You’re sexting Anakin aren’t you?” Luke smirked, putting his arms up to rest on the lip of the hot tub.
“So what if I am?” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You made me take a picture of you after you’d practiced flexing your non-existent abs.”
“Okay and?” Luke snapped, waving you off.
“And? You’re a whore just like me.” You smirked, laughing at Luke’s face. His mouth dropped open and he raised his eyebrows in feigned shock.
“That’s a low blow.” He shook his head.
“Mhm.” You nodded, finishing up your text and sending it off. “Like the one you gave Han under the dinner table?”
“Luke!” Lauren gasped, leaning forward and nearly tipping her drink into the bubbling water. “You did not!”
“Hey! Hey, shut it-“ He smacked at your shoulder with beet red cheeks.
“Well it was a low blow wasn’t it?” You giggled, your face almost sore from laughing at his spluttering voice as he tried to talk his way out of it.
“I told you that in confidence!” Luke muttered, embarrassedly shifting away from you to sulk.
“Shhh,” you reached over to pat his shoulder. “It’s nothing compared to what I’ve done.”
“Do tell.” Your sister prodded, shimmying her shoulders and giving you a cheeky expression.
“Absolutely not.” You broke out into a laugh, surprised at yourself for letting the alcohol loose your lips. “Shouldn’t have even said that.”
“I knew it.” Lauren said, scrunching up her nose and pointing at you. “I knew Ani was a freak. You owe me money Lukey.”
“What?” Your eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “You bet on my sex life?”
A sick feeling settled in the pit of your belly, rumbling and clawing at the sensitive little insecurities that resided there. You looked around you, scanning the tree line but not seeing the man you were looking for. Grabbing your phone you switched it off, your intuition telling you this wasn’t a conversation Ghost needed to hear.
“My husband SWEARS he saw Anakin walking into a sex shop a while back.” Your sister said, a prideful smile on her face. “Luke was with me when he mentioned it and Luke said ‘No way. He’s too calm.’ and I said that those are the ones you gotta watch out for.”
“So, Lukey owes me $5.00.” She clapped her hands once and rubbed her palms together.
“Did… are you sure?” You asked, your voice a bit louder than you meant it to be, so you dialed it back a bit. “Like he was for sure it was Anakin?”
“I mean… I wasn’t there. But he saw someone who dresses like him. Black hair, tall. Long sleeves though so didn’t see his tattoos.” You sister explained. “He only saw the back of him. But he was pretty sure it was him.”
“W-why didn’t you say something to me?” You asked, getting irritated at her nonchalance.
“I didn’t want to embarrass you!” She scoffed, “what’s your problem?”
“I- I don’t know… I’m sorry.” You shook your head and crossed your arms, taking another big swig of your drink. “How long ago was this?”
“I don’t know, a week or two? Something like that.” She shrugged, making eye contact with Luke nervously. “Why?”
“Nothing.” You said again, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Nevermind.”
“I- I’m sorry. Did I make you upset?” Your sister asked, grimacing.
“No.” You shook your head, looking out over the lake at the warm orangey red reflected by the setting sun. “No… I just- I’m thinking too much into this.” You took another big swig of your drink and coughed from the bitterness.
“Oh no…” Luke said quietly, looking over at your sister and back to you as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Hey, no. Don’t… there’s no reason to worry, Anakin isn’t like that. He loves you too much. He’s not that kind of guy.”
“I know that!” You huffed, leaning your head back in a deep groan. “But… you always said he was too good to be true! What- I mean he is a bartender.”
“Quit. You’re working yourself up over nothing sissy.” Lauren said, scooting closer to put an arm around you. “Maybe he just hasn’t found the right time to introduce… whatever it was he got. Or maybe it wasn’t even him! It’s okay.”
“Logically I know you’re right. But… but there’s something, I mean I’ve always felt like I wasn’t the best person for him,” you admitted sadly, thinking about your secret trysts with Ghost. “maybe he’s just finally figuring that out for himself.”
Could you have really been so caught up in your hidden life that you’d missed the signs of Anakin becoming more distant? He still always texted when he got home. He still always answered when you called. He still told you in detail about his shifts at work. You’d seen him turn a girl down twice.
It doesn’t make sense. Of course it doesn’t make sense, because Anakin would never do something like that. He would never act like you.
Pushing your guilt and shame onto him like this only heightened the insecurities, what if he is cheating because he suspects that you are?
“Aright, I think that’s enough.” Luke said, gently taking the beverage from your hand and sitting it aside. “Let’s go get some food in your belly, yeah?”
You nodded, standing up and letting the water drip off you for a moment before stepping out of the hot tub. You grabbed your phone and walked into the cabin without even wrapping your towel around you. Tipsy-stumbling into your room you grabbed shorts and a shirt along with a sweatshirt, going back to the bathroom to rinse off the chlorinated water with a quick shower.
Not bothering to wash your hair, you were in the middle of nowhere after all, you scrubbed up and rinsed off in record time. You hear a bit of noise and a soft thud before the shower curtain was ripped open and your face was grabbed by a leather hand.
Your natural instinct was to scream as your eyes widened in surprise, but hand had gripped you firmly beneath your cheekbones and over your mouth.
“Shhh- shut it. You outta be used to this by now.” Ghost grumbled, removing his hand only to smack you across the face with his other one.
“Where’s your phone?” He demanded, looking through your pile of clothes on the sink counter and finding it. “This isn’t ever supposed to be turned off. Do you understand me?” He said angrily, shutting off the water and pulling you out of the shower.
“Ghost! Be careful! Quiet, they’ll hear you.” You whispered, nervously glancing toward the door and yanking the towel off the rack to wrap around yourself.
“They won’t hear shit.” He said, nodding toward the door. “They’re still outside.”
He fumbled with your phone, switching it back on impatiently. Shaking it in front of your face when the screen lit back up.
“Never again.” He growled and grabbed the back of your neck, pushing you into the bathroom counter. With your phone tossed on the bathroom rug, he deftly unbuckled his belt and pulled out his cock.
“Do you understand me?” He asked, smushing your face against the mirror with one hand, his other on your hip to steady himself as he drove his cock into you from behind. A deep groan escaping his lips when he sheathed himself fully into your warmth.
“I asked you a fucking question.” He grunted, thrusting into you at a ruthless pace. Your ragged breath fogging up the mirror and gathering condensation as you tried to form words.
“Understood.” You whimpered, quiet and meek.
“What’d you say to them?” He demanded, pulling your hair roughly to tilt your head back. The motion so quick that it made you dizzy, you fumbled to pull your towel back up as it started to slip but realized it was no use, you may as well just let it fall to the floor.
“N-nothin’. Didn’t say anything.” You shook your head unable to look at him in the mirror, unable to look at yourself for fear of seeing your anxiety reflected back at you.
“You lying bitch.” His hand left your hip, reaching into the back of his jeans to pull out his gun.
He stopped his quick thrusts and changed his grip on your head, his fingers digging into the tender flesh beneath your jaw, squeezing the sides of your throat. The tip of his cock slowly, deliberately, nudging your cervix. It was uncomfortable, feeling him so deeply in such an odd position. The sharp ledge of the bathroom sink pressed into the soft tissue of your lower stomach paired with his deep, brutal strokes had you wincing in pain on the ascent and moaning with pleasure as he slowly dragged himself back down again.
The blood rushing through you crescendoed into a deafening roar as it swirled behind your eardrums, his fingers squeezing so tightly around your neck that your vision went blurry.
“Tell.” Thrust. “Me.” Thrust. “Now.”
The next thing you heard was the sound of the gun’s barrel spinning, his grip on your neck loosened just enough to let you breathe and restore your vision so you could see him clearly when he pressed the gun to your temple. His pointer finger running alongside the barrel.
“Didn’t say anything.” You squeaked, your hands clawing at the faux granite countertop.
*Shk* *click* *click* nothing.
“Six rounds.” He said sternly. “That’s five left and one of ‘em has a bullet with your name on it.”
“Y-you wouldn’t dare.” You whispered, your eyes wide open in fear as you stared at the black eyes and gaping maw in the mirror.
“Guess we’ll see won’t we?” He asked, continuing with his slow pace, rolling his hips against you. “You trusted me with it yesterday, you don’t look like you trust me now. Why’s that?” He asked mockingly.
“Cause… cause you’re mad.” You whimpered.
“Oh, my Doe.” He shook his head, the cold and stone hard emotional wall he had up let out the tiniest bit of the warm comfort he often radiated. “I’m not mad.”
“I’m…” He sighed, tsk’ing before reinforcing that concrete wall to shield you from his feelings. He nudged your temple with the gun again, cocking it back with his thumb.
“Why’d you turn it off? What’d you say that you didn’t want me to hear?” He demanded, pressing it harder into your skull.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” You whimpered, eyebrows furrowing, trying to shake your head.
“Did you tell them about me?” His thrusts getting faster the angrier you made him.
“No!” You denied it quickly, thinking back to what he’d most likely heard before you switched off your phone.
“Really? Cause it sounded like you were getting ready to tell them all about how you love it when I treat you like a cheap whore.” His words smacking you in the face with the weight of the mechanical timbre behind it.
“N-no no I swear I didn’t.” You said frantically, trying to steady yourself and plant your hands firmly on the sink’s edge. “I promise I didn’t.”
*shk* *click* *click* and… you’re still breathing.
“Four.” He grunted and relaxed his grip on your neck, your face turning a blue shade that he wasn’t a fan of as he realized he was actually choking you. You coughed, your eyes watering as you tasted a metallic tang in your mouth. You’d split open the cut on your lip again.
“I didn’t say anything about you Ghost I promise I didn’t.” you heaved, sucking in deep half-breaths as he continued to plow into you.
“Then what was it?” He started to yell and remember where he was, quieting himself and stopping his movements to listen for any sign that Luke and your sister had heard him.
“It was Anakin.” You wheezed, “I wasn’t talking ‘bout you. I was talking ‘bout Anakin.”
Ghost laughed, a big hearty chuckle, the chin of his mask touching his chest as he lowered his head and the gun momentarily. He cleared his throat and continued on with his line of questioning after he’d collected himself.
“M’kay, what’d you say about him then Doe?” He asked, languidly thrusting into you, the gun pointed at you through the mirror instead of directly at you.
“I was just… projecting I think.” You said, your eyes darting away from his.
“Mmm?”
“Don’t… it’s not a big deal. It’s fine, I’m over it.” You lied as if you’d been able to easily banish the thoughts from your mind.
“It’s not fine. I know you.” He said angrily, tapping the mirror with the tip of his gun. “Look at yourself.”
“Ghost- it’s really…” you scowled suddenly, realizing you weren’t the only one who deserved to be questioned. “How did you get Anakin’s ring?”
“I stole it.” He answered automatically and turned the gun back to you again, moving it slowly and he twisted his wrist to tuck the barrel beneath your chin. “I’m asking questions. Not you.”
*shk* *click* *click *snap*
His leathered middle finger and thumb slipped past each other, his middle finger snapping against the meaty space where his thumb connected to his palm, making you jump and eliciting another chuckle from Ghost.
“Three. You really want to risk more? You’re at half way Doe.” He taunted you as he trailed the cool metal down your neck, stopping to nudge your stiff right nipple before continuing its journey to the heated, swollen bundle of nerves nestled between your puffy folds.
“Shhh, listen.” He said in a low tone, letting you hear the soft *tik* as he hit the safety on the pistol. “Hate to hurt my pussy before I’m through with her.”
The sight along the top ridge of the pistol was just a tiny bump along the smooth metal barrel, but it felt heavenly against your hot to the touch clit as it throbbed and begged for attention. His hips pistoned forward, his thighs smacking yours while he rubbed that dangerously delicious bump in circles over your clit.
A sinful moan left your lips, your eyes rolling back in your head as a wave of goosebumps so intense that it prickled all the way up to your cheeks, passed over you when he lodged himself deep inside and rutted up into you.
“Dirty little girl aren’t you? You like this?” He laughed, tapping the barrel against you to make you flinch before resuming the movement that had your head spinning.
“N-no.” You squeaked, through your clenched teeth that mirrored the firm squeeze your cunt gave his cock as it pulsed around him.
“So you are a liar.” His deep voice rumbling in his chest.
“Uh-uh.” You shook your head, biting your lip and sucking on the wound leaking a droplet a blood into your mouth. “Love it.”
“Fuck.” He groaned, feeling like his legs would give out after hearing your admission. “Christ, babydoll.” He moaned, a fresh gush of your wetness coating his length as he struggled to keep hold of his sanity.
Ghost wanted nothing more than to consume you. It was a feeling he hadn’t ever felt before. A burning desire for something more intimate than sex. More intimate than a tender kiss. He was inside you yes, but in that moment even that wasn’t enough. He wanted to devour you, he wanted to flay his ribcage open and shove you inside, even then he wasn’t sure that would be enough.
He thought he loved you before. He thought that deeply rooted need for you was the most powerful love capable of being felt. But he reminded himself in that moment that you were a goddess after all and you’d finally opened up the gate to your own slice of heaven and invited him to push it farther and farther until he could walk in and plant himself there for eternity.
That’s what faith is right? An all consuming desire for more, more, more. To be the best, to be worthy, to be loved. And just trusting blindly that it will eventually be returned? Is this what he was meant to feel when his mother dragged him to church as a kid? Is this feeling what they meant by ‘bask in the glory of god’s love’?
Because this must be what it feels like to love and be loved by a goddess. He was certain of it.
It was an all encompassing feeling that was so intense that he stopped moving completely and squeezed his arms around you as tight as humanly possible, maybe even akin to the strength of something a little less than human and a bit closer to beast. His breath was hot, heavy and ragged. His embrace so tight that it pushed the air from your lungs in a squeaky wheeze, he didn’t stop there. He kept going until his arms were shaking from the strain on his muscles and the pressure of it popped your back in a surprisingly good way.
Only then did he slowly unfurl his arms. He’d unknowingly used you to give himself a temporary compression vest; the kind that calms the nervous system with deep pressure therapy. He felt so much, so quickly that it had completely overrode his ability to function correctly.
For the first time in his life, Anakin Skywalker had fawned.
“Can you be really, really fucking quiet?” He panted, moving you even before you could whimper out a pitiful yes. He guided you onto the floor, too hazy with lust to care about anything but getting as close to you as he possibly could.
“Hold ‘em.” He said, tapping the side of your leg with his slick coated pistol. “Just like that.” Ghost groaned staring down at you as you wordlessly begged for him to dick you down like you so desperately needed him to.
With the crooks of your knees in your hands you pulled your legs to your chest and out to the sides, prying yourself open for him.
“Holy shit.” He breathed out, looking at the creamy mess between your legs. “I thought you were wet when I fucking raped you. You should see yourself right now.”
“Let’s see…” he said, taking his cock in his left hand to stroke slowly while he used the tip of the gun to slide over your puffy folds and nudge your clit again.
The cold metal circled your entrance and it took every ounce of self control you had not to scream out when he pressed the barrel past your pussy lips, plunging it as deep as the trigger.
*shk* *click* *click* “Goddamnit are you-“
He looked down at you in a state of awe as he watched you cum. Your stomach tensed so tightly he could see the individual muscles pulling beneath your soft flesh. He didn’t even care that you were letting out a devastating moan, long, breathy and drawn out. Unmistakable for anything other than pure, absolute, bliss.
“Good fuckin’ girl.” He growled, gently removing the barrel before plunging his thick length into its rightful place. He carelessly wiped the pistol on the side of your face just to humiliate you, but you were too out of it to care.
“Gods you’re beautiful.” Ghost spoke in a strained voice, even through the voice modifier it was noticeable. “So beautiful.”
“Takin’ me so well in this little fucked out pussy. Lettin’ me do what I want.” He whined, slipping his hands beneath you to grip your shoulders. His upper body keeping your legs pinned back so far that your knees touched the ground on either side of you. You felt him so deep, so extremely deep inside of you that if you weren’t already on cloud nine he would’ve sent you to an early grave.
“Gods, you sound so pretty... please shut up.” He panted, straining to cover your mouth from the awkward position his arms were in beneath you. “Shh, shut the fuck up. Please.”
“So wet. Squeezin’ me so tight. I’m gonna cum Doe,” Ghost’s hips thrust erratically, sloppily driving into you, pounding you down into the floor. “Want me to cum inside, huh? Be my little cumslut?” He grunted, the forehead of his mask tucked into the crook of your neck.
“Nasty bitch. Gettin’ fucked on the bathroom floor, loaded gun in your pussy and you just cum like the goddamn whore you were meant to be.” His hips driving into you in a way that made you feel him in your guts, but even that wasn’t good enough for Ghost he needed to be closer despite already cradling your folded body beneath him.
“Giving you a proper dickin’ aren’t I?” He chuckled, “too stupid to talk.”
“Mhm.” You breathed out from under his palm, just taking what he was giving without complaint because… what was there to complain about? He was giving you everything you needed and more.
The front door open and shut, the drunken slurring of Luke and your sister floating muffled and distorted beneath the bathroom door. Your nostrils flaring in panic, but Ghost kept going, shaking his head no.
“Almost.” He whined quietly, rutting into you at an unreasonable rate, only slowing when he pumped his load inside you, thick, creamy white mixing with your slick to make the most disgustingly gorgeous sounds possible.
“I… I will be back.” He panted, quickly pulling out and not bothering to even clean himself up as he fixed his clothes.
“Kisses.” He tapped the cheek of his mask with his pistol, waiting for you to give him a peck there before he tucked it away and stood you up on unsteady feet.
“I love you,” he squeezed your upper arms in his big hands, sliding his palms down the back of your arms to fold your fingers over his, holding them in place with his thumbs and bringing them to his ‘mouth’ to kiss. A gesture that sparked a nostalgic feeling in your stomach.
“Better clean up, we have shit to do.” He grunted, dropping your hands he hoisted himself up and swung one long, lanky leg out the window so he could land clumsily on his feet and jog behind the cabin and out of sight where he’d stashed his backpack, which happened to be a bit heavier than usual that night.
Diary Entry: September 4th
I’ve never been more happy. My life just keeps getting better and better and it’s all thanks to you. I can’t even be mad that I didn’t get an answer from you. Jesus Christ.
Never in all my gross little fantasies did I imagine I would be fucking my girlfriend with a pistol. Good fucking lord I’m so goddamn lucky. It’s truly a miracle, this is something of bucket list pipe-dream. Now if only I could get rid of the thoughts that came after. Those aren’t ones I would be willing to share for fear you’d ship me off to a freak farm for an extended stay. Honestly I’m a bit concerned now, after that.
I’m supposed to take you over to commit some level crime (not real crime). How can I survive seeing that after what I’ve just done with you? I’m not supposed to ravage you in the woods, but I might end up doing that. Though at this point I’m almost positive you’d be willing to let me. Maybe I will.
Gods I don’t know anything other than I love you… and I need to be headed back toward your cabin within the next hour.
Maybe I don’t need to be afraid of telling you who I am anymore. That would feel so… relieving. Despite my best efforts it really does eat away at me on the rare occasion. I’m stressed out, I’ve kept this up for way longer than I originally planned. I love it, the separation makes it easier on me mentally. The fear of rejection is almost obsolete. Ghost is capable of things with you that would be relatively impossible for Anakin. I’ve been the best man I could be, everything you deserve and more. But now it will all seem like a sham to you won’t it? After being Mr. Perfect I’ve ruined my opportunity to be a regular guy who’s made a few questionable choices.
I am that guy. I’m a good person. A good man.
But I am also Ghost. I am both. I don’t think it’s sustainable to be separate beings for much longer.
Date & time
September 4th, 12:27 Am
A tap-tap-tap on the glass of your window caught your attention, turning your head you saw the familiar plastic mask you’ve become so oddly attached to. Zipping up your black jacket you opened up the window and stepped up onto the nightstand beside the bed, much less gracefully than Ghost had done before. His leathered hands gripped your forearm and helped you pull yourself out of the window. Ghost thrust your very own small backpack in your hands.
“Hey! When did you grab this?” You asked with a tinge of annoyance. “Where’s all the stuff that was in it?”
“Chill out would you?” Ghost huffed, closing your window but leaving a small rock inn the tracks at the bottom to allow the both of you reentry later. “It’s in the top drawer of the dresser in there.”
“Ew.” You grumbled while following closely behind him. “Apparently you don’t know me as well as you seem to. You’d know I hate putting my things in places like that. Who knows what else has been in there!”
“Oh my god. You’re impossible.” He scoffed, reaching behind him to grab the back of your neck to pull you forwards to walk beside him. “I put it all in a gallon ziploc baggie. I do know you that well. Don’t ever doubt that again. Understand?” His tone was clearly annoyed, his body language changing slightly to a more guarded stance.
“Sorry.” You mumbled, receiving a grunt of acceptance.
You walked in silence, after a few hundred yards he finally relaxed again, slipping his arm over your shoulders instead of the iron grip he had previously on your neck. He rubbed your upper arm, as if apologizing through the comforting motion.
“Here’s the plan: We stake it out for a bit, see if anyone there smokes so-“
“Why would it matter if one of them smokes?” You interrupted him.
“I’m sorry, would you like to be in charge?” His ‘question’ dripping with condescension, tilting his head toward you with a small disapproving head shake. “As I was saying, We’ll need to see if anyone smokes. That way we will know how much time we have before someone comes outside.”
His head turning toward you again when you let out a soft ‘Oh.’ Of realization. He made a noise in his throat like he had expected you to say something snarky instead.
“After that we’ll start with the TP around the house, silly string the trees… then we’ll move on to chalking their cars. We’ll do it in that order.” He said firmly.
“Why? I figured we’d do the cars first, won’t they be closer?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing.
“Yes. That’s exactly why we’ll be doing them last.” He said with a nod. “Why would we start at the end of our route? We’ll be leaving the way we come in. Easier escape if they come out, you know?”
“Oh… yeah okay.” You nodded, giving him a suspicious look.
Although you knew he was a delinquent, it still surprised you when there were these moments of clarity. These were the moments when you realized he actually was a real criminal and not just someone playing a part. It was easy to forget all the things he’d done to you, all the horrendously illegal acts he’d committed just to gain entry into your life. He made himself so likable that it was startling even when it shouldn’t be.
“Mhm. That’s why I’m in charge of this operation and you’re not.” He chuckled, squeezing your shoulder affectionately.
“How do you know this stuff?” You asked in an accusatory tone.
“I have a colorful resume.” He shrugged his shoulders and dismissed it but you weren’t satisfied with such a vague answer.
“Ghost?” You asked in a softer, less hostile tone. “Have you ever stalked anyone before me?”
“What?” He asked, stooping you abruptly by throwing out his arm across your chest. He turned to face you directly, keeping a pointed finger centered on your sternum. “You know better than that.”
“Why would you ask me something like that Doe?” He asked, a hint of pain in his strained voice. “No, no I’ve never… I wouldn’t. I’ve never felt this strongly for someone in my entire life. I risked everything for you and I continue to do so every time I come in contact with you. Do you think I’d do that for anyone else?”
“Wait- hold on I didn’t mean anything by it Ghost I’m sorry.” You grabbed his wrist in a gentle grip to attempt to ground him. You didn’t think he’d be so offended by the question considering how he answered your previous inquiry. ‘Colorful resume’ seems like the kind of thing one might label stalking under.
“What did you mean then?” He asked, stepping closer to you.
“I just… I guess I’m curious. I mean can you really blame me?” You asked carefully trying to navigate the conversation. “You know so much about illegal things.”
“Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean that I’ve done it before.” He grumbled. “I researched, I studied. Just like you would do to get information on anything else.”
“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, I know what I’ve done is wrong. I’ve admitted that before.” He said it like he’d expected you to forget his transgressions the moment he apologized for them.
“I have no reason to lie about this. I’ve lied about… that’s beside the point okay? I’ve lied about stuff before but it was only to protect you as well as my identity and its not like I enjoyed it!” He raised his voice slightly, pulling you along with him as he restarted your trek along the lakeshore.
“You’re right, you’re right I’m sorry Ghost.” You said ashamedly, feeling bad for questioning him. You realized now that it would’ve sounded like an insult or a straightforward accusation to him.
“I shouldn’t have asked you that. I don’t really think-“ You paused, hearing him take a deep breath. “I guess I should say that I didn’t actually think you’ve stalked someone before.”
“I don’t like that word you know.” He said, the voice changer crackling from the quietness of his words. “Stalking makes it sound bad. What I did or do, it’s not stalking. Stalking conveys harm. I’m the last person on earth who would hurt you. I watch you.”
“I suppose you’re right about that.” You nodded, understanding his approach. Stalking definitely was what he was doing, but it also definitely held a really negative connotation which didn’t fit the situation entirely, maybe in the beginning but certainly not now.
“I know I’m right.” He grumbled, shaking his head at you in disappointment. You couldn’t help but chide yourself for ruining the more upbeat mood you’d started off the night with.
“I- okay you know what?” He sighed taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together. “I’ve never ‘stalked’ anyone but you. But there’s other stuff. I’m so good at ‘this stuff’,” He air quoted. “Because I’ve got a juvenile record for a few small time crimes. Theft, Break and Enter, Assault.”
“Ah-“ He stopped you by clapping his unoccupied hand over your mouth when he heard you breath in sharply. “Not sexual assault. I beat someone up because they saw me doin’ something I didn’t want them to see.”
“Oh, well… okay that makes me feel better.” You nodded, believing him because- well why not? He was willingly sharing this information with you. He felt the need to explain himself and he was finally sharing some real personal information, possibly identifying information. Although there was one thing that made you doubt the truth in his confession. “So, why the rape kink then? And that’s not me accusing you of lying, I’m just genuinely curious.”
He chuckled, surprised yet strangely proud that you were brave enough to question that. “Good girl. See? I’ve made you a brave little Doe haven’t I? I figured you’d straight up not believe me.”
“I have no reason to think you lied about it. I mean, I know what you’ve done to me.” You trailed off, suddenly rethinking your choices to trust his word. He had sexually assaulted you in many ways on many occasions even if you didn’t admit it to yourself. Even though you didn’t want to see it that way, that’s the truth. “You told me about it, showed me pictures, so I guess i don’t have a reason to doubt you.”
“That’s one way to look at it I suppose.” He shrugged, swinging his arm back and forth as he held your hand. “Well anyway, I watched a bunch of horror movies when I was a kid. I had unchecked access to the internet and my mom didn’t check my rentals from the Blockbuster.”
“Rented some horror movie with a cheerleader in it when I was like eight, had some really brutal scene in it but, it was the first time I saw a girl naked so I think I traumatized myself. So, its really not my fault.” He didn’t sound the least bit ashamed at the admission but you can’t really blame him can you? You enjoyed what he’d done, you thought it was hot when you realized why you’d been so ridiculously horny for so long.
“I mean…” You laughed a little bit, unable to come up with a good response to this new bit of information you’d managed to dig out of him.
“Mhm.” He chuckled, “Any questions? I know you have some.” You could just imagine the grin on his face from the tone of his voice. It was clear he was elated that you took his word for gospel.
“Why’d you steal stuff? Break into peoples houses?” You had a third question, but refrained from asking for fear of being a bit insensitive and possibly a tad ignorant. Not everyone steals because of necessity.
“I don’t know.” He said with a small laugh. “No reason really, I guess just because I could.”
“That’s s-“
“Stupid? Yeah it was.” He laughed, the sound mechanical but with a rich timbre that was warm, hearty.
“So the guy you assaulted. What’s that all about?” You asked, looking out over the lake to appreciate the beautiful night waters while you listened to him talk.
“Right.” He sighed, his hand snaking beneath his mask to scratch his neck anxiously. “Well here’s the thing: I made some mistakes. I know that. I knew it then too.”
He looked down, shoving his unoccupied and jittery hand in his pocket before kicking a pebble into the lake, disrupting the serenity of the black liquid. He took a deep breath and tilted his head up to the sky, letting it out through his nose in an effort to reach into his mind and come up with something that didn’t sound as bad as it actually was.
“Alright, I was a weird kid. Believe it or not.” He chuckled nervously, trying to use a bit of self deprecating humor to lighten up the subject. “I won’t go into too much detail, because I personally don’t like to think about it and I’m sure you won’t want to think about it.”
“The long and short of it is this: I was 14 and I hurt some… thing. I was mean.” He admitted, skillfully being as vague as he possibly could. “The guy, some kid I went to middle school with, it was his dad that saw me. So I realized I couldn’t talk myself out of it, you know since he was an adult.”
“Well we lived in a subdivision and there was a big dumpster toward the back entrance, that’s where I was.” He audibly swallowed, you could tell by the way his grip on your hand changed that his palms were sweating beneath his gloves.
“Someone had thrown out some furniture, sawed a janky old table up to make it fit in the dumpster. So I grabbed one of the wood pieces and swung it at him.”
“If I didn’t have a real good lawyer and a therapist behind me they would’ve charged me with attempted murder.” He said in a softer voice, apologetic as he spoke.
“I was just scared. He was yellin’ and he was a big dude and I wasn’t the most buff kid on the block.” He said with a slight laugh, giving you a half glance as if he were afraid to see your expression.
“I… I’m sorry that happened.” Your words surprised him so much that he needed you to repeat them. So you did.
“Why?” He asked in confusion.
“Sounds like you just needed some help.” You replied with a sad smile.
In reality, Ghost was one hundred percent in the wrong, you knew that. Despite his age at the time, what he told you and didn’t tell you were both obvious crimes. He may have been 13 but he admitted he knew it was wrong even then.
He wasn’t apologetic because he felt bad about it. He was apologetic because he hated that you had to hear it.
The information wasn’t a groundbreaking story, nor was it an earth shattering revelation that you would’ve never expected to hear from him. Were you surprised he’d shared the information with you? Absolutely, but, surprised about the content? Not at all.
You had more questions.
What was the ‘something’? Why was he there? Why did he do it? What exactly did he do? It must’ve been something serious for him to reflexively clock a grown man with a wooden plank. None of those were questions you really wanted to ask though. You were curious, just not curious enough to willingly soil your gold plated version of him if you didn’t have to.
“Did you get charged for the other thing?” You asked, thinking that might be enough to quench the curiosity.
“No I didn’t.” He shook his head. “My lawyer handled it. I didn’t go to Juvy either like I should’ve.” He clicked his tongue, kicking at another rock. “Some how the lady got the judge to agree to me ‘serving’ out my time in a state school for little shitheads. I spent 8th through 10th grade with kids who were just as bad or worse than I was. Summers doing ‘volunteer’ work, which is just legal jargon for unpaid child labor.”
“I guess the state thought if I was too tired from digging ditches and doing grunt work, then I’d be less inclined to reoffend.” He shrugged, crouching down in front of you when he saw you were getting a bit tired of walking.
You climbed up, holding onto his shoulders and letting him hoist you up on his back. Those strong hands of his gripping the backs of your thighs.
“Did it work?” You asked, resting your chin atop his head.
“Well I certainly haven’t hit anyone with any furn- er well a piece of a table since then.” He laughed nervously, thankful you couldn’t see the horribly worried look he had on his face.
“So when did you do all the breaking and entering? Before or after?” You asked.
“Both.” He said simply.
You could tell the conversation was wearing on him in a way that seemed unpleasant. You didn’t want him to have a dampened mood just because you’d pried to hard. This was immense progress, he’d never shared this much about himself before and you didn’t want to ruin the chance of it happening again.
You allowed the flow of exchange to trickle into a complete stop. Letting him piggyback you in silence while you finally took an opportunity to scan your surroundings. When you did, you realized just how far you’d walked, you could see your cabin from across the lake, caddy-cornered to your current position but it wouldn’t be much longer until you were staring staring at it from in front of your target.
------------------------------------------------------------
“Alright, hop down baby Doe.” He patted your hip, motioning you to crouch down behind the bushes with him to survey the area and figure out a time frame in which you could safely trash the place.
“How long will we wait?” You asked, grabbing his wrist for balance.
“Thirty minutes should do it.” He said quietly, watching the front door and the movement in the soft yellow lighting filtering through the curtains in the cabin. “Most people, especially if they’re drunk, chain smoke or at the very least every fifteen to thirty minutes.”
“You smoke don’t you?” You asked him and he tilted his head toward you with a light laugh.
“Yeah I do. How’d you know?” He asked, you could hear the smile in his voice.
“You taste like it sometimes.” You admitted with a sheepish grin.
“Aright Doe.” Ghost nodded, “what brand?”
“Huh?” You looked at him with confusion, how in the hell were you supposed to know that?
“C’mon. I know you’ve smoked before. They all taste different.” He teased, turning his attention back to the front door. “Menthol or regular?”
“Regular.”
“Good, that one was easy.” He laughed, nodding for you to go ahead with your next guess.
“Marlboro Red.” You said with a grin.
“Damn. Look at you, fuckin’ creep.” He laughed and reached over to squeeze your knee.
“I only know that cause of A- er well, never mind.” You cut yourself off, scowling at the fact you’d almost mentioned Anakin in front of him. Anakin had already unknowingly salted your mood earlier in the night and there was no reason to rehash that unsavory moment now.
“Oh, right.” Ghost nodded, shifting slightly to kneel. He pulled his phone from his pocket, turning the screen away from you before slipping it back in his pocket. “Let’s go babydoll.” He whispered, pulling you up by your arm.
“Need to piss before we toss this toilet paper all over the place?” He handed you a roll from his backpack with a childish giggle.
“No thank you.” Shaking your head he motioned for you to crouch down again, staying low and out of sight from the window. The closer you got to the cabin, the louder the music inside grew.
“Wanna look inside?” He asked as he tapped your shoulder, “See what a boy sleepover looks like?”
“Bet they’re all half naked, pillow fightin’ and giggling like school girls.” He snickered at the way you had to stop yourself from laughing out loud.
Raising up from your hiding spot you peeked in the window through a tiny sliver of space in between the curtains. Inside were the group of frat boys that had pestered you earlier in the day. Although they were not having a lusty pillow fight, they were doing something just as bad, maybe worse.
“Ah! Oh my god.” You squeaked and covered your eyes, turning away quickly.
“What? Did they see you?” Ghost gripped your upper arm and moved you out of the way to have a look for himself, his hand poised and at the ready to pull out his knife. Instead, he snorted and fell to his hands and knees. “Shit, sorry I should’ve looked first.”
“I’ve heard of strip poker, but I’ve never heard of strip pong.” You shivered, knowing you’d never be able to erase that tainted image from your brain. Four mostly nude guys playing beer pong was not on your list of deviant activities for the night.
“C’mon. This just proves they deserve it, huh?” He stood up and dusted himself off, poking his head around the corner to makes sure the coast was clear. “Oh, almost forgot.” He said, pulling your pink silk handkerchief from his back pocket.
“Let me put this on you, just in case.” Lifting it up and tying it around the lower half of your face.
“Do I look the part?” You teased, one hand on your hip and the other holding up the roll of TP like a football.
“Oh yeah.” He laughed, “Giving Thelma and Louise a run for their money.”
“Shut up.” You giggled and followed him to the back of the cabin where he gave you a designated spot to stand while he ran back to the front.
Soon enough you saw a roll sailing through the air toward you, followed by two more. After hitting the ground and unfurling a bit more you picked one up and tossed it back over the cabin, repeating the process until all six of the rolls he’d brought with him were strewn across the roof of the small cabin.
You heard a sharp ‘woo-hoo’ whistled out into the night, following the sound to the side yard where Ghost tossed a can of silly string the size of a hairspray can to you. You watched for a minute, just smiling at the way he was so happily running in circles around a tree, spraying in one continuous string until the trunk was sufficiently silly-strung.
It was like watching a kid go to a playground for the first time. He was treating this like a play date at the monkey bars, hopping around with a spray can in each hand to aim as high as he could.
“What are you waiting for?” He asked, sounding a bit winded from his sudden burst of the human zoomies.
“Just… watching.” You grinned, grateful he couldn’t see just how big that smile you were hiding was.
He sprinted toward you, holding out both cans, spraying you with them as he chased you through the yard to the other side, where he hadn’t gotten any of the trees yet.
“Ghost!” You squealed when he caught up to you and pulled you to the ground with him. “Quit it! You’re gonna get us caught!”
“No. You’re the one screaming.” He laughed, hovering over you with his hands planted firmly on the ground at either side of your head.
“Not my fault.” You grumbled as he helped you back up, dusting your clothes off for you which was really just an excuse to grope your ass.
“Well it’s not my fault either.” He said, snaking his arms around your waist. “It’s just so cute when you run from me.”
He gave you a soft smack on the ass before sending you off to work on the remaining trees in the yard, leaning against the side of the cabin. It was his turn to watch. He liked seeing this side of you, a little adventurous, dipping your pinky toe into danger but still the same sweet girl he fell in love with.
“Next up.” He tossed the empty silly string cans into a pile in the front yard near the porch steps, replacing the one in your hand with a can of washable spray chalk.
“I call the truck.” He said, pointing toward a huge white Dodge Ram. He waved you off to take care of the two smaller vehicles.
Ghost took his time with red chalk paint to graffiti a tiny dick with a massive set of balls on the hood of the truck, it might be 12 year old boy humor but it still made you laugh. That’s all it should’ve done. Give you a giggle.
A graffiti dick shouldn’t really provoke intense thought should it?
It reminded you of how Anakin always said guys with obnoxious trucks were ‘compensating’ for a small dick. A weird coincidence, or maybe you were just still subconsciously thinking of Anakin and how he’d made you upset, so your brain was just selecting things that you associated with him and making them stick out to you.
You didn’t have too much time to think on it however because while you were busy painting the little grey Mazda with random doodles, Ghost had gotten the two of you in a bit of a pickle. He’d taken the time to consider smoke breaks, but frat boys are unpredictable off-paper. Mixing alcohol and stupidity often leads to unexpected activities and generally unwise ideas. In this case it seemed your group of targets had decided it was a really great idea to take a post midnight dip in the lake.
“Hey, what the hell is this?” One of them drunkenly laughed out loud after stepping out into the grass barefooted.
You heard Ghost’s boots crunch on the gravel before you felt his big arms scooping you and your bag up, packing you to the woods edge. He sat you down as gently as he could during his panicked scramble.
“Which one of you fuck-heads spray painted my truck?” A different guy who sounded familiar, possibly the one who’d spoken directly to you, yelled at his group of friends. He clumsily jogged over to his vehicle and climbed up on the driver side wheel to assess the damage. He laughed, thinking it was funny until he realized his friends were all denying responsibility.
“Wasn’t me man. We’ve all been inside with you for the last two hours dude.”
“Brandon! It was you wasn’t it?” The white truck guy hopped down from the tire and stumbled over toward his friend group.
“What? No!” Brandon yelled, shoving his friend away from him with a sloppy swing of his left arm.
“Chill out, it wasn’t anyone here.” The only one of the group who I sounded a bit more sober than the rest. “I know for a fact it wasn’t Brandon. He was chucking his guts in the bathroom for an hour and then he was playing pong.”
“Well who the hell was it then?”
Meanwhile Ghost was holding you still behind the bushes, trying to figure a way out of the situation he’d put the two of you in. He had just wanted some quality bonding time with you, outside your apartment and all had went swimmingly up till these drunken fools ruined it for him. He couldn’t just stand up and walk off, they were too close, especially white truck guy. There was not way he was willing to put you in harm’s way like that.
“Alright doe, just stay quiet.” He said, his voice low and dropping in and out of the filter.
“Ghost, lets just go." You whispered, tugging on his arm.
He grumbled, grabbing both you wrists and pinning you down. “Shut your goddamn mouth stupid bitch."
“Did you hear that?” One of the guys slurred, the voice coming closer along with a few separate pairs of footsteps.
Ghost held his hand over your mouth to keep you from nervously rambling. These frat boys posed no real threat for Ghost in a one on one, but there was a group of them and they were wasted, which meant they were a threat to you.
“Listen, I’m sure whoever it was is long gone now.” The least drunk one shouted out to the rest of the group that had begun to walk your way. “We’ll clean up in the morning.”
“I’m not cleaning shit!” White truck guy yelled back to him. “I didn’t do this, I’m not cleaning it up.”
“Adam calm down, it was probably just some kids.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! They spray painted my fucking truck, Wyatt!” Adam shouted, stomping around the vehicles, crouching down to look beneath them for any clues.
“Maybe those girls will help, you know the ones from across the lake?” Adam suggested, thinking maybe the suggestion would calm his friend down, not realizing there was an angry Ghost bristling with irritation at the mere mention of you and your sister.
“Fuck ‘em.” Adam grumbled picking up a long stick to poke around in the brush surrounding the edge of the yard. “Those bitches are probably in on it.”
“C’mon man don’t be like that. They didn’t do this, you're just mad they didn’t wanna fuck.” Brandon laughed.
Ghost gripped you a bit tighter as he listened to them. He could call you a bitch, he meant it affectionately but these guys didn’t have that privilege. They don’t know you, they don’t have any right to call you anything, let alone feel entitled to the opportunity to lay their hands on you. Or your sister for that matter.
“So what?” Adam said angrily, “They were just actin’ coy cause that queer kid was there.”
“Just didn’t want the little fag to feel bad that they were dick magnets and he wasn’t.” Another one of the boys joined in, each word from their mouths making Ghost’s blood boil a bit hotter and make your stomach churn a little more.
“Bet I could go down there and get sweet cheeks in bed with me, make her clean this shit up in the morning before I drive her back over there.” Adam cackle laughed, throwing the driver side truck door open the keys already in the ignition judging by the way the interior lights turned on along with the beep of the indicator light.
“Sweet cheeks?” Ghost muttered, “They’re talkin’ bout you. See? This is why I don’t like you going places without me!”
“What if I wasn’t here, huh? What if these assholes rolled up and it was just you and your sister?” He whispered angrily.
“Luke would-”
“Luke would do his best, he would. But he doesn’t carry a weapon now does he?” He snapped back at you.
“No.” You answered quietly, muffled behind his hand. You definitely understood where he was coming from, but also not really. You went places without him all the time, of course he was always aware of your location and now he was aware of your audible conversations too. But, he wasn’t always there physically.
“That’s right. Now get ready to run.” He said quickly, shifting his weight to lift himself to his knees.
“What?” You said in a panicked voice, eyes wide with a sudden streak of fear.
“Just do what I say and it’ll be fine Doe.”
------------------------------------------------------------
“Remember that uh, that one chick from East Greene?” Brandon said, nudging his friend in the side.
“Oh! Yeah, yeah the redhead we did poppers with?” Adam laughed, jumping back down from his truck, shutting the truck door for the time being, the annoying dinging coming from inside the cab finally coming to a halt.
“Mhm, that’s not what I remember her for.” Brandon clapped him on the back, “What’d we call it? ‘Redhead n’ Spread’.”
“Hey, let’s not talk about that.” Wyatt cut in, trying to stop the conversation before it went too far. “Someone wasn’t there remember?” He nodded over to his right at a skinny, short guy in pastel golf shorts.
“Aw Zach ain’t gonna say nothin’.” Adam shushed him, “Not if we bring him with us tonight.”
“Tonight? What’s going on tonight?” Wyatt asked him with a bit of confusion.
“Going tomcattin’.” Adam grinned, laying on his faint southern accent just a little bit thicker.
“Shit, alright.” Wyatt laughed, bouncing on the heels of his feet excitedly. “Let's get Zachary fully initiated.”
“No way, really?” Zach spoke up, hearing the tail end of the conversation. “I thought I still had another week left?”
“Not if you tomcat with us.” Adam said, cracking open a new beer. The group seemed to have completely forgotten the mess you and Ghost had made, obviously more interested in the plans they were making.
“Alright, well I’m not a good ol’ boy like you.” Zach snickered. “What the fuck is tomcattin’?”
“Well, youngin’.” Adam threw his arm around his friends shoulder and leaned in, poking him in the chest with his pinky finger before upturning the beer in the same hand to pour into Zach’s mouth while he explained. “ Tomcattin’ is when some eligible bachelors such as ourselves, go prowl for a bitch, or well, I suppose we outta call ‘em a kitty shouldn’t we?”
His buddies howled out in drunken laughter at his horribly offensive, demeaning joke. Now, they were talking about something Ghost couldn’t excuse or dismiss. It’s one thing to have a wandering eye. If he were to jab out the eyes of every man who looked your way, half the city would be eligible for a service dog. But this, this was different. This was a threat, not just the drunken ramblings of some idiot, this was clearly something this group, or at the very least, Adam, did more than once.
“What’d ya say? Ready to corner a kitty?” Wyatt smacked Zach on the arm.
“Corner a girl?” Zach asked with a confused look. “You mean like, go out to the bar and see if I can find someone to take home?”
“Why the hell would we do that when there’s perfectly good pussy right over there?” Adam snorted, pointing across the lake toward your cabin.
“There’s two, plenty to go around.” Brandon chimed in, a sick smile on his lips.
“Didn’t that one say she was married? I don't think they seemed very interested.” Zach said with an awkward laugh.
“Shit, they don’t have to be interested. As long as you’re interested that’s all that matters.” Adam laughed.
“C’mon don’t be a bitch Zach.” Wyatt elbowed him, trying to egg him on. “We’ve all done it. I did it for initiation, Brandon did it last year and we all hopped in on it. Might as well do the same this time right?”
“Yeah, don’t you wanna get some puss?” Adam laughed, rubbing his hands together.
------------------------------------------------------------
“I’ve heard enough.” Ghost gritted his teeth, his fingers flexing in preparation. “Change of plans.”
“You’re going to get in that truck and book it back to your cabin. Pack up and leave.” He grabbed your arm roughly, forcing you to look at him.
“What?” You whispered in surprise “I’m not doing that!”
“Oh, yes you will.” He said squishing your cheeks in his other hand. “Kisses.”
You rolled your eyes and leaned in to kiss the cheek of his mask, pulling your arm out of his grasp. He hesitated, keeping those big, dark eyes trained on yours.
“I want you to go.” He said in a gentler tone. “Please?”
“No.” You shook your head and crossed your arms in defiance. “I will not be stealing a truck and I will not be leaving.”
He growled, putting his head down and then looking back over to the group of men. With both of your hands in his he put the forehead of his mask against yours. He dropped your hands, pulling you against his chest tightly, cradling your head in the crook of his neck.
“Swear to me you won’t look.” He pleaded, sounding desperate.
“What are you gonna do?” You asked nervously.
“Swear to me.” He demanded, squeezing you tighter to put stress on his warning. “I’m just gonna scare them, but you have to promise me doe.”
“I promise.”
“Head down, don’t move.” He said, petting your hair and scratching your scalp with his gloved fingers. “This is for you. Just in case, gun’s in the bag.” He opened up his backpack to show you the gun and bullets and then shoved the rose handled butterfly knife into your hand, enclosing your fingers around it.
“Wait, don’t you need this?” You asked with a grimace, not wanting to think about the possibility that either of you would need to use it.
“I have two more.” He said as if it were completely normal to carry around three knives at any given time. You watched as he fished around for a ziploc bag full of zip ties, taking out a handful and shoving them in his pocket.
“Don't you dare do anything stupid, you hear me?” He grabbed your face with both his hands and pressed his forehead to yours once more.
“Yes sir.” You gave him a nervous smile.
“Now is not the time to be a smartass.” He grumbled, pushing you down gently to make sure you wouldn’t see whatever it was he planned on doing.
Ghost crept around the side of the big white truck, flipping out one of his knives from his back pocket in a showy spin. He jabbed the back left tire of the truck, a loud hissing pop coming from the pierced rubber. It was loud enough to catch the groups attention, their heads turning toward the noise. Ghost stood still, twirling his second favorite knife around the back of his hand by hooking it with his thumb.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Adam yelled, throwing his beer can at Ghost. It fell about three feet in front of him, a sloppy throw executed by a sloppy drunk. “You’re gonna pay for that!”
“I’m your vet, heard you needed to be neutered.” Ghost said, his filtered voice echoing through the trees. He walked toward them slowly, flicking his wrist to hold the knife in a back handed grip, running the tip of the blade down the side of the truck as he walked past. The sharp steel on the bright white paint scraped it off with a loud, grating, screeching noise.
“Alright, who the hell sent you here?” Adam stormed over to him and shoved his shoulder. “Those little shits from Delta Chi?”
“Mm, no.” Ghost grabbed his wrist and dug his thumb into the tender spot just below the heel of Adam’s palm.
“Did you do all this?” Adam asked angrily, trying to twist his arm out of Ghost’s firmly closed fist. “You’re gonna clean this up or I’ll call the owners.”
“I think this mess is the least of your worries, Adam.” Ghost growled, shoving him backward and letting him fall to the ground, landing on his ass.
“Yeah?” Adam stood back up, stumbling on his feet and landing against the side of his truck for support. “You went to the fuckin’ Party City and think you’re some kind of big tough guy?”
“No,” Ghost grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him up against the truck door, using his forearm to press against Adam’s windpipe. “I actually went to the Spirit Halloween.”
“Like you could take on all of us? With that little thing?” Adam laughed loudly, nodding toward Ghost’s knife with the small range of motion he had in the position he was stuck in.
“All of you?” Ghost chuckled, throwing Adam to the ground and following him so he could grab him by the hair, lifting his head to show him that all his ‘friends’ had left him to fend for himself.
“So much for frat loyalty.” Ghost laughed, kneeling on Adam’s back to keep him pinned down. He wrenched the man’s hand out from underneath him, splaying his fingers out on the ground in front of his face. “Listen, I know what you were planning to do. I heard you.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Adam yelled, putting up quite the fight against Ghost, enough that he needed to fully straddle him to hold him still.
“Tomcatting, RedHead n’ Spread…” Ghost repeated, “You make me sick.”
“Oh whatever.” Adam spat, sounding strained as he kicked and squirmed. “Brandon!” He shouted, breathing in to call out again.
“You ever played Nerve?” Ghost asked, twirling his knife, returning it to a backhand grasp to stab into the dirt between Adam’s fingers.
“Shit- Brandon! W-Wyatt! Get your ass back over here!” He squealed while Ghost threaded the knife back and forth through his fingers, stabbing it rapidly into the dirt.
“You know, one of those ‘kitties’ you were thinking about hurting… she’s mine.” Ghost growled, purposely nicking Adam’s thumb, making him yelp.
“I’m sorry! Jesus- let me go man. I- I was just tryin’ to mess with the recruit!” Adam panted, trying to turn over beneath Ghost.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Ghost grunted, slicing the side of Adam’s hand.
“Fuck!” Adam screamed, thrashing around, trying to bite at the leather glove closest to his face. “Brandon! This guy’s tryna kill me!”
“If I wanted you dead, you would be.” Ghost plunged the knife into the meaty part of Adam’s hand between his thumb and forefinger. He drove it all the way into the dirt below, trapping it there while Adam’s hand shook from the pain.
“Sorry, don’t have a paperweight buddy.” Ghost sighed, his tone dripping in apathy.
Ghost fished around in his pants shorts pockets, finding his wallet and cellphone. He lifted up Adam’s head by his hair to use the face ID on his phone, once it was unlocked he scrolled through it, ignoring the whiny protests from the guy trapped beneath him. With several contacts and a few screenshots of social media accounts airdropped to his own phone he chucked Adam’s somewhere out into the yard. He then picked though his wallet, taking out his credit cards with his second knife, he stacked them together and chopped them up like he was cutting through a bar of soap.
“What the hell is your problem?” Adam cried, snot dripping from his nose.
“You are my problem.” Ghost chuckled, taking the cash from the wallet and tucking it away in his pocket. Ghost grabbed Adam’s pinned hand, jerking it backward quickly to make the removal of the blade just a tad more painful.
“God, would you shut up? It’s not that bad.” Ghost grumbled, zip tying his hands together behind his back, making him stand so he could lead him into the cabin. “Let’s go say hi to your friends.”
Part Sixteen
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❝ 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 ❞
❝ PROF. GETO'S CLASS IS SO HARD, BUT HE'S SO HOT!! ❞
✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part one of the prof geto series)
✧ summary: you were a 4.0, straight A student, until professor geto's class, the same far too hot ethics professor fawned over by faculty and students alike. you didn't understand what was so special about him...until you start having dreams about him.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, masturbation (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), getting off to his voice in recorded lectures, arousal from reading his writing, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, art by @/jatinsohanvi, google scholar graphic by platonic loml @laneysmusings
✧ wc: 10,149 (i have a problem) | part two
“You’re late,”
Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto’s class was that you could never be late again, unless you would like to be chided in front of all your peers for your tardiness.
Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto himself was that he was truly the most breathtaking man you’d ever laid your eyes on. His inky black locks tied into a neat bun, his deep royal purple vest buttoned over a crisp white button up with pressed gray slacks, his pretty lips pressed in a small frown, as his dark gaze pierced through you. And you don’t know what stirs in your chest — a fleeting moment that is tucked away under a bite of your bottom lip and burning cheeks.
And now you knew why when you had walked into class, the amount of unfamiliar faces in this course had far outnumbered the ones in your usual course load — the same reason why this man undoubtedly had three chili peppers next to his professor rating on some website out there.
And now you were faced with him staring you down as you stumbled down the stairs of the all too full lecture hall.
As you muttered apologies, and took your seat far too close to the front of the class, smack dab in the very front of the very same professor whose eyes still were concentrated on you, before sliding back to the class at large.
“Now, where were we?” he says, continuing the lecture.
Ethics was not your major — you were a philosophy grad student, and although the two went hand in hand — no, they were not the same thing. Ethics are the moral principles — like rules to follow to live a moral life — people can follow, while philosophy is the study of knowledge, reality, and existence. And this class encompassed both — an ethics and moral philosophy class. Your eyes slid around the room — and compared to all the random majors stuffed into this classroom, you had no doubt you’d do well. Your eyes met Professor Geto’s — maybe one slight doubt.
And when you get your first essay back, you eagerly flip to the last page of the paper, wondering what accolades and compliments you’d receive this time. Your eyes find the grade, and your stomach drops, a gaping maw that consumes you from the inside out.
You got a B.
A B+ — an 88 on your paper in this course, and you stared at the grade on the very last page of the paper you had collected from his desk — Professor Geto had insisted everyone submit their papers both physically and electronically — his scrawl in red pen littered each page of what you thought was a thoughtful and even clever paper on the existence free will and the ethical and moral dilemmas that surround it. And he had given it an 88.
You had a 4.0 point average — you had gotten the highest scores in some of the most difficult courses required by your major, and now you were going to be derailed by a class you took on a whim? That’s not happening. No, you were going to get him to change your grade. You were seeing as red as the ink that tore your paper to shreds.
“Come in,” your knuckles had rapped against Professor Geto’s door, your heart in your throat, as you heard his reply, entering his office. His office was as pretentious as he was. A much larger office than you had seen before (poor Professor Ijichi had a shoebox of an office), while Professor Geto’s was three times the size, outfitted with large, beautiful windows, distinct bookshelves, and even a lovely deep mahogany colored couch with decorative cushions. And you knew why that was the case — Professor Geto was an expert in his field, revered, even at his relatively young age. And the university had coveted him, and managed to lure him to work behind these ivy covered walls. While other professors who have been here longer are stuck with offices that don’t begin to compare.
Academia was truly hell.
And yet, Professor Geto seemed to rule over it with an iron fist. Even now, you found your professor looking as annoyingly perfect as ever — his elbow resting against his desk, pen in his other hand, as he flipped through more papers on his desk, his hair in a messy bun, a few black strands falling across his furrowed brow, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and his dark gaze flicks up from his work to you, and his lips curl, your name leaving his lips, “good to see you, please sit,”
You had planned to attend these office hours in victory, to apologize for your misstep in the first class, and let your professor praise your paper to no end — but instead you were going to see why your paper was graded so harshly.
Your speech was ready, you were going to lay it out, you had the perfect explanation and the excellent reasoning “Professor Geto—”
“I know why you’re here,” he cuts you off, lips forming in an utterly condescending smile, “you want to discuss your paper, correct?”
“I am, I wanted to—”
He sits forward in his chair, setting down his pen, “I’m going to save us some time by explaining my comments on your paper, do you have it?” and you close your mouth, pulling the paper out of your folder and handing it to him, “Your paper was one of the best in the class — it was thought provoking, grounded in research, persuasive, even made me consider some points I hadn’t before—”
You blink, his praise catching you off guard, your thoughts twisting in on themselves, “Then why did you give me B?”
“You didn’t allow me to finish,” he sighs, as he flips through your paper, looking up to meet your gaze, “your paper was excellent when it came to philosophical concepts, but your ethical conclusions on the other hand, could use some work,”
You gaped at him, “What did I possibly—”
“To put it simply, you were trying to use your knowledge of philosophy to cover up your lack of knowledge in the field of ethics,”
“I wasn’t—”
“And that’s okay, because that means I have something to teach you don’t I? That’s why you’re in this course, to learn,” he gives a tight lipped smile, tilting his head. Oh you’d like to learn a lot more from him — like the ethical dilemma of wanting to murder your professor, “and I’m here to teach — and this paper is a teaching moment — and from your expression, I assume you didn’t read the comments I left in detail,”
And your cheeks burn, as your eyes fall away from him, “Not fully in detail,” you still swallow your shame, and meet his gaze, “I don’t mean to be a bother, Professor, but how can my paper still receive a B — I’ve never received that low of a score on any single paper—”
“There’s a first time for everything,” and you have to bite back your retort, “yeah first time having an annoying prick for a professor,” and he rises from his desk to hand you back your paper, “the bottom line is, I know you’re capable of better, this class isn’t going to be easy — I’m not going to hand you accolades for no reason. You have to earn them — if you aren’t up for the challenge, you can drop the class.”
The option was there — you could simply drop the course, rid yourself of Professor Geto and his ridiculous criticism forever. You could take a class with one of the many professors who delighted in your papers (even the ones you’d written at 3 AM and submitted not proofread), and go on with your life and preserve your 4.0 GPA with ease.
But then you looked at him again. He was unfairly hot, even when he was fucking putting you down, he stood in front of you, offering your paper, his fingers long and thick brushing yours by mistake as you took back your paper, a watch on his wrist gleamed in the low light of his office. You glanced around his office, saw the awards on his walls, pictures of him giving lectures or receiving honors, and the books that lined his shelves weren’t dissimilar to your own academic shelf at home. And your eyes fell back to his, as he stared at you curiously, lips pursed, as your paper slightly crumples in your fist.
“Next paper is due in two weeks?” and he pauses, before his lips curl in that same grin.
“Yes it is,” and a smile graces your lips, lightning quick.
Like hell you were going to let him win. You were going to get him to praise your papers (and maybe that wouldn’t be the only thing he praised) — if it was the last thing you do. You’d get an A in his class, hell, you’d get him to beg you to be his teaching assistant (he’d look very nice on his knees for you, wouldn’t he?).
You rise from your seat, and grab your bag, “I’ll see you at your next office hours then, to discuss my paper topic,” and he watches you leave, his eyes piercing into your back as you do.
“See you soon.”
Oh, he would.
“Right on time,” Professor Geto barely looks up now when you knock on his door, his door now always ajar for office hours.
Now you had made a habit of showing up for his office hours, you’d bring your paper topic all picked out, along with your handpicked sources you had chosen for your paper, all typed up in a neat bibliography. And he’d kindly rip it apart with that same damn smile on his lips. It had been a few weeks, a few papers later — and you finally had worked your grade up to an A-, not quite an A+, but you’d get there. You had to.
Because it wasn’t just about your GPA now — you were going to get Professor Geto to praise you — through any means necessary. The man was stubborn, even when you’d come back with an improved draft, he’d only hand it back to you with a smile barely tugging at the corner of his lips, with no compliment to be had — only small check marks scribbled in the margins in your papers, with the occasional “good” written next to it.
“Well, we all know what happens when I’m late,” he laughs, a noise that makes the ice dagger clutched behind your back ever so slightly melt, “I made you laugh, extra credit?”
And he rolls his eyes, and you notice that his dark eyes are hidden behind glasses today — and god, why does it only make him even more gorgeous? He’s already brilliant, it’s unfair for him to look as if he was sculpted by the gods as well, “It takes a lot more than a chuckle to earn extra credit,” and you can’t help but bite your lip.
No, no, he’s the worst. It didn’t matter he was the epitome of every academic’s wet dream, you were above that. You had a goal.
“So, can we discuss my next paper?” you hand him your bibliography, and he takes it, delicate fingers flipping through, your mind notes the absence of a ring on either hand, before brushing the thought aside.
“You’re writing on the morality of good or bad actions,” he hums, as he looks over the sources you had chosen, “Scanlon, good — have you read—”
“‘What We Owe to Each Other?’ Only about a million times — well more like six,” and he nods appreciatively, “of course you’ve read it,”
“I didn’t just read it, I wrote a paper on it, similar to yours, actually,” and your eyes flick up to meet his, he’s leaning forward in his chair, red pen in hand, as he scribbles notes in the margins, as well as on the back of your bibliography, “of course I don’t have your penchant for rambling,”
You pout, “I don’t ramble — I like to make my point—”
“Many times, and the same one,” and your mouth opens, only to find a wry smirk on his lips, “I’m teasing, another one of my very tedious qualities, and how you stand it during class astonishes me,”
You cross your arms, unable to meet his eyes, as you choose to stare at your bibliography instead, “You’re not completely tedious, more like irritating,” and he huffs a chuckle.
You had to admit, begrudgingly, Professor Geto was a…good teacher. And you had your fair share of awful teachers — many of them were brilliant, accomplished people in their fields, but didn’t know how to translate and convey that in their lectures to students who simply knew less than them. But Geto…he knew how to break down complex concepts and theories of moral philosophy and ethics to a science, he knows how to make students understand these complicated topics that you had seen other professors fail to, and he does it while being an intellectual dreamboat to most of his students — the ones that swarm his desk after class, still there even as you slowly make your way out of the lecture hall.
“A rare compliment from you,” he raises an eyebrow, “I’m touched,”
“You’re one to talk,” you furrow your brow, and a smile pulls at his lips.
“Didn’t know you wanted my approval,” he tilts his head, leaning forward to lean on his elbow on the desk, “well, you have improved remarkably in the class so far, and if you keep going like this, I may have no choice but to praise you,”
“You will,”
“Someone is very sure of themselves,” a pause and then he adds with a quirk of his lips, “as you should be,” and he’s sliding your bibliography across the table again, and passes it back, “read the sources I recommended, and see about adding them to your paper — you may have some overlap in the other papers you chose so use your discretion on which ones you use,”
“So don’t repeat myself?” You raise an eyebrow, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs.
“You learn fast.”
And you do — returning to your apartment to work on your paper, as you flip through his notes — as much as you hate to admit it, his notes and criticism did help — annoyingly so. He was far more detailed and perceptive than any other professor you had. Most had let you skate by without a second thought, and you wrote papers like you deleted your internet history after a scandalous romp through elicit websites — tools, clear history — and then onto the next paper or exam. But Professor Geto forced you to face your shortcomings, face the things that you didn’t like to give a second glance to, lest your rejection sensitive self feel the agony of having to deal with criticism.
Each time you did it, you got a little better, and he had a little less to say — time and time again.
You leaned back on your bed, scrolling through the papers he recommended, but so what? So what if he was a good teacher? Doesn’t mean he has to be as infuriating as he is — he knew exactly what to do to get under your skin, and he didn’t prod at it, he scratched it.
And you found yourself typing his name (“suguru geto”) and T.M. Scanlon’s name into the search bar of your university’s library collection, and his paper pops up right on top.
You stare at the paper for a good minute, before you click on it — and you start reading. And reading. And reading — and fuck—
It was good. It was more than that — it gave you so much insight on this topic, it made you rediscover T.M. Scanlon’s work in a new light — and you bite your lip. And it wasn’t just the research — the way it organized, the way it was presented, the way it was written — it was eloquent, but it wasn’t unreadable or incomprehensible. It was…really good.
You imagined him, pouring over Scanlon’s work as he wrote notes in the margins of his copy, pages dogeared and passages highlighted, as he sat in his office typing away at this paper. His sleeves rolled up, his hair let out of his usual bun, his glasses perched on his nose as he read, only his desk lamp and computer illuminating his office. The keys of his computer clacking under his touch, lengthy fingers pitter pattering as he wrote his thoughts and analysis of Scanlon’s work — his brow furrowed in thought.
And you felt yourself flush, swallowing the lump in your throat, as you kicked off your blanket — it was so warm all of a sudden, pressing your thighs together. You shook the thoughts from your mind — what the hell were you doing? You glanced at the time, 2:39 AM it read back at you mockingly. You sigh, shutting your laptop down, and putting it aside — you need to do your skincare and brush your teeth. You glance back at your laptop—the familiar of your flush clung to your skin like a forbidden kiss—
And you clearly needed sleep.
“Can you read this passage to me?” Professor Geto’s voice said, as he stood in front of you in the lecture hall — as you stood behind the podium that faced the entire class — hands in his pockets, in an olive henley, his hair tied in the usual neat bun, his black bangs falling in his eyes as always, glasses on, instead of the usual contacts. The class sat all around you — his exercise in getting the class to participate and get comfortable speaking in front of others, just as philosophers had done in the past (his very own “literary salon” he called it).
You swallow, keeping your eyes fixed on the book in front of you, “‘When I ask myself what reason the fact that an action would be wrong provides me with not to do it, my answer is that such an action would be one that I could not justify to others on ground I could expect them to accept—’”
“What do you think Scanlon meant by this?” he asks you, but his gaze was different this time, it held the amusement it always did when it came to you, but it was warm — no — it was burning. His lips were pursed, as he crossed his arms, the henley’s fabric seemingly straining under the action.
“He meant that an action that is wrong in his eyes when he couldn’t expect others to accept the ground on which he could justify it,” and his lips curve into that damned smile, as he takes a few steps closer, rounding the podium, as he brushes past you, the brief touch of temptation incarnate — the dangling apple of Tantalus personified before you.
“And can you give me some examples of what kinds of actions would be wrong?” and he’s standing behind you now, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him — but you can feel his gaze on you.
“Senseless murder,” and he hums in approval, his breath felt like it was warming your skin, “wanton violence, reckless assault—”
“What other everyday wrongdoings could fall under this category?” and suddenly the class before you is gone, and it’s just the two of you in an empty lecture hall, “theft, lying, student-teacher relationships?”
And your breath catches in your throat, his cologne strangling any sense left in your mind, as his body heat nearly radiates off him, “Professor Geto—”
“Suguru,” he corrects you, and he’s reaching for you, but he pauses, “can I—” and you only can nod, and his fingers brush your hair aside, ever so gently, “would this be considered a moral wrongness, sweetheart?” his lips press a chaste kiss to your shoulder, and you shiver at the softness of his touch.
“Well, I am a student in your class, and even though I’m of age, it presents a power dynamic and a favoritism that might be—” and your sentence cuts off as his arms wind their way around your waist, pressing himself to your back, “I—”
“Go on,” he’s murmuring his words against the nape of your neck now, as he pulls his glasses off to place them on the podium, “might be what?”
“Might be viewed as morally wrong—” and he’s chuckling, the vibration sending a delicious shiver down your spine, as he presses more butterfly kisses to your neck.
“How can something be wrong when it feels so right?” he asks, and his hand is sliding down your side, “feels so good, does it even matter what society views as right or wrong? Do their rules pertain to what we’re doing here?” and his fingers toy with the hem of your pants, teasing and pulling, as he pauses, waiting for your answer, “what do you think—”
“Please,” you swallow, as you turn to look at him, seeing his lips in that same smile that haunted you, “touch me,”
And his smile only grows wider, “Good girl.”
BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.
Your eyes flutter open, your breath caught in your throat, as you stare at your ceiling, your hand reaching for your phone to silence the alarm. And you squeeze your thighs together, a distinct ache between your legs, your skin all too warm.
What the fuck was that?
You skip office hours the next week. You couldn’t bear it — you could barely tolerate going to class now, as the dream invades your nights, with filthy variations that leave you perturbed and horny (mostly horny). The common theme only being that each time you get close to anything remotely that’s anything (a kiss, a touch that’s more than a caress, anything at all), you wake up.
It’s as if your dreams are edging you — you groan into your pillow — and it was working.
You’re so wound up, you’ve even resorted to using your vibrator before bed, wondering if that would make a difference — it did, but only with you having a dream of Professor Geto using a vibrator on you during class — the vibrations growing even faster when you were speaking as he watched you—
You needed to stop thinking about this. But how can you?
God, it’s even worse when you’re in class. You sit in your usual seat, front and center — and why does it feel like his eyes are on you far too often? Even as he lectures Professor Geto attempts to catch your eye during his lecture, trying to make a point, you all but glue your gaze down to the textbook and your laptop, typing away his words, trying to drown out the whispered words and groans from your dream that ring in your ears. You can’t stop seeing him — unless you want to skip class, which you really couldn’t when attendance and participation counted for a good chunk of your grade.
Class ended and you were packing up your things. You had to weather the storm — avoid being alone with him until the dreams were just a distant memory—
And then you heard him say your name—
Your eyes flick up to meet Professor Geto — who had his usual swarm of students waiting by his desk, but he parted the crowd, he approached your own seat, hands in your pockets, “Do you have a class after this?”
“No, I don’t—” the words slip out before your sleep deprived mind can put the pieces together.
“Then can you please stay after class? I’d like to talk to you,” he says, and before you can say anything, he turns to speak to the students waiting for him.
And now you wait — your anxious energy singing at the frayed ends of your nerves, as you tried to hold yourself together — wondering what he could possibly want to speak to you about. His students dissipated one by one, until it was just you and him left in the lecture hall.
Just. Like. Your. Fucking. Dream.
You round the row you sat in, before walking down to speak to him, “Is there something wrong? The next paper isn’t due until the end of next week—”
“It isn’t about the paper,” and your heart squeezes, as you try to keep your breathing even, as he steps closer — and why, why did he have to opt to only wear a button up today — and a deep royal purple one no less, “I wanted to check in with you,” and he begins to undo the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up — exposing his forearms and the pretty veins that ran along them — the same arms that he had used in one of your dreams to bend you over that desk, the whispers of heated kisses along your neck—
You needed to get out of here.
You blink, “I’m fine,” and he tilts his head.
“I only ask because you’ve looked tired the last two classes, and you didn’t show up for office hours this week,” he crosses his arms, unhelpfully, as he purses his lips, the lines of his brow furrowed.
“I’m fine, Professor, I appreciate your concern — I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you admit — it was the truth, “and that’s why I didn’t come to office hours. I was trying to catch up on sleep,”
He nods, sighing, fingers raking through his hair — those same fingers that would feel so pretty around your neck— “I know I’m hard on you,” oh he would be, “but it’s because I know you’re capable of more — most of these students are taking the class for an elective, but I know it’s more than that for you,” yes, it’s so you can finally earn his praise, “but I’m also here for your benefit, so if you need an extension or anything else, please let me know,”
God, all you wanted was for him to maybe wrap you in his arms and kiss you, or bend you over, pull your clothes off and fuck you, or just to leave you alone all together.
You weren’t sure which one you wanted the most at this moment.
“I will, Professor Geto, I appreciate it,” you murmur, biting your lip, as you try to focus on the task at hand — getting out of here, “I don’t think I need an extension, I’ve made good progress so far. I just need to finish it, so I can revise,”
“Well, let me know if anything changes,” his lips curl, “ok?” And you nod, and if you weren’t so hyperaware, you swore you would have imagined it — but you didn’t, “good girl,”
And you pause a moment — his lips did move, you pinch yourself discreetly — and you know it isn’t a fucking dream. You only smile in return, giving a curt nod and goodbye, before beelining out of the classroom.
But you didn’t stick around long enough to see the slight flush on Professor Geto’s cheeks — nor did you know that you two were thinking the same thing about yourselves—
What the fuck were you doing?
But to your relief, the dreams do subside, and you’re finally able to rest — but the thing that doesn’t subside is your awareness of your professor.
You sit in class, watching him teach — and you knew he was attractive, hell, it was one of the things that made you all the more embarrassed to have him ream you out — having your super hot professor rail at you for your mistakes wasn’t on your list of shining achievements (lest it was him actually railing you—).
You needed to stop doing that.
But it felt as if you weren’t the only one who was hyper aware. You felt as if his eyes skimmed over you during class this week, his replies to your weekly discussion board were less biting than usual, and his office hours were surprisingly canceled this week. First time all semester, but you weren’t so full of yourself that you thought it had anything to do with you — right?
Either way, you had submitted your paper and now you were done with this week—and as class finishes, you slowly pack up, looking forward to the week being over with and for a personal rendezvous with your bed. But as the usual gaggle of students make their way to chat with Professor Geto, your eyes flicker up to meet his, as he stares back a moment.
And you can’t make yourself look away, and for a moment, neither can he.
But then a student calls for his attention, so his eyes flicker away, a smile on his lips as he spoke — and you turn to leave, grabbing your bag, as you look back—
But why did his smile look so strained?
There must be something wrong with him.
Professor Suguru Geto drummed his fingers against his desk, but he felt more like shoving his things off his desk — if only to distract him for a moment. He pulls his glasses off, and runs a hand down his face—god, he hadn’t been sleeping well. No, his nights were plagued, plagued by you — you had slipped into his dreams ever since that day he stopped you.
Why had he stopped you?
It wasn’t the first time he had personally stopped a student who seemed to be struggling, he could count the times he had on both his hands.
But this, this felt different.
You were different.
But why were you different to him? He rubs his temples, from the moment you had stepped into his office he thought he had read you — an overachieving student used to getting their way, As handed out to them, and an inability to take criticism.
He knew, because he used to be one of them. But he knew you needed to be challenged to grow — but it was a matter if you would accept it. And from the moment you asked him when the next paper was due, he couldn’t help but smile.
And his time spent in office hours with you grew more enjoyable each time you came. And when you hadn’t last week, he couldn’t sit still, checking the time, checking his email, and even checking if his office hours had been accidentally listed wrong in his weekly email to the class (they weren’t). And the hour and half passed with many students hungry for his time and his charm — but not the one he was looking for.
Then those words had slipped from his tongue when he had stopped you, left his mouth like he was possessed, and now he had found himself here. Found himself thinking about how your lips parted when he said it, thinking about how you were feeling, thinking about you, you, you—
There’s a knock at the door, “Professor Geto?”
And it was you.
“I apologize, I know you canceled office hours, but I just had a few questions I didn’t get to ask you in class,” your fingers toy with the ring you wore, a folder in hand, a soft smile on your lips.
“Of course, come in,” and you did, your dress was painfully short, the fabric riding up as you sat, the folder in your lap, “is this about your paper?”
“It is, I was reading a few papers, and after our conversation, I couldn’t help but find your paper,” and he tilts his head, “and I want to include it as a source in my paper, but I had a few points you made that I wanted clarified,”
He raises an eyebrow, and he can’t help but tease, “Clarified or criticized? Are you planning on turning the tables on me?”
“Well I do have a red pen,” you click your pen, lips curved in a smile, and there’s a hint of heat that he wishes to unearth, pluck from the earth and possess himself, “but I promise I’ll be civil,”
“I have no doubt,” he had a million when it came to you — but that wasn’t one of them. He runs his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “of course, let’s discuss it,”
“You discuss Scanlon’s idea of a social contract, everyone within this moral society agrees on what’s right and what’s wrong — the basic principle is that if there is a rule no one can reasonably reject as a basis, but is there such a rule that can exist?”
He tilts his head, “Scanlon’s theory relies on this premise — are you questioning me or the premise?”
“Both, actually,” you shrug, crossing your legs, “is there a magic switch that changes every person to be rational? Because I think only rational people can agree on what rules cannot be reasonably rejected — what about people who are cruel, inconsiderate, self-absorbed? Do those traits go away when operating under Scanlon’s social contract? You propose in your paper that moral reasons are not subjective — nothing is uncolored by human opinion,”
“No, but—”
“How can we agree on what is truly right or wrong? How can one hundred people agree on that when everyone views these actions in different ways? Right and wrong? Black, white, or gray?” you rise from your chair to hand him his paper printed out, the paper more red than white with the amount of writing you’ve done, “like for example,” you lean forward, your hand braced against the edge of his desk, “can one hundred people agree that student-teacher relationships are wrong? Because one veto,” your hand trails ever closer to his, toeing that dangerous line either of you had even yet to approach to cross. But here you were, seemingly barreling toward it.
And he didn’t want to pull away.
He swallows, whispering your name, “This can’t—” and you were so close — too close, your perfume hypnotized him, your fingers brush against his and he can’t help but hold them, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles, “they can agree that it’s wrong — the power imbalance from the authority of the professor and the age difference—”
“I disagree, so the rule isn’t legitimate, right? Even if one disagrees, the rule cannot be make valid,” and his breath catches as your fingers slide up his arm now, resting on his shoulder, as you lean over his chair now, as your other hand toys with the loose strands of his hair, “if the two of us can’t even agree, then how could a hundred, or a thousand, or a million?”
“But—”
“But what?” you pout, your fingers dragging down his chest, toying with the top button of his button down, “I don’t see you pulling away, do you want me to stop, Professor? Because I will,”
And he swallows thickly, but he can’t stop you — he doesn’t want to, “But, we shouldn’t — it isn’t a reasonable objection—” he tries his hardest to stand firm, but he only crumbles when your fingers brush his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw. And it feels like flames tickling at his skin, begging him to thrust his hand into the fire.
“Like I said, people are not reasonable,” your lips draw closer, and he can feel your breath warm his own, and god, why are you so tempting? And your lips stop short, barely an inch between your faces, “and besides, would you rather be reasonable or satisfied?”
And there’s only one answer — you.
He leans forward, lips nearly brushing yours—
RING. RING. RING.
He jerks awake from his desk, papers sliding as he does, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes wander — and finds no one else there.
A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair again, crumpling the paper he had oh so lovingly drooled during his nap. He needed to get his shit together.
But his current predicament wasn’t making that easy — his cock strained against the fabric of his pants — was he a grown adult or a horny teenager?
Fuck. It wasn’t going away — no matter what he thought, his mind kept circling back to you.
And his eyes slide to the time: 1:40 AM.
Far past the time any soul would be here, even cleaning staff would have been long gone. It was just him—
And you.
“So good for me, baby,” he’s panting, palming his erection, an embarrassing amount of precum drips from his cock for a barely wet dream. He ignores the gnawing guilt in the back of his mind — but he can’t help but imagine the image of you, spread out on his desk, hiking that oh so teasing sundress up, only to find your underwear drenched — just for him.
His fingers would slide up your plush thighs, squeezing to draw a gasp from your pretty lips, “Professor—“ you’d say, unable to form a sentence, all those brilliant falling away under his touch, until it was just him occupying every crevice of your mind.
“Where’s that mouth now? So needy f’me,” he’d murmur, “but such a good girl,” and you were, his thumb tracing his slit, smearing his pre-cum, as he imagined you spread on his desk, your puffy folds nearly showing through your far too translucent panties, “my best student’s so pliant for me now,”
And his hand moves faster, and he can imagine your fingers reaching for him too, your smaller fingers wouldn’t be able to even touch as much as he can — but god it would feel so much better.
But he’d want you to feel even better than he did.
He’d tug your underwear down, stuffing it in his pocket (his fee for all of additional office hours), and he would prep you right — fuck you open with his fingers, two or three, before he tasted you. Your fingers would dig into his scalp as you moaned his name again and again, before you came all over his face.
He’d lick his lips clean of your release, before dragging his cock down your sweet cunt, watching his precum mix with your cum, as your walls flutter around nothing, craving to have him sink into you.
“Professor, please,” you’d beg with pretty, kiss bitten lips between pants, “please,”
“Where’s all those quips now, sweetheart?” he’d tease, as he would let his tip tease your clit, pulling a moan from your lips, “all those words fall away when you want this cock, don’t they? Been thinking about you like this, wondering what you’d look like spread out under me,” and he would lean down to kiss you, “it’s even better than I expected,”
He’s jerking himself off in earnest now, the lewd noises of his hand around his cock filling most of the silence, his low groans filling the rest. And he’d finally sink into you, inch by inch, until he’d kiss your cervix with his weeping tip.
And, god, he wishes his fingers fisted around his cock would be as good as your cunt would feel around him. He would fuck you slow at first, “I know those boys can’t fuck you as good as I can, as well as I can,” he’d tell you, as he would pick up the pace when you’d tell him to, making you cum again and again with his cock, thumb rubbing at your clit, until he was finally close. He’d either cum all over your stomach, marking you with his release, or if you’d let him, he’d cum inside you, filling you with his seed—and then he’d watch it drip out when he would pull out. He groans your name lowly, shuddering as he comes all over his hand, hard.
Fuck.
That’s the hardest he’d cum in a long time. He’s a mess — panting and flushed, as he leans back, head against the back of his chair, too spent to even clean up. And then he finally does, cleaning himself up well, and collecting his things to leave the office.
But he only treated the symptoms, not the problem itself. His hard-on is gone, but his mind is still filled with thoughts of you. How he’d kiss you sweetly after, how he’d clean you up, care for you gently, make you rest because you never seem to do enough of that, and he’d let you relax — finally relax, as you slept the night in his arms.
As he heads to his car, he knows that he’s utterly fucked (without even being fucked) because he has feelings for you. And he didn’t know if they were going to go away as easily as he hoped.
But he hoped they would. He owed it to you, your education, and your future career not to act on these feelings.
And he sighs as he sits in his car, starting it, but why did it hurt not to?
It was that time again.
Your next paper had come around again, and you needed to prepare a topic before you went to speak to Professor Geto. You had put it off, something you had never done with his class, but you wanted to limit the amount of time you spent with him, if only for the sake of your heart.
Watching him in lectures was bad enough, your thighs pressing together as you watched him speak, his impeccable looks and intelligence a deadly combination for your heart (and your body). You could barely focus, your eyes too fixed on the way he wrote on the board — his fingers too lithe and too thick, his voice all too alluring when discussing Kant and Aristotle and you can’t help but think what he’d sound moaning your name.
God. Fuck.
Either way, you needed to listen to the lectures again since you weren’t able to pay attention. Maybe without watching the video would be better, you settle on your bed, notebook and pen in hand, as you place your headphones on. His voice filled your ears, and you’re scrawling notes.
But your mind begins to wander. He’s lecturing on the deontological ethics, and all you can think about is how he could make you cum with just that voice of his.
Shit, you shifted your thighs again, feeling that familiar ache again. What would he sound like when he moaned? How would it sound to have him touch you, run those long fingers down your thighs, and whisper filthy things in your ear?
As you listened to the lecture, his voice became white noise as your fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts, and you shut your eyes.
“That’s it, sweetheart, spread your legs for me,” he’d murmur in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and he’s urge your thighs wider, and his fingers would press against the wet patch on your panties, and he’d hum, “so wet f’me and I haven’t touched you yet, Princess,” his lips would kiss your pulse, “you like my voice that much?”
“Professor,” you gasp, as his fingers would tease you through your underwear, the fabric growing more soaked by the second, “please—“ and his thumb would ghost around your clit, teasing you, as his long fingers would piston in and out — they would reach so much fucking deeper “I need to—“
“Already begging? I knew you learned fast, but not this fast,” and his fingers would tug the crotch of your panties aside, his fingertips tracing around your outer lips, before a finger pushes past your sweet cunt, “fuck, my favorite student’s pussy is so fucking tight. These boys are not fucking you right,” and you whimper, his finger would be so much thicker than yours, as you glide another finger inside you, the two dragging against your walls, “listen to your pretty cunt,” he’d grin against your skin, “and the wet squelch of your pussy, “so pliant for me, takes my fingers so well,” he’d murmur with a chuckle, “practically swallowing me up,”
And you’re bucking your hips against him, wanting, needing him deeper, because your fingers don’t reach as far as his does, moans leaving your lips.
“I’m so—” you’re moving faster and faster, his lecture still filling your ears, your pre-cum soaking your shorts and onto the bed sheets, “I can’t—”
“Come on, Princess, use those big words of yours, you have no problem usually,” his hot words would whisper in your ear, and you’d hear him rub his erection against your ass, trying to get himself off, and you’d grind against him, wanting any friction, “tell me,”
“Let me cum, please,” and he would smile, running his fingers through your hair, before he bore his thumb down on your clit and sunk a third finger into your needy cunt, just as you did now. And it’s too much for you, your toes curl, your messy walls fluttering around your fingers, as you cum all over your shorts and sheets with a groan of his name. Your fingers were soaked, as you pant, trying to gather yourself, as you came down from your high.
“Fuck,” you murmur, tugging off your headphones, so your cunt doesn’t have to twitch listening to his dulcet words again. And you’re pulling your fingers out, your cum dripped down your fingers, as you shifted, far too wet underneath you, as you tried to slip off your bed to take a shower and clean yourself up.
And then you realized, you didn’t even hear any of the lecture.
Double fuck.
Why was this so difficult?
You stood near his office, trying to work up the urge to approach his door for office hours? Since it’s almost the end of the semester, there had been an influx of students attending office hours, and with everything, you had found excuses in your head to avoid office hours. But you couldn’t avoid him anymore.
For your final paper in the class, you had to have a meeting with him during office hours to discuss your topic, complete with bibliography and outline. And it was almost time for your meeting.
But you didn’t know how to go in.
The last few weeks in class have made things worse. You couldn’t help but watch the other students fawn over Professor Geto, his lips curled as he spoke to them. And you’d leave class without a word. You had to stick through the semester and your feelings would disappear with time. You wouldn’t have to see him, you wouldn’t have class anymore, and you couldn’t talk to him.
Or wouldn’t.
But now you had to. And you didn’t know how— otherwise than just to do it.
You knock at his door, “Come in,” and you open the door to see an empty desk, blinking, “I’m over here,”
And your head snaps to your right, and Professor Geto is sitting on his couch, his legs crossed with a stack of papers in hand. His jacket is slung over the side of the couch, his deep maroon button up sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on the tip of his nose.
“I thought you lived at your desk,” you raise an eyebrow, “decided to change it up for the end of the semester?”
“Everyone needs a change of scenery,” he leans forward, placing the stack of papers on the table in front of him, “do you want to sit here or move to the desk?”
You shift in place, before moving to the couch beside him, “This is fine,” he stares, “what?”
“Just surprised, you always have something to say,” he leans on his elbow, “no smart remarks today?”
“Fresh out, can I offer you my proposal for the final paper instead?” You say dryly, and he cracks a smile, holding out your proposal. He clicks his red pen, readying his sword.
He takes it, his dark eyes darting back and forth as he reads, his brow furrowed in concentration — and you can’t help but want to reach out and smooth his brow for him, tease him that he’ll get wrinkles. But you can’t. Can’t because that would cross a line that neither of you should cross.
“You’ve come a long way,” he says, as he flips it back the front, writing only a few notes here and there.
“But?” You wait for it.
His gaze flickers up, a tilt of his head, “That was the end of my sentence,”
You pause a moment, “Really?”
“Really,” he scribbles a few more notes, “I look forward to reading the paper, it will be excellent I’m sure, maybe you’ll even get higher than a B+,”
“Oh, ha, ha,” sarcasm dripping from your tongue, but you can’t help but smile, “you’ll miss me and my endless need for academic validation,” but was it really academic validation you were after now — your eyes gazed at him sitting with the tip of his pen pressed to his lips — or was it his?
And it’s his turn to pause, and his lips curl into a soft smile, “I will,”
Your breath catches, “Really?”
He chuckles, “Really,” he licks his lips, his eyes glancing downward at your proposal than at your face, “I’ve enjoyed our chats this semester,”
“Have you? Even when I argued with you,” a half nervous half serious laugh dies on your lips when his gaze meets yours, far too serious for your heart to take.
“Especially then,” his fingers run through his hair a moment, before he speaks again, “I can’t say you could say the same,”
“And why couldn’t you?” his eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t grasp fast enough, before it slips away into the depths of his dark irises.
“Because you stopped coming,” his voice is soft, his tone barely even, and this gives you a real pause, heat flushing your body, as if his words had set every nerve ending alight, your mouth growing dry along with it, and it gives him a reprieve he needs to brush it aside, “you don’t have to, of course, these office hours are not relevant to your—”
“I didn’t stop coming because I didn’t enjoy it,” you cut him off, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I stopped coming because I did,”
He stares, “What do you—”
“I don’t want academic validation anymore, I don’t care about my GPA,” you consider it a moment, “ok I do,” and he snorts, “but I care more about validation from you,”
“From me?” he says, and his gaze tries to meet yours and it can’t — but his fingers brush against your skin, making your breath catch, your eyes finding his, “and what kind of validation do you want?”
And you can’t find the words, and you hesitation makes him shake his head, “I apologize, I shouldn’t have—”
“Will you have a drink with me?” and he’s speechless for once, “after the semester is over, of course — I know it wouldn’t be ethical before,”
And his eyes find yours again, “Some would say it would be unethical after too,”
“I would say it depends,”
“On what basis?” and you can’t help but smirk.
“Am I being graded, Professor?” and you delight in a small crack in his smiling veneer as a light flush dusts the tops of his ears, “and if I’m good, will you call me a good girl again?”
He swallows, “I don’t want to cost you your education or your—”
“I understand the risks, but we aren’t contemplating shifting a trolley to hit one person or five, or murdering one healthy person to save five sick ones,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it’s a drink to celebrate the end of the semester,”
“And if it's something more?” he nearly whispers, the softness of his voice reflected in his features, as his fingers that rested on the couch twitched beside yours.
“Then we’ll cross that bridge then,” and then you add with a small smile, “Or hit the metaphorical person with the trolley,” and it pulls at the corners of his lips.
“You make a fair point,” and you gasp in mock surprise.
“The first time all semester you agree with me,” and he chuckles, a noise you wished you could hear him make innumerable times more.
“Not the first,” he replies, before leaning forward, pressing your outline back into your hands, his fingers brushing yours, “we both agree you’re a good girl, don’t we?”
And your breath catches, his words warm your skin, turning your blood to lava, “Professor,” and he smiles again.
“When we go for drinks, call me Suguru.”
~~~~
The semester wears on and finally draws to an end, but finals induced hibernation begins for you. A mix of papers and exams, you finish everything — including your paper for Professor Geto’s class. As always, he has you submit a paper and electronic copy, the paper copy to be dropped off at his office mailbox. And you do just that, the mailboxes being only around the corner from his office, and your heart squeezes at the thought of him. After this, the class was over, it was done. You weren’t his student anymore.
And you place the paper into the mailbox and sigh, chewing your lip as you pass by his office, but find the door closed (and locked, as you quickly turned the doorknob to test it). Where was he? This was the time he was usually in his office, but maybe he had left campus for the semester — had he forgotten about your drinks?
Fuck. You hadn’t even discussed a time or place, you had left it vague — “after finals.” Your cheeks burned at the memory, you were far too flustered to elaborate. And you had spent far too many nights imagining him calling you a ‘good girl’ in many other situations.
And then you heard a call of your name, your gaze snapping up, your heart leaping, but only to see the department head.
“Hi Professor, how are you?” and the two of you make polite chit-chat, until he asks you.
“Have you applied to be a T.A. for the department?” and you blink, “applications just opened and I think from what I’ve heard about you around the department, I think you would be an excellent candidate.”
“I’d love to be — how does the application process work?” and he explains that it’s a double blind process where applications are viewed without personal information of the candidates, and then matched with a professor based only on resume and writing samples.
You can barely listen to the department head, still far too distracted with thoughts of Professor Geto — so you agree to apply, if only to placate the department head, and make an excuse to leave.
It had been a week or so, as you lay in bed in your apartment, staring at your ceiling — you hadn’t even bothered to get Professor Geto’s personal number. You couldn’t even reach out to him if you tried, as the only way you could was through his university email, which was out of the question — the university had rules against a professor and student dating, and if anyone found that email — you sighed — it wouldn’t be good.
Maybe it was for the best.
The only communication you had gotten from him was an email from Professor Geto’s mailing list to the class from a few days ago, stating that he was out of state in a conference, and he would return soon, but your grades would be emailed to you. But the paper copies would be available to pick up in his office from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM on Tuesday. It was almost time to pick up your paper, and your nerves bit at you as you thought about the possibility of seeing him. Who knows if he would even be there to begin with.
Would it be anything? Would it be nothing? Was there not any point to this at all?
Oh, great, you were becoming existential.
You sat up, the only thing you could do was go. So you do, taking your time to get dressed. If you were going to see him, you might as well look your best.
Fuck. You couldn’t go in. It had taken you longer to get back to campus than you thought, and now there were only a few minutes of his office hours left.
And you’re about to knock when the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with the man who has consumed every thought of yours for the last few months — good and bad alike.
“Late again?” and you can’t help but smile.
“I prefer fashionably late,” and his eyes rake over your outfit, making your cheeks burn.
“You certainly are,” and he steps aside to allow you into his office, and you glance between the couch and the desk, but he makes the choice and sits at his desk, “I have your paper right here,” and he’s rifling through his file of papers, “how did your finals go?”
“If I have an A on this paper, perfectly,” and a smile tugs at his lips, and you raise an eyebrow, “what? Something funny?”
“Not at all,” and he pulls your paper out, ha “I just recall you saying you wanted something more than, what was it? ‘My academic validation?’”
And your cheeks flush, “I did, but I also didn’t hear from you,” and your fingers reach for the paper, and he holds onto it, “Professor,”
“I couldn’t reach out to you because I was still your professor, but once you get this grade, I’m not anymore,” and his gaze is sharper without his glasses today, his dark blue Henley doing nothing to help the flush on your cheeks — memories of your dreams flooding your mind, “and once you get this grade back, I’m not anymore,”
“And what does that mean?” you can’t pull your eyes away from his, but his fingers let go of your graded paper, “how about you look at the last page of your paper and see?”
You pull the paper into your hands, flipping to the last page:
99 — I was impressed by this paper not only by the content but by its comprehension and use of both ethics and philosophy. But I was also impressed by the person who wrote the paper. You’ve shown determination and growth throughout the semester — and you have reminded me what we owe to each other. And I think we owe each other a drink, and a chance for this.
You feel his eyes watch you as you read, your eyes finally meeting his — his brow knit together, his lips pursed, concentrated gaze trying to decipher your reaction.
“Why a 99?” And his eyebrows raise, as if to ask, “that’s your question?”
“You had some spelling and grammar errors,”
“Really? You couldn’t let it slide?” And he tilts his head, before he sees your lips curling into a grin.
“So you think it’s funny to mess with your professor?” And his voice drops, a playful tone that makes you nearly shiver, as he leans forward, resting his chin against his elbow.
“You’re not my professor anymore, are you, Suguru?” he likes that by the way his teeth bite his bottom lip briefly, his eyes flitting to your lips for a moment and back to your eyes, “so I guess we’re using that trolley after all,”
“If you want to,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t blame you if you change your mind, it’s a risk,”
It was. It was a risk to your reputations, your careers, your futures — especially to yours. But, your eyes met his again.
“Contractualism is about avoiding risk,” and he nods, as his gaze falls away, “but some risk is necessary in life, and I think this is one that’s worth taking,”
“We will have to be careful,” he murmurs, but already his fingers are twitching, far too eager to touch you, “we can’t make any mistakes. I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds softly.
“I know, I don’t want to hurt you either,” and you rise before slowly rounding his desk, “but I want to know what it’s like,”
And he can’t stop himself — he gets to his feet, his fingers finding your cheeks and he kisses you. You can taste the black coffee on his lips, his kiss is gentle at first, so chaste and fleeting that you’d swear he didn’t kiss you at all — and so it’s not a second before your lips find his again, in a deeper kiss that steals every ounce of breath from your lungs, and leaves only heat behind. This was dangerous. The very risk you were both trying to avoid, but as he’s pressing you into the edge of his desk, you can’t find the logic you misplaced when those goddamn fingers you’ve been dreaming about squeeze your hips.
“Fuck,” he’s panting — god that word sounded more sinful on his lips than it should — as he presses sweet kisses to your neck, “we shouldn’t be doing this here,”
“Not very ethical,” you chuckle breathlessly, as your fingers rake through his now disheveled bun, “but I can’t find the sense to care,” your noses brush, as you can’t help but smile, “what would Scanlon or Kant say about this?”
And his arms lift you onto his desk, several papers crumpling underneath, “Who the fuck cares?” he’s hissing, his lips find yours in a searing kiss, as his thighs press yours apart, as he settles himself between your legs, his knee grazing your core, drawing a delightful gasp from your lips, “I know what I want,” and his eyes soften, his fingers tracing the length of your cheek, “do you?”
Before you can answer, two pings catch your attention — your phone and his computer lighting up with a notification, and you both pause a moment, as your eyes glance at the banner notification on your phone, skimming over the words. The T.A. positions have been assigned.
“Fuck,” you hear him mutter, and you gaze snaps up to his on his computer, the email now opened on his screen, “this can’t be right—”
“What is it—” and the question dies on your lips as your eyes find where his rested —
You — you were his T.A. for next semester — for the very class that you met in.
Fuck, indeed.
✧ read part 2 now
✧ a/n: lets all remember that student and teacher relationships are bad in real life. it's ok to live vicariously through reader but unfortunately no professor will be as hot as professor geto or gojo T_T. s/o to @/laneymusings and @bucky-of-the-opera for beta reading this for me and being just absolutely wonderful!!
✧ tag list: @sokkasmoon, @unoriginalideas, @waytootiredforthisss, @sinnerstardoll, @secret-pages-of-my-heart, @drthymby, @hanlay, @catsgomurp, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @esuz, @difficultdomains, @poopyface222, @iwassentfromhell, @diogodxlot, @totallynotcc, @llovekami, @deadmarygolds, @teatreeoilll, @carcarcraziiv2, @forest-hashira, @aliyalala, @esuz, @that-goth-bisexual, @hehehehesthings, @imjustmememe, @j1jay, @iwassentfromhell,
#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto smut#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#geto suguru imagines#geto x reader#geto smut#geto x you#geto suguru fanfiction#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#dividers by @/saradika
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Pornstar!Dabi (Touya Todoroki) x female reader
⇢ word count: roughly 7K
⇢ plot: as a broke student, you sign up for an assistant job at a movie set. It turns out the job is more than you bargained for.
⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, swearing, size kink, pierced big-cock Touya, fingering, cunnilingus (f receiving), multiple orgasms, loss of virginity, overstimulation, exhibitionism (sex in front of other people (movie set)), creampie, sweet aftercare
⇢ personal note: thank you @/blankexpressions-and-falsefires for bring my beta again! As for what you're all about to read – I have no regrets. Virgin kink goes brrr
"College has always been so crucial, such an essential part of what measures a person’s worth and determines their future."
They say college life is quite challenging. That it can help you come to realize your potential, that you learn more about yourself while in it. That the challenges you experience in university help you grow into a mature person in society.
You have several challenges to face. There's the problem that you focus entirely too much on your studies. In some ways, it’s to secure your future and to compensate for your lack of private life. In other ways, it makes you, because of inexperience, too naive for your own good. Or, as your friends have called it: too innocent. You've never had anyone touch you, never been with anyone in that way. Thus, you never get the hint when someone hits on you or finds you attractive. You have excellent grades – but unlike many of your peers, you’re still a virgin.
Another challenge you are facing is that you aren't wealthy. One semester into your studies, you are closer to the end than you expected. Leaving your landlord's buro, you take a few steps before coming to a halt and close your eyes as if to gain some semblance of composure. You're broke and desperately need money to cover your rent and living expenses. The bank isn't going to give you another loan, and you find yourself on the verge of having to leave college without a family to support your education.
They say you have to fail first to be successful in the future. But you are beyond failing – you are simply screwed.
You are very aware of your financial predicament. And you loathe having to live day to day on just pennies. To put it short—you are sick of being a broke-ass, loser virgin.
You sigh.
Giving up is not a choice. So you do the next best thing: grab life by the horns and start looking for a job. Searching under your bed, clothing pockets, and between couch cushions, you scrounge up enough money to get a local newspaper. In its classified ads, only a few offers deem themselves feasible with your busy school schedule: a late-night shift at a local diner, pizza delivery, or a job doing telemarketing. None of those sound too appealing, but there might not be a choice. Then, your gaze stops at an offer that sounds too good. A movie company is looking for a production assistant on a film set; you don't need prior experience, work hours are during the weekends, and pay is double what the other jobs offer.
You don’t think before hastily grabbing your phone, punching in the number, and waiting while the dial tone rings.
After a distinct click over the other line, a man hisses, "Shimura?"
"Uhm, hi. I- I am calling about the assistant job offer. I was wondering—"
"You're hired. Tomorrow at 5 pm," the man at the other end interrupts in an annoyed tone.
He rattles off the address as you fumble around for a pen, hastily writing it down when you find it.
Before you can reply, he finishes with Don't be late and hangs up unceremoniously.
You exhale, realizing you’ve been holding your breath since he started speaking.
What the hell just happened?
***
The path to the location is littered with brown leaves, and you struggle to keep from slipping as you walk toward the building. The address given to you is an old warehouse on the edge of town. Its monotonous, featureless walls covered in graffiti make it feel abandoned. There are no visible signs that anything is happening inside at all.
As you walk across the parking lot, you start to see small indications of life: fancy cars—far too fancy for this area- and sensual music permeating through the corrugated steel walls.
You weren’t sure how to dress for a job you knew nothing about, so you opted for blue jeans, a white blouse, and pointy shoes with heels. Your hair is tied into a neat ponytail, and simple smokey eyes complete the look.
You aim for a large steel door that the cars are all parked close to. As you lift your head, you take in the old brick building you are standing in front of, lined with large casement metal windows.
There is a single doorbell, no name on it, and you hesitate before inhaling and pressing it with the tip of your finger.
You hear a clicking sound, and then the heavy door swings inwards.
Alright, here goes nothing.
***
The set is surprisingly professional—like a luxurious bedroom sliced in half. A row of chairs faces the set on a concrete floor behind multiple cameras and some sound equipment, with the crew standing around talking.
The producer, Tenko, as he introduces himself to you–with tufts of pale hair and seemingly chronic dry lips in dire need of some chapstick – explains that your job will consist of helping around the set, distributing beverages, and handing out the script. Simple work you could do. After introducing you to the crew, he hands you a stack of papers, instructing you to pass them out.
Then you see her—the actress. She is gorgeous, dressed in an ivory-colored silk robe. Her hair is the color of the sun. Her skin is flawless and tanned, and her body is perfect- although almost definitely sculpted by a professional surgeon.
"Where the fuck is he?" You hear Tenko grumble, pulling a phone from his pocket, thumb tapping against the screen.
A flurry of activity breaks your concentration. A door flies open, and a man strides through—the leading actor, you gather, from how everyone else suddenly perks up.
"Fucking finally," the pale-haired director groans, tucking his cell back into the pocket of his jacket.
The man's hair is coal-colored, falling in messy strands into his face. His eyes remind you of the bright ocean, almost glowing in the dim light of the set. His sharp lips pull into a wide grin, his canines peeking out. He is casually dressed, wearing a pair of dark, ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, allowing you to notice just how well-toned his arms are. He is handsome, with delicate yet masculine features and sharp angles set in his face. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and his thin lips form a troublesome grin when his eyes meet yours.
Shit.
He holds your gaze before dragging his sinfully blue eyes over your figure and looking away again. Your heart skips a beat because even in the low light, you can see that the actor is incredibly hot. Totally your type. You can't help but stare at him, watching how he moves, the way his muscles ripple under the thin fabric of his shirt, the way his thighs bulge in his tight pants.
Speaking of bulge.
It's the biggest one you've ever seen, and the sight of it sends a pang straight to your core. Your cheeks heat up automatically.
Stop it!
You curse inwardly a few times for thinking lewd thoughts on a professional movie set.
But—you can't help it. He just looks too handsome. It stirs something inside of you you've never felt before. You sigh, knowing that this man has already made his way into your dreams, but in the end, they’ll stay just that— dreams.
Someone like him would never want to lay a hand on you.
As he approaches the stage, the man stops dead in his tracks, staring at the actress with a bored expression.
“Not her again.” You hear him groan.
The actress snaps her head around, a stunned expression on her face. “Pardon me?”
"The script calls for an innocent girl." The actor deadpans. "No one's gonna believe that with you in the female role."
The actress jumps to her feet. “How dare you talk about me like that!”
Tenko hisses, “Didn't you read the script? You would have known you film with her today, Touya—"
“I told you not to use my real name on set,” he says with a blase, somewhat impatient gaze.
“And I told you not to let out your frustration on the set, Dabi.” The director retorts.
“Frustration caused by your actions.” Dabi deadpans.
You hold your breath as your eyes dart from the director to Dabi and back to the actress. The rest of the crew acts like this is an everyday commotion on the set.
“This is not a request— I'm not doing the scene with her, " Dabi says, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
The actress jumps from her chair, visibly outraged, as her cheeks flare red with anger. “You're such a dick!”
“Yeah, you're right. But I’m the best dick in the industry.” He turns around, a sardonic finality in his tone.
You stare at the scene before you, the forgotten papers clutched tightly to your chest. The blonde woman stares at the dark-haired man, infuriated.
“So, it's either me—or her.” Dabi addresses Tenko, who isn't even trying to de-escalate the situation. “That's my final say.”
“I can't believe you're doing this to me!" The woman wails exaggeratedly.
"Sweetheart, we need someone who conveys innocence. Not some chick as fake-looking as you," Dabi purrs with false care. “Go carry your plastic off the stage already.”
Tenko scratches his neck in annoyance. He watches as the actress slings an array of profanities at Dabi before storming off with quick strides toward the door, slamming it shut behind her.
The dark-haired man stands at ease, reaching into his pants pocket to retrieve a cigarette, lighting it, and taking a deep drag. “Thank god she's gone. What were you thinking, Tenko?”
“Dabi, she's the most requested—”
“I don't give a fuck.” he runs a free hand through his dark bangs. “She sucks.”
You listen to them bicker, getting more confused by the second.
“So—what do you expect me to do now?” Tenko's scratching increases as he starts pacing up and down the set. “Production costs will double if we cut and pick things up on a different day. Not to mention the cost of finding a new replacement.”
He jumps off his chair, pacing around the set. Then he grumbles, “We’ll take a ten-minute break. I need to come up with a solution or else—”
“We need someone Pretty, no makeup, normal clothes.” Dabi suggests, "That won't be too expensive. Someone who looks undefiled, innocent.” Dabi's gaze wanders across the room. “Like a student or something.”
Then he sees you, and a smirk tugs at his lips. His stunning sapphire eyes look you up and down. You swallow hard, your shaking hands almost crumpling the papers in their tight grip.
"Like her." Teal eyes narrow as they focus on you.
You blink back at him dumbly, the room around you completely silent.
"Me?" You answer, his words catching you off guard.
"Yep. You." Dabi's smirk returns, a playfulness in his eyes.
The director stares at you with the same baffled expression written on your face. "Her?"
"Yep. Her." His grin widens.
"B-But, I can't!" You counter. " I'm a simple student, not an actress—"
"That's exactly what we need." The twinkle in his eyes is still there, "And you have a pussy, don't you?"
"Yes, I—” You catch yourself, your cheeks flaring hot. “W- What does that even have to do with this movie?"
Suddenly, the room goes alive with murmurs and whispers.
Dabi quirks a brow. "You're telling me you don't know?"
"Don't know what?" You helplessly look around.
The dark-haired man turns to his director, "You didn't tell her?!"
Tenko mumbles something about how you would have found out eventually.
Dabi steps toward you and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Doll, this is an adult film set."
"A what?" You dumbly blink at him.
"An adult film set. You know, where people fuck." He leans forward, deep azures sparkling salaciously. "You know how fucking works, don't you?"
"Yes, I mean—in theory?" A heat washes over your face and flushes down your entire body.
"Yes or no. What is it?" Dabi asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow.
The heat in your face has reached the tip of your ears as you stammer. "It's none of your business."
He steps even closer. "C’mon, sweetheart, tell us."
He smirks, eyes narrowing as he leans closer. He looks at your lips, then back at your eyes. You can smell him with how close he is leaning in. His deep, masculine scent surrounds you, sending a jolt of heat straight through your core. Even though your mind wants to scream at him, to tell him off, you hear a timid voice whisper, "I’ve used my fingers? Maybe some toys?"
It is your voice.
"You're telling me you've never done it with another person?" This time, it is Dabi’s turn to sound baffled as he leans back, taking you in. "That you're a virgin."
"I-I…" You stammer, swallowing dryly.
Looking over his shoulders, he calls over to his director, "It'll break records if we film this. You're aware of that, right?"
"I am." Tenko snaps, scratching at his neck irritably, "You don't need to tell me."
"Ok, then it's a deal.” He nods towards you. “I want her—or I'm leaving."
"You little piece of—" Tenko growls. "That's extortion."
"You won't regret it," Dabi says, shrugging nonchalantly.
"Shouldn’t I have a say on this too?" You ask, but both men ignore your words.
"Ok, it's a deal," Tenko murmurs. "How much do we pay her?"
Dabi turns his gaze back to you. "You need money, right? Or else you wouldn't be here.”
"That’s none of your business."
"C'mon, sweetheart, This is your chance."
“Yes, I mean… " a sound of annoyance bubbles up your throat. "I can't afford my rent anymore, and my landlord will kick me out if I don't pay up soon."
“I sense an opportunity here," Dabi smirks. "Tenko, how much will you pay her if she agrees to do this with me?"
"How much do you want?" Tenko asks you.
“I-I don't know. I've never thought about it." You shyly add.
"Pay her rent plus an allowance," Dabi suggests. "Tenko, you know she's worth it."
"That’s too m—" You swallow hard.
Tenko mumbles disgruntledly: "OK, I'll do it.”
“You what?" His words leave you stunned.
Dabi interrupts quickly. "What he's saying, sweetheart, is that he'll pay for your rent - if you let me fuck you.”
His lewd words and the deep blue pools of his stunning eyes send a flutter through your stomach.
“In front of all these people?!"
“That's what porn is all about, doll.” Dabi chuckles, studying your reaction.
You swallow hard.
"So? What's it gonna be?" He cocks his head, waiting.
You have always prioritized safety, so common sense tells you to stick to your usual way of life. However, look where common sense has led you: You're almost broke and may need to drop out of college.
This could be a bad decision. But, it's time to throw safety to the sea.
"OK, I'll do it," you proclaim, and a round of applause and cheers erupt on the set while Dabi nods appreciatively.
“Congratulations, you're hired. Now, get ready before I change my mind.” Tenko waves a hand. “We still have a movie to film here.”
Your heart starts to race, a crushing weight bearing down on your chest. But you know that you have no choice. It's either a free porn loan—or being a forced college dropout. Taking a deep breath, you ball your hands into fists, trying to ignore the signs of panic your body is giving you.
"Okay, everyone, resume positions. And hand her the script.” Tenko moves to his chair, sitting down in it. “Let's do the first take."
"Hold on," Dabi says. "Why not do it a bit differently this time? No script, no acting— just raw footage. The whole thing.”
“You mean a one-shot film?” Tenko looks surprised. “I suppose that would work. Especially with a new actress.”
“Are you okay with that, doll?” Dabi smiles at you, and there's a warmth in his voice that wasn't there before.
“Do I have a choice?” you sigh.
“Not really.” He winks.
"Are you two lovebirds done flirting over there? " Tenko asks, " Because we're ready to film.”
“We weren't flir—” you protest, but Dabi bridges the distance between you.
"So, sweetheart?" He leans in, his face hovering close, sharing a breath with you. "How are you feeling about being fucked on camera?"
“Nervous.” you bite your lips, your face starting to burn.
"Doll, don't be; just focus on me," he soothes, stroking your cheek. “Forget about everyone else; I'll take care of you.”
He takes your hand and pulls you towards the bedroom set.
“Quiet!” Tenko raises a hand, and complete silence falls over the set as the crew prepares to film you both.
Tenko calls out a set of commands, which different crew members around the room answer.
“Sound?”
“Set.”
“Camera?”
“Set.”
“Roll sound.”
“Sound rolling.”
“Roll camera.”
“Camera Speed.”
“Marker.”
A man with a clapper board enters the scene and calls, "Scene one. Take—uhm— whatever."
Dabi nods, and that is the cue. The lights dim, and the cameras vanish into the darkness; only the red lights betray their existence.
You glance around, your stomach in knots, as you realize that this is no game, that this is it. The only thing visibly lit was the bed standing a few feet away. The crew's faces are barely visible as everyone watches you, the man behind the camera tilting it, filming you from bottom to top.
“Hey baby, you alright?” You hear Dabi's voice.
“N-No, not really.” You stammer, your hands trembling, your breathing picking up, as your eyes frantically dart around the dark set. “I don't know if I can do this.”
“Sweetheart, look at me.” You feel a finger hook under your chin when Dabi tilts your head to meet his gaze. It's intense, the turquoise of his irises gleaming almost unnaturally.
You feel your heart sink into your stomach as his thumb caresses your skin. When he closes the already minimal distance between you, your eyes flutter close in reflex. His lips are sensually warm and addicting against your cheek, and your heart starts thrashing wildly inside your chest in response. Something changes between you, an intimacy blooming as the voices of the people mute.
It's all you need to distract your mind, to make your body heat up. Not with anxiety—
—but in anticipation.
“Are you ready to give me your virginity?” His low voice rumbles close to your ear.
You nod, like in a haze, every caress of his lips causes your skin to tingle, to burn with passion. He shifts, and you feel him faintly brush your lips, and a zap of electricity courses through your veins. Then, your lips are united in his first tentative kiss. They are so soft, and the way he kisses you is so delicate, almost tender— deliberately slow.
You relax, giving in to how wonderful this feels. His tongue slowly traces the shape of your lips, and you feel your brain short-circuiting. Angling your head to the side, you part your lips, begging him to enter. Dabi reacts instantly, his tongue slipping your mouth, delving deeper, tasting you, consuming you.
You groan—how could a man taste so good?
It makes your knees buckle, and you start panting into his mouth, your instincts taking over, your body reacting to his touch. A desire, a passion, awakens like a wild animal roaring, and you feel a wave of arousal pool in your panties. You can't help it, and you slide your hand underneath his shirt, your other hand circling his neck. You can feel him smirking into the kiss, but the sound carries off into a groan when you rake your nails down the small of his back.
As he breaks away, a warmth lingers between you and him while he admires your wet, pink, swollen lips, "A little eager for your first time, huh?"
The kiss leaves you dizzy, and you can't seem to form an answer, too stricken by his closeness and intoxicating scent.
The moment passes, and then his lips smash against yours so fast you don't even have time to react. He presses his hips against yours, his clothed hardness grazing against your heat, letting you feel just how hard you’ve made him.
Holy shit.
He's not gentle anymore; he's rough and demanding now. He is taking you, enjoying the shaky gasps that leave your lips. Dabi’s hands trail down your side to find your ass cheeks. He lifts you by the thighs onto his waist skillfully, never breaking the kiss. Carrying you easily toward the bed he releases his hold and you topple onto it, panting heavily.
The lights around you heat the air, and you notice one camera panning across the set while the other tracks toward you on a dolly. Just as your heart starts picking up an anxious speed again, you see a movement to the side. Dabi yanks his shirt above his head, the muscles in his stomach flexing with every movement.
The second the fabric touches the floor, he's on you with his lips pressed to yours and his tongue in your mouth. You feel yourself getting lost in the moment of passion and all you can see is him. Your stomach somersaults and the world around you ceases to exist; it is just you and him— the people around you and the cameras wholly forgotten. The world, right now, only revolves around the two of you.
“You taste so fucking good,” he breathes into your mouth, hazy eyes glowing with arousal. "How do you taste so fucking good?”
You feel his hand sneak underneath your shirt to slowly pull it off over your head. Next, he skillfully removes the rest of your clothes off until you are lying below him, sex and breasts cupped by delicate cotton underwear.
“Look at that,” he muses. “So innocent.”
Sliding his hand behind your back, he unhooks the bra with an expert pinch of his fingers. Your breasts spill out as he slides the straps off your shoulders, tossing it aside. Then his gaze lingers on your soft, round tits.
“Damn,” he cups them and squeezes them gently, “Where have you been hiding, girl? You're perfect.”
He slides his fingers over your nipples and a low moan tears from your throat. Dabi lets out a low rumble as his hands continue to work your breasts, rubbing and plucking at your stiffening nipples. There’s a deep throb low in your body, pulsing between your thighs, and you're startled at the way you’re reacting. You are so turned on—his touch only adds to your body’s cravings, and as his large palms glide over your breasts; it pulls the breath from your lungs as it simultaneously fuels your desire. His thumbs drag over your nipples again, rolling it between his fingers before leaning down to lick at your pebbled nub. He makes you feel breathless with excitement the more he focuses on toying with your breasts, rolling the tips back and forth between his thumb and forefinger.
It makes you crazy with need until you're aching, shivering throughout your entire body. You're gasping for breath the entire time Dabi has his lips wrapped around your erect nub, sucking it to send a tingling sensation straight through to your core. Then he's biting just hard enough to make you squeal before soothing the puckered nub with a flick of his tongue.
“You’ve got the most amazing tits,’ Dabi murmurs against your skin. “So soft and full. So natural.”
While he switches from pliant nipple to pliant nipple, you feel a stray hand hook its fingers under the seams of your panties. He releases your nipple with a pop and peppers kisses down to your tummy while he adeptly pulls the little piece of fabric down and off your legs. You're now utterly naked below him while Dabi continues revering your body with wet kisses and nibbles, moving downward until you feel his warm breath on your pubic mound. He spreads your trembling legs, his eyes glazing over your pussy, pupils expanding and then retracting into pin slits.
"Look at that pretty pussy." His breath is hot against your soaked folds. "And so fucking wet—you're dripping."
A shameful sound spills from your lips at his words, and you writhe in his hold. But his hands keep you in place.
"You're seriously telling me,” he slides his fingers up and down your glistening folds, “No one's been here before?"
You squirm below him as a camera zooms in on where Dabi’s eyes are affixed– between your thighs.
“Cause you have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen.” He snickers. “And I've seen a lot.”
His warm, calloused fingers slide up and down your slippery folds, his hot breath fanning over your sex. Then he spreads apart your sweet lips; it makes you shudder in anticipation, and Dabi chuckles.
“I can see you twitching for me.” A finger sinks in, making you arch your back the deeper it goes.
The camera behind him zooms in on your blushing face, and you cover it with trembling hands.
"Nu-uh, no hiding. Look at me." He slaps your clit lightly—making you jolt. "Let us see your pretty face."
You whimper softly, because you've touched yourself before—
—but this just feels so much more intense.
“Dabi—” you choke out, flinching in pleasure when he slides a hand underneath your ass,
raising your hips to have more access to you.
“Relax, baby, I'll take care of you.” A growl tears from his throat, and then he drags his tongue over your gleaming folds, tasting you.
You cry out, your body shuddering. Over and over, Dabi licks you with deep, claiming strokes, using his tongue to explore every bit of you.
“Damn, you taste better than anything I've ever tasted.” He pushes his wet muscle into your core, frantic to have more of you.
“Oh my God. Dabi!” Your toes curl, and your thighs tighten around him. You're both – startled and aroused at his eagerness. Any worries you have are melting away as he drags his tongue over you again and again, making you squirm with need.
A moan escapes your lips– loud, uncontrolled– when his tongue flicks over your folds. When he grazes your little button, you jolt as if you've been stung.
He hums appreciatively and buries his face into your warmth, seeking out that sweet nub. Your body jerks as he moves his tongue over it, repeating the action when he does it again. You give a little wail, and your hands curl into the fabric the longer he teases. He eagerly works that spot, and you cry out with little choked gasps.
As his tongue circles your clitoris, your sensations spiral out of control. You can feel the tension increasing in your body with a growing urgency to be released.
“Dabi,” you pant with every flick of his tongue. But he doesn't respond, does not hear– or pretends not to. He buries his face in your folds, hands holding you down by your hips.
With every quiver that moves through your body, with every shiver of response, every tensing of your muscles, you draw closer to the edge.
You writhe against Dabi, with his face between your thighs, lapping at your juices. All the while, he continues to work your little clit with his tongue in slow, steady strokes.
Suddenly, the feeling that you’re about to cum overwhelms you. Your pussy clenches, dripping with your juices, and your clit is ready to burst.
Your hips jerk against him, and then a release explodes in your mind, your thoughts crashing all around you. You come with a slight scream that morphs into a moan, but Dabi does not stop his ministrations—
—no.
He continues to lick and suck as you come and come and come.
It's too much; you feel like exploding. You’re a moaning mess, fingers slipping between Dabi’s strands, pushing and pulling at his roots unsure if you can take it if he keeps going like that.
Your entire body is on fire. The orgasm continues to surge through you– more intense than anything you’ve experienced by yourself– with Dabi gently sucking and licking at your clit. You are delirious, feel like you are floating with no way to find your path back to earth.
“Dabi, please—” you choke out.
Dabi’s mouth detaches from your overstimulated nub and straightens up, licking your cum’s sweetness off his lips. Crawling on top of you, he gazes into your eyes. “Doll, tell me—what do you want me to do?”
You see his jeans straining from the bulk of his erection and swallow, your body responding with a flood of hormones.
“Please fuck me,” you whisper, thinking in ways you never have before.
You want to beg him to be gentle, but you can’t seem to form the words when you see him unbuckle his belt before unzipping his jeans, his eyes carefully watching your expression as he does. His cock springs to life, and you swallow thickly. It's enormous—and pierced.
You feel a momentary pang of doubt, questioning if that monster will even fit inside you. The previous excitement and adrenaline pumping through your veins gradually turn to panic. Your breathing picks up as you stare at his cock, wide-eyed.
“You look worried,” Dabi says, stroking it with one hand. His raised eyebrows and amused grin tell you he's used to this type of reaction.
“Are you sure…” you nod towards his cock.
“Trust me,” he says. “I’ll make sure you feel good. It’ll be the greatest thing you'll ever experience.”
Your entire body yearns for his touch, and there’s no way you're saying no now. He’s spreading you wide open, hands on your knees, before he moves to hold himself in hand to align his cock with your entrance.
"Do you want me to fuck you?’ Dabi asks as he drags the head of the tip up and down your slit.
“‘S not gonna fit,” you whine with a worried expression.
“Don't be scared,” Dabi says, "I know what I'm doing. So, you'll be a good girl and take it all, right?”
“I'm not sure,” you whisper.
“I know you can...” His eyes stare at you with a desire so intense that you almost feel intimidated.
He’s spreading you wide open, hands on your knees, before he moves one to hold himself and align his cock to your entrance. The pressure between your legs increases as Dabi nudges the pierced tip of his cock against you.
“Get ready,” he whispers.
A mix of a gasp and a cry leaves your lips as Dabi strains against you, feeling like he’s trying to shove a massive pole inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut as tears gather in your lashes, and Dabi holds back, kissing you, waiting for you to relax.
“Easy,” he says softly, “I’ve got you.”
The softness of his tone relaxes you and the tension in your shoulders lessens. Then, somehow, something gives way, and he enters you. You gasp, your body opening up to accommodate the massive dick that is now sliding inside of you.
"Oh my god—” You throw your head back, hands clawing at his shoulders in a weak attempt to push him away.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, eyebrows furrowing before he hits resistance and then pushes forward.
There’s a sharp pain slicing through your core, and you don't know if it's from the stretch or a tear. Probably both. It hurts, and you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing tears down your cheek. Dabi continues to push his hips forward, only stopping once he’s entirely inside, heavy balls pressed against the crease of your ass. The cameras zoom in on the bulge in your womb, where his dick sits buried deep inside of you. But you don't notice them, your brain too consumed by him filling you up, his whole weight resting against you.
“You ok?” Breathing heavily, he drags his eyes back and forth over your face.
“Gimme a sec.” Your lips press into a thin line as the pain from the stretch slowly turns into a dull throb. After a moment, you nod...
"I'm gonna start moving now," Dabi says— and then does precisely that.
Just as you start to feel your body relaxing, he withdraws, only to plunge himself in again. The sudden shock of the movement is incredible. You feel every ridge, every single thick vein. It feels fantastic, and as he slowly slides back in, you can appreciate every inch of his cock. He starts an even rhythm, rocking inside you gently.
“Shit, just squeezed me so fucking tight,” he moans in response. "I’m warning you, don't make me lose my composure. You don’t want to see me act up.”
Your mind feels detached from your body; you don't hear him, don't even notice the camera zooming in, focusing on how your face scrunches and your lips quiver because of how good he makes you feel.
He grabs you by the waist and brings you closer to him. Raising both legs in the air, he pushes them forward until your body is folded in half.
“Oh—shit—” You choke out, the walls of your sex stretching to accommodate him.
“I’m gonna make you cum,” Dabi is panting hard as he starts driving his cock rapidly in and out of you. “You won't be able to walk for days.”
“I-I can’t—” your jaw slackens as you tighten around his dick again, the ability to form comprehensive answers having left you the moment he breached your walls.
He rams himself deeper while his fingers slip between your strands, guiding your face upward, your mouths colliding in a frantic kiss.
It starts as a slow burn that gradually builds into a white, blistering heat. A feeling begins coursing through you, making you lose control of your body. You tense and arch your back, your head digging back into the pillow, voice caught in your throat. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, all that tension releases, and you cry out loud, a turbulent wave of pleasure hitting you like a storm. All your nerve endings are seemingly set ablaze while Dabi fucks you through your orgasm.
His eyes are wide with wonder, hearing and feeling you come undone around him. The way your eyes are shut tightly in pleasure, your entire body trembling and shaking in ecstasy, is the best thing he's ever seen. It makes his chest swell with pride. Still, it feels like it's not enough, though, and he needs more. He wants to own you, possess you, make you his.
Dabi snaps.
With a suppressed growl, Dabi grabs you by your hips and flips you over onto your stomach. He's not letting you catch your breath before he propels his cock back inside you again. His hand slides from the dip in your spine to the spot between your shoulder blades, pressing down until your face is buried in the sheets. At this angle, he reaches even deeper than before, his piercings rubbing your G-spot just right. Your hands tightly fist the soft duvet with every drive of his hips, knocking the air from your lungs.
Dabi seems delirious, pistoning in and out of you now. Reaching forward, he gathers your hair around his fist, tugging it to keep you in place, forcing your head up from the sheets. You sob out his name, your chin and cheeks covered with your drool and tears.
But Dabi is drowning too deep in pleasure to notice.
"I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll never think of anyone but me in your fantasies," Dabi growls while your elbows shake under the pressure of his forceful thrusts.
Slowly, your mind is falling apart with the pleasure pulsing through your body. Dabi starts drilling his big cock into your even faster now. You tremble below him, thighs quivering when you feel another orgasm building up.
“You gonna cum for me again, princess?” Dabi groans, “I can feel your pussy clenching around me.”
You nod, too exhausted to form any words. Dabi tightens his hold on your hip, fingers digging into your plush skin, holding you still.
“I’m gonna cum with you,” he tells you. “I’m gonna fill up your tight hole, gonna breed you so good—fuck!”
"Please—" you whimper pathetically, finding yourself trapped in his lewd promises.
And then you lose it, feeling like the world is disappearing underneath your feet. Pleasure rips through you, leaving you with no strength. It’s an intense tingling pleasure that starts in your core and spreads through your whole body, from your fingertips down to your toes. It's all-consuming and euphoric, your body not knowing what to do with that much sensation at once.
You feel your body falling off a cliff into a pile of tingling ecstasy as you cum again with a broken whimper escaping your lips. The orgasm is even more potent than the last ones, like a massive burst of pleasure; all that tension explodes and shoots up the back of your legs and everywhere else. You moan and shudder, your pussy clamping around his cock.
“That’s it,” Dabi lets out a long, shuddering groan. “Just like that.”
You forget to breathe while Dabi keeps fucking your harder and harder, feral with desire, shoving his cock as deep inside you as he can.
“Oh fuck—” You gasp out, arching your back, fingers twisting against the sheets.
No sooner have the words slipped from your lips that you feel your whole body lock tight again—and then unravel. You forget to breathe as an unending cascade of euphoria detonates deep inside of you. You come undone, shaking uncontrollably as juices gush from your pussy, dripping down Dabis balls, drenching the sheets below.
Dabi groans, his eyes screwing shut, head dropping back. With one final possessive thrust of his hips, he cums, shooting his seed deep inside you. You feel his cock twitch as he moans heavily, eyebrows sewn together. His body is shuddering, his hips hitching while he rides out his orgasm.
You’re faintly aware of your surroundings, buried too deeply in your bliss. Unable to take any more pleasure, you slump backward. Dabi slides his softening cock from you with an obscene wet sound before dropping down onto the bed beside you, taking you with him.
“Fuck…” he breathed out, caressing your skin. “That felt so—”
‘And—cut!’ You hear a voice call, speaking its way into the mush that is your brain, slapping you back to reality.
You open your eyes and look around in shock, having completely forgotten where you are. The lights switch on, almost blindingly bright. People start hustling about the set, and cameras mere inches away from you now pull back into their waiting positions.
“That was perfect,” you hear Tenko say through the noise filling the set now.
Your breath catches in your throat, an unsettling feeling beginning to well inside you. Your heart starts pounding at an increasingly rapid pace while you feel panic stretch its icy fingers up your spine.
You feel a warm hand cradling your face, angling it to the side. It’s Dabi. He places his mouth over yours without further ado.
“You are perfect.” Dabi coos into the kiss, and it happens again— butterflies erupt in your gut, the world around you fading until there's only you and him.
Instinctively, you let go, feeling the tension slowly dissipate and your heart calming down. Dabi smiles as he breaks away from you, and you feel it— a lingering warmth, an unseen connection that spins fragile threads between you both.
A man approaches to help you get out of bed, but Dabi, whose face is still dewy with sweat, moves between you both. He takes the bathrobe from the guy and wraps it around your shivering body before getting dressed himself.
Helping you off the bed, he drapes an arm around your shoulder and leads you past the celebrating crew members from the set until you’re backstage.
Once in the changing room, he closes the door behind him and leans against it.
“That was something…” he muses. “You’re a natural. Would you ever consider doing this again with me?’
You're caught off-guard, his face radiating a tenderness that fills your heart with something joyful. A warmth spreads across your face, your hands gripping the soft belt of your robe as you nip at your lower lip. “I-I don't know.”
“You should,” Dabi kicks off the door frame and saunters over you with a sinful, obscene sway of his hips. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing in a silent agreement, pulling you into a tight embrace. “Think about it…”
He lets the words hang in the air for a second. When he pulls away, his arms wrap around your neck, lower half still pressed against you as if you’re not a stranger. He looks down at you like the two of you have been dating for years.
“So, I was wondering… what are you doing later on?” Dabi kisses the tip of your nose. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat and get some drinks?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” A new desire for him grows inside of you. You smile back at him, reaching up to gently play with his dark hair.
“Maybe?” His lips curl into a devious smirk.
“Is this even allowed?” Chest to chest, your heartbeat slowly catches up to his, as if your bodies react simultaneously to each other's warm touch.
“Maybe?” Dabi repeats, his thumb gently brushing along your lips.
When you look into his eyes, a tenderness softens the rough edges of his sharp features. It makes you wonder, he’s been so sweet and caring after everything that happened today– you actually believe he’s a genuinely sincere and nice guy. You feel your heart quiet when you’re with him, as if you have found peace.
“Well…” you consider, “I've just thrown all my morals into the wind. So, might as well go on a date with a pornstar, right?”
“You won't regret it.” Dabis laughs softly. “Even though you might not be able to move after I'm done with you—”
“Is that so…” You are torn between scolding him or laughing because he's so cute. “Ok, big boy, whatever you say.”
#dabi smut#dabi x you#dabi x reader#dabi#dabi todoroki#bnha dabi#mha dabi#dabi my hero academia#touya todoroki#todoroki touya#dabi fanfic#dabi x y/n#mha au#mha smut#bnha smut#dabi x reader smut#dabi x you smut
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pairings: peircer eren x black reader
warnings: smut 18+, kinda pervy eren
Good girl
“Hello?” Your soft voice rang over the chimes as you entered the tattoo parlor.
The shop was quiet, seemingly empty besides the softening chimes of the door and surprised cursing down the long hall.
“Shit- yeah. Just give me a minute. My apologies” The culprit of the cursing called.
In the meantime, you took a look around the lobby. The reviews didn't do the place justice. The largest wall contained a bright colorful mural, contrasting beautifully with the dark floors and connected black walls.
While admiring the piece of artwork, heavy thudding from the long hallway turned your attention to the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.
You never believed in love at first sight, up until now. You hadn't even known the man's name yet, but you craved him. The reviews warned you the entire staff was attractive but they clearly left out that this man was a god.
His long hair was pulled into a low bun, strands falling in his face, the color contrasting against his pale skin. He was tall, with a full sleeve on one of his muscular arms, and his green eyes had you drowning immediately. He couldn't be Onyankopon, they said he was a brother. Maybe Connie or, Levi-
“Hi, I'm Eren” He introduced himself after swallowing the large knot in his throat.
While in your own trance, you failed to notice how he froze the moment he saw you. The bright light you stood under showcased the sparkles of your pretty brown skin.
Your legs were on display as a result of the simmering heat outside, thick thighs causing them to roll up slightly. The fitted t-shirt you wore allowed the hardened buds of your nipples to peek through, despite the hot weather.
Eren never considered himself a pervert but the way his mind instantly thought about sucking on them till you begged him to fuck you had him thinking otherwise.
“Hi, I'm [☆]. Is this a bad time?” Oh, he could have come on the spot, your voice sounded even better without the numerous walls separating you and god your perfume had him wanting to devour you on the reception desk.
“No, no I just don't know how much I can do for you, the AC is out in all the rooms but mine and I don't even know how long that's gonna last so if you're looking for an hour long tat session you'll have to come back” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting against the white tee.
“Oh no, I'm just hoping to get a few piercings but I can definitely come back another time”
“No, I can do a couple of piercings. What were you thinking?” He grabbed the paperwork from under the counter, praying one of them would be your chest.
“Uh well, I want the other side of my nose, belly button, venus dimples, and my nipples but I understand if you can't do all of that or the last one I'll just come back”
“No, no I can do it,” He said too quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly before handing you the paperwork.
⋆⭒˚.⋆
“Good girl. You're doing such a good job for me, pretty. Just hold on for one second, lovey”
He was currently doing your last dimple piercing. The pain was unimaginable at first but as soon as the praises left his mouth all was forgotten besides the growing stickiness that rested between your thighs.
He praised you after every piercing a variation of “Good girl” “You're doing such a good job for me” “That's it, baby. You did so good” flowed from his pink lips. You could never decide which throbbing to focus on, the one from your new piercing or the throbbing of your clit.
With three new holes in your body and damp panties, it was now time for the piercing both of you were dreading yet excited for.
“Do I just take my shirt off here?”
“Wherever you're comfortable, baby. You can go in the bathroom or stay in here and I'll give you some privacy” He felt like a teenage boy again. His dick twitching at the thought of seeing you exposed.
“No, it's okay you can stay in here I don't mind”
“Oh. Okay,” He perked up. Giving you some privacy he turned his back, pretending to be busy when in reality he was trying to think of anything but you getting undressed behind him. Despite his concentration, all he could focus on was the sound of your necklaces and bracelets clanking at the movements you made.
He knew your nipples were still hard, especially since he took advantage of the working AC and he wondered what your moans would sound like if he flicked his tounge repeatedly over the bud, or if he pinched them in front of the mirror while you begged him to fuck you as you pressed your ass against his hard-
“I'm ready” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts.
If his self control was any less he'd have gotten on his knees to worship you. There you were. Looking everywhere but him, tits exposed. If it weren’t for the fact other men besides him would see, he'd tattoo this image of you on his bare forearm.
“Are you ready?” He suppressed a groan.
“Mhm”
“Okay stand up for me” He led you to the mirror where he prepped each bud. During the process, you felt as if you could crawl into yourself. The most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on had his hands on your breast. Despite the occasion being nonsexual, you were convinced your arousal would start running down your thigh at any second.
“Is this okay?” He stood behind you.
You gave a simple hum of approval, thoughts gone as he explained how the process would go. You convinced yourself you could handle it, that it would all be over soon.
That was until he rolled the bud in between his fingers, the whimper you'd been holding escaping you.
‘fuck’ ‘fuck’
“Shit, I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to do that, please understand I had no malicious intentions I just” He stumbled over his words.
He was just explaining the step by step process of the piercing. He wasn't thinking, just craving. He wouldn't have realized his actions if it weren't for the sound you let out. The sound he knew he'd replay in his head the moment you left the shop, stroking his cock as he imagined it were you down on your knees in front of him.
“It's okay” You reassured him. Your big eyes staring up into his through the mirror.
“I didn't…I don't mind”
⋆⭒˚.⋆
Before you knew it you were bouncing on his cock. His moans muffled as his mouth engulfed your breast. Tongue slightly grazing your nipple with the flickers of his tongue before sucking harshly.
He was stretching you out so good, leaky red tip repeatedly hitting your cervix as his frenum piercing brushed against your walls. The added pleasure contributing to the pace of your bounces as you chased your high.
“E-eren please” You whined, attempting to push his head away from the assault on your breast. His hair was everywhere, the ponytail holder long gone the moment your hands entangled in his hair. Your buds were so sensitive, every suck and swipe of his tongue had you squeezing around him, every clench releasing your cream that pooled at the base of his cock.
“Fuck” He groaned, reluctantly giving your boobs a break. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, groping the brown skin before placing a hard slap on your cheek.
“Talk to me, pretty. You like this? Like bouncing on daddy's cock hmm?” His arms wrapped around you tightly as he fucked up into you.
“Oh my- fuck” You gave him control. Your head resting on his shoulder as you let out pornographic moans into his ear.
“Answer me, mama” Another slap landed on your ass.
Before you had time to register the mix of pain and pleasure on your flesh, the gentle pressure of his finger rubbing circles on your puckering hole had you seeing stars.
“Fuck y-yes. I love it so much, daddy. Please don't stop” You whined. Tears of pleasure wetting the crook of his neck.
By no means was Eren a fast finisher but boy was he trying his best to hold on, you're pussy was just squeezing him so tight, the added tension on his scalp as you tugged on it every time he hit the spongy spot along your walls had his nails digging crescents into your skin.
“I'm so close, daddy, please”
“Let go mama” He pressed hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.
In that moment you came, your pussy tightening around the large girth of his cock. Clear liquid squirting from you in streams as he continued his thrust. Your arousal splashing and dripping onto the chair.
With sweat dripping down his forehead, and stray hairs sticking to him, his thrust became sloppy and his breathing became heavier.
“S-shit” He whimpered, head thrown back as he came harder than ever. Repeatedly pushing his load back into your pussy.
“Lemme take you on a date. Please” He panted once you both came down, his hands roaming your body as he looked down at you, green irises peeking out behind his blown pupils.
“Okay, yea- oh” A broken moan escaped you as he moved your hips up and down his length once again.
“Eren” You whined
“Don't tell me you're wiped out after one round, pretty girl. I know you have more in you, mama. Be a good girl for daddy”
for my eren girlies. this is probably the fastest I've ever wrote bc i just needed peircer eren. oh also how do yall feel about pegging bc i feel peircer eren can be a bit subby sometimes ttm. mwah <3
pt.2 wit the pegging ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১
#aot x black reader#anime x black!reader#aot x reader#black reader#attack on titan#chubby reader#eren yeager#eren jaeger#eren x reader#eren aot#eren x black fem!reader#eren smut#eren x you#eren x chubby reader#eren fluff#eren x black y/n#aot x black y/n#aot x black reader smut#aot fic#aot eren#aot x female reader#x black reader#eren jeager x reader#eren jeager smut#eren yeager x black reader#eren jeager#eren jeager x y/n#eren jeager x black reader#eren yaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader
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the red means i love you — r.c.
pairing: dark!rafe cameron x dark!reader
warnings: 18+ smut, murder, vaginal sex, extreme violence, stabbing, blood, knifeplay (carving), bloodplay, possessive and obsessive behaviour (reader and rafe), fingering, hair pulling, slight spanking, toxic relationship, reader and rafe are both fucked in the head
word count: 5k
summary: in a relationship fueled by hidden obsession and jealousy, you and your boyfriend are more alike than you initially thought.
moodboard // m.list // blurbs m.list // taglist
You hummed along to the song blasting from your speakers, stretched out on your stomach while absentmindedly scrolling through TikTok, your long nails tapping against the screen. With your boyfriend away on their annual family vacation, you were left restless and bored. Since you started dating him a year ago, you've spent practically every moment together, causing your hobbies and personal interests to gradually fade, along with your sense of individuality. He was the centre of your world, everything in your life revolved around him— you were willing to go to any lengths for him, and you knew he would do the same for you. What you both didn’t know, was how far you would be willing to go for each other.
Yawning while watching the nth slime scoopability video on your TikTok for you page, a notification popped up on your phone— rafe_cameron posted a new picture! You instantly tapped on it, having notifications turned on for a reason only to find a photo of your boyfriend on a yacht, clad in nothing but his blue swimsuit. Fuck. His defined abs, the tight shorts showing his bulge through the fabric, his hair messy and slightly wet— you instantly felt an ache between your legs, prompting you to rub your thighs together.
Though it had only been a few days since you had last seen him, his absence weighed heavy and the picture didn’t help. You found yourself analysing every single detail of the picture, but your focus kept going back to his bulge as you could practically feel his cock filling you up so perfectly like he does every night again, except for tonight. You were desperately craving his touch, and just as you were about to reach your hand into your shorts to relieve the achy feeling, your mood was ruined when you checked the comment section.
oliviaprentiss4: looking good Cameron! 😍
Bang. You threw your phone aggressively at the wall while letting out a piercing scream as your breaths grew shallow and fast, anger coursing through your veins. Fucking bitch. Of course it’s Olivia, who goes after your man every chance she gets. Despite Rafe's constant assurances that she's just a friend and nothing more, as a girl yourself, you can't help but notice the subtle flirtations — the way she twirls her blonde locks while gazing up at him with fuck-me eyes whenever they talk. You're not stupid.
You fixed your gaze intently on the wall, attempting to collect your thoughts and calm your breathing as a plan dawned upon you. Swiftly grabbing the lip gloss from the bedside table next to you, you hastily reapplied it before gathering your phone from the ground and switching to the camera app. You raised your phone in the air, pushing your tits up and pulling your top down just a tad bit, leaving nearly nothing to the imagination as you snapped a few pictures while switching poses.
Brandon is gonna fucking love these, you thought to yourself while scrolling through your camera roll, referring to a fratboy you met at a party before you started dating Rafe. You hooked up with him once, seeing him as nothing more than just a one-night stand, but he became obsessed with you after that— replying to your Instagram stories daily and asking you to hang out at least once a week. You knew he would comment if you posted a few sexy pics, and you were right.
brandontheman: cute top, but im more interested in whats under it ;)
You bit your lip as an amused but sinister smile spread across your face, knowing it would infuriate Rafe. Clicking back on his profile to check the new picture once more, you noticed new comments had been added. Your smile abruptly vanished as you glanced at Rafe's comments section again, feeling the anger that had started to subside returning with force.
rafe_cameron: @ oliviaprentiss4 Thanks liv.
Liv. He fucking calls her Liv. Fucking asshole. You muttered curses under your breath, fists clenching as your breathing quickened and your jaw tightened again. He could've simply ignored her. Or deleted her comment. Or blocked her when you started complaining about the bitch four months ago. But no— the fucking idiot calls her Liv, for everyone to see, including you.
With hands trembling from sheer rage, you redirected your attention to your phone before switching profiles. rafe_cameron. Now, you wouldn't exactly label yourself as toxic for having his profile logged in on your phone. You're just, you know, keeping an eye on him, with the best intentions after all. Even though he was unaware that you peeked into his phone to get his password when he was showering. Hmm. Okay, maybe you were a little toxic, you can admit that much. But being toxic means being smart so you went to settings and disabled notifications, ensuring Rafe wouldn’t suspect a thing before tapping on his chat with Olivia.
As you scrolled through the chat, nothing new caught your eye, which didn't come as a surprise given that you checked his profile on a daily basis. It was the usual— Olivia showering him with compliments whenever he posted a picture of himself, and him graciously thanking her. You shook your head in disbelief, your jaw tensing with anger at his consistent responses to her. She was a big problem— a serious threat to your relationship, and you desperately needed to get rid of her. You took a deep breath, hoping your plan would succeed, before typing out a message.
rafe_cameron: hey liv.
oliviaprentiss4: hey rafey!
Rafey. Oh, this bitch really wants to die.
rafe_cameron: my girlfriend is out of town tonight. wanna come over?
oliviaprentiss4: sounds good! I’ll be there at 9!! 🤍
Not a girl’s girl, huh? You scoffed at how easily she agreed to a man cheating on his girlfriend, yet a small smile tugged at your lips as it seemed that your plan was starting to take work. Now you just had to figure out how to get inside Tannyhill, but let’s be real— breaking in is the easiest part of it all.
The moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows across the Cameron’s estate except for a few lights that you hastily switched on when you arrived five minutes before nine. It was quiet; the only sounds in the eerie mansion were the ticking of a clock and a few birds chirping outside.
You were impatiently sitting on the couch, waiting for Olivia, with your knee bouncing up and down— not from nerves though, but rather, excitement. A wicked grin spread across your face as you heard the doorknob turn, followed by cautious footsteps on the wooden floor. Olivia gasped audibly when she spotted you, her face flushing bright red as she stumbled over her words, too stunned to articulate a coherent sentence.
“I- Sorry, Rafe said- I mean. I thought you wouldn’t-“ “You thought what, exactly? That you could fuck my boyfriend without me knowing? God, you really are such a stupid, fucking bitch.”
Your words hit her hard, causing her to freeze in place as she fiddled with her fingers nervously. She realized she fucked up bad when she caught the insane, psychotic glare in your narrowed eyes, which was filled with unmistakable hatred directed at her. It sent shivers down her spine— she came to the stark realization that you were more than simply a jealous girlfriend; she was fearing for her life.
You rose from the couch and marched towards her, causing her to take steps back in panic, her eyes widening in terror. But you were quicker, consumed by rage. She cried out in agony as you seized a handful of her blonde hair, and violently hauled her towards the ground until she smashed into the floor with a loud thud.
“Tsk, so many men, and still, you had to choose mine. Dumbest decision you could make, Liv. And you’re gonna fucking regret it.” You hissed as you straddled her. She slowly opened her eyes, feeling disoriented from her head hitting the floor as she confusedly gazed up at you. It was over for her. You knew it, she knew it. The poor girl gulped when you took a knife out of your back pocket— the pocket knife that Rafe bought you to defend yourself from men. Oh, if only he knew. Thank you baby, best present ever.
“Here’s what I’m gonna do. I will use this cute little knife to stab you, okay? Not just once though, no, there’s no fun in that.” Now, this was the moment where she broke down in tears, pleading for you to let her go. You revelled in the sense of power, devoid of any trace of empathy, as you observed the girl's panicked state with streaks of mascara running down her face. What the fuck did she expect? It’s the consequences of her own actions.
You gripped her face tightly, sharp nails pressing into her skin as you forced her to meet your gaze, her eyes wide with fear and brimming with tears as they met yours. She was frozen in place, paralyzed by an overwhelming sense of dread. “Hey, hey, just shut up for a moment and let me do my thing, okay? This is my moment and I can’t have you fucking it up. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
You paused and slowly closed your eyes, savouring the momentary bliss until Olivia interrupted you, prompting an irritated exhale and forcing your eyes to reopen. “Let me go, please! I wasn’t even gonna do anything with him! I promise!” she attempted and pleaded for one last time, despite knowing deep down that it wouldn't change anything. Your hatred was too strong, as evidenced by your eyes— the psychotic look on your face caused goosebumps to form all over her body.
“You think…” you started, breath quickening in growing anger as your jaw tensed, shaking your head and snickering in disbelief, “…you can fucking LIE TO ME?” you screamed before raising the knife in the air, not wasting any more time as she only fuelled your rage further, followed by bringing it back down, right into her chest next to her silver necklace with the letter ‘O’ attached to it. She let out a piercing scream out of agony before you quickly pulled the knife out, blood spurting in every direction possible just like in slasher movies, making you forget for a moment that this was real life. You were so caught up in the moment— it felt therapeutic in a way to finally release all of your pent-up rage.
“Don’t” stab. “touch” stab. “my” stab. “man, Liv.” stab, stab, stab.
Your heart raced as you witnessed the life drain from her ocean-blue eyes, a rush of power and exhilaration consuming you as you smiled down at her with a manic glint in your eyes. You experienced a strange sense of peace along with a wave of relief washing over you. Problem solved.
Standing up again, you had to steady yourself as you felt slightly lightheaded with adrenaline rushing through your body. You wiped the remaining blood from your face with your shirt before hearing a faint scream coming from upstairs, making you gasp as your heart beat out of your chest. What the fuck? You were convinced that no one was home, the entire Cameron family on their yearly vacation far, far away.
The screams came to an abrupt halt followed by a loud thud before hearing a person grunt, as if they were struggling while carrying something heavy. Fuck fuck fuck. This was when you started to panic. Whoever it was coming down the stairs right now was about to witness you fully covered in blood with a fucking dead body lying next to you on the floor. It was over.
“Shit man… why’s it never the skinny, short guys she fuckin’ falls for?” you heard a familiar voice complain, making you blink your eyes a few times as you saw your boyfriend descend the stairs while dragging a lifeless body behind him. “…Rafe?” you uttered, making him snap his head to the side, startled by your sweet-laced voice calling out his name.
First, his gaze fell on you, locking his blue eyes with yours, both widening in shock while staring at each other. Oh, he really fucked up, he thought, until he noticed the corpse next to you with the knife in your right hand, fresh blood dripping from it onto the floor. He then turned to face the body he was dragging down the stairs, blinking several times as he attempted to process the bizarre situation.
“Oh shit. We’re like that one Spiderman meme, babe.” you chuckled, cocking your head to the side as you watched the body comically fall down each step with a thud, leaving a trail of fresh blood behind. Rafe looked at you in astonishment, before his face quickly turned into one of absolute fury with nostrils flaring and his eyes narrowing. You knew that look on your boyfriend’s face— he was about to freak the fuck out. “ooohh my god, oh my god… what— what the FUCK are you doing?!”
Your face instantly dropped as you scoffed at the hypocrisy, “What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing?” you hurriedly marched towards him, casually stepping over the girl’s lifeless body with the bloody knife still in your right hand. With your faces merely inches away, you stared into his enraged, narrowed blue eyes before turning your attention to the body resting against the stairs. Brandon. The poor boy has been beaten to death with what you assume Rafe’s baseball bat, which has been sitting in the corner of his room untouched for quite some time, always leaving you wondering why he still had that thing. Well, that question was answered now. Brandon’s face was nearly unrecognisable, it was not a nice sight. He was covered in blood from head to toe, and it was clear Rafe used Brandon’s body to get all his aggression out.
Your attention was then drawn to the once-white carpet he was standing on, which was now ruined and completely covered in blood. “Oh, and real smart, Rafe. Letting a body bleed all over your fucking carpet. What are you gonna tell your family, huh?” You snorted, taking in the mess that Rafe had made all over the house.
“That’s… that’s what you’re fuckin’ worried about here!? Just… I— I don’t know, say you were on your period or some shit, jesus.” he rolled his eyes and shook his head, obviously not thinking about the fucking carpet right now as his mind raced with a thousand thoughts while squinting his eyes, still trying to figure out who the body was on the other end of the room.
“Is that— is that Oliv-“ “ON MY PERIOD, RAFE?! I’D BE FUCKING DEAD ALREADY IF THAT’S HOW MUCH I BLEED EACH MONTH, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”
Rafe briefly closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, attempting to block out your exasperating voice but failing miserably as it was the only thing he could hear at that moment. His breathing accelerated and his eyes narrowed as his frustration reached its boiling point, his vision blurred with a red haze of anger before punching a hole in the wall, the impact echoing throughout the room, sending shockwaves of sound outward. “FUCK! Why do you— why you always gotta fuck things up for us, huh? Can’t you just be a normal fucking girlfriend for once? Jesus fucking christ.”
A normal girlfriend? Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces at his words. Each syllable fell like a knife to the heart, leaving you more vulnerable and hurt. In that moment, you realized with a sense of sorrow that no matter how much you loved him, it would never be enough. Tears from sheer rage and heartache began to well up in your eyes as your grip on the knife tightened. You felt so misunderstood— why couldn’t he just see that no girl could ever love him the way you do? That everything you do is for him?
“I— I did this for you, Rafe, for us. Can’t you fucking see that? She was gonna— fuck— she was gonna ruin what we have!” you spoke in a trembling but urgent voice, swaying the knife in front of his face as blood splattered all over the walls, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’d do anything for you, you hear me? ANYTHING! Nothing is ever gonna get between us, Rafe. And no one— no one will ever love you more than I do.” His eyes were eerily still, devoid of any trace of humanity, as he stood frozen, listening to your ramblings. It only fuelled your rage more, as you so desperately tried to get it through his head that you did it for him, with the best intentions, but Rafe gave no reaction.
“I just— I just don’t get it… How the FUCK is this my-“ you continued with tears streaming down your face but gasped when you were abruptly interrupted by Rafe grabbing your face, leaving a red blood imprint on your cheek before pushing you against the cold wall followed by his lips meeting yours in a fervent urgency. His body was pressed against yours with his hand gripping the back of your head, pushing you deeper into him to intensify the kiss as your tongues danced together. At that moment, all your surroundings melted away as you were lost in the overwhelming need for each other.
Because oddly, it turned him on— your insanity turned him on. It stirred a sensation of warmth, a tingling feeling, and a deep sense of gratitude within him. Knowing someone loved him to the point of being willing to do anything for him, even if that meant killing— that was all Rafe needed in his lonely existence, longing for someone to love him with the same intensity he felt for them. Rafe Cameron just needed to be loved.
“You’re— you’re… fuckin’ perfect.” Rafe whispered, his voice laced with an unfamiliar sweetness as his blue eyes intensely gazed into yours. Perfect? You blinked a few times as you shook your head, unable to process the sudden change in demeanour. “W-what?” you stared at him before he cupped your face with both hands, a look of solace and devotion on his blood-stained face. “Listen to me, yeah? ‘m never gonna let you go, I fuckin’ promise that. I’d do anything for you— anything, you hear me? Gonna take good fuckin’ care of my girl, a’ight?”
A relieved smile graced your lips, a chuckle escaping as you found comfort before you leaned in to kiss him once more, the embrace deeper and more intense than before, filled with longing and desire. He pushed you towards the couch, making you stumble backwards while feeling more aroused with each step you took. It was a bizarre scene— both of you covered in fresh blood, hungrily touching every part of each other’s bodies, with two corpses on the floor next to you, still bleeding all over. But that wasn’t any of your concern at that moment. All you cared about was how his skilled hands moved over your skin, making you crave him even more.
Rafe, on the other hand, felt he still had something to prove— as if murdering a man wasn’t enough. He needed you to know how good he could make you feel. He needed you to understand that no man on this planet could treat you better than him. You could see it in his lustful eyes as he pushed you back on the couch, followed by him crawling on top of you and attacking your still blood-covered neck with hungry kisses. The ticklish feeling of Rafe’s mouth made you giggle as the metallic tang of blood flooded his senses, coating his tongue with an iron bitterness that lingered long. He didn’t know whose blood it even was, maybe both of theirs together mixed with yours, by the way he was so aggressively biting and sucking on your skin.
“Mine. All fuckin’ mine. Got it?” he snarled as he withdrew and grasped your face tightly, forcing you to look him into his intense eyes. You agreed with a nod, flashing a naughty smile as you gazed up at him coyly through your lashes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t wanna go around killin’ the entire neighbourhood.” He growled, before trailing his lips to your earlobe, gently sucking on it as his expensive cologne filled your nostrils. “But I will if I have to.” His voice raspy as he spoke, making you become wetter with each passing second.
“Hm, i don’t doubt that.” You remarked before a moan escaped your lips caused by Rafe’s hand groping your tits under your shirt, massaging them over the laced bra that he bought for you. “But know that I would kill the entire female population of the Outer Banks.” He couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle, still wrapping his head around just how insane his girlfriend truly was. “You’re so fucked in the head, shit.“ he whispered, pulling your bra down and toying with your nipples, making you bite your lip, “Just how I like it.”
Rafe then grabbed the knife from where you had dropped it next to the couch, skilfully twirling it a few times. You observed him with a rush of anticipation, uncertain of his intentions. He slid the knife beneath your top, eliciting a gasp as he swiftly sliced through the fabric, ruining your clothes, before repeating the action with your shorts.
“Rafe, what the fuck!” You hissed in annoyance as he destroyed your clothes. “Those were my favourites! Oh, don’t you fucking dare do the same with my underwear” It was evident he wasn't taking you seriously, the smug smile on his face only grew bigger before he slipped the knife under your bra and cut it open as well in one swift motion.
“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You know I can buy you anything you want, yeah?” Your lace underwear was next, leaving you inwardly agitated as he cut the fabric and flung it across the room. Seeing your dejected expression, he released an exasperated sigh. “Stop with the whining. I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, a’ight?”
He seized you by the hips and quickly turned you around, pressing your face into the cushion before you could comprehend what was happening as in an instant, you found yourself face down with your ass up, angled towards him. “Fuckin’ soaked already, huh?” He suddenly grabbed a handful of your hair and raised your head, then stuck his blood-covered fingers into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his digits with a mixture of blood and drool running down your chin while feeling his clothed boner press against your bare ass. “Yeah— that’s right baby. Lick my fingers clean like a good fuckin’ girl.” You could feel yourself dripping down your inner thighs before Rafe scooped it up with his now clean fingers and slipped them into you from behind, making you let out a hitched breath at the sudden sensation as you moaned his name.
It didn’t take long for his digits to find your g-spot as he skilfully rubbed against it, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your pornographic moans combined with the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you made it difficult for him to control himself any longer, so he abruptly pulled out, causing you to whine at the sudden loss of contact. “You bitch! I was so fucking close!” Rafe’s hand reeled back before you felt a stinging pain on your ass, making you jolt forward on the couch. “Watch that fuckin’ mouth if you wanna cum.”
You heard the unbuckling of a belt behind you followed by feeling Rafe’s erection teasing your folds, dragging the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your wetness. Growing increasingly impatient, you tried to push yourself back onto his cock, to no avail as he held your hips firmly. “Aww, poor girl wants it bad, huh?” his voice laced with faux sympathy. “Then beg for it.”
“Rafe just fucking do-“ your words were quickly interrupted by him grasping your hair and leaning down to your eye level. “I said fuckin’ beg for it.”
“Fuck. Please, okay! I need to feel you! Just, please, fuck me” Rafe pushed himself into you in one quick thrust, swallowed by your warmth as he watched his cock disappear into your body. He gave you no time to adjust as he stretched you out completely, causing a brief sensation of pain that was quickly replaced by pleasure. He let out a sigh at the feeling, one hand on your lower back and the other on your hip as he quickly set a brutal pace— deep, erratic thrusts hitting your sweet spots so perfectly. Your nails scraped against the leather of the couch, nearly tearing it apart as you pushed yourself back onto Rafe’s cock, making him grunt at the sight. He massaged your inner walls so perfectly, making you moan his name loudly over and over again.
Rafe suddenly stopped in his tracks, cautioning, “Stay still or this will hurt, like bad, a’ight?”, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion before hearing him reach for the knife once again from next to him, sending a gulp down your throat. You tensed, anticipating the sensation, well aware of what was about to happen, just as you felt the sharp edge of the blade against your delicate skin while he was still balls deep inside of you. “So fuckin’ pretty all covered in blood, shit.” You could feel the letters he was etching into your skin— R.C., his initials. Once he was done, he tossed the knife on the floor before quickly pulling out, causing you to whine at the sudden empty feeling as he leaned down, licking up your blood that was dripping from the fresh wounds, mingling with Olivia's still-stained blood on your skin. “Forever mine.”
Rafe slapped your ass once again, causing you to cry out from the stinging pain of his hand making contact with the fresh carvings on your skin. “Now, where were we?” He slipped into you again as he mercilessly continued his thrusts, strangled noises leaving your mouth at the sudden feeling. He noticed your moans were muffled by the pillow so he grabbed a handful of your hair and tugged it firmly, pulling you back to meet his thrusts.
“Shit, look at ya now. Not so tough anymore, huh?” Rafe groaned as he pounded into you, his brutal thrusts making your eyes roll to the back of your head as your vision started to blur. “Shut— up.” You muttered in between his thrusts, your mind all fuzzy as his tip repeatedly hit your cervix. You clenched around him when he kept hitting that one spot inside you, the pleasure building as you could feel his cock twitching inside you.
You arched your back with your eyes fluttering shut as felt your orgasm approaching. “I’m— I’m so fucking close, oh my god” You moaned out with your mouth agape, nails digging deep into the skin of his arm that was wrapped around your body as the sensation became too much for you.
“Come f’me, doll. Gonna fill you up so fuckin’ good” Rafe’s hand snaked around your body to rub fast circles on your sensitive clit, making you moan loudly as your orgasm abruptly struck you, causing you to clench hard around his cock with buckling knees. All your muscles tensed as you saw stars, a wave of pleasure fully overtaking you with Rafe still pounding into you, chasing his own orgasm. He came not too long after you, slow and drawn-out curses spilling from his lips with his head thrown back as you could feel the familiar pool of warmth fill you up to the brim, completely emptying himself inside of you as his orgasm hit him.
He rode out his high before he carefully pulled out as your chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm, each breath a struggle to fill your lungs with air while trying to regain your breath. “My pretty, pretty girl.” Rafe praised, staring at your cum-dripping cunt with a grin on his face.
As you opened your eyes, the harsh reality crashed over you like a wave, sending a shiver down your spine at the sight of the lifeless bodies lying across the floor. Panic laced your voice as you turned to face Rafe, desperation evident in your words. "Rafe? What the fuck are we going to do with the bodies?"
His response was surprisingly calm, his tone carrying an unsettling assurance. "Don't worry ‘bout that. I'll take care of it, a’ight?"
The eerie composure in his voice sent a chill down your spine, hinting at a familiarity with murdering that made your stomach churn. "What? How— how do you know how to clean up bodies?"
A sinister smirk crept onto his handsome features, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion and disbelief before his blue eyes stared deep into yours, holding you in their gaze with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Princess, what do you think happened to poor Jake last month? And Dylan before that?”
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pierced. pt. 4 | spencer reid.
"Focus here, sweetie."
you can find the other parts on my masterlist.
cw: fem!reader, 18+ content, suggestive as fuck, making out, nipple stuff (my finger slipped), fluff
a/n: this made me feral
He had been gone for weeks.
You hadn’t seen Spencer in almost four weeks after your little date at his desk. Case after case came through and he and his team were sent all over the country. You came to understand that Spencer’s job was hectic, wondering how any of them had social lives at all with how often they were called into work only to disappear for days or weeks at a time.
Spencer had called you a handful of times while he was in Illinois, telling you all about the UnSub they caught while you were half asleep working late at your desk. But after that, it was radio silence from Spencer and you could only assume he was neck deep in work just like you.
You sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair with a loud sigh. You were sure your boss had it out for you, given how you were basically the last one in the office trying to finish up a project. You tried to take it as a compliment that they trusted you to handle these things but god you just wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, put on a face mask and pretend to have your shit together.
The exhaustion made your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurry. You let out a tired yawn, attempting to blink away the deep desire to crawl under your desk and nap. The sudden buzz of your phone kept you from nodding off at your computer.
Spence: Are you home?
You: Nah, I’m at work, sorry :(
Spence: Still? Isn’t it a bit late?
You: What can I say, I’m an ass-kisser
Spence: Have you had anything to eat?
You: Not yet, I’ll worry about that later
Spencer read your message but didn’t reply. You turned your focus back to your work, sipping on your cold coffee to hopefully bring you back to earth. After forty-five minutes and another two cups of coffee, you finally finished your project. You were in the midst of sending a half-assed email to your project manager when you heard the elevator ding.
“Is Y/N still here?” You heard Spencer’s voice and your heart fluttered.
“Oh yeah, she’s just around the corner,” one of your coworkers replied. You rolled your chair back from your desk, peering around the corner as a lost little Spencer looked around.
“Spencer?” You called softly. His eyes darted to the sound of your voice, his face lighting up at the sight of you. He looked so precious in his sweater, with his messy hair and mismatched colourful socks. He did a little run down the row of cubicles to your desk, holding a plastic bag of what you assumed was takeout.
You stood up to greet him, the exhaustion suddenly dissipating, “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to bring you dinner,” he replied, holding the bag of the best smelling food out for you.
You pouted at the gesture, “Spencer, you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. As a thank you for bringing me dinner the other week,” he said with a smile.
“Wait… how did you know where to find me?” You raised a brow at him, staring at him sideways. Spencer’s face went red, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“I’m sure you told me,” he lied.
“You’re a bad liar.”
“Garcia maybe… did some digging,” he replied under his breath, staring at everywhere but you.
You playfully punched his shoulder, “you stalker,” you laughed.
You pulled another chair over for Spencer, sitting down at your desk and finally pulling your dinner out. You don’t know where Spencer found this food but it was probably the best thing you’d ever eaten… but you also hadn’t fed yourself in 12 hours so maybe your judgement was slightly skewed.
“When did you get back?” you asked, mouth full of food.
“Two hours and four minutes ago,” Spencer replied, playing with the little Hello Kitty figurines on your desk.
“Spencer!” you scolded. “You must be exhausted!”
“I’m okay, really,” he quickly said. He let out a breath, shyly avoiding your gaze, “and… I wanted to see you.”
You smiled softly at his confession, reaching over to move some of his messy hair out of his face, “you’re cute.”
“Thank you,” he beamed.
The two of you sat at your desk for another hour as you ate your dinner and finished up your passive-aggressive email to your manager. Spencer helped you clean up your small collection of mugs and carried your bag for you while you cleaned up your desk. You walked to the elevator together, reaching up to gently grasp Spencer’s hand in your own.
“This okay?” You asked.
“Y-yeah, of course,” he replied quickly, feeling his hands going clammy and praying you didn’t notice.
You were lucky you lived within walking distance to your job, it proved to be very convenient for exercise and the price of fuel didn’t murder your already dusty bank account. Spencer opted to drive you home since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. You tried to offer him cash for fuel but he waved you off (you hit twenty dollars in his glove box).
Spencer pulled up outside your apartment building, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment before you spoke, “you… want to come up?”
“Oh… yeah, yeah, sure I can,” Spencer replied nervously, clearing his throat.
“You don’t have to,” you laughed.
“No, no, I want to,” he said quickly, putting his car in park and taking his keys out of the ignition.
The two of you walked up to your apartment, Tofu rubbing against Spencer’s leg upon his arrival. Spencer was delighted by this revelation (he’d done a lot of research on cats after finding out you had a cat).
“Did you know cats rub up against you like this as a way of putting their scent on you?” Spencer said, running his hand along Tofu’s back, “so other cats know you’re theirs?”
“I didn’t know that,” you lied, of course you knew. But you would never let Spencer stop talking. You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over one of the chairs at your kitchen table. “Make yourself comfy, I’m just gonna go change.”
Spencer watched as you walked to your bedroom, Tofu trotting behind you. He awkwardly shuffled around your apartment, admiring the polaroid photos stuck to your fridge of what he assumed was your friends from your hometown. He smiled softly at how happy you looked. A particular photo of you at a halloween party made his face heat up. You were wearing a white lacy bralette, a white skirt and angel wings. Your friend next to you was dressed like the devil and your other friend dressed as… the Pope?
But that’s not what caught his eye, it was the fact he could clearly see your breasts through your see through top. He could see the little gold studs on either side of your pert nipples, truly juxtaposing the whole angel costume. Spencer had honestly almost forgotten you had your nipples pierced (no he didn’t).
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” you almost scared Spencer out of his skin. He was so distracted by your… assets, he didn’t hear you leave your room.
“Uh, nothing- nothing… just this,” he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be your toaster.
“My… toaster?” your eyes narrowed.
“Yup, love this model,” Spencer nodded, putting your pink toaster back down on the counter.
You glanced at the polaroids on your fridge, deciding not to embarrass him further, “you want a drink? I have wine, wine and… wine?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I need to drive home,” Spencer waved you off before shoving his hands in his pockets. Spencer glanced at your outfit, the baby blue tank and grey shorts made a comeback and now he was rethinking the whole ‘wanna come up?’ scheme.
“How bout a coffee?” you asked.
Spencer gave a tight-lip smile, “Sure.”
You made Spencer his coffee and watched as he almost emptied your sugar jar. You poured yourself a glass of wine before sitting down on your plush couch, patting the spot next to you for Spencer. He sat down next to you, taking a sip of his sugar drink. He looked positively adorable drinking coffee from your Kirby mug.
“You should tell me about your recent case,” you said, tucking your legs under your butt, giving Spencer your undivided attention.
“...You want to hear about that?” he asked, brows furrowed.
“Duh, of course,” you retorted. “I like listening to you talk, Spencer.”
Spencer’s heart quickened at your genuine words, making him beam internally and his brain turn to mush. Spencer proceeded to tell you about the BAU’s most recent case, a string of seemingly unrelated murders of college students at house parties. Your heart leapt to your throat when Spencer told you how the UnSub started shooting at him and Emily before he was arrested.
“If you get shot, I’ll be so mad,” you told him after he finished his story.
“Okay, I’ll try not to get shot,” Spencer grinned, “so you won’t get mad.”
“Correct answer,” you nodded, downing the last of your wine. Spencer watched you as you stretched your arms over your head, a yawn pulling from your wine-stained lips. His eyes darted to your blue tank top, one of the thin straps falling off your shoulder. Your apartment was cold and your nipples pressed against the thin fabric of your top.
Spencer reached a hand over, gently lifting the strap of your top back over your shoulder, his warm hands making the hairs on your skin prickle. You glanced up at Spencer as he retracted his hand, quickling reaching your own hand out to grab his wrist.
Spencer stared at you with wide eyes, so beautiful and brown.
“Do you… want to see?” You asked quietly, your voice low.
Spencer looked at you, unsure of what you meant, “See what?”
You smiled, “My piercings,” you clarified.
Spencer felt like he exploded. His cheeks went red at the idea of seeing your breasts and the tiny intimate piercing he had only seen through your shirt and in his mind late at night. Sure, he had seen breasts before but he had never seen yours and that’s what made him nervous.
“I know you must be curious,” you said after Spencer didn’t reply. Spencer opened his mouth, attempting to form a single coherent thought. “Earth to Spencer?” you sang softly.
“I, uhm-”
“You don’t want to?” You asked.
“No, I do!” He quickly said before the weight of what he said hit him, “Wait, no… Y/N, I like you and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here to see… that,” he gestured vaguely.
You grabbed his hand gently, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, “I like you too, Spence,” you muttered, his eyes finally meeting yours, “and I don’t think that you’re only here for that, trust me, guys have before and you’re not them.”
Spencer felt jealousy at the thought of other men seeing such an intimate part of you nag at the back of his mind. You watched his expression change, knowing his big genius brain was in overdrive. You reached a hand up to cup his face gently, bringing his attention back to you.
“Focus here, sweetie,” you whispered with a smile.
“Sorry,” Spencer whispered back.
“I don’t have to show you if it makes you uncomfortable-”
“I am curious,” Spencer interrupted, his voice nervous and quiet. You let out an airy laugh at his sweetness and let go of his face, sitting up straight.
Spencer swallowed the painful lump in his throat as you crossed your arms, fingers grasping the hem of your tank top. His eyes never left yours as you lifted the fabric over your heart, your breasts fully on display for him to see.
It took all of Spencer’s courage to glance down.
And god you were perfect.
Your breasts were smooth and soft, your nipples hard against the chilly air of your apartment. If Spencer were any less respectable, he would be drooling. His eyes stared at the gold jewellery threaded through your hard nipples. He had never seen anything quite as attractive as this and he was sure that nipple piercings were the single greatest thing to ever exist.
“...You’re giving me the wrong idea, Spence,” you chuckled after he stayed quiet for several minutes, simply admiring your beauty.
“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly said, “You’re just…”
“Bit weird, you think?”
“Perfect,” he said, looking up at you again. “You’re just… perfect.”
A small smile graced your lips, “Do you… want to touch?”
“I-I’m not very good at… any of this,” Spencer quickly replied, all he wanted to do was impress you and this was sending him spiralling.
“I don’t care about that, Spencer,” you grabbed his hand, “I like you, I trust you and I want it if you do.”
Spencer kept his eyes on you, “I… Yes. I want to.” He let you guide his hand to your breast. His hand was warm and large, cupping the soft plush skin gently. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt your soft skin, curious and nimble fingers exploring your skin. His thumb came up to touch the cool metal of your piercing, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling, “Sorry,” he quickly said, pulling his hand away.
“No, no, it’s okay… they’re just sensitive. An added perk of nipple piercings,” you replied. Spencer nodded, taking a mental note as his hand reached back out to touch your skin again.
You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, catching his attention. Spencer’s beautiful eyes stared into yours and you lost it. Your hands reached out, pulling him in by his tie to plant a hard kiss against his lips. Spencer’s hand cupped the side of your neck, tilting your head back to kiss you deeper. Your hands came to hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair.
He pulled away to breathe, thumb stroking over your cheek, “are you okay with this?” he whispered slowly.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then so am I.”
That was all the encouragement Spencer needed to kiss you again, pulling you closer until you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling his waist as you kissed him. You tasted slightly of wine and sweetness, the smell of your perfume sending him dizzy. Spencer’s hands came down to rest on your waist, his thumbs resting against your ribs.
“You want to keep going?” You asked breathlessly against his lips.
“I don’t want to stop,” Spencer replied just as breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You whined softly as one of his hands reached up to grasp your breast again, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your pert nipple.
“Spencer,” you whined, your hands grasping at the hair on the back of his neck. He planted a kiss on the column of your throat, then another to the small divot of your collarbone, and another to your sternum. His fingers gently pinched your nipple, making you whine softly. “Not good at this, my ass,” you breathed.
“I have an IQ of 187,” Spencer retorted, “I remember a lot.”
“Clearly,” you replied, lifting his head back up to kiss him again.
a/n: i hope everyone is okay with the lack of smut, i just want everyone to feel comfy (i'll totally write it in a future chapter ;) if you want tho)
taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid x you#criminal minds x reader#spencer#dr reid#dr spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader smut#cm spencer#cm spencer reid#i want a boyfriend so bad#give me a chance spencer
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STRAY KIDS + POSSESSIVENESS ! 🩹 ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
this is smut, do not interact if under 18
pairing: dom!skz x sub!fem!reader, established relationship, husband!changbin bc why not ? genre/tags: smut, angst, fluff (tbh it's only changbin's part), jealousy, exhibitionism, voyeurism, lots of degradation, mentions of crying, marking, manhandling, bondage play, piv, unprotected s*x (do not try this at home kids), public s*x, rough s*x, fingering, nipple play, oral (f & m receiving), t*tty slapping, multiple orgasms, edging, choking, bulge kink, slight breeding kink… am not mentally ok for writing any of this words: 3.4k
**old repost from my deleted blog
BANG CHAN. His patience was a level of no other. The man just watched you flirt with his friend and didn’t mutter a single word. All the while you kept boasting about how good Changbin’s muscles looked and the movement of his biceps were leaving you in complete amusement.
Pissed off doesn’t begin to describe what he’s feeling right now. He clears his throat,
“Are we done y/n? I think it’s time we head home now.”
The tone of his voice was cold, icy like a winter storm.
The lump in your throat was stuck. You knew how much in deep shit you were for this and his silence was the main indicator.
You could feel his piercing eyes on you the whole time.
+
It wasn’t long before you’d end up in this position. Both arms were locked above your head by his strong hands. The tight grip he kept around your wrists was definitely going to leave some bruising.
“You’re such a dumb slut. Did all this just to get me like this huh?” His cock hitting your walls aggressively as you spasm and shake under him.
“All this to get me to fuck you the like the dumb little cockwhore you are?” He growled, “can Changbin fuck you like this?”
His pace was relentless. His cock stretching you open with each deep thrust. His harsh words cutting into you like a dagger. Your mind was blank, head full of Chan’s cock. You had to answer him though, or else he will stop.
“N-no Chan only y-yours… only you can fuck me like this!”
A smirk creeps up his face from your quavering voice. He leans forward, his lips brush over yours as if almost to kiss you but doesn’t.
“I own you y/n. Only I get to have to you, understood?”
All you feel is his cock slamming into you. The slapping sounds becoming a melody of a beat, your heart was racing a mile a minute.
“Understood.”
LEE KNOW. He hates when you act out in public. The way you tease him and get him riled up, knowing he can’t do anything about it. It gave you sense of power, you had the upper hand— for now.
You were wearing the shortest mini skirt possible, it barely covered your bum and you could feel a cool breeze slip through your crevices. You kept walking in front of him, swaying your little hips side to side, letting him watch you bend down to pick things up as he sneaks a peak under your skirt. The sight of the pink lace thong you wore was enough to make him grab you by the arm and yank you into a public restroom nearby.
Before you know it, you’re being devoured by your boyfriend. Sitting on the counter of the sink whilst he was below you, giving you a gaze that could snatch your soul. His digits sunk into your dripping cunt as he swipes his tongue across your slit. Your skirt was still on but pushed up slightly, your thong was also moved to the side.
“I can’t believe you’d go out like this and expect me not to control myself.” He rises up momentarily.
“You do this on purpose, knowing I don’t want other people looking at you.”
He laps up your juices and coats it with his face, scissoring you open with his fingers.
“Fuck… I wore this for you Minho— w-wanted to look pretty for you.” Your eyes were tightly shut, feeling the euphoria as you were close to your orgasm.
He abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, thrusting your hips in the air now, you whine for stimulation.
“Will you be a good girlfriend for me and cum on my tongue kitten? I want you to scream as loud for me as you can, I don’t care who hears it.” Minho was dead serious. He doesn’t care you both are in a public restroom and there’s people casually walking by. He wants everyone to know you are his.
You nod and agree to be on your best behavior for him. You know he will most likely reward you for this in the end.
“I promise, I’ll be a good girl Minho.”
Feeling your body heat surge as he inched closer to your core, pressing his tongue at your entrance. He tongue fucks you viciously while never breaking his eye contact with you.
Feeling yourself come undone from the surreal pleasure, all you want is to feel your release.
You thrash and moan as you cream on Minho’s tongue, your legs felt like jello when you climax. You let out multiple gasps for air, feeling as though you just ran a marathon.
Minho hasn’t left between your legs yet, his face still in a headlock. He wasn’t quite finished with you just yet.
“You can give me one more, right kitten?”
CHANGBIN. Being a newlywed couple felt like a fairytale dream come true. He felt incredibly lucky to have you as his wife and doesn’t stop reminding you how happy he is. He’d shower you with a beacon of compliments that would melt your heart each and every time.
You went on another vacation right after the honeymoon and it felt like paradise. That was up until a small incident occurred, it happened when you were at the pool with your husband. One of the pool goers at the resort couldn’t keep their eyes off you. You wore a sexy one piece that had cut-out details on the sides to show off your waist but you wore a sheer cover up over it.
Changbin noticed straight away the eyes that were glued to you, the eyes that were glued to his precious wife. He was livid. Almost causing a scene, he went up to the perverted man that was eye fucking you and gave him a piece of his mind. In utter disbelief of what was unfolding in front of you, you go up to Changbin to calm him down and get him to stop before he ends up actually doing something he’ll regret. His face burned crimson from anger but the sound of your voice brought him back to reality.
+
Things were much better in private now. Much better. Sitting on your husband’s lap in the jacuzzi bathtub felt so relaxing, his hands roamed your naked body as he placed chaste kisses all over you. He stopped at your neck to give it more attention, nibbling on a sensitive spot that made you sink right into his form. Moaning softly whilst his hands prance down to your back.
“I want to shield the rest of the world from you, only I get to gawk at my gorgeous wife.” Changbin says possessively, looking at you once he comes up from your neck.
You nod in agreement, “they can look but can’t touch!”
“No, they can’t even look, all of this is mine, mine, mine.” He plants a kiss to your cheek as his hand creeps down to your core. He prods your hole with a single digit, entering you with ease. You let out a soft moan as you part your lips slightly, bucking your hips forward. He pumps his finger into your wetness as he looks deeply into your eyes, nothing but burning desire in his pupils. He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs it in a steady motion, your swollen nub feeling overstimulated from his touch.
“This is just the beginning my love, I’m not done with you until the sun comes up.” He whispered in your ear as he drags his tongue against your earlobe. In just the jacuzzi alone, he’s made you cum several times from his fingers. Oh how those magical fingers always do wonders on you..
HYUNJIN. The room was pitch black, your vision completely impaired from the blindfold attached to your head. Your hands were bound to each other, behind your back being tied by a thick rope. You had nowhere to go and the room was pure silence, naked and touch starved, you whine for Hyunjin to do something but you were met with no answer. He was standing over you on the bed but you were unaware of any of your surroundings.
The man finally spoke, “This is what happens when you try and make daddy jealous.”
You can feel his hot breath on your neck, the sensation making you crave him even more.
Hyunjin was always the possessive type, was constantly in need of reassurance if he felt his ego was being bruised. This was situation was no different, he needed to remind you that he was the one who owned you.
He brought finger to your perked nipple, gently dragging it across to tease you a bit. A white-hot charge sent through your body as you finally felt his touch. Dripping in a puddle of your own slick from the dirty thoughts racing in your mind, he continues lightly tracing your hardened nipples; eliciting low moans from you.
Your senses were heightened from the way you weren’t able to see anything, any little touch from him making you squeal from shock.
“You like this don’t you?” He says in a condescending tone, he belittles you some more. “So pathetic, look at you. Can’t do anything but take it, so fucking helpless.”
Hyunjin loved seeing how weak you become under him, the power dynamic being completely imbalanced right now. All you could do was moan out for him, practically begging him to do more but you know he’s going to take his time with you.
“Gonna make you squirt all over this bed for me.” He says, “Won’t stop until I have you screaming and begging for mercy, which I will never give you.”
The smirk on his face was devilish, he was conjuring up the perfect plan to ruin you indefinitely.
“Hyunjin, please fuck me… please.” You push your thighs together to feel some friction but Hyunjin gets mad at this action instantly.
He brings a harsh slap to your left tit, making you jump up a bit but your body couldn’t move properly from being tied up. Your legs went back to it’s original position, spread open for him so he can get a glimpse of your dripping cunt.
“Don’t ever tell me what to do, I make the rules now.” He palms your breast and kneads it excessively.
“You are my property.”
HAN. If jealousy was a disease Han would be the first one to catch it. He really loves yet hates the fact that he has such a smoking hot girlfriend that everyone wants. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy dating you but the way some of these other guys would look at you was about to become his villain origin story.
You were so oblivious to anyone who attempted to flirt with you, you only had eyes for your man but it was hard to convince Han otherwise. The pizza delivery guy complimented how pretty you looked and when you handed him the money to pay for the food, you accidentally gave him a ten dollar bill instead of a twenty, he didn’t even care he just smiled and continued talking to you.
That’s when Han knew he had to butt in, he was listening from the couch and he knew he shouldn’t have let you be the one to answer the door. Quickly he comes up to you to wrap his arms behind you, keeping you in a tight hold as the pizza guy looks mortified now.
“You can leave now,” Han says to him in a harsh tone, “We have important business to take care of!”
Slamming the door in his face now, Han comes up from behind you to take the pizza box out of your hands to place it on the table. Soon after, a heavy make out session between you would ensue.
+
As your naked bodies entangled one another, you feel yourself cinching around his cock from each inch as he slides it in. Your breath instantly coming to a halt as the end of his cock crashed into your cervix. He moves with his ass up in the air as he buries his length deep inside you, the squelching sound of your wet pussy making him see stars.
“Fuck… so fucking tight for me.” Han says sounding pussydrunk off the way you feel around him.
You fall into a frenzy as he pumps his length into you harder, pounding into you like no tomorrow. The bulge of his cock could be seen inside you, moving in and out of you intensely. Grinding your hips to match his pace, you rub your clit to feel more stimulation.
“You’re so fucking hot my God…” He cooed, tiny beads of sweat now forming on the sides of his face. “Your pussy was made for me and me only…”
“Only I can make you feel this good.”
FELIX. He felt sick to his stomach whenever he saw someone else looking at you. The way people would look at you in public when he was with you made him feel beyond disrespected. This is exactly why he doesn’t bring you anywhere because his fragile little ego will be crushed as soon as another person laid their eyes on you. He couldn’t deal with it anymore, he just had to do something about it.
You were at a public park but the park was so big that it was easy to hide and go unseen behind some bushes.
Felix brought you to a secluded area and told you get on your back, you do as he says and he looks at you with the most evil grin on his face.
“I’m going to fuck you so dumb right here, right now.” Felix says in a raspy deep voice, “I will let everyone exactly know who’s bitch you are.”
You gulp once you feel his hands all over you, you wore a black slip dress which drove him absolutely mad.
“Gonna make you pay for getting me worked up like this.” You felt so small when he spoke like this to you, the sticky mess in your panties was only growing as you feel his hands go up your thigh.
“Too stunned to speak sweetheart?” He asks, giving you an alluring yet mischievous smile. You have no idea what this man has for you in store.
“N-no, I can speak-“
“Shut up.” He quickly cuts you off from saying more. “I’m the one talking right now, you sit back and take what I’m going to give you.”
You did exactly as you were told and lay back for him. He quickly unzips his pants and frees his cock from his boxers. You look at the red tip of his angry cock, the sight of his raging erection was enough to make you feel a tingling sensation in your heat. His cock would plunge into you nice and slow but once he bottoms out he’ll quickly pick up his pace, fucking into you menacingly. He brought a hand to your neck and squeezed the shaft of it tightly, you gasp for air as he choked you but it wasn’t unbearable. You close your eyes to the feeling, letting yourself be fully immersed into him. Each thrust he gave you felt like bliss as he roughly held onto your hip, fucking you like a complete maniac.
“Gonna dump all my cum into your slutty little body,” Felix continued,“you’re my fuck toy, only I get to use you.”
SEUNGMIN. Usually something like this would never get to him. However, today was different, very different. Seungmin almost went ballistic when he found out that some guy asked for your number while you were out shopping at the supermarket. He often goes everywhere with you but you were getting off work and went straight to the store to grab some things for dinner. That’s when it happened and you told Seungmin as soon as you got home. You thought he’d just laugh it off but he frowned, disproving of that guy’s actions.
“What a loser,” Seungmin says in an annoyed tone, “when they will learn to just leave you the hell alone?”
He wanted you all to himself, if he could lock you up forever and throw away the key, he probably would. Only letting you out when he tells you you can.
“They can try all they want Minnie but I know I belong to you at the end of the day.” You bring your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss him and he kisses you back passionately.
+
“Want you to say it for me again, who’s pussy does this belong to?” Seungmin was now relentlessly pumping two fingers in you.
“Y-yours Seungmin… yours!” You could barely get a coherent word out of your mouth.
“And who makes you feel the best?”
He wasn’t letting up on making sure you know that you fully belonged to him. “We can do this all day princess… I’m not going to stop until I’m satisfied.”
This was his fifth time edging you at this point, leaving you on the verge of an orgasm but would pull his fingers out once he notices your chest floating up. He’s being so evil to you right now, as if you it was your fault for what had happened in the supermarket.
“You, only y-you! You’re the best at making me feel so good!” You babble as he rapidly moves his fingers in and out of your gaping hole.
“That’s my good little girl, now keep taking my fingers and I’ll reward you soon okay?”
JEONGIN. “You’re such a filthy slut, you know that?” The motion of needy hips were bucking into you. Your head was kept in place, completely still, on your knees and on the verge of tears from your boyfriend’s words.
You knew why you were in this predicament right now. This was all your fault and you did it all for this exact reason.
You wanted to see Jeongin’s reaction to saying you think Felix was hot. You know he wouldn’t take that comment lightly since that was one of his best friends. You wanted to see how far you could test his limits.
“You wanna fuck my friends huh?” He grabs you by the hair and furrows his eyebrows to regain more focus onto you.
You couldn’t speak, all you could do was shake your head around him as he shoved his cock further down your throat.
“Can’t even talk with your mouth full of cock, what a dumb little whore you are.”
His cock hitting the back of your uvula, causing you to make a gagging noise. Streaks of saliva creep from the sides your mouth, the messy scenery underneath him was a heavenly sight indeed. You moan while sucking his cock, the vibrations making the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. He throws his head back and keeps a tight hold on your hair, gripping you with everything he had. He thrusts his hard length into you viciously, the gurgling noises you were making whilst he fucks your face sounds harmonic to him.
“Shit…think I’m gonna cum soon” he muttered, letting out a groan as he kept pushing your face into his cock. “Yeah… just like that fuck… that’s it.”
A stream of tears came running down your face as you continued. You can feel his veiny cock twitch against your tongue as you felt hot spurts of cum fill you up now. You swallow each and every drop and milk him clean like the good girl you were. Opening your mouth wide to show it was empty he grins viciously and taps his dick against your tongue.
“You’re the biggest fucking slut…” He pants heavily.
“My biggest slut.”
#skz smut#skz headcanons#stray kids smut#skz x reader#skz x female reader#bang chan smut#changbin smut#lee know smut#lee minho smut#hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin smut#han jisung smut#felix smut#lee felix smut#seungmin smut#jeongin smut#skz imagines#skz hard thoughts#skz scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids headcanons
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𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫: 𝐑𝐢𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
★ ot7 x fem!reader
★ The Riize members who would respond the best at being called 'Daddy' (Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan, Wonbin)
★ warnings: nsfw, +18, dom/sub dynamics, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Phone sex
─── ⋆⋅ Shotaro
Your voice is stern and remarkably unimpressed when you call your boyfriend's name from the kitchen. Only a couple seconds later, and Shotaro is lazily strolling in... large hands buried in his pockets with that distinct smile stretching the corners of his full lips. His eyes swell with mischief as he leans against the fragile counter.
"Yes, my love?" He sings in a tone of voice that Shotaro weaponizes against you time and time again. When his voice was as airy as it is right now, drenched in literal honey, it proved significantly difficult not to give into his advances.
Right now, however, you're perfectly unaffected by his smile. Instead, you cross your arms over your chest, giving him a death glare as you lean against the counter adjacent to him.
Shotaro's smile is immovable.
"God, you're so sexy when you're frustrated." He pushes himself over the counter, slyly prowling his way to you. "Makes me wanna-"
You push lightly at his chest. Turning instead, to just your head at the pickle jar sitting idly on the counter beside you both. "Open it."
Your voice is stern and monotonous with all traces of jest gone. "I don't have time for your nonsense, Shotaro."
"Ooh!" He exclaims, "My government name? You must really be mad," he snickers before bending down to splay slow wet kisses along your cheek.
"Shotaro." You push at him again, but his hands immediately fly to your hips.
"I'll open it," he whispers, voice heavy, "Just ask nicely," therein lay the proverbial catch. Shotaro could never just be nice for the sake of it. There was always a catch.
"Just..." he places his index finger under your chin, dragging your face up until your eyes were piercing into his. "Just ask me nicely."
Your breathing grows increasingly labored because your boyfriend is unfortunately incredibly attractive and incredibly persuasive. You watch the longing in his eyes grow with immense skepticism.
"I'll just ask Sungchan-"
He cackles loudly, "Do that and you won't get to cum for a month." He's smiling with his head tilted but one thing you learned was that Shotaro rarely ever made idle threats.
"Now c'mon," he says, bending down to you, "Just ask."
You're slipping unceremoniously into your subspace because he's cradling your face now. His shoulders are hunched over you protectively and you close your eyes as you force those words out.
"Please open the jar for me-" You begin, but his grip on your face is unrelenting as he sings, "Aaaahh-"
"Please open the jar for me," Your shoulders slump and exhale in defeat, "Daddy."
"See! How easy that was?" He praises you with a big peck on lips before swerving to pick up the jar of pickles. The big dopey grin he sports makes your embarrassment worthwhile, and Shotaro watches as you munch on your pickles.
"I like it when you ask for my help!"
─── ⋆⋅ Eunseok
It happens during dinner, more specifically, a group dinner to which you were so graciously invited along with the other partners of the other members. Excitement flowed like an electrical current in the air and everyone seemed pleasantly tipsy, whether by alcohol or just the overly infectious and good vibe. Naturally, your inhibitions are on an all time low, as you lazily leaned into your boyfriend while a flurry of waiters brought forth the second course.
Eunseok had been comfortable extending his voice over the chatter in the room while still allowing you to keep a steady grip around his bicep. His hand lazily sitting atop your lap, rubbing dizzying circles on your exposed thigh.
You're not sure how long this had been going on, Eunseok's fingers gradually hiking your pleated skirt up higher and higher while he remained chatting with his friends.
You couldn't contain yourself once his hand finally slipped inside, up under your skirt...
Instead of stopping him, instead of pushing him away by the hardened contours of his bicep, you let it happen. Releasing a small, little exhale as you opened your legs ever so slightly.
Despite still in animated conversation with Shotaro, you could hear the smirk peppered in his voice as his fingers eased their way against your cunt.
The mewl that escaped your throat was downright ungodly, but it succeeded in lightly coaxing Eunseok away from his previous conversation.
His eyes are heavy with seamless intoxication as he looks down at you with a breathless, close lipped smile. It's as if him previously ignoring you, had been It's own thing, along with rubbing your soaking cunt under the table.
Eunseok's eyes are glimmering when he bends down to whisper,
"You good?"
You most certainly did not have the current brain capacity to tell him you were absolutely not good because you've taken to opening your legs even wider. You shift uneasily, trying to create as much friction while still appearing inconspicuous, and Eunseok's eyes only grow heavier.
He fucking adores seeing you needy. He loved pushing you past the bounds of your own sensibilities. When your relationship began, it had been a case of 'if'. Whether it was actually possible to have his overly smart, overly independent girlfriend, cock drunk to the point incoherence. Once Eunseok learned that you were a fan of forfeiting the power in the bedroom, his goalposts had shifted to 'how quickly' he could get you to become a messy, needy little slut.
Evidently, this evening, it did not take much at all and he thanked the alcohol.
Panicking, you chose instead to focus on what was in front of you. A plate of glazed skewers that remained untouched, "Um..." you begin awkwardly while viciously apptempting to stave off just how needy you were, "I didn't order that-fuck," Your sentence wavers into a haorse crack as Eunseok's finger swipes over your puffy, clothed clit. In your periphery, his giant frame bends over your like an umbrella, focusing on your each and every movements.
"I didn't ask for..." You're absolutely fargone at this point, stopping and starting sentences while your brain fought the pleasure, "I didn't ask for the glazed squid skewers."
"You were in the bathroom," he immediately adds, and a jumpstart in conversation from the rest of the room would have completely made his next words go unnoticed. However, because you were hanging over everything falling out of his lips, you most definitely heard it. "I ordered for you."
Eunseok's fingers finally push past the barriers of your drenched panties, making direct contact with your weeping cunt.
"Is that going to be a problem?"
"Fuck- no, Daddy."
You immediate slapped a hand over your mouth, letting yourself whimper into the palm of your hand as your heart raged in its cage.
His face is expressionless.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?" There was a dangerous, heavy lilt in his voice that made you assume you wholly and completely fucked up. For all of 2 seconds you mourn your own dignity. That was made even worse when Eunseok pulls his fingers out of your cunt, and up from under your skirt as he patted the material over your legs.
"We're leaving." He said to the rest of the group, "She has a work thing,"
He pulls you up by your forearm, leading you to pass his members and their unsatisfactory rumblings.
Before you even mame it outside, he pulls you towards him, letting his warm breathe ghost over your ear as he hissed, "I need you to call me that shit again," he breathes out. "This time, with my dick inside you."
─── ⋆⋅ Sungchan
His brows are glimmering with evidence of pregnant beads of sweat, but still, his mouth is unrelenting. Sungchan eats you out with absolute zeal every single time without fail. Some nights, your sex would consist purely of Sungchan pulling your legs over the side of his bed, while his tall frame descended on your weeping cunt as if it were his second dinner. He was brash and incredibly passionate, as he locked his giant arms around your arms when he caught sight of you trying to escape.
For the most part, however, Sungchan's eyes are heavy-lidded with lust as he French kisses your pussy like he his life depended on it.
"Fuck, Channie-"
A sharp pinch on your thigh releases a very curt, very loud yelp from your throat, and you glare down at him. Sungchan's eyes are deadly as he pulls his head back ever so slightly. His lower face is glistening with your juices, but he refuses to wipe anything away.
"Am I not eating you out good enough?" He asks, head tilting as if he were genuinely perplexed. "Why would you call me Sungchan," he sneers at the very thought.
"Ew." He adds, before lowering his face back down to your center.
"The sooner you take what I'm giving you, the sooner we'll both get to cum," he did not clarify further as he reattached his eager lips to your cunt. Sungchan was not lying about the fact that he too was quickly approaching orgasm. He's pushing his cock into the side of bed, where he kneeled. Ab muscles tightening as he splays sloppy kisses on your cunt. His tongue, delving past your folds, as far into your hole as it could go.
"J-Just like that, Daddy," Your fingers curl into Sungchan's hair and he perks up like an overstimulated puppy. His eyes crinkle at the sides as he moans straight into your pussy.
Sungchan's hips thrust against the bed, almost at the exact same pace his tongue was fucking up into you. All you saw were stars, and your vision blurred as you pulled his face even closer against your pussy.
Although he enjoyed everything you gave him, Sungchan would admit in a heartbeat that this was his favorite part. This is why he loved eating you out. He loved the depravity of it. He loved watching you loose every shred of sinisibility, belonging to him and him alone.
"That's it, baby," he'd whisper, "Doing so fucking good for Daddy..."
─── ⋆⋅ Wonbin
Your heart is swollen in its cage when you realize he's most definitely tired. Instead of resting his undoubtedly tired muscles, letting sleep take him away into the night garden, he is up, talking to you.
"-That was probably my favourite part. Although I do think I could've probably done better in the second verse..."
Tedium is thick in Wonbin's voice. Almost as thick as the gruff tenor that flows from his mouth, through the receiver held to your ear.
"Didn't I say you're not allowed to do that," You scold lightly.
He sighs heavily through the phone, and you can almost imagine his dark eyes rolling, "I shouldn't focus on anything out of my control, I know that."
You nod. "What's done is done, and I think you killed it thank you very much,"
You may never really know of the cataclysmic effect your praise has on your boyfriend. Even when you were a billion kilometers apart, being connected by a single phone call, Wonbin still feels his body heat up as if you were right there, in bed beside him. He can practically feel the bed dip in the phantom presence of your curves shifting up against him. If he closed his eyes and listened to your praise bleed from the receiver, he could imagine you were right underneath him, taking everything he had to give.
"Binnie?" You suddenly ask, and Wonbin snaps his eyes open, gazing up at the ceiling. Although he is alarmed to find that his hand had drifted underneath the waistband of his Nike sweatpants, Wonbin's voice is stable. Giving nothing away as he breathes out,
"I'm here. I'm just..." His words do not trail off indefinitely because Wonbin does not gave the capacity to sound unsure about anything. In fact, he sounds very much in control.
"I need you to tell me where you are right now..." that causes you to sit up straighter against the headboard, a rush of excitement spanning through the undercurrent of blood in your veins.
"I'm at home," you whisper back, not quite sure why you were whispering but feeling the need to nonetheless.
"Hmmm," the sound reached your ears with the satisfaction of a very big purring cat, "Can you touch yourself for me?"
You obey without a second thought. Wonbin had never been easy to overstep. His overall aura practically coaxed you into obeying his every word and so it is of no surprise to you, that your hands are already firmly down your shorts, legs parted as you grinded against your palm.
Your labored breathing is enough to push Wonbin even further down his spiral of lust and he groans as he says, "Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby," how you adored hearing his pet names, especially when your mind was utterly buzzing with desire. "Imagine I'm there with you right now-"
"Oh, fuck," easing your fingers inside of yourself had been far too was given just how slippery your pussy was. Wondbin begins to stroke his cock faster as the lewd sounds of you fucking yourself with your own fingers, travel through the receiver.
You're a moaning and whimpering mess while Wonbin's only noise of enjoyment is his heavy, labored breathing. His mouth is open and his eyes closed shut.
"Fuck, you feel so good, baby," He says, kneedeep into his own fantasy, "Taking me so fucking well." He strokes himself faster. "Are you close, baby?"
"F-fuck yes, Daddy." The first real and raw sound of lust slips passed Wonbin's mouth.
"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum." He whispers with his mind still reeling. "Say it again... Tell daddy just how close you are to making a mess on your fingers..." He urged, now on the doorstep of his orgasm, "Fucking say it again, baby... Please?"
#riize x reader#riize x you#riize x imagine#riize imagines#riize smut#riize headcanons#riize hard hours#riize headcanon#riize#shotaro x reader#shotaro smut#eunseok x reader#eunseok#eunseok smut#riize sungchan#sungchan x reader#sungchan smut#sungchan#wonbin#wonbin x reader#wonbin x you#wonbin smut#wonbin imagines#sungchan imagines#riize fanfic#sungchan fanfic#wonbin fanfic#shotaro fanfic#Eunseok fanfic
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Seven Days a Week - JJK (18+)
Pairing: Jungkook X Fem!Reader
Theme: PWP, SMUT, Fluff if you squint
Wordcount: 1k
Summary: Jungkook promised himself that he will be fucking you right seven days a week.
Warnings: Soft sex, vanilla sex, missionary position, Jungkook is soft with her but kinda persistent (in a good way), creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it up). NSFW!!
Minors are not allowed in this blog!!
A/N: Permanent Taglist is now updated. Also, I hope you are suffering with me.
“Jungkook… I am still sore from last night.” You breathe out, voice barely a level above of what they call a whisper.
‘Oh yeah? Then should I go slow right now?” Jungkook’s voice gets muffled as he nips on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His hands are lost under the blanket, tracing the lines of your body ever so gently.
“What I am saying is- ah” you get interrupted as Jungkook grabs your left inner thigh and squeezes it hard enough to make your core leak instantly. He really knows your body too well.
“What I am saying is” you attempt again, “we could skip fucking today.”
“If it’s what you want then we won’t fuck today.” Jungkook replies. His lips do an incredible job in leaving wet kisses all over your throat and collarbone.
“But baby-” his hand now hovers above your wet core as he works his way to cup your heat through the thin material of your panty, “-your cunt says otherwise. I think it’s begging for some attention.”
You let out a low moan before playfully scoffing at your unbearably handsome boyfriend, “is that so? Or is it your morning boner that needs some attention?”
“I think both of us are at the same place, baby. So let’s help each other out, yeah?” he gets up from his position, taking his hands and mouth away from you for a bit. Reaching for the sheets, he throws the blanket off of your naked body and hovers above you.
“You are very sly, Jungkook.” You smirk at him.
“Nope. I am just devoted to you. And my devotion is deeper than the ocean.” he replies briefly before reaching down and kissing your mound through the lace of your underwear. His teeth do their job of grabbing the hem of the panty, pulling that down to your ankles and leaving your glistening cunt exposed for his view.
“Fuck. So fucking gorgeous.” He talks to your cunt. His left thumb files on autopilot and lands on your clit. He runs his thumb up and down through your slippery folds. You murmur his name shamelessly as he puts the pad of his thumb flat on your clit before proceeding to rub gentle circles on it.
One of the many things you love about Jungkook is his duality. Last night he fucked you dumb, it was animalistic to say the least. But right now he is softer than he has ever been. He gently handles you as if you’re a fragile porcelain doll.
Jungkook warps his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking on it lazily. He flicks the hardened nub with his tongue and you lose your shit a bit.
His middle finger probes into your entrance. You hiss at the contact.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, staring at your face while his mouth stays close to your nipple.
“A bit. But I can take it.” You reply, giving him a small smile.
“Good girl.” he places a soft kiss on the swell of your left tit. His finger plunges right in you as he teases your walls for a bit.
“Do you think you can take me in now?” Jungkook questions. You nod in affirmation.
He climbs off the bed in order to strip his boxers off.
You take the opportunity to admire this marvelous piece of art disguised as a man. His dark disheveled hair falling on his neck, that lip piercing that makes you wanna taste the metal every now and then, that build chest and toned abs that make you weak on your knees, every single thing about him complement the way he carries himself. He knows his effects all too well and the smug confidence makes you fall for him harder and harder.
Your boyfriend starts hovering above you while positioning his cock right in front of your entrance.
“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” he breathes out, putting the tip of his cock inside your hole.
“Okay.” you reply. Your hands find their way around Jungkook’s neck as you pull him down for a kiss.
The kiss is soft and slow, neither rushed nor hungry, and you love it.
He slides inside you easier than your anticipation. He gives you time to adjust before he starts moving slowly. His body crashes yours as he puts his weight down on you.
Grabbing your thighs, he locks those around his torso to bottom you out. His pace gets faster with each passing second but it doesn’t get too overbearing. You feel nice, you feel way too good, oh sweet lord, you feel heavenly. This is the first time you are having slow sex with your boyfriend ever since you got together.
Honestly, you both are too kinky to have vanilla sex and the prospect of the same never really amazed you. But right now, you can’t seem to wrap your head around the pleasure you are feeling despite the complete lack of dirty words, groping, grabbing, and so on.
You feel the familiar heat building at the bottom of your stomach.
“Jungkook, I am close.” You whisper in his ear, which is right beside your lips as your boyfriend is way too busy sucking bruises on your skin.
“Hold it for a bit. Let’s cum together.” he mumbles against your throat.
With a roll of his hip, he hits your g-spot and you feel your eyes rolling at the back of your head.
“Now.” Jungkook commands and you cum on his cock. A second later he fills your cunt with his hot white disposal that messily runs down your inner thigh and drops on the bed sheet.
Both of you pant for a bit and then you manage to voice, “Do you really have to fuck me everyday?”
“Well, I promised myself, I’ll be fucking you right seven days a week.” he smirks.
Taglist:
@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie, @coffeedepressionsoup, @meowstake, @vonvi-blog, @nochuel
#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#bts fluff#jungkook fluff#bts fanfiction#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#bts jungkook#jungkook seven#bts
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It's just us | S.H.
Warnings: 18+, angst, cheating (reader and Steve get cheated on by their partners), heartbreak, betrayal, enemies to lovers, King!Steve, smut, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, r and Steve are both over the age of 18, mentions of reader having nipple piercings
Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Summary: You and Steve hated each other from the first moment you met but when you get betrayed by the people you love the most, all you have is each other.
Word count: 8k+
Author's note: I was really fucking close to making this an Eddie fic or at least a Steddie fic cause Eddie Munson owns me but this one is for my Steve girlies and for the ones who asked me to write for him before so here ya go. And I'm back to focusing on my one and only
stranger things masterlist
part two (steddie x reader)
-
There was one person that you hated more than anything, Steve Harrington. From the first moment you have laid your eyes on him, you just couldn’t stand him. You hated his cocky and arrogant personality, his perfect reputation, how sure of himself he always was. You hated King Steve, you hated the way he looked at you, you hated the way he used every opportunity to piss you off, he said things that he knew would get under your skin.
He hated you too, he hated how loved you were, he hated how popular you were. Both of you rivaled each other, he was the captain of the basketball team and you were the head cheerleader. In a perfect world, you would be together and people would call you a dream couple but instead you two hated each other’s guts.
You threw nasty words at each other, bickering every time you were around each other. You avoided him as much as he avoided you and for a while it worked until he started dating your best friend, Nancy.
Over were the peaceful lunch breaks at the cafeteria where you would only sit with her and your boyfriend. Steve started tagging along with her, greeting you with cocky grins and mocking waves whenever he would sit down opposite of you.
Not only were you forced to spend every lunch break with him, you also had to tolerate him during movie nights, parties and even worse, double dates.
You hated him more and more.
You thought that your boyfriend would take your side, joining in on the Steve Harrington hate train but oddly enough, they became friends.
Months went by and you had hoped that Nancy would realize what a douchebag King Steve is, leave his ass in the dust and find another boyfriend but she seemed happy and he did too.
Nancy and Steve were happy.
Jonathan and Steve got along.
Everyone got along, except for you and him. You hated him but god, you grew to love the fights and the bickering, you found entertainment in them. You loved pissing him off, loved teasing him, loved throwing mean words at him even when you knew that he would do the same and say something hurtful in return.
Yes, Steve Harrington got under your skin but you got under his too. It was clear, the way his cheeks turned red and his eyes flashed with anger, he would clench his jaw and his fists before he’d turn away from you.
“Tina is throwing a party this friday, are we going?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at your boyfriend and your best friend.
“Of course, we’re going,” Steve says.
You rolled your eyes as you turned to look at him, “I wasn’t talking to you, Harrington.”
Jonathan sighs, mumbling your name in annoyance.
You ignored him, continuing to look into hazel eyes with a challenging look on your face.
“Bitch,” Steve mumbles.
“Steve!” Nancy exclaims, turning towards her boyfriend with wide eyes, “that wasn’t nice.”
“Aw,” he shrugs, throwing his arm around her shoulder, he turns back to you, giving you a small smirk, “I’m sorry, queen y/n.”
You scrunch your face up in annoyance, he knows you hate when people call you that.
Rolling your eyes, you reach for the fries on your boyfriend’s plate, throwing some at the man in front of you, “shut up, asshole.”
He dodges the fries, laughing when they hit some kid behind him.
“Are you gonna wear one of those ugly leather jackets again?” He asks you, “they make you look cheap, y/n.”
A laugh falls from your lips, you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest, “at least I don’t let my mom buy my clothes,” you say as your eyes trail down his shirt, “seriously, have you ever stepped foot inside a store yourself? Your mommy still dresses you up like you’re some innocent little virgin.”
His smile falls and he scoffs at you, “I’m not a virgin.”
“I know, you’re a whore in virgin’s clothes.”
He raises his eyebrows at you, “seriously?” He snorts, “you wanna call me a whore now?”
You are both so caught up in each other, you don’t notice the stolen glances between your boyfriend and his girlfriend, the longing gazes, the forbidden touches between the table as they reach for the other’s hand.
If you paid more attention, you would have noticed it a long time ago already but you were focused on other things.
Jonathan was a loving and sweet boyfriend, you had no reason not to trust him.
If you would’ve just known..
“Are we gonna go to the movies tonight?” You ask as you finally turn away from Steve and look at your boyfriend, smiling at him, you’re unable to see the guilt in his eyes.
He blinks, coughing nervously.
Nancy looks down at her food tray, pushing around the salad she hasn’t touched, her cheeks are red, her brows are furrowed.
You don’t notice how weird they are both being but Steve does, it is something he hasn’t noticed before but feels like it’s always been there, the tension in Jonathan’s shoulders, the distant look in his eyes, the furrowed brows as he looks down at you.
“Uh, shit, I-I no, I forgot to tell you, I’m taking Will to the record store tonight and he asked for a movie night,” he explains.
Steve expects you to frown at his words, sigh sadly and mumble a quiet ‘oh’ but instead your eyes light up and you grab Jonathan’s shoulder, “oh! Can I come with you?” You ask excitedly. Steve might not know much about you except for the very obvious things but he knows how much you love spending time with Will.
“We just wanna have a boys night, next time, alright?”
Now your smile falls, only for just a second but Steve sees it, he sees the disappointment in your eyes, the one you quickly mask with a pretentious smile, “oh that’s fine, umm I hope you’re going to have lots of fun,” you say, leaning in to kiss his cheek, he gives you a smile, one that doesn’t even reach his eyes. You lay your head on his shoulder, linking your arm with him.
A weird feeling settles in the pit of Steve’s stomach, he leans back and stares at the man in front of him, he sees the way his eyes meet Nancy’s blue ones, it just for a split second but he sees it.
A few months ago, he wouldn’t question it. He never had a problem with their friendship, Jonathan was her friend before he became her boyfriend and you never had a problem with their friendship either, you trusted them.
Maybe you shouldn’t have.
Steve doesn’t know why but he can’t shake the feeling that something is off, that things have been off for a long time now. He tells himself that he is overthinking things, that he lets his anxious thoughts get the best of him but they had only gotten worse when Nancy canceled their date after he had dropped her off at home, he was excited to take her out, he had it all planned, he would take her to dinner and movies and afterwards they’d watch the stars at lovers lake but instead he was left in the cold after she told him that she couldn’t go out with him because she had to help Mike with his homework. Mike, who was here at Benny’s diner with Will, Dustin and Lucas.
“What the fuck,” he mumbles as he stands there, staring at them with a dumbfound expression on his face.
Mike was clearly not in need of help for his homework and Will didn’t seem to have plans for a movie night any time soon. Someone drove them here but it wasn’t Jonathan, no, it was Eddie Munson who jumped into the empty seat next to Dustin as he held some book in his hand.
Slowly he started piecing everything together and as he thought of all the times Nancy had canceled their dates at the same time as Jonathan had canceled yours, his stomach dropped. Those weird looks both of them shared earlier today just added to his worry.
He forgot about the order he had placed and rushed out of the diner, ignoring the waitress who called for him when she held the bag and a drink in her hand. His mind was running wild as the worst scenarios rushed through his thoughts.
He doesn’t even remember how he got into the car or how he drove all the way to the Wheeler’s house. His heart was racing and his hands were clenched into fists, he was nervous and the anger inside of him was already building up.
He had suspicions but he didn’t want to dwell on them, not yet. But when he climbed up the wall to his girlfriend’s window, hoping to find her studying or listening to music, he didn’t find her doing any of those things. Instead, he caught her having sex with your boyfriend.
He grips the wall tighter when he almost loses his footing. He can’t even stop the gasp from escaping as his eyes widen.
His girlfriend is having sex with your boyfriend.
Nancy is fucking Jonathan, Nancy who is your best friend.
He stares in shock, frozen in place and with a broken heart he stares at them. Jonathan’s hands are on her waist, gripping her tightly as she bounces on his cock. She bites her lip to stay quiet.
The bile rises in his throat, he feels sick, he feels betrayed and angry.
He turns away and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before he jumps down into the grass. He almost throws up into Karen’s beloved flowers but he holds himself together, at least for now.
Tears brim in his eyes, he doesn’t understand.
Why would she do this to him?
Why would she hurt him like this?
Why would she cheat on him?
Why would she do this to you?
You have always been her best friend, you grew up together, your mom’s are best friends. You have always been by her side, you have done everything for her. You could’ve chosen other friends, you could’ve been friends with other popular girls like Chrissy Cunningham but no, you stayed friends with Nancy.
And Jonathan… Now, Steve had become friends with him when he started dating her and thought that Jonathan was actually a pretty decent guy but before that, he had always wondered why you even gave him the time of your day. You are the popular and annoyingly happy cheerleader and he is just, well, he is Jonathan. The boring freak. But then again, rumor has it that you have always liked to associate with men who weren’t anywhere near your league and apparently you liked to fuck freaks, that’s something that Steve could never believe. You were a good girl, you had that innocence in your eyes that told him that rumors were just rumors.
For some time, Steve thought that you were playing a prank on Jonathan, that you dated him for a bet but when a year had passed and you still looked at him with those stupid heart eyes, he knew you were serious about him.
Now he feels like throwing up, he isn’t just angry for himself, he is also angry for you. If the betrayal hurt him so much, what would it do to you?
The moment he steps into his bathroom, he drops to his knees and pukes his lunch out.
God, he has never felt this sick in his life before. How will he ever move on from this?
He loves her with all his heart but he is so incredibly angry and hurt. He spends the rest of the night crying, unable to catch a moment of peace. He stares at the ceiling as he lays in his lonely bed, tears stream down his face as his mind replays the horrible things he had seen.
What should he do?
Should he confront them? Should he break up with her? Should he make a scene and humiliate them in front of the whole school? No, he is not like that and he wouldn’t do this to you.
He doesn’t know what to do. So he pretends that everything is fine.
He takes a shower, styles his hair and picks out an outfit that you won’t tease him for. He drinks his coffee and then he picks up Nancy but the moment he lays his eyes on her and she gives him that cheerful smile and kiss on the lips, he feels himself growing sick again. How could she pretend that nothing happened? How could she kiss him like this when her lips touched his last night?
The anger diminished a little only to rush back even more intensely when he was forced to greet Jonathan at school. God, he wants to punch him so hard, he has to restrain himself from doing so. Especially when he lays eyes on you. A big smile is resting on your face, your eyes are shining with happiness, your perfect ponytail is bouncing as you rush through the hallways with your pretty little cheerleader uniform. You wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s waist and lay your head on his back, “hi babe, I missed you so much last night.”
“I missed you too, y/n,” Jonathan says as he smiles, placing his hand over yours.
Steve grows hatred for the man and for his girlfriend when he feels her squeezing his hand.
He can’t even stop the scoff before it falls from his lips, causing all three of you to look at him in confusion.
“Is everything okay?” Nancy asks, feigning concern.
He nods.
You raise your eyebrows at him, a cocky smirk tugging at your lips, “ooh, did someone had a rough night?”
Yes and you’d be having one too if you knew that your boyfriend was buried in my girlfriend last night, Steve thinks to himself.
He doesn’t say anything, instead he shuts his locker and turns away from the three of you, “I gotta go to class,” he mumbles without giving Nancy a goodbye kiss or Jonathan a pat on the back the way he always does. He bumps into someone, not bothering to apologize, he grumpily mutters something under his breath.
“Who pissed in his coffee this morning?” You chuckle, missing the way Nancy and Jonathan looked at each other.
“I- he probably got into a fight with his dad again,” Nancy says, shrugging nervously.
You step away from Jonathan, walking towards your best friend, you take her hand in yours, “is everything alright between the two of you?”
She blinks, looking over your shoulder and back to you, she nods, “y-yeah, totally,” she smiles, shaking her head.
“Okay, good,” you smile, squeezing her hand, “but I’m always here for you and you can talk to me, okay?”
She looks down, nodding at your words, “yeah, I know.”
“Alright, well, I think we should go shopping after school, I need some new party outfits.”
“Oh, I-I can’t, y/n. I already have an outfit and I was supposed to look after Holly today.”
You frown at her words, a sad look flashes in her eyes.
“You are a busy girl, Nancy Wheeler.”
-
Steve was being weird, well, he was always being weird but something about him today was just off. Not only did he pay no mind to you, he also ignored Jonathan and Nancy.
No comments were thrown your way today, no mean words, no remarks, he didn’t tease you or even glare at you. Nothing. You saw him talking to Robin Buckley when you were on your way to the bathroom. He looked like was on the verge of tears and the girl comforted him with a hand on his shoulder and words you couldn’t make out.
Seeing him like this makes you feel weird, you don’t really care about him but you care about your friend and there’s clearly something going on between them and you are certain about that when you sit down beside Jonathan in the cafeteria. Just like yesterday, you sit across from Steve but instead of meeting his teasing eyes, you meet his angry ones, though you feel that the anger isn’t directed at you but at someone else.
You try to ignore him and the way his gaze seems to be getting more and more intense. He watches you and Jonathan, a frown deep in his features as he watches how your boyfriend kisses you like nothing ever happened.
You don’t know.
You don’t know what he is doing behind your back.
You don’t know that he is hurting you, that he is cheating on you with your best friend.
How long have they been going behind your backs?
Has this been happening when you were all together at parties? When you went to the lakehouse his dad owns? God, he could scream and expose their disgusting secrets to the whole school.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Nancy asks as she puts her hand on Steve’s thigh. He tenses up, clenching his jaw as he turns to look at her.
“No, I’m not hungry, Nancy.”
Your eyes flash with surprise, the tone in his voice was filled with anger.
She looks taken aback, furrowing her brows at her boyfriend’s behavior, “you barely touched your food–”
“I said I’m not hungry!” He snaps at her.
Before any of you can even react, he gets up and storms out of the cafeteria, not caring about the prying eyes of the other students.
You frown at his behavior, growing angry when you see the tears in Nancy’s eyes.
“That asshole,” you mumble, getting up, you follow him out, ignoring Jonathan’s and Nancy’s calls.
You slam the doors to the hallway open, rushing towards him with anger in your bones.
“Steve!”
He keeps walking, ignoring you.
“Hey!”
He abruptly turns around, throwing his hands up, he sighs, “what!?”
“What?” You scoff, “what the fuck was that? Why are you being so mean?”
He laughs at your words, closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head.
“She didn’t do anything to you, Steve.”
“If only you knew.”
Something about the way he said it and looked at you, sent shivers down your spine.
Instead of the usual hatred and anger you see in his eyes, you find empathy in them. Why? It makes you nervous.
“W-What do you mean?” You ask.
Steve knows that you won’t believe him, you gotta see it with your own eyes, you don’t deserve this. You love Jonathan, you have always been good to him. You deserve better and he knows he does too.
“Steve,” you mumble, “what do you mean?”
You have got to know. You’re a smart girl, you should’ve noticed the way your best friend and boyfriend behaved around you, the way they looked at each other, the way they touched each other.
Right now, he doesn’t hate you, he just feels sorry for you.
“Go to Nancy’s house this afternoon.”
“No, she– Steve!”
He walks away before giving you an explanation, leaving you standing there like a fool.
What is this about?
Usually, you would never listen to him, you wouldn’t do what he had told you to do. You wouldn’t go to Nancy’s house if you didn’t have your own suspicions already, the ones that made you feel sick for the longest time.
His seriousness and his anger is what made you feel scared.
He wasn’t mean to you today, he didn’t even glare at you, that’s how you knew that something was very off.
So you listened to him, you went to Nancy’s house. You didn’t want to but on the way home from the mall, you drove by her house and found Jonathan’s car in the driveway.
Nothing weird about it right? They are friends, they are allowed to be friends.
Yet, you can’t shake that awful feeling that something horrible is about to happen. So you park the car and make your way inside her house, using the spare key that she gave you years ago.
The house is empty, Karen isn’t there and neither is Ted. Holly and Mike are nowhere to be seen. You don’t call out for Nancy the way you usually would. With a nervous sigh, you grip the keys tighter in your hand and climb up the stairs.
You hear music coming from her room, The Cure. Nancy doesn’t listen to The Cure but your boyfriend does. You hear the noises, you hear them.
With a shaky hand, you open the door and as you lay eyes on the two of them, your heart drops and a gasp falls from your lips as you raise your hand to cup your mouth.
There he is, your boyfriend, shoving his tongue down your best friend’s throat. Both of them are half naked, her chest is covered in hickeys already, his hair is a mess, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths as she moves her hand into his pants.
“What the fuck?”
They jump apart when they hear your voice, staring at each other like deers caught in headlights before they look at you.
Her blue eyes widen as do his.
No longer do their cheeks glow red, instead they look pale when they see you standing there with tears in your eyes and anger on your face.
“Fuck– y/n!” He scrambles to his feet, trying to find his shirt.
Nancy looks away from you, crossing her arms over her chest, she suddenly feels too ashamed to meet your eyes.
“You are fucking disgusting,” you mumble angrily, ignoring the heartbreak in your chest or the feeling of your throat getting tighter. The tears begin to spill and you look between them in shock.
Jonathan takes a step towards you.
“Don’t come anywhere near me, Byers. We’re fucking over!”
His eyes widen, his lips part as he tries to speak but no words leave his mouth.
“And you, fuck you, Nancy.”
You don’t care to look back at them, rushing out of the house as quickly as you came. You wipe away the angry tears, biting down on your quivering lip as you get back in your car.
You knew it. You’re no fool. You knew it. You just made yourself believe that you didn’t but deep down you always knew. Who were you trying to fool? It was so clear.
Can you even feel heartbroken? You set yourself up for it when you started dating the guy who always saw her.
-
Maybe Steve should’ve told you, maybe he shouldn’t have told you to go to her place, maybe he should’ve protected you from seeing that. But did he have a choice? You hate him, you wouldn’t have believed him, you would’ve scoffed at him and laughed in his face.
But still, he should’ve told you.
He shouldn’t have let you see that.
Now he feels guilty for it, despite the ache in his chest and the betrayal he still tries to deal with, he feels guilty for not telling you.
You are pretending to be fine when you’re not.
You didn’t come to school on Wednesday, Thursday or today but here you are at Tina’s party, dressed in the skimpiest outfit you could find, throwing back one drink after the other, yet you don’t seem to be getting drunk but it’s only as he notices you pouring yourself coke instead of alcohol that he realizes you aren’t here to get drunk.
You are here because you don’t want to be alone, just like him. He had a feeling that you would come, that was another reason why he came.
The loud music is hurting his ears and the whiskey is starting to give him a headache. He places his drink on a small table. Running his hand through his messy hair, he pushes past a group of girls who begin to whisper behind his back. Nancy’s and Jonathan’s name falling from their lips. He decides to ignore it.
His focus is on something else, you. You’re standing by the punch with Heather Holloway, giggling about something she had whispered in your ear.
Should he talk to you?
You down the rest of your drink and place the cup on the counter, gesturing to the stairs as you leave your friend. He decides to follow you and calls your name.
You turn around, smile disappearing from your face when your eyes lock with his, an eye roll and a scoff is all he gets.
He rolls his eyes too, what else did he expect, a hug?
“Can we talk?” He has to yell for you to understand him.
You only shake your head and continue your way up the stairs.
“Please?”
Once you stop in front of a door, you turn around and look up at him, “no.” You slam the door in his face, causing him to sigh.
He leans against the wall, deciding to wait for you.
What does he even want to say to you? Does he even want to say anything to you?
When you walk back out, he doesn’t even give you a chance, he takes your hand in his, ignoring your protests or your light slap to his back.
“Let go of me, Harrington!”
“Nope,” he mumbles as he pulls you into an empty and dark room, he pushes against the wall before he turns to close and lock the door, leaving you in complete darkness.
“What the hell do you want from me?”
Steve frowns.
“Shit, hold on,” he mumbles, “I can’t find the light switch.”
“Seriously?”
You can hear him moving around, cursing under his breath. Maybe it would’ve been funny under different circumstances, if you were locked in a room with someone other than King Steve.
“Got it,” he mumbles as he turns on the lights.
Your arms are crossed and a frown is on your face, lips set in a pout.
“I uh– I heard you broke up with Jonathan?”
You squint your eyes, “that’s what you wanna talk about? What the fuck do you really want?”
“I should’ve told you, I shouldn’t have sent you there,” he admits in guilt, giving you a sad look.
You scoff at his words, rolling your eyes, “yeah right, you want me to believe that, Steve?”
“It’s the truth, I’m very sorry,” he says, “about everything. You don’t deserve this, they’re fucking assholes for doing– for you know–”
“For cheating on us?”
He glances at you and for the first time he sees something other than hatred, empathy, you feel for him just like he feels for you but it’s obvious that you still don’t like him.
“I-I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you,” he mumbles, “she’s been your best friend since you were kids and he–”
“Fuck them both,” you mumble, rolling your eyes.
You are in denial about your feelings, pretending to be fine so you don’t have to confront your pain. He can see it in your eyes though, the pain they left behind.
“When did you find out?” You ask.
“The day before you did. I went to the diner and saw Will and Mike there and I knew that they both lied, I went to her house and.. yeah.” He can’t bring himself to say it, he doesn’t have to. You know it.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
He looks confused almost, shaking his head slightly, “you wouldn’t have believed me?”
“You expect me to believe that that’s the reason why you didn’t just tell me?”
“That is the reason!”
You walk closer to him as tears well up in your eyes, “fuck you, Steve Harrington! Fuck you. You sent me there to taunt me! I know you caught them and you wanted me to catch them too, you wanted me to feel what you felt, you wanted me to suffer, you’re a fucking dick, Steve! I hate you!”
His eyes flash with anger, he scoffs at you, clenching his jaw.
“Go on, let it all out.” He nods.
He might not know as well as your friends do but he can tell that you were pushing the pain back, you refused to cry over a man who cheated on you and over a best friend who betrayed you in the most hurtful way.
You are dealing with your emotions by using him as a punching bag and he doesn’t like it, so he decides to do something else.
“Y-You are such a–” He cuts you off by grabbing your cheeks and smashing his lips against yours, he kisses you roughly.
Your eyes widen and you squeal in surprise.
What the fuck?
Steve Harrington is kissing you.
He is kissing you and you fucking like it. Your life couldn’t have been more of a mess. First your boyfriend cheats on you with your best friend that he dated and now he is kissing you. He is supposed to hate you, he is supposed to be horrible to you but instead he is kissing you in a way you have never been kissed before.
Fuck it.
His lips tastes like cheery coke and he smells so fucking good.
You throw your arms around his shoulders and close your eyes as you kiss him back. He moans against you, the sound shoots straight to your core. You move your hand into his hair, gripping it and pulling his perfectly styled hair.
His hands slide down to your waist and he pushes you further into the room without breaking the kiss that grows heavier by the second. He grabs your ass, squeezing it tightly with his large hands, earning a moan from you. Steve smirks against your lips as he presses himself against you.
“S-Steve,” you whimper as you break the kiss, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You ask the man you are supposed to hate.
He presses another kiss to your lips before he pulls away, staring at you with his hazel eyes that hold both pain and anger, “why do they get to have all the fun?”
You swallow nervously, you hate him, you hate him so much and yet you find yourself longing for him, for his touch, for his lips.
He leans in again but you push him back weakly.
“No,” you whisper, “I hate you.”
“Yeah?” He rasps against your lips, “feeling’s mutual, honey. That’s okay, we don’t have to like each other, right?”
You blink, shrugging, your eyes flicker down to his lips, “I-I guess not.”
“You can mark me up, show her who fucked me,” he tells you as he pushes you down onto the soft bed, playing with the hem of your skirt, “you can let your anger out on me, I don’t mind.”
“You really wanna fuck me?” You ask as you chase after his lips, kissing them almost a little too softly.
“Fuck yes, I do,” he murmurs as he latches his lips onto your neck, spreading your legs so he can settle in between them, “I wanna rip your skimpy little clothes off, make you scream my name.”
His lips are soft yet rough as he marks your neck, he sucks and bites on your skin, squeezing your waist tightly with his hands as he grinds his clothed dick against your aching cunt.
“What makes you think that I’ll scream your name?” You ask, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows as you moan at the feeling of him. God, you can already tell that he is big.
“You will moan my name.”
“I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he says in a way that sends shivers down your spine, your pussy clenches around nothing.
“Do it then because he never could.”
A smirk grows on his face.
“You wanna fuck me to get back at him?” You ask, “do it then.”
Before you know it, he rips your top off, throwing it over his shoulder before your bra joins it on the floor. Lust fills his eyes and his cheeks flush red when he sees your nipple piercings, “holy fuck,” he mumbles, staring at you with a dumbfound expression as he grabs your boobs, touching your sensitive nipples with his fingers, “shit… the good little cheerleader has her nipples pierced?”
You look up at him with a pleading look in your eyes, moaning as he continues to roll your nipples. You grab his hand, bringing it up to your face, you wrap your lips around his thumb and begin to suck on it.
His eyes widen yet again, pants growing tighter as his cock hardens in his tight jeans.
“Fuck, you’re a little freak aren’t you?” He smirks darkly, “Byers couldn’t handle all of that, huh? Guess he wasn’t the freak after all, it was you.”
He really couldn’t. It was only ever lazy sex with him, sloppy blowjobs and making love. You didn’t want to make love, you wanted to be fucked like a whore.
You shake your head at him and spread your legs, letting your skirt slide up.
“Shut up and fuck me before I find someone else.”
“Shit,” he mumbles as his eyes fall on your lacy red underwear, your already soaked underwear, it makes his dick twitch in his pants.
“You shut up, princess. I’m not letting anyone fuck you, you’re mine tonight.”
He drops to his knees in front of you, grabbing your ankles, he slides his hand up to your thigh, teasing you by rubbing your clit over your panties.
“Look at you, your panties are soaked,” he teases, smirking at the way you bite your lip to stop the moans from falling. He grabs the thin material, ripping it off and throwing it on the ground.
Your eyes widen and you lean on your elbows, staring at him with a disapproving look on your face. The panties that you had bought a few days ago are now on the floor, ripped apart.
“Steve–”
“Yeah, Yeah,” he rolls his eyes as he places your legs over his shoulders, “I’ll buy you new ones.”
He presses a teasing kiss on your clit, smirking when you whine at his action.
“You’re so fucking wet, honey. Is that all for me? I thought you hated me.”
“God, fucking shut up and d–” He cuts you off, gripping your hips tighter, he licks up stripe up your pussy, moaning at your taste, “you shut up,” he mumbles before he buries his face in your cunt. Nudging his nose against your aching clit as he slips his tongue inside of you.
“Oh my god,” you whimper as you slap your hand over your mouth, not wanting to give the satisfaction that he is making you moan.
He grunts against you, sliding his hand up your body, he cups your boob and tugs at your nipple, earning a gasp from you.
“Steve!”
“Hand off your mouth, y/n,” he says, glaring at you with dark eyes, “let me hear your moans.”
You roll your eyes and put your hand down.
“Good girl.” He mumbles, eyes twinkling with mischief when he sees your flustered expression, he feels you clench around his fingers as he pushes two inside of you, “fuck, you’re tight, how am I gonna fit inside of you?”
His words cause you to roll your eyes again, he will never stop being cocky.
Moans and whimpers echo through the room when he begins to eat you out, switching his fingers with his tongue as he grabs your ass and holds you even tighter than before when you begin to squirm beneath him.
You reach down, gripping his hair and pulling at it.
“F-Fuck, Steve….” You whine. Tears blur your vision, your muscles tense and your back arches in pleasure, “d-don’t stop, Steve, please don’t stop,” you breathe as you feel his tongue on your clit again and his fingers back in your pussy.
He moans against you, mumbling praises you cannot focus on.
King Steve is eating your pussy like his life is depending on it and he moans like a slut while doing so. Palming himself as he tastes you on his tongue and listens to you falling apart for him.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as you hold his hair tighter, “please, I’m so close.”
“Yeah? You wanna cum for me? Do it, honey, do it.”
You let go, pushing away all the thoughts that are telling you how wrong this is, you cum hard and he moans and continues to lick you, his eyes roll back, he enjoys every fucking second of this.
“I haven’t even fucked you and your legs are already shaking.”
You open your eyes to look at him, your chest rises up and down heavily, sweat coating your forehead already, you swallow, pushing yourself up, you get on your hands and knees and crawl towards him, watching as he takes his shirt off. You grab him by his belt and pull him in.
You look up at him through hooded eyes, your hair is a mess, your skin is hot, you’re half naked, the only item left on you is your skimpy little skirt, he wants to fuck you while you are wearing it.
“Can I suck your cock?” You ask, sliding your hand up his body, “I love sucking cock.”
His eyes widen and he almost chokes on his spit, how can you look at him so innocently and speak such filthy words?
“I-I… huh?”
Nancy was different, sure she sucked him off but she didn’t really seem to be excited to do it, you though? You want it, for your own pleasure.
“You love sucking cocks?”
The look on his face almost makes you giggle, almost.
“Mhmm.”
“How many cocks have you sucked before?” He asks in curiosity.
You unbuckle his belt slowly, eying all the moles on his skin, his chest hair, his toned arms, the growing mustache. Steve is hot. Has he always been this hot?
“Take your pants off, Steve.”
“Answer the question first and then I’ll take them off.”
You roll your eyes.
“Before Jonathan? Just two.”
“Oh, who was it?”
“Take your pants off and I’ll tell you.”
He takes them off instantly, kicking his shoes off and throwing his pants somewhere.
“Well the first guy… you don’t know him, I met him when I went to visit a friend in Chicago,” you shrug.
He raises his brows, nodding, “the second guy?”
A smirk grows on your face, you lick your lips and place your hand on his dick, rubbing your palm over his boxers. He shudders, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he moans.
“Eddie Munson.”
His eyes widen at your admission, lips parting in surprise, “w-what? Eddie Munson, th-the f–”
“Yes, Eddie Munson!” You snap, not letting him finish the sentence. “I sucked him off in the bathroom after lunch break, Jason Carver was being mean to him and I felt bad for him.”
“So you cheered him up by sucking his dick?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he's jealous.
“Yeah, I mean who wouldn’t want to get his dick sucked by the head cheerleader?” You giggle, “he really liked it, came back for more.”
“And then what?”
You lean closer and kiss his hip bone and his stomach, trailing your lips up to his chest until you're kneeling on the bed in front of him, placing your hand on his chest and your lips on his neck, you kiss his neck the way he did to you earlier.
“He fucked me in his van, in the bathroom at school, in the janitor’s closet, behind the bleachers, he fucked me hard.”
Steve moans, he feels your cold piercing against his skin, his hand slide down to your waist.
“I bet you can’t fuck me the way he fucked me.” You mumble as you lean back down again, tugging at his boxers, you slide them down his legs and you gasp. His cock slaps against his stomach, pre cum leaking from his tip.
“Oh.” Is all you manage to say as you stare at his cock. Suddenly you look intimidated, your cheeks heat up and your eyes widen, “t-that’s not gonna fit.”
Steve chuckles darkly, gripping your jaw, he caresses your cheek, “oh, we’ll make it fit, honey.”
“You still wanna suck it?” He asks.
You nod, whining when he puts his hand on your head, guiding you towards him.
“It’s all yours.”
You wrap your much smaller hand around his dick, stroking him a few times before you begin to tease him with your tongue, swirling it around the tip, you close your eyes and enjoy the sound of his moans.
“O-Oh fuck,” he murmurs. Gripping your hair tightly, he looks down at you, watching as you take more of him, his cock disappearing in your mouth, inch by inch until it hits the back of your throat.
“Jesus fuck….”
“Mhmmm,” you moan around him, hollowing your cheeks as you begin to suck him off.
“Shit, stop…” He whines, tugging at your hair, “I’m not gonna last if you do that, I-I need to cum inside of you.”
You don’t listen to him, instead you continue to suck him off eagerly, moaning and whimpering in pleasure, you arch your back, cupping his balls–
“Fuck!” He whimpers, basically shoving you off of him, “you little slut, I said I’m not gonna last.”
You pout at him, “but I want to taste you too.”
He stares at you bewildered. What the fuck? He never thought you would be like this but god, does he love it.
“Later,” he says as he pushes you down and crawls on top of you, cupping your cheeks, his nose brushes against yours, “taste yourself instead,” he smirks before he kisses you again.
The kiss is nothing near soft, it’s rough and needy. Your teeth clash, your tongues meet and you both moan and groan desperately. He pushes your skirt up higher, wrapping your legs around his waist, he takes his aching cock in his hand, sliding it between your slick folds, causing you both to moan.
“Please, please… Fuck me, Steve. Make me feel something, please.”
You beg and you plead, you arch your back and you pull him closer. He looks at you, truly looks at you for the first time. You’re beautiful, pretty, cute. You’re cute, even as you lay there looking up at him like a needy whore. He furrows his brows, watching the way your lips part, your pretty eyes staring into his, your soft hand touches his shoulder.
What is he doing?
What has he been doing all this time?
“I got you, fuck, I got you.”
He concentrates on you, on the look on your face as he pushes inside of you for the very first time.
You whine and you bit your lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. You raise your head, looking down, you watch how his cock disappears in your pussy. Tears spring to your eyes as he stretches you open.
“Poor baby, can’t take my big cock huh?” He teases with a smirk on his face that quickly falls again when you clench around him, causing him to stop moving, “f-fuck.”
“Keep moving, Steve, please.”
He leans down, burying his face in your neck, he finally pushes all the way in. He says your name so filthily, it only makes you clench around him again.
He curses at you as he begins to move, pushing himself back up again, he places both his hands beside you.
“Pound my pussy, Steve, ruin me.”
He smirks at your words and pulls out, looking down to see his glistening cock pushing back into your tight hole again. It makes his stomach flutter.
“Such a good fucking pussy.”
“Mhmm, you’re big, biggest cock I've ever had.”
He only gives you a cocky grin in return. He knows he’s big.
He grabs your boobs roughly and finally, he begins to fuck you like you wanted him too.
“Ah– Steve, fuck… don’t stop!”
He begins to pound your pussy in the most disrespectful way possible, squelching noises and your whines echo through the room. He watches your fucked out expression, he watches the way your pretty face scrunches up in pleasure, the way your screw your eyes shut. All you can do is moan and whimper and all he can do is stare at you in awe.
He presses his hand on your lower stomach, pushing down on it, “you feel me, baby?” He asks, kissing your lips, “you feel my cock inside of you?”
You nod, whimpering pathetically.
You feel him, you feel him everywhere. His cock is splitting you open so perfectly, fucking you in a way only a man can.
“Byers is a fucking idiot, stupid boy doesn’t know how to handle a woman,” he grunts as he thrusts into your roughly, “he’s fucking missing out. Shit baby, you’ve got the most perfect little pussy, so fucking tight and wet for me.”
“S-Steve…”
“I’m gonna fucking cum inside of you, gonna breed that little pussy and make you mine, gonna fill you up with my cum, over and over again until you’re f-fucking pregnant, gonna show those fuckers what they missed.”
“P-Please,” you moan.
“You’d like that huh? You’d love to get pregnant by the guy you hate?”
“Mhmm,” you whine, you reach for his hands, dragging them up to your neck, “choke me, daddy.”
His eyes widen and he fucking whimpers, his dick is throbbing inside of you and you know he is close.
“God, you’re fucking filthy,” he grunts, wrapping his hands around your throat, “call me that again.”
“Daddy.”
He fucks you harder, rougher, faster and deeper. He wants you, he needs you. He is desperate for you.
You put your hands around his wrists, looking up at him through the tears, “harder.”
He gives you what you want, keeping his eyes locked with yours. You move your hips, meeting his thrusts. Tears stream down your face and you can no longer hold the sobs in.
“Cum inside of me, Steve.”
Your walls flutter around him and his hold on you tightens, “y-you want me to cum inside of you–”
“Please, I need it!”
His hips stutter and he can no longer hold back, he slams his lips against yours, moving one hand down, his fingers graze your sensitive nipples for a moment, he touches your stomach, your hips and then his fingertips find your clit, rubbing fast circles on it. He listens to the way your moans grow high pitched as you cum around him.
“I’m cumming, f-fuck,” he murmurs against your lips as he spills inside of you, coating your walls with his seed.
You both whimper in pleasure. He continues to thrust in and out of you slowly, for a moment and then he slumps against you, letting go of your throat and letting his face fall against your chest, his throbbing cock still inside of you.
You both need a moment to calm down from this.
Surprisingly, Steve doesn’t push off of you and pretend like nothing happened. He just continues to lay there, on your chest, tracing your skin with his rough hands.
And you, you play with his hair, not a single thought of your ex boyfriend or your best friend. All you think about is Steve. How good he made you feel, how pretty he looked when he ate your pussy, how he kissed you, how he smells.
“I think you almost fucked the hate I have for you out of me.”
He snorts at you, “wow, very romantic.”
“Oh we’re being romantic now?”
He looks up at you, “I mean, I’m still inside of you and you are playing with my hair so yeah.”
“Shut up,” you roll your eyes but are unable to fight the smile off your face.
He grins, “no one ever called me daddy.”
“Someone else will call you daddy in 9 months if you don’t get me the morning after pill.”
You almost expect him to grow pale but instead he laughs nervously.
“Babies can’t talk, honey.”
“Huh?”
“You said in 9 months, are you telling me newborns can speak now?”
“I was joking!” You mumble.
“Mhmm, sure you were,” he chuckles.
For a moment, the room is filled with silence. All you hear is the sound of the music from the party, the laughter and the loud voices. The smell of sex lingers in the room, the smell of him lingers on you.
“You know what? I think we should’ve done that a long time ago,” Steve admits, “in fact I think we should do it again.”
You smirk at him, “to get back at them or because you just wanna be called daddy again?”
For a moment, his face grows serious and he finds himself staring at you longingly, “I just wanna do it again, not to get back at them, fuck them.”
“Let’s do it then,” you whisper, “but take me home first.”
“Yes ma’am.”
A week ago, you would’ve laughed if someone told you that this would happen. That you would break up with your cheating boyfriend, lose a best friend you had known since childhood and fuck the man you hated half of your life.
Yet here you are, letting Steve Harrington help you get dressed, letting him steal kisses, letting him slap your ass on the way out.
You walked into his room hating him and you walked out of here, well, hating him a little less.
You both got betrayed by people you loved, deeply. You lost them but at least you had found each other.
In a perfect world you would be together.
Maybe this can be a perfect world after all.
-
tagging some faves @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @mysticmunson @aftermidnightwriting
#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fic#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington imagine#stranger things smut#stranger things angst#stranger things imagines#stranger things imagine
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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ CONTENT ⊹ 18+, rafe x brattyfem!reader, silent treatment, smut (on his boat), p in v, creampie, degrading — m.list
slightly inspired by this tiktok edit of him saying “don’t shake your head”
first fic im sorry this sucks ૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎აㅤ
Once again, you’re giving your boyfriend the silent treatment. You’ve lost count on how many times you have done this. You can’t help it, he has a habit of getting on your nerves whenever you’re having a bad day. Even when he tries to make amends by taking you out on his boat, your frustration doesn’t go away.
You were sitting in the cockpit while he opened another water. “Seriously? Keeping your mouth shut?” His tongue flicked out, touching the corner of his mouth, and his eyes met yours. You inhaled and a heavy sigh escaped your lips. “I’m just tired today.”
“And so you ignore me?” He replied in a slightly irritated tone. “You know how much I hate when you do this.”
He glared at you, his eyes narrowing as they roved over you. Despite the bright sun shining down on the two of you, the only thing you could really feel was his gaze. "Come on," he spoke, his voice sharp and impatient. "Say something. I'm done with your bullshit."
You shaked your head, “Don’t shake your head at me.” His jaw clenched and the way he tilted his head, gave away how tensed up he was too. Before you can begin to respond, he’s already sitting beside you with his hands at the nape of your neck turning your head to face him, “If you don’t start talking, then I’ll make you.” He said sternly.
The waves are quiet and calm. You bite your lip slightly, “Christ,” he muttered under his breath. You feel his hands go and spread your thighs apart easily. “Rafe-“ You began but he shoved two fingers in your mouth to the back of your throat. His warm breath fanning your face as spit pooled from your mouth.
“Oh so now you want to talk?” His sneered mockingly at you as you stared at his piercing blue eyes, “No, I don’t think so.” Your eyes watered as you gagged on his fingers, face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. You tried to pull away, but this only leaded to him shoving his fingers deeper and deeper into your throat.
He grabbed a fistful of your shorts, yanking them down to your knees. With one swift move, he slid his hand to your crotch, cupping your wet pussy through your panties. "Fucking knew it, already so wet for me?"
You try to speak but get cut off, “I'm sorry, what was that?" He asked, his voice cold and harsh. His fingers kept working their magic inside your mouth, teasing and tormenting your sensitive flesh. You tried to speak again, but all that came out was a muffled sound. Your heart pounded inside your chest from the arousal you were beginning to feel. Even his presence alone was enough to make your breath quicken.
You could never resist rafes touch, and he knew that.
As your heart raced, rafe finally pulled his fingers from your mouth, leaving it feeling cold and empty. He quickly moved his hand downward pushing your underwear aside, rubbing his slick fingers against your swollen clit and into your wet pussy.
The corner of his lips curled up a little. You squirmed in pleasure as his finger entered you, pushing deeper and probing your wet folds. A soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by the sound of his fingers rubbing against your swollen clit.
"There we go,” rafe said, his voice husky with desire. "You're so fucking tight around my fingers. Let me hear you moan." And with that, he thrust his finger deeper inside you, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips. “Oh, God," you moaned, your head spinning with pleasure.
Rafe groaned as you clutched his wrist, your nails digging lightly into his skin. Your body arched into his touch, craving more. "Oh fuck," you gasped, feeling his fingers penetrate you even further. He let out a small laugh under his breath, “You like having your pussy stuffed with my fingers, don't you?" You moaned in response, not being able to form words.
He flexed his jaw, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. Subconsciously you licked your own, he stirred beside you and took out his fingers. He grabbed both your knees and laid you back on the soft cushion.
Looking down at you, he cupped the side of your face roughly. His other hand moved between your legs, spreading them apart once more. "You're so fucking beautiful," he breathed, “You look even better with my cock in you too.” He tapped the side of your face with his hand.
The anticipation was killing you as he stared deeply into your eyes, his hands roaming over your body possessively.
Your eyes darted as he started removing his pants. “Rafe, I’m sorry. I won’t ignore you again-but people might see," you managed to stutter out between breaths. "I don’t give a shit," he interrupted, his eyes darkening with lust. With that, he continued to unbuckle himself, his cock already hard and throbbing against his pants.
You gasped as he finally pushed inside of you, filling you up completely. He always stretched you past your limit. His hips almost immediately slammed against yours in a rhythm that made you moan out loud.
“Bought you clothes, brought you out here on this boat, got you lunch,” He groaned, pounding into you. “And you had to give me the silent treatment, huh?” He growled, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hips driving relentlessly into yours.
You moaned loudly, your body shaking under his as you gave in to the pleasure he was giving you. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have done that," you panted, your head rolling back more.
His eyes flashed with satisfaction as you apologized, your voice barely audible over the sound of your moans. “You’re sorry?” His fingers dig into her hips as he thrusts deeper into her, “But you’re always sorry isn’t that right? Fucking slut-“
His thrusts grew harder and more relentless as he took you on the boat's cockpit. You cried out his name in a mix of pleasure and pain, your body arching into him. "I'm really sorry, I was just-.." Your words trail off to a moan and you clung onto him, wrapping your hands around his biceps.
His pace picked up, and he started slamming into you with unrestrained force. You moaned loudly, practically screaming. Your walls clenching around him as he pounded into you.
You couldn’t be more thankful that no other boats were around. You wouldn’t know what to do if someone (or people) happened to see you getting dicked down by rafe cameron. Maybe at that point you wouldn’t care.
The pleasure was almost unbearable, and you were barely holding on. His hips pistoned against yours, driving his cock deeper into your core.
His hips stilled suddenly, causing you to gasp around his cock. He stared down at you, his eyes burning into yours. "Why did you stop?" you asked, surprise evident in your voice. His curtain bangs shifted onto his face as he’s panting.
"Oh, you want me to keep going?" He mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The grin on his face was wicked as he stared down at her. You feel yourself getting embarrassed, “Keep going..” you murmured.
"Can't hear you, use your words f’me.” He repeated.
Then, he punctuated his words with a hard thrust that buried his cock deep inside you once more before stopping again. You moaned and called out his name as he pushed deeper into you. You felt every inch of his length inside you, and you wanted more. "Please, keep going, rafe," you pleaded, arching your back in an invitation for him to take you even deeper.
“Keep begging," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes locked onto yours as he fought against the urge to lose control and just fuck you senseless right then and there.
“Please fuck me," you moaned, spreading your legs wider for him. Your body is aching for his touch, and your swollen pussy is ready to take him as deep as possible. "Fuck me, rafe," you lightly groan out, your voice trembling with desire. He always knows how to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.
That was all it took. His thrusts became harder and faster, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart. His body moving him forward as his elbows found purchase on either sides of your head, pinning you beneath him.
The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the cockpit as rafe fucked you harder, his hips pounding into yours. Your moans and gasps filled the air, intertwining with his rough breathing as he took you to the edge.
He chuckles, watching your fucked out face and as your cunt parts and flares around him, fluttering walls hugging his huge cock. “Such a bratty little whore f’me.” He grunted, his voice thick with lust and satisfaction. “Fuck, yeah.”
You feel him pulsing inside you, you moan and beg for more, not wanting this pleasure to ever end. "More…" You whimpered, "Give me more."
Hearing your plea, rafes eyes glazed all over your face and body. His thrusts intensify further, his body practically shuddering with the effort to give you what you crave.
“See? Now you’re finally using that pretty mouth of yours." His voice raw with desire. “A little slutty pussy like this needs to be throughly fucked every day.” He laughed pounding into you, he reached down and began to rub your clit in rapid circles. The sensation is overwhelming, sending shockwaves of pleasure rolling throughout your body.
“Rafe, oh god, I'm so close…!” You moaned, your head thrown back in ecstasy as he continues to thrust and rub. Feeling the intensity of your response, rafe moaned in approval. He circled your clit faster and harder, drawing out cries of pure bliss from your lips.
"Almost there," he muttered through gritted teeth. His hips keep slamming into yours, causing sparks of pleasure to shoot through your entire body. "So fucking close," he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire.
Your moans grow louder, echoing on the boat as you feel the impending climax. "I'm cumming! Oh god, don't stop!" Each word is punctuated by a sharp intake of breath and a quivering sensation throughout your body. Your pussy gripped tightly around him, pulling him down into you, milking his cock with every thrust. Your legs tremble and your body shivers, wracked with pleasure as your orgasm crashes over you. "Fuck, I’m cumming!”
Once you cum, rafes eyes rolled to the back of his head, a mix of lust and satisfaction etched on his face. With a low groan, he releases his seed into you, filling you up with his thick, hot cum. "Shit.." he drags out the word, his body trembling.
You lay there, your chest heaving as you catch your breath after the intense orgasm. You're twitching and aching all over, both from the pleasure you've just experienced and the fullness of your boyfriend still inside of you.
His pace slows down, his thrusts growing shallower, softer, as he catches his breath and began to come back down from the high.
“Mm..rafe,” you groaned softly, barely above a whisper. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him down closer to you.
He gazed down at you with loving eyes, his hair falling onto his face as he leaned in to kiss you. "That’s what happens when you ignore me," he murmured, a charming smile playing on his lips. His fingers run through your hair, pushing it back gently before he captures your lips in a kiss again.
#୨୧#rafecameron#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#drew starkey#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron headcanons#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks#obx fic#obx fanfiction#obx smut#obx cast#outer banks smut#smut
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STRAWBERRY HAIRCLIP 🌸🍓
★ summary: female! reader finds a tattooed stranger asleep on her bed in the middle of her squishmellows at a house party.
★ pairing: college!eren jaeger x soft maths major fem!reader ♡
★ warnings + tags: 18+, college au, tattooed eren, softcore cute reader , eren w a snakebite piercing , thick thigh reader , poetry from eren, smut .
★ wordcount: 3,395
a/n: this is my first fic here ! i read a lot of eren au’s today and this idea suddenly came to mind ! i decided to share . please enjoy !
“ not again…” an exasperated sigh fell heavily from your lips like it weighed a thousand pounds . you were standing in front of your house , a small pile of books you had borrowed from the library squeezed against your chest as you looked at the fluorescent lights peaking out of the windows . the bass from inside your house reverberated throughout the neighborhood , and even from the outside , you could distinguish the faint sound of a pop song .
another college party .
your brother was a heavy partier , but you strongly disliked when he did those at home without even warning you first . you had a throbbing headache from having your nose in books all day , practicing for mid-terms . the last thing you needed were drunk college kids slurring around and music blaring in your ears .
rest , you needed rest .
options - doja cat ft JID
you pushed the front door to your house open and instantly wished you hadn’t . as if it was waiting for a chance to hit you , the sound of music rushed to you and assaulted your ears , making you wince back in surprise . “ im gonna kill this asshole,” you grumbled under your breath as you started pushing past the squeezing bodies that danced in the living room .
you stopped in the kitchen which seemed relatively empty , except for a flury of red hair moving between the fridge doors .
“ sasha ?” you called out over the music . the red-headed girl in question jumped in surprise , her head yanking up to smash directly against the frame of the fridge . the force of the action caused it to shake a little . she yelped out in pain . “ are you okay?” you quickly questioned with your hand slapped over your mouth to hold in a laugh .
“ im good , im good !” she quickly said as she stepped away from the fridge with a bottle of tostios’ spinach dip . “ you’re not here for the party , are you ?” she said , eyeing your outfit with an amused look on her face .
you obviously looked misplaced and you knew it . with your printed , pastel yellow high-waist pleated skirt , yellow oversized ‘ LEMON’ sweatshirt and knee high socks , you rather looked like you belonged browsing an empty aisle in a CD store or at barnes and nobles . – and honestly , you wish you were .
your style has always been the epitome of soft girl core , with small stickers adorning your cheeks and orange blush at the tip of your nose . your requirement was to look like a cute fairy nymph at all times .
you’ve been like this for as long as you could remember and before the trend gave it this name . your brother found it endearing , even though he’d mask it by poking fun at you . you didn’t care though , it gave you comfort .
“ where’s my idiot brother ?” you questioned . watching her prying open the bag of chips and scooping up some of the dip . a lot of it .
“ oh – he’s gone somewhere upstairs with katie “ she paused to swallow, “ you don’t wanna see him now…” she shook her head and you quickly caught on to her suggestion .
“ ew!” you grimaced . the last thing you wanted to think about was your brother…doing it .even though he was two years older and you were relatively close , one thing you didn’t want to know about was...this.
you shuddered softly and stepped forward to make way for the drunk couple that stumbled in with their mouth glued to each other in an intense make-out session . your mouth lifted in an annoyed expression while sasha shielded her face away like she had looked directly into the sun for too long , ‘ gross ! connie i dont wanna see this !’
you laughed softly at these two before deciding that your hunt for your brother was over . you just really wanted to sleep – as much as you could despite the music. “goodnight , sash ! and…connie ?” the last part came out like a question as the man seemed to be too preoccupied by the blonde he was kissing . you smiled at the waving sasha before making your way out again.
you inhaled again before diving back in the crowd , looking to reach the stairs that lead to your room . you got a few stares which you completely ignored , not wanting anything to do with drunk college boys . your eyes stayed focused ahead of you , giving the clear message that you weren’t here to have fun . you balanced the books against your chest as you went up the stairs and into the hallway . the sound of the music was considerably lower , but still bothersome . you walked past a few people making out in the hallway , your eyes focused on your white bedroom door at the end of the hall , holding your breath at the mere idea of finally finding solace – peace in your sanctuary . you lifted your knee to allow one arm to reach for the handle while the books took support against the other arm steadily . you twisted the doorknob and wasted no time to walk in your room , but what you saw nearly made you scream for help .
i was never there – the weeknd
in the middle of all your squishmellows , sprawled out , and in a seemingly deep sleep , laid a complete stranger . he wore black cargo pants , a white shirt and a black bomber . he slept comfortably on his back with a tattooed arm draped over his eyes , glossy lips slightly parted letting air through as his chest rose and fell softly . the shiny metal on his lip caught your attention , and you identified it as a snakebite piercing. the position had allowed his shirt to ride up his hips , the V lines showing a sinful path that curved and dipped down inside his Calvin boxers which were peaking out of his pants . the fairy lights above your headboard shone soft golden orbs on him , painting an ironic picture as he laid against your avocado-patterned comforter . you felt your throat closing , strangely aroused by the scene .
you couldn’t stop the book avalanche even if you wanted to . the book on top slipped out of your grip , dragging down all the other ones with it and they subsequently hit the ground with a loud thud . ‘
“shh ! shh !” you tried hushing the book as if they were alive as you knelt on the floor to pick them up . the sleeper immediately froze at the sound before he quickly sat up , his messy bun almost coming undone at the abruptness of his reaction. he stared at you through confused , tired eyes before realization hit him . “ oh shit !” he croaked out , voice deep from his tiredness as he sank on the floor to help you pick them up .
“ w-who are you ?” you questioned while looking down , feeling the tip of your ears go red . why are you even getting shy ? he’s the one in your room .
“ eren. “ the stranger you know as eren held out a small pile of books towards you . you didn’t look at him directly . “you ?”
you mumbled out your name.
his green eyes peeked at one of books he held and a thick eyebrow scrunched in confusion , “ differential …equations…?” the confusion was evident in his tone as his head tilted to decipher the picture on the book cover . a few strands of hair fell above his eyes .
“ applied mathematics major ,” you answered after having swallowed the ball of anxiety that had settled in your throat .
his emerald eyes widened in surprise before a small smirk lifted the corner of his lips , “ for real ? damn . “ you were used to this reaction . most people thought you studied theater or fashion because you always looked like you could be in a winx club live action .
“you ?” you asked back . quickly taking the books from him and dropping them on your lap , the impact causing your thick thighs to jiggle softly . eren did not seem to miss this action , his eyes lasting a minute longer on the sight before looking up at you . you subconsciously thought of the typical college fuckboy majors; business , or music...
“ literature.” it was your turn to show surprise , and the boy chuckled softly at your expression . you couldn’t help but notice how white his teeth were .
“ah…” was your answer . you wanted to slap yourself for losing your social skills for a minute , but you were just too tired to handle so many emotions and words at the same time .the boy only chuckled in response , his hand brushing back the bangs that only managed to fall over his eyes again . “you don’t seem convinced .”
miss you – oliver tree , robin schulz
“i’m not,” you answered honestly , a small smile of your own dancing on your lips , “ you look like you study…”
“ business ? music ?” he took the words right out of your mouth as he stood up , extending his hand down towards you . you were suddenly taken aback by how tall he was and how he seemed to command all the attention in the room . you blushed when you realized how close you were to his thigh and quickly grabbed onto his hand to stand up , except he pulled you up harder than you expected and you crashed against his chest . the smug look on his face told you he did it on purpose . your chin rested against his chest , slowly assessing the height difference between you two .
for a moment , his eyes seemed to have darkened into something more primal before they softened again , a smirk curling his lips upwards , “ and you didn’t strike me as a maths major either . “
you rolled your eyes , feeling slightly offended . you turned around and stepped out of his embrace towards your desk , suddenly feeling chilly. you knew it was your insecurities hitting at you – people always had a hard time believing you were smart and it pissed you off . however , you had long moved passed this – or so you thought . how did eren manage to set you off so easily ? it wasn’t even that bad .
he felt the cold air coming from you and raised his hand in defense , “ hey , hey . not saying there's anything wrong with that , you know ? i wouldn’t be able to half of what they do anyway, “ a small smile drew on your lips at his attempt to reprimand . “ plus,” he added as you arranged your books on your desk in no particular order to distract you from your wild pulse , “ its ‘cause you’re really cute . in a…forest pixie kind of way…”
love lost – mac miller , the temper trap
a small giggle broke from you , “makes sense . thanks. “ you answered , bending forward a bit to work your sneakers out of your feet while holding onto the table . the cold air hit the cheeks of your ass which was unknowingly protruding out of your skirt and you heard a sharp breath being drawn behind you .
when you turned around , eren almost looked like he wanted to pounce on you . you cleared your throat gently , feeling blood rush to your lower stomach like molten lava .
“ what do you do in literature anyway ? analyze Shakespeare’s attachment issues ?” this ripped a laugh out of eren . his laugh was even more attractive than his smile - it chimed pleasantly in your ear , sounding boyish but deep .
“ good point . but we did study him a lot .”
you arched an eyebrow and smirked , “ what’s your favorite quote by him , then ?” you asked challengingly , not really expecting him to answer . you just wanted to mock how boys challenged you whenever you expressed interest in something unconventional . eren shrugged before lifting his eyes towards the ceiling in a small moment of contemplation.
“ love is not love which alters when it’s alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. it is an ever-fixed mark, that looks on tempests, and is never shaken.” he finished the last part , teal eyes boring into your soul .” my favorite author is bell hooks , though.” he added with a small smile .
to say that you were taken aback was an understatement . the tattooed stranger that broke into your room just spoke the most meaningful words in the softest , yet firm tone you’ve heard. you wanted him to recite poems to you over and over.
the two of you stayed silent before you looked towards your bed and back at him . “ uhm…what are you doing in my room , anyway ?” you decided to address the elephant in the room which you should’ve obviously done a while ago .
“ oh , uh i was looking for a bed to crash and sober up and your room smelled good ... like strawberries .” he explained and looked at your bed and the array of squishmellows decorating it with a look that seemed endearing . “ not gonna lie , it’s the most comfortable sleep i’ve ever had .” he said and you smiled with pride knowing that you had invested a lot of money into making yourself the softest , most comfortable bed ever .
“ but , i can leave if you want...” his voiced trailed off as if hoping you would say no - which you did . “ i mean you can stay a while more...”
“ hell yeah ! “ he cheered and let himself fall back on the bed which allowed him to bounce back a few times before he grabbed one of your blue axolotl squishmallows and pressed it against his face . you laughed softly , oddly proud that someone loved your bed so much . your friends always loved staying in your room when they came over, but it’s the first time a stranger - who seemed so different from you expressed such content from being here .
you plopped down on the bed and brought your knees to your chest , looking up down at your hands while you chipped away at your pastel nail polish . eren pulled the plush down slowly , green eyes peeking over at you. “what ?” you asked feeling your face heat up uncontrollably. “ you’re cute. “ he simply said with a smirk before looking up at the ceiling .
you bit your lip from stopping your smile from spreading too much . “you’re flattering me .” you replied as you looked down at your thighs which seemed to have been more exposed than you thought . the elastic at the hem of your thigh-highs sank slightly into your skin , squishing it out in a way that seemed more lewd than you intended . you quickly reached to pull your skirt down but ring-covered fingers pressed against your thigh , the cold metals sending chills down your spine as he blocked your action.
“no.” he said in a semi-commanding tone . “ they look great.” you could see the intensity in his eyes as he looked at you and moved his hand away after letting it slide down a bit leaving a burning path from where he touched you .
your heart was beating inside your ears at this point and you needed a distraction . “where are your friends anyway... or girlfriend ?” you bit your lip .
white tee - summer walker
this was a bait to see if he had any girl in his life , which , why wouldn’t he ?
“they’re all drunk and annoying right now...and don’t have one” he answered the last part with a smirk on his lip as he looked at you teasingly , long and thick eyelashes that curled at the corner giving him a gracious aura . “ why ? wanted to know if position was empty? “ he asked in a teasing tone .
“ you’re such an ass!” you whined , pushing him with soft laugh to mask your embarrassment at the fact that you were, in fact , checking. eren chuckled and reached towards your face , pointing at one of the stickers adorning your eyes . you understood that he wanted it , so you pulled a little star and placed it against his hand .eren looked at it like it was the first time he’s even seen a sticker.
a small silence settled between you two as you played with your fingers .
“ what about you ?” he suddenly asked after his silent contemplation .
“ nope !”
“damn...how ?” he asked , genuinely confused and you shrugged in response , “ they’re not business majors “ you replied teasingly which made him release another amused laugh . the vibration shocks throughout your body .
eren looked at you silently , bangs brushing agains his long lashes which clearly annoyed him . he tried swatting them away but it never worked . you giggled softly and motioned for him to come closer to you , “ come here,” you told him as you removed one of the hairclips that held your ponytail .
eren obediently scooted closer to you , resting his cheek against your thigh while his hand palmed at either sides of them . “ is that okay ?” he asked . to have the hottest boy you’ve seen resting on your lap ?
YES , YES , YES , YES !!!
“ sure “ you answered and he simply closed his eyes with a content smirk on his lips . you were ready to combust as you reached down , brushing the soft strands of his dark hair away from his face and slicked it back into his messy bun before sliding the hairclip over it and securing it . you smiled as you looked at him . what a contrast it was - this edgy , tattooed man with a strawberry hair clip in his hair . he didn’t seem to care either .
“i’d eat you out real good right now .” the words he let out almost made you choke on air. he opened his eyes looking back at you and he was dead serious.
the man let out a laugh at your expression before closing his eyes again , his lustful expression suddenly gone like it was never here . “ don’t worry , i won’t.”
you probably looked at him like he grew two heads . you didn’t say anything back , your stomach in knots. he was so hot , it hurt . would you really pass up an opportunity like this ? when the last time you even got laid ? this time by the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on .
“what if i want you to...?” you attempted back , voice coming out small but hopeful .
suddenly the hands that were resting so softly against your thighs tightened their grip and eren smirked at he lifted his head . “good girl” he praised
you gasped softly as he pushed your back to the bed , your cunt throbbing uncontrollably . he parted your legs and knelt between them , his erection pressing against your thigh . he felt so hard . you bit down your lip , feeling your wetness spill out . “ wanted to eat that pussy the second i saw you on that floor...” he admitted , his voice low and guttural . his fingers pulled your panties down and hooked your legs over his broad shoulders . his fingers separated your puffy folds , exposing your pussy completely to the cold air . you bit down your lip , letting out a needy whine causing your tiny hole to clench around nothing and eren nearly felt his mouth water . “shit...” he breathed before sticking his tongue out , letting fingers collect the saliva on them before rubbing them on your bare folds . you didn’t need any lubrification , but he just wanted his spit on you . he was convinced he’d never seen a pussy like this . he was about to dip his head down and eat you like a caveman when you stopped him mid-action.
“eren ?” you asked , blushing beet red . he was confused but paused to listen , hoping you didn’t want him to stop already . “ c-can you tell me another poem ?” the man couldn’t help the smile on his face. “ you wanna be talked to while getting your pretty pussy eaten ?” he mused before nodding, “ of course, princess. “
he dipped down between your thighs , his hot tongue sliding down your folds .
“by my soul,”
his hands squeezed your thighs around his head even more , like he wanted be suffocated . you moaned out at the delicious contact of his tongue gliding down to your hole.
“ i can neither eat”
his lips closed around your clit , his piercing brushing against it making your body jolt on the bed. “eren !”
“drink”
his lips sucked on one of your labia folds before releasing it. “fuck - eren !”
“nor sleep;”
he lifted his head and ran the flat of his tongue against your whole cunt before moving his head sideways to place kisses on your inner thighs , his warm breath fanning soothingly over your skin .
“nor– “ a finger dipped in your hole , slowly thrusting in and out. you screamed his name again, body shaking on the bed, “,what’s still worse , ” he placed another kiss against your pussy ,
“love any woman in the world but her.”
his head dipped down again, and this time, he wouldn’t stop eating you out. you felt pleasure ripple through your body in delicious waves as your eyes closed and you let yourself go . the last thing you saw between your thighs was his dark glossy hair and the strawberry hairclip that held his bangs together .
#belle’s writings 🎧! ♡ ✶ . ࣪ ׅ#eren jaeger#eren jaeger smut#eren yaeger#eren jaeger x reader#aot smut#attack on titan smut#levi ackerman#aot imagine#attack on titan imagine#eren jaeger imagine#college eren jaeger#eren x reader
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CHEER FOR ME CAPTAIN !! ☆
f!reader x perv!gojo satoru (18+) | not proof read | reblog please!
summary : Satoru who’s hated you since he first laid eyes on you freshman year of highschool…Satoru who started teasing you then. Satoru who can’t stand the fact that you’re in college together- with you being captain of the cheer team and him a basketball player. Gojo who can’t stand that he didn’t fuck you before you gained a reputation.
warnings : reader is poc coded, pervy!gojo, bet making, porn with plot, reader’s nipples are pierced, degrading, hair pulling, gojo’s tongue is pierced, lots of dirty talk, slight spanking, mutual masturbation
“She’s a stuck up cunt.” Satori’s voice rang out, filled with disgust as he watched your soft skin move in the small red skirt. “Not to mention a slut. I’ve heard the rumors.. of course she’s easy.” He scoffs. But his blue eyes said differently. His brows furrowed, concentrating on how easy you made it look. How your ass jiggled with every step. To say he was hard would be an understatement: he wanted to fuck, and every time he asked you said no.
The first time was graduation. You went to high school together and he finally noticed you. Freshman year, you were nothing more than another obstacle in his way in the halls. He never apologized for shoving you out of the way, or when he’d bump into you and ultimately knocking your things out of your hands.
But graduation…oh graduation. How cute you were wearing those little glasses and wide smile sported by your plump lips. It couldn’t get any better, but then you walked. Oh you walked…those smooth legs striding to get the well deserved diploma. Satoru hated that he didn’t see you before- all this time such a thing was lying in front of him….innocent and untouched. Trapped in baggy clothes and good grades. He wanted nothing more than to rub his long fingers in that small space between your legs and cup your juicy cunt until his fingers were coated in your slick. He wanted his face buried between your legs, tongue deep into your pretty pussy while you moaned his name. He wanted his cock deep in your heat, feeling your pussy tightening around his big dick.
Geto stifled out a small laugh as he watched you along with Gojo. “She’s a slut for not fucking you but everyone else?” They’re best friends- inseparable at that. Geto knew of Gojo’s little infatuation with you- He’s fucked you , so Geto’s commentary made it no better. Gojo gave him a side glare before standing, sighing dramatically as he ran a hand through his hair. “Invite her to the party later.”
“You know I am. Probably still won’t fuck you though.” Geto stands up with him. “That’s not what I-!” Blue eyes flicker at the sound of laughter. He almost moaned seeing you touching your toes..stretching, your ass in the air. Fuckkk he had many regrets, but you? His biggest. “Just- make sure she’s there. This time I will fuck her. Maybe we’ll date too~ think she’ll be open for marriage?” He had a little smirk as the pair left the gym.
Word of the party spread fast as it usually did. Knowing Geto threw the best parties. He was a sorority leader after all. What made the knees even better was Gojo being there. The all-star player, Geto’s best friend, the best fuck around. You yawned and stretched, looking at the text from Geto, and the unopened ones before that. He bugged you every other week about getting his dick wet again, it wouldn’t happen, though. Even when you guys did it, it was a one time thing and he knew that- Stil, he liked bothering you. You look at the text under it, ‘Wear your uniform too.’, and groan. You knew for a fact it was another little thing to try and get Gojo and you together. You didn’t like him much..he picked on you, and you hated people who did that. That being said, you never missed the slick touches he made when you passed him by. The way he came to your practices and watched you stretch. When during the basketball games he pointed at you before ultimately winning the game.
At some point people assumed you dated on the low. That was quickly shut down whenever he did ask you out, which was often.
“Oh come on..i’ll be all alone tonight.” Satoru had whined, arms wrapping around your waist, chin on your shoulder. He was sweaty, having just won the game. “It’s the weekend princess..cmon cheer for me again? G..O..Let’s go Gojo~!” He mocked your voice. Gojo’s face tucks into your neck, teeth grazing the tired skin.
“Fuck off Satoru.” you had pushed him off, ignoring the whistles from the team.
And it only started from there. It was strange how he wanted your attention now that you were someone worth something. But you couldn’t deny how hot it felt, perhaps it was just the rush of cheering on your feet for hours.
The party was no better. You walked through the crowd of people in different outfits- suddenly feeling better that you showing up in your cheer uniform wouldn’t be humiliating. This time you wore it with different accessories. Your curly hair in a half up style, wearing a pair of red thigh high socks to cordinate with the short skirt that showed the bottom of your ass per usual- this time without the shorts underneath.
“Look at you..” You hear Geto’s voice. Glancing up, you see him in nothing but a pair of sweatpants with his sorority’s symbol on his stomach. “Damn.” he coughs, nodding and grabbing a red cup. “Drink?”
“You know it.” frowning at the fact that he was alone. It was unusual. He and Satoru were always together. You glance down at the clear liquid in the cup before taking a sip. “Where’s the idiot?” You look around the room. Geto’s chuckles, bending down to your ear. “You want the truth or a lie?” It sent shivers down your spine, his hair tickling your shoulder. Scoffing, you move away from him a bit. “See, now you’re acting weird.” You begin to walk away, but didn’t get far. You jump right into someone, spilling the alcoholic drink on the both of you. “Shit! I’m sorry-“
“Damn Captain…I just washed my jersey and now look..tsk tsk~” Your stomach turned at the sound of Satoru’s voice. He had grabbed your hands, pulling you into him more. “So what are you gonna do about it?” He whispers lowly. His eyes were on you and you only. “Get off of me-“ You huff and push against his chest. He chuckles and lets you go, holding his hands up. The wet stain visible in the material of his jersey. You were silently thanking the universe that basketball season was over. “Sorry, Gojo.” you cough, staring up at him in a slight embarrassment. It reminded you of too much..it reminded you of highschool, and then you felt disgusted. Scoffing, you turn away from him.
“Oh come on- what’s your problem with me huh?” Gojo whined as he follows you. You wanted to be out of the house and quick as possible, not feeling the vibe anymore. Instead trying to get away from Gojo lead you anywhere but out. Pretty soon you were both in an isolated area in the frat house. You cross your arms, the alcoholic smell on your uniform starting to make you sick.
“My problem? My problem is you! It’s always been you. You’ve picked on me since high school and now I’m actually someone you see you want to fuck me! You’re weird!” Your face was flushed. Gojo’s little smirk turned into a small frown. You didn’t realize it but your eyes had watered, your arms tightening around yourself.
“And i can’t stand knowing that I wanna say yes.” you murmured to his surprise. He took a step forward, backing you against a door. Gojo’s face was close to yours. “Well shit princess if that was all you could’ve said that two “can i fuck you?”s ago.” Snorting his hand crept down to your skirt. You felt hot between the legs, the air around you both becoming insufferable. “Fuck this.” you grumble, opening the door to a bathroom. You both stumble inside, your hand hurriedly taking off your top. Your nipples sprang free.
“Holy fuck this is real.” Dumbass had said , his cock hard in his pants. you rubbed your thighs together, hands moving to tug at the pierced buds. “Stop standing there before I change my mind.” You rushed out, feeling a bit embarrassed. Gojo had muttered something along the line of not having to tell him twice..
“F-Fuck- fuck princess~! That’s it..ride that dick like I know you can..fuck that’s it-“ Gojo whines out a breathy moan, hand forcing your head back as he pulled your hair. Your wet cunt spitting out around his thick cock. Loud wet sounds mixed with your moans was music to Gojo’s ears. He was in a bliss. He didn’t care about the cold bathroom floor he sat on while you rode his dick- no he couldn’t give less of a fuck. He didn’t mind the way the tears ran down your face either while you begged..and begged for him to let your hair go.
“Mmpf~ T-Toru..Toru wait-“ You mewl out feeling his thumb press on your lower stomach, you didn’t think he could slip any further into you but he did. “FUCKK!” Your pussy gushes over his thighs, splashing against your stomach but you didn’t stop, no, you rode him the way you would’ve the last time he asked..and the time before that, and many many times before that. Your legs shook, a harsh smack landing on your ass while Gojo became a moaning mess. His eyes rolled as he started to meet your hips halfway, “Don’t stop,” He pants, “don’t fucking stop princess…fuck—- fuck fuck fuck..oh fuck that’s it. Gonna cum so hard baby.”
“Pussy was made for me wasn’t it? My pussy.” He groaned, leaning down to catch your sensitive bud into his mouth. You gasp, slowing down, grinding your hips against his while the cool metal of your piercing collided with Gojo’s tongue piercing. “Tell me it’s mine baby.” His teeth pulled at the bud, earning a slap on the chest from you as you clench around his thick shaft. Your clit throbbed at the feeling of him abusing your nipples. “I..It’s yours—mm, ahh-! It’s yours Toru baby..” You saw white, your breathe trembling as he started to rock you against him. You felt all of him too, he went in raw. “It’s mine?” he groans again, feeling his cock twitch inside of you.
“..y-yes. Oh Toru’ mgonna cum..mgonna cum Toru! Please..please..” oh! he loved every bit of you. he loved hearing you just beg for the long awaited orgasm. He wanted to be your everything, the best dick you’ve gotten, the best orgasm you’ve ever had, better than anyone else, better than Geto. You felt your hands ride up his chest. He pulls back, sticking his tongue out to show off the metal ball on his tongue, a shitty grin on his lips while your hand goes to choke him. You but your lip, eyes staring into his as he lets go of your hair. He sets his hands on your hips instead, giving you another harsh smack. Such a slut.. you moan at the sight. “You want this?” You eggs you on. You nod eagerly. “want it..want it bad Toru..” You bounce with the help of his hands guiding you. His cock feeling deeper than before.
“I hope you’re on the fucking pill then.” He says, pumping another thrust or two before you’re clenching around his cock. You felt the wind leaving your body as you stared into his blue eyes, cumming with a loud cry. His eyes flutter, filling you up as promised. “Take it..fuck take it all princess. That’s it…good fucking girl princess.” You whimper, hand squeezing around his neck while you enjoyed the buzz of your high.
Once you were down enough to move, you wasted no time crawling off his lap. You sat back, closing your legs and shivering at the feeling of his cum running down your pussy. “Show me that pretty pussy princess..” Gojo glacéd at you through hazed eyes, panting softly as he stroked his now soft cock. Shyly you opened your legs…. “Fuck..” he moans, the last bit of cum dripping over his fingers. Your fingers start to rub your sensitive clit, jerking at the sensation. You watch him carefully while he did the same to you, blushing. Your fingers slip into the leaking hole, curling slightly as your back arched. “Shit..” Gojo moans at the sigh, feeling his cock twitch and the start of another round…
Neither of you knew how much time had passed when you bother returned to the still booming party. Gojo’s arm was around you- while you embarrassingly enough let him. You yawn softly, putting your head on his chest when you both finally found Geto with a blunt in his mouth.
“You both owe me.” You glanced at Geto and rolled your eyes.
“What? Owe you for what?” Gojo looks down at you and then back to his best friend. “I bet you’d fuck her tonight and I bet her she wouldn’t be able to stop denying you. I win, pay up.”
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#Gojo satoru#gojo#satoru gojo#jjk#jujitsu kaiden#jjk gojo#gojo smut#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x reader#poc reader#black reader#anime#manga#jjk spoilers#jjk manga#jjk anime#geto suguru#gojo x geto#satoru gojo x reader smut#satoru gojo smut#jjk smut#jjk men#jjk au#jjk college au#college au#jujitsu kaisen
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caught in the spider’s web (m.) 18+
Simon “Ghost Riley x Reader
“I’ll let you have sex with me.” It’s stated so plainly and so forwardly that it sounds less like a negotiation offer and more like a proclamation.
“Fucking hell.” Ghost shoots back, his tone barely containing the hint of bewilderment in his voice.
Warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, inappropriate relations with your superior, orgasm denial, degradation, teasing/taunting, Ghost being kinda mean, also slight!Soap x Reader (just some flirting tho)
Word Count: 5004
A/N: i’m down absolutely bad for this man, so down bad i cant stand up, also thinking of making a pt. 2 and maybe a Soap version tbh so lemme know if you’re interested in that!
Inspo taken from this tiktok audio by dxcrxpit
Gif is not mine
She’s got to blame someone for this; Graves will take the fall for now, until she finds the Shadow that shot her in the thigh and she’ll personally take the fall for being stupid and diving off the road onto a muddy cliff, tumbling the entire way down. Ungracefully, one may add. It’s unfortunate, truly, the turn of events that have now left her alone and in the pouring rain, leaking blood onto the pavement, but life is nothing if not one shitty plot twist after another.
The comms had been radio silent since she fell, with no one calling or checking in, no sign of Ghost or Soap anywhere, so she finds an empty alley, mind set on damage control. It’s nothing to reach behind her and grab the back of her balaclava and pull it over her head, but it’s the feeling of the wet fabric sliding and sticking to her face as she pulls it off that makes her grimace. “Gross,” she mutters lowly with her hands wrapped tightly around the fabric, wringing out her sweat and the rain. Her back braces on the stone wall behind her and she slides down slowly until she’s sitting on the cobblestone road. [Y/n] lets out a shaky exhale as she reaches her hands down and begins to undo her belt, sliding it off in a quick jerking motion and then proceeds to fold her balaclava into a makeshift bandage before laying it over the wound on the outside of her left thigh. The belt is then used to tighten the balaclava down, applying pressure to keep bleeding to a minimum while she finds her way out of this shit fest. It takes her a second of sitting and fidgeting with the tightness of the belt before she decides to slink her way back up the wall again to stand.
“Alright,” She breathes heavily, talking to no one but herself, “we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” She laughs lightly under her breath and her hand makes its way to where her sidearm had been just moments before her tumble, only to find it gone. “Fuck me,” she whines, head falling back onto the stone wall behind her dejectedly, “hard way it is then.”
[Y/n] makes quick work of pushing off the wall and beginning to limp slightly farther down the alleyway, clicking through the channels on her comms as she goes, until Ghost’s voice pierces through her ears causing her to stop.
“Soap- This is Ghost. How copy?” There’s a moment of silence that registers for a second too long and she feels her blood run cold when there’s no response. “Johnny…?” No response. “Johnny… How copy?”
“Solid.” Soap’s response comes quickly and she lets out a relieved exhale. [Y/n] is quick to glance around, trying to find the easiest way down and out and she thinks for a second too long before throwing caution to the wind and her legs move into a slight skip before picking up into a run into a shop across the road.
“You injured?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Life or death. Keep your blood in, you’ll need every drop.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Spider. How copy?” She hears him, vividly so, but her mind is too sidetracked to reply. To focused on finding a way out whilst sneaking up to the Shadow in front of her. She quickly grabs onto the knife that's strapped and sheathed to her lower back and imbeds it into the juncture of the Shadow’s neck, twisting and pulling harshly to retrieve it from his skin as she moves to lay the body to the ground silently.
“Kid,” His voice more demanding now, “how copy?”
“Alive.” She pants evenly through the receiver.
“Thought we lost you there, kid.”
“Never. I’m gonna live forever L.T, remember?” She laughs breathily.
Sometimes she catches Price staring at them with some far off solemn look in his eyes. A certain softness laced with ‘what if’ that you could only catch if you were genuinely looking for it and it startles her every time, making her feel a bit guilty that he cares so much for them. Guilty to know that if one of them died he’d be heartbroken.
“Stop staring at us like that.” She lowly speaks to him, her words taking on a teasing edge as she stares at the Captain.
“Like what?”
“Like we’re terminal cancer patients.”
“I do no-“
“I’m gonna live forever, Captain.” She interrupts so matter-of-factly before lifting her left hand and jamming her thumb in the direction of Ghost to her left, “And you can’t kill a Ghost.” Her thumb falls only for her index finger to point over at Soap who’s sitting on her right side, “And Soap,” she begins, “well Soap can’t die because we fuckin’ told him not to.”
“Copy that, Sergeant.” Price responds with a tilt at the edge of his mouth. Almost a smile, she notes.
Ghost peers down at her from where he’s seated next to her and she looks up at him with a smile present in her eyes and nods once in his direction in confirmation. Her black balaclava does nothing to hide her emotions, not when they’re always written right there in her eyes, and he vaguely wonders if she wears it because her face is more of an open book than her eyes appear to be. Yet it’s a thought he buries deep when she winks up at him, her eyes still dancing with humor and he’s turning away, not wanting to be drawn in by her gaze.
“Where are you?”
“There's a church. I’m heading to it. Let’s RV there.” Ghost declares. “You’ll need to improvise to survive.”
“Oh, joy.” comes Spider’s quick retort. She makes hasty work of digging through the dead Shadow’s pockets, taking his knives and his gun before taking a quick once-over glance over him. An idea toys in her mind for a second and she reaches forwards, unclipping the helmet on his head equipped with night vision and immediately puts it on her own and clipping it down, adjusting the strap to fit. The rifle she picked up is then slung over her chest and it rests heavily on her back on top of her armor and she begins her journey away, crouching low and moving to the next building.
“Welcome to guerilla warfare.”
Ghost and Soap continue talking, but [Y/n] had taken to tuning them out, too concentrated on taking down the Shadow’s in her path. One after another they each fell easily from the blades she kept stealing off of their associates corpses and her hands made quick work of ripping the ammo clips from their pockets and depositing them in her own on her vest. It was messy work and the realization that it was no longer sweat and rain wetting her face, but blood as well, did not go unnoticed by her. Her arm was quick to reach up every so often in an attempt to clear her face but it felt only as if it just smeared everything on her face, making a bigger mess.
“Gimme a sit-rep.” Ghost’s request digs her from her concentration, her decision making stopping momentarily and she goes to reply first but Soap beats her to it.
“Outside… Gated alley.”
“Kid, sit-rep?”
“Outside… Alleyway with a few dead Shadow’s.”
“Your handiwork?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Atta girl.” Ghost's quick reply is all she hears and [Y/n] feels her face heat from the praise.
“What can I say? I live to please.” And then she's back to radio silence, she wants nothing more than to get the upper hand here, but she still feels like she’s failing at it. Moving on the ground amongst the Shadow’s hoping to not stumble across one didn't feel right to her, didn’t feel smart. She was a sniper. She yearns for the high ground and distance and she’s been robbed of the one thing she feels like gives her the tactical advantage, so her brain is working overtime to fix it. It’s a mumbled ‘fuck-it’, that has her chancing it and she decides to take to the rooftops. It’s not without difficulty, climbing up to get to the roofs, but the real bitch comes when she has to make the jump from building to building. Each impact making her wince and gnaw at her lip to stop her from groaning at the pain in her leg. But she feels better from here, being able to survey the land and pick the Shadows off from above, thanks to a silencer she klepted off one of them.
“You’re gonna owe me for this.” Came Soap’s voice from the comms but Spider takes note that it echoes, if only slightly and her mind begins turning. No, not an echo. He’s nearby, close enough for her to hear with her ears and the comms piece.
“Why?”
“We’re fixing each other’s problems.”
“What’s my problem?”
“The mask… Take it off…”
“Show my face?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Negative.”
“Are you ugly?”
“Quite the opposite.” Smug bastard. He’s smirking, she just knows it.
“What about you, Spider?” Soap questions, shifting the conversation to include her.
“What makes you think you deserve to see me, Johnny?” She teases back in response, prompting Soap to huff back a simple, “Cold.” into the comms.
“Tell you what,” she propositions, “come find me and I’ll show you anything you want.”
“Both of you, get to the church. Now.”
“Yes, sir.” They both echoed.
It’s not hard for her eyes to catch Soap’s movement, pinning him in her gaze as he maneuvers the alley to her left. Her eyes leave his form as they glance forward to the Shadows ahead of him and she makes the decision to take them out for him. Opting that this was the way to gain a favor for him, having not forgotten how he constantly volunteers her for first watch whenever he can. His reaction is immediate, dropping behind cover and glancing back when he hears the heavy thud of the Shadows bodies hit the ground and he’s looking around to try and find where the shots had come from.
“Who the hell was that?” Soap’s distressed voice rings through the comms.
“It was your guardian angel.”
“Spider? Are you on the roof?”
“Affirmative.” Was Spider’s quick reply, “I’m coming down… Wait for me?”
“Yeah.”
“By the way,” her voice cracks vividly through the receiver, “you get first watch next time Soap. Consider it my payment for saving your life.”
“Spider, you’ve got first watch.” Soap shouts across the room to where [Y/n] is sitting, propped up against a wall with her eyes closed.
“What?” Her eyes fly open in surprise at his statement, “No, I had first watch last time. Switch with me.”
“No.” He tries to sound stern but laughter seeps through the word as he watches her throw her head back into the wall with a thunk and groan lowly at his lack of negotiation with her. After only a few seconds she sighs deeply before lifting her head from the wall and locking eyes with Ghost.
“Switch with me, Ghost.” She whines back exasperated.
“No.” It’s short and curt and she doesn’t let his vague hostility deter her. She wants second watch at least, because right now her eyes feel like someone put sand in them with how horribly tired they feel, with how heavy she is with want for sleep.
“I’ll let you have sex with me.” It’s stated so plainly and so forwardly that it sounds less like a negotiation offer and more like a proclamation.
“Fucking hell.” Ghost shoots back, his tone barely containing the hint of bewilderment in his voice, which is almost completely drowned out by Soap’s loud and shocked, “What!?” from across the room. But [Y/n] watches Ghost’s eyes closely, noting the change that happens within them. His normally cold eyes had taken on a flicker of heat and the burn of his gaze in that moment made her skin itch with want. It had been a joke, a joke with a bit of truth behind it, yet a joke nonetheless, but the fact that he almost seems to consider her offer makes the hair on the back of her stand up and her mouth parched. Price’s cough of disapproval rips through the air, but [Y/n] decides to dig herself in further.
“I’m kidding…” Her easy, nonchalant laughter bounces off the walls of the small room, “Unless… unless you actually will trade with me then maybe we can work something out?” Her voice trails off taking on a slightly higher tone as she shrugs her shoulders and gestures her hands between the two of them vaguely.
“No one is trading sexual favors for watch times.” Interrupts Price’s loud voice, hellbent on stomping out whatever the hell this is that’s going on right now.
“What?” She questions, mildly defensive with an all too innocent tone, “I don’t have anything else to really offer right now. Unless you want my knife,” She adds, shifting her gaze from Price’s scolding and directing the offer solely back to Ghost with a hopeful tone, “Then I’ll give you my knife for second watch.” Her eyebrows raise up beneath her mask and her head tilts slightly forward into Ghost’s direction as if to imply that the deal was getting better.
“No.” Price answers in Ghost’s stead, although the fire behind Ghost’s eyes still does not quell as he continues to stare at her motionless. [Y/n] releases an empty sigh, sliding her eyes closed and throwing her head back into the wall.
“Fuck!” She exclaims roughly in defeat, “Fine.” And Spider picks herself up off of the floor and her hands move to grab the sniper rifle propped against the wall next to where she’d just been sitting. “If any of you need me I’ll be on the roof.” She groans out as she makes her way to the stairs, only stopping to call over her shoulder, “Try not to need me.”
‘Try not to need me.’ It rattles around the empty air downstairs after she’s gone until it sticks in Ghost’s mind. ‘Try not to need me.’ Too late.
It’s well into over an hour of her watch shift when she feels the hair on the back of her neck standing up in defense, when she feels like she's not alone anymore. So she turns her head from where she had been laying prone with her rifle watching the streets below between two cinder block openings on the edge of the roof, just in time to catch sight of Ghost making his way over to where she was, sitting next to her with his back to the cinderblock wall.
“You should be sleeping.” Spider mumbled out to him.
“You should be paying attention.” He motions his head slightly to the roads behind him in direction. He catches the way her eyes roll and he can tell she makes a face beneath her balaclava by the way the skin on the bridge of her nose crinkles up slightly.
“Really useful advice L.T,” She mumbles out deadpanned, he can hear the exhaustion clear in her voice, “you ever thought about writing self help books?”
He only hums absentmindedly in response and an empty silence fills the air between them for only a few seconds before he adds in, “You look tired.”
“Be still my foolish heart,” Spider remarks sarcastically, releasing her hand on her gun and grabbing at the center of her chest, “Ghost, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you just invited me to bed.”
“Obviously you know better.”
Spider hums limpidly in response.
“Go get some sleep. I’ve got the rest of your watch.”
Her head shakes and a simple reply of “no”, is immediately followed by a yawn and she turns her head over to look into Ghost’s eyes again to scold him limply. “Stop talking about sleep, you're making me yawn.”
“You look like you’re gonna fall asleep on watch. A punishable offense if you do.”
“Maybe I wanna be punished,” Spider teases in a tired voice, “help keeps the brain awake.”
“Can’t punish you if you’re dead from falling asleep on watch.”
“Sounds like you have to be proactive, L.T. Punish me in advance.” The fire is back in his eyes and [Y/n] realizes how deep she’s dug herself in this time, and so she does the only thing she can do. Dig deeper. “Are you going to punish me, sir?”
“It’s not a punishment if you enjoy it.”
“A morale booster, then?” She offers instead, “Promoting healthy team relations and engaging in bonding activities with your soldiers can have a positive influence on their morale and mission performance.”
“You think wanting to fuck your superior is healthy?”
“No. I think of it as an investment in the betterment of the team, Lieutenant. I stay awake and they stay alive. A win in my books, if you ask me.”
“Yet I didn’t ask.”
“No sir, you didn’t.” [Y/n] takes her time sitting up onto her knees from the position where she lay and moves over easily to sit next to Ghost, back pressed into the cinderblock wall. She reaches over him, torso pressing dangerously into his thighs as she grabs her bag and begins to riffle through it with a leisurely pace, before drawing out her heartbeat sensor. Within a second she is sitting back upright, hands moving to grasp firmly around the device before powering it on and placing it where she had just been laying watching the streets. She peers back up at him, something burning deeply behind her gaze. The smile normally dancing around in her eyes now gone completely, replaced by something altogether darker, and her voice is serious when she tells him, “But all you have to do is say the word.”
“Fucking hell. You’re a minx, you know that.”
“One of my finer qualities, I believe.” She whispers out breathily. [Y/n] makes slow work of invading his space, leaning in until their faces were only inches apart and throwing her leg across his lap, straddling him. Yet she doesn’t lower herself down, opting instead to reach up and release the latches holding on her body armor effectively slipping it off and dropping it to the side.
“Now, what are you going to do if you get shot at?” His question is fair, but it’s simply meant to tease her so she takes the bait.
“Pray they’ve got bad aim.” She states to him as she sits herself down onto his lap.
“And if they don’t?” He presses further into the hypothetical and his hands move from his sides to rest on the outside of her thighs in a teasingly light grip.
“Then I hope you take mercy on me and save my life.”
“I’m not a merciful man.” He states matter-of-factly, hands working up from their spot on her thighs to start moving up to her belt, where they make slow work of undoing the buckle there. Her exhale is shaky at the motion and she breaks eye contact to glance down as his hands work at their agonizing pace. Taking his time as if he had nothing better to do than make her wait for him.
“Then I hope you’ll make my last moments worthwhile.”
“Hmm,” He ponders curiously, fingers popping the button of her pants open, “do you really deserve that?”
“I’m hoping to win your favor.” She mutters back hopefully as Ghost leisurely pulls down her zipper.
“How do you plan to do that?” Ghost questions her evenly, not a single emotion betraying his voice.
“My dazzling wit and charm?” She’s ready to burst, almost shaking with anticipation as she watches him remove his glove to trace the skin above the edge of her panties.
“Hmm… Try something else.” He remarks mockingly.
“I’m useful.” She declares in a whine, hands reaching forward to braces on his shoulders as her eyes close with frustration.
“How so?”
The air is silent for a second too long and when he feels as though she has no intention of answering back he captures the elastic band of her panties and lets it snap back harshly against her skin. “I asked you a question.”
“I’m… I’m good with a rifle.” She stutters out quickly, “One of the best.”
“Anything else?”
“I’m light on my feet, quick,” She’s trying to think, her mind reeling trying to remember notable attributes of herself but her brain short circuits and she begins tripping on her words the moment he slips his hand into her pants, cupping her heat through her panties. “I-i can get in and out of places without detection.”
“Keep going.” He presses her, hand moving to pull her panties to the side so his finger can run through her slit, collecting the wetness there.
“I’m good under pressure. Rational.”
“Is that right?” He seems to contemplate her statement, weighing the validity of it given the current circumstances as his finger begins to circle roughly on her clit. Her response is almost immediate, choking out a sobbed “yes” as her breath quickens.
“Go on then.” He continued plainly, his voice just as even and level as it always was, even as he slips his finger from her clit down to her entrance and plunges into her.
“I’m…” And she has to stop to take a stuttering, stabling breath before lifting her head up from where it watches his hand work into her so that she can lay her forehead on his and stare into his eyes. “I’m damn good at my job,” her left hand moves from his shoulder to fist into the mask at the back of his neck for support, “you know it's true.”
“My intelligence.” She yelps out before he can even tell her to say another thing.
“What about it?”
“I’m. Very. Fucking. Intelligent.” [Y/n] enunciates between panting moans and gritted teeth, “One… one reason Price wanted me in 141.” Her chest is heaving as she shakes her head lightly to clear her thoughts, a poor attempt to get a cohesive string put together. “He found me as a Private. Fuck me,” She whines, “I was exemplary. The goddamn best at everything. I won him over.”
“How’d you manage that? Your dazzling wit and charm?” Ghost teases her with her own words as his thumb moves to rub at her clit in time with his hands sliding in and out within her. [Y/n]’s eyes flutter for a second at the added pleasure and her hand clenched tighter on his neck, twisting the mask fabric in her grip as she leans forward further into him, pressing her hips down to seek his hands movement. Their noses are touching now, barely any space between their mouths as they share each other's breath.
“The spider spins her web to catch what she wants.” She mumbles out through a shaky keen. “I’m soo useful Lieutenant. M-more useful than you could ever know.” Her eyes looked pleadingly into his as her hips moved in time with his hand, “Please don't stop.”
“You get off on praising yourself, Sergeant?” His voice is so goddamn taunting and the slight shame of it burns her face. There’s no other sounds in the air outside except their back and forth, and the sound of his hand moving within her and the slick wet sound of it has her mind reeling with longing and want.
“You’re m-making me.” [Y/n] counters back, “I’m doing what I’m told.” Ghost makes a noise in acknowledgment to her statement before adding a second finger in, working faster as she begins to drip down his hand.
“Then we’ll add that to the list. The good girl can do as she’s told.” His words of praise are met with her clenching down tightly on his fingers.
He’s startled when he feels the cool, trembling grip of her hand grasping desperately into the bare skin of his wrist beneath his sleeve. There’s something exhilarating about the feeling of her skin on his in this desperate attempt to ground herself to him, with him, when they’re both so covered. And God it feels like fire, feels like every nerve in his body has just been sent into overdrive because all he feels is the cool skin of her hand wrapped firmly around his wrist as her nails dig in sharp and the wet heat of her cunt dripping down his hand.
“You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”
“Anything you wanted, Ghost.” She rasped back in confirmation, throwing her head back.
Ghost’s free hand shoots up from where it had been holding tightly to her thigh, capturing her chin in a bruising grasp and pulling her head down roughly until her forehead rests back on his. Holding her there until they’ve returned to sharing breath and air and there's almost no space between them, before continuing its journey downwards to her neck. Her eyesight falters then and her eyes slide shut when he squeezes at her neck just right and she preens at the motion.
“Look at me. Keep your eyes on me.” He demands and he squeezes her throat slightly harder at the command and her eyes slide open, teary and tired. “Atta girl.” And she can’t help but whimper lowly at the praise, panting heavily and tightening her hands grip on the wrist working between her legs. “See, that's not so hard, now is it?” He taunts lowly.
“No sir.” Her head is dizzy and her eyes are swimming with tears and pleasure each time he squeezes his hand around her throat, throwing her that much closer to the edge. [Y/n] can't help the choked, “oh God” she releases when his hands decided to speed up, the movement of her hips failing to keep up with his ministrations. The arch of her back makes quick work of closing the space between their bodies as she gets closer and closer, and her hand leaves his wrist in favor of bracing her forearm onto his shoulder for added support.
“You close?” Ghost asks, and had [Y/n] been in her right mind she would have noticed the glint of something devious slide though his gaze, but instead she just nods back with a tender “please” in response too focused on chasing her budding release. Ghost’s hand doesn’t relent in its hurried pace fucking into her, but he seems as if he’s waiting for something. Holding out on something until the last second and as she begins to spasm around his finger he seems to find exactly what he was looking for, exactly what he’s been waiting for.
His hand leaves from within her and off her neck in an instant and before she can register what's happened she hears her zipper being slid back up. It sends a panic straight through her when the thrumming of her body catches up to her brain and she realizes that she’s been left high and dry. He didn’t let her finish.
“Wh-what? Why?” [Y/n] wants to cry and for a second she’s very close to it. She wants to scream at the fizzling out of her high, shaking from denial she looks down just in time to catch Ghost’s hands thread her button back closed and slip her belt through the buckle tightening it. She lifts her eyes up for a second searching desperately for his and she sees a smug laughter swimming behind them before she draws her line of sight back to his hands. Hoping that if she stares at them long enough she can will them back to work, back to finishing her.
“You should go get some sleep.” He declares, adding a firm slap to her ass before holding onto it, and he sounds like he’s genuinely on the verge of laughter, like this was some kind of game he’s playing with her that he’s enjoying just a bit more than she is.
“But-but I didn’t…” And she stutters over her words, unable to form anything reasonable in her denial.
Her hand tries to reach down to where Ghost’s had just left, anticipation and her denied release eating at her bones telling her to finish the job, only to get intercepted before she can complete her goal. Ghost’s hand grips at her wrist tightly, bringing it up to rest in the air between their chests. At the same time his other hand rushes up to grasp harshly at her chin bringing her face up in front of his and he slowly peels his eyes away from her hand after a second to look into her own. The heat in them is different now, taking on a chilling burn that leaves her frozen on the spot beneath his gaze.
“What makes you think you deserve it? This is a punishment, remember? That is what you wanted. What you asked for.”
“Please… ” It’s a pathetic whine, one that he laughs at and her face burns dangerously beneath the fabric on her face.
“Go get some sleep.” Ghost orders again.
“I-i don’t think I can anymore.”
“You will. Consider it a test of your self control.” And when she makes no effort to move from his lap, he cocks his head to the side slightly, adding a taunting, “That’s an order, Sergeant.”
“Th-this isn't over.” [Y/n] states heatedly behind furrowed brows and heavy pants, “I’ll get you back for that.”
“Doubt that.” He husked evenly behind his mask.
Ghost finds her a few hours later when his watch had ended, next to Soap. Both of them sleeping on their backs with her head laid on his shoulder and his arm loosely wrapped around her neck with a light grip on her shoulder.
“He’s got the kid in a headlock.” Ghost remarks to Price.
“That can’t be comfortable.”
#Ghost x reader smut#Ghost smut#Simon riley x reader smut#Simon Riley smut#Ghost x reader#ghost fanfiction#Simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader smut
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pierced. pt. 7 | spencer reid.
He was falling for every part of you.
you will find the other parts on my masterlist.
cw: fem!reader, 18+ content (MDNI), oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS), nipple stuff (duh).
a/n: this is basically just porn. he got me BARKING.
Spencer was basically pushing you out the door as you left Rossi’s house.
You were having a pleasant conversation with Hotch when Spencer grazed your shoulder, asking if you were ready to go. You told him you would be ready in a minute and almost thirty minutes after he asked, it was like he was sulking. He asked you again and this time you felt you should honour his wishes. You hugged JJ, Emily and Penelope goodbye and thanked Rossi again for inviting you, Spencer wasn’t so bothered by formalities and started ushering you out the door.
You berated him gently as you left, reminding him to be polite. Spencer lovingly reminded you that they’re used to him and his antics. Spencer unlocked his car and before you could even open the passenger side door, he spun you around, pushing you against the car door. He cupped your face in his warm hands, pressing a hard kiss to your lips.
It was then you understood why he wanted to leave, the hard-on in his pants pressing against your thigh. You gently pushed on his chest, forcing him to pull away from your lips. You smiled coyly at him, moving some of his messy hair out of his face.
“I don’t think having sex against your car outside Rossi’s house is exactly sensible, Spence,” you whispered, gently fixing his tie.
Spencer’s mouth fell open, “I wasn’t- I was not implying we do such a thing.”
You giggled at his offended expression, “You sure?” You gestured down at the bulge forming in his pants.
“...No comment,” he retorted, kissing your cheek before finally freeing you of his grasp to get in the driver’s seat. You found it cute really, how much more confident Spencer had gotten when showing you affection.
Spencer held your hand for the entire ride home, his fingers laced with yours, making your hand look so much smaller compared to his. He ran the pad of his thumb along your thumb and side of your wrist, keeping your attention drawn to him.
You were sleepy when you got home, though you had the feeling Spencer wasn’t going to let you sleep much at all. You fumbled with your keys as you shoved the key in the lock on your door, Spencer getting handsy when you didn’t move as fast as he wanted you to. You finally unlocked your door and pushed it open, kicking your heels off the minute you stepped inside, the blisters on the back of your feet finally gaining some relief.
Spencer followed behind you and once your shoes were off, he pressed you against the door, one hand on your hip while the other held your jaw, kissing you deeply. You smiled against the kiss, lifting your hands to hold his face, fingers playing with his hair. You felt Spencer’s tongue push into your mouth, his hands coming down to scoop up your thighs.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, your dress hiking up to your upper thighs. Spencer’s hands gently cupped the flesh of your ass, his hands kneading the soft skin. You let out a soft whine against his lips, pulling away for a moment to breathe.
“This why you wanted to get me alone, pretty boy?” You breathed.
“What gave it away?” He retorted, planting open-mouthed kisses along the underside of your jaw. Your hand gripped his hair as he nipped at the side of your neck, his hands slipping under your dress to feel your soft skin.
Spencer lifted one of his hands to feel around for the zipper on the back of your dress. He tugged on the zip, pulling it all the way down as the fabric loosened on your shoulders. He began kissing down your neck to the exposed skin above the neckline of your dress. You reached up to pull the fabric down your shoulders, exposing the swell of your breasts to his hungry eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” Spencer mumbled, pressing a long peck to your lips. He dipped his head down, kissing down between your breasts as his hands kneaded your ass. He pressed a kiss to the side of your breast before taking one of your pierced nipples in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud. The cold metal felt weird in his mouth but it sent his mind reeling. You moaned softly against the back of your hand, your other hand gripping Spencer’s hair.
“Fuck- Spencer,” you breathed out through a whine as his teeth nipped at the squishy skin.
“You were right,” he glanced up at you, a cheeky grin on his face, “they are sensitive.”
You let out a small noise of surprise as Spencer lifted you off the door, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as he carried you to your bedroom. Spencer gently dropped you on your plush sheets, pressing another kiss to your lips before he kicked his shoes off and slipped his blazer off his shoulders.
Your hands reached out to cup his face as he leaned in to kiss you, holding himself above you. Your fingers went to remove his tie but he stopped you, gripping your wrists and pinning your hands above your head. You let out a soft whine in protest as he began slipping your dress down your hips and legs, tossing it to the ground somewhere in your room.
He planted a kiss to your sternum, his lips ghosting over your hardened nipples. The feeling sent a shiver down your spine, feeling heat form in your lower belly as a wet patch began to form on your lace panties.
“Can I go down on you?” He asked breathlessly, his dark eyes peering up at you.
You felt your skin heat up at the question, “you… want to?” You don’t think any man who came before him has ever wanted to go down on you.
“More than anything,” he confessed.
“Okay,” you nodded.
“Okay, what?” He teased, kissing the skin above your belly button.
“I want you to go down on me, Spencer,” you whispered, lifting one of your legs to drape over his hip. His hand held your knee before snaking up your thigh to play with the thin fabric of your panties against your hip. He let go of your wrists, his hands tugging on his tie. He pulled it over his head before reaching up to tighten the fabric around your wrists, pinning them above your head.
“You look cute like that,” he grinned.
“Shut up,” you retorted. Spencer suddenly pulled you to the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you on the floor as he pulled your panties down your thighs. You lifted your hips for him, letting him tug them off and toss them across the room with your dress.
He looked up at you from between your spread legs, “You okay, angel?”
You smiled softly at the nickname, “Please, Spence- don’t tease me.”
Spencer grinned, his large hands pressing on the back of your thighs, pushing your legs open until you were spread open for him, your slick cunt making his mouth water. You wanted to cover your face and squeal with embarrassment as he stared at you with nothing but adoration and lust in his eyes.
You were about to protest when Spencer pressed a kiss to your clit. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, your hands pulling at the tie around your wrists. Spencer let out a groan as he dipped his tongue inside your cunt, tasting your sweetness for the first time.
You threw your head back at the feeling of Spencer sucking softly on your clit, his tongue gently flicking over the swollen bud. Spencer pushed your legs further apart when he felt you squeezing against him, searching for some kind of friction. You had no idea where he learned any of this but he was making you dizzy.
“F-fuck, Spence,” you moaned out, your hands shooting down to grasp his hair, grinding your hips against his mouth. Spencer took one of his hands off your thighs, reaching his fingers up to press against your lips. You opened your mouth, sucking on his long fingers as he stared up at you from between your plush thighs.
He pulled his fingers from your mouth, now coated in your spit. He placed a kiss to your clit before gently pushing his finger inside you all the way to the last knuckle. Your hips bucked against the feeling of Spencer curling his fingers inside you while his tongue swirled around your clit. He pushed a second finger in, the pads of his fingertips pressing against the spongy spot inside you.
You felt a warmth blooming in your abdomen as your hips bucked against Spencer’s face, his fingers splitting you open while he sucked on your swollen clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your fingers tangled in Spencer’s hair, tugging at the roots, “Spencer- Spencer- I’m gonna-”
Spencer flicked his tongue over your clit, curling his fingers in such a way that made your mind go blank as the coil in your belly snapped, your cunt pulsing around Spencer’s fingers as you arched your back off your bed. Your slick gushed over his fingers and mouth, the sound of Spencer lapping up your wetness like a starved man was lewd but it was undeniably hot seeing him pull away from you with slick glistening over his lips and chin.
“You did so good, angel,” Spencer cooed as he rubbed your thigh, bringing you back down to earth. You were limp against the edge of your bed, your thighs aching from being pressed to your chest. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as a thin sheen of sweat coated your skin.
Spencer planted a kiss to the spot above your pelvis, leaving a trail of gentle kisses up your body before finally meeting your lips, making you taste yourself on his lips. You reached up, wrists still bound as you started unbuttoning his dress shirt.
Spencer grabbed your hands gently, “don’t you think you’ve had enough for one night, angel?”
You looked up at him, “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll be so mad.”
Spencer chuckled at your response, cupping your face as he pressed a kiss to your lips. “Say that again,” he whispered.
You felt your skin heat up, “...that I want you to fuck me?” you mumbled.
“Yeah,” he teased, “go on.”
You hesitated a moment, suddenly feeling embarrassed as if he wasn’t tongue-fucking you a minute ago. You leaned up to his ear, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, “...I want you to fuck me, Spencer.”
Spencer grinned coyly, his hand coming up to grip your jaw, tilting your head up to kiss you. He moved your legs apart, slotting himself between your thighs to grind his hard-on against your soaked cunt. You groaned against his lips, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him close, your clit grinding on the rough fabric of his pants.
Spencer pulled away from you, pulling his shirt off his shoulders before pulling at his belt buckle. He pulled his pants down slightly, pulling his cock from the confines of his boxers. He looked painfully hard, precum leaking from the pretty pink tip.
You went to reach for his cock, only for him to stop you, pinning your hands back above your head, “If you touch me,” he panted, “I’m going to cum.”
“Hurry up then,” you breathed, grinning cheekily. Spencer sat back on his calves, your legs draped over his hips. He tugged on your thighs, reefing you up to grind his cock against your slick folds. He pulled you up into a sitting position, pulling your bound wrists over his head so you could hold onto him as you sat on his lap.
“Wanna look at you,” Spencer whispered, one hand gripping the base of his cock while the other gripped your ass. He guided the tip of his cock to your wet hole, slowly pushing the tip inside you. He groaned against your neck at the feeling of your wet cunt sucking him in. You moaned as he split you open, both his hands pulling at the flesh of your ass as he slowly pulled you down on his cock.
“Mm- Spencer-” you moaned, the tip of his cock reaching so deep inside you it felt like he was in your stomach. Spencer wrapped a hand around your waist, forcing you to arch your back against his chest. Your tits squeezed against his upper chest, your head tipping back. Spencer planted kisses to the column of your throat, slowly lifting your hips to bring you back down on his cock.
“Can’t believe…,” he grunted as you began bouncing on his cock, pulling almost all the way out of you before plunging you back down, “...you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Spence,” you whined, your hips slamming against his as he bounced you up and down. He reached a hand down to rub at your sensitive clit, the overstimulation paired with the feeling of his cock grinding against your velvet walls making you dizzy.
“F-Fuck, you’re so tight,” Spencer groaned, bouncing you faster and faster on his cock. Your legs were shaking as you clamped down on his waist. Spencer suddenly pushed himself up, his cock still inside you as he forced you onto your back, holding himself above you as he slammed his hips into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling your room.
He breathed hard above you, trying his best to keep his composure as your cunt squeezed down on his cock, tightening as your orgasm neared. You got louder and louder as your abdomen grew hotter and hotter, your legs tightening around Spencer’s body to pull him closer.
“I’m gonna cum, baby,” Spencer groaned, your nails scraping over the skin between Spencer’s shoulders. He groaned at the feeling, dropping his head to your shoulder as his rhythm grew sloppy, hips stuttering against yours.
“M-Me too,” you whined, back arching off the bed. The coil in your belly snapped and you came harder than you did before. Spencer fucked you through your high, his breathing growing shallow and jagged as he chased his own high.
“Fuck,” Spencer grunted, quickly pulling out of you as he came on your lower belly, holding himself above you. He breathed hard, slipping your tied hands over his head to untie you. Your wrists felt slightly bruised from being bound but you were just happy you could cup Spencer’s cheeks and kiss him properly.
“You okay, baby?” you whispered.
Spencer looked up at you, a bead of sweat running down his temple, “Yeah, fuck yeah, sweetheart,” he laughed breathlessly, sitting back on the bed to find something to clean you up. He picked up one of the shirts he left here a couple days ago, wiping his cum off your belly gently.
He tossed the shirt onto the floor before reaching up to pull your sheets back. Spencer quickly got up, pulling his boxers back on and opening your closet door to find some clean panties for you. He picked his favourite pair; lilac purple with a little white bow.
Spencer helped you slip them up your legs before joining you under the sheets, tucking the two of you in. You were tired, your eyelids feeling heavy. Spencer’s fingertips danced over your cheek, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.
“...Did you know sex can improve your sleep and can reduce overall stress both physically and emotionally?”
You started laughing softly, eyes still closed lazily, “Very sexy, Spence.”
“You told me intelligence was sexy,” he retorted.
“It is, but right now I just need you to cuddle me,” you replied, prying your eyes open to look at him. Spencer opened his arms, letting you scoot into him, resting your head against his chest and listening to the quiet beat of his heart. “See? This is nice.”
Spencer stroked your hair as you dozed off. Tofu suddenly pushed your door open, her little bell chiming as she jumped on your bed. She sat behind you, staring at Spencer over your shoulder.
“...Don’t look at me like that.”
a/n: you know what they say about nipple piercings, they taste like house keys and there's no place like home.
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star-crossed ☆ mv1
genre: angst, fluff, humor, lots of back and forth, smut
word count: 9.1k
Fixated, you and Max struggle to stay away from one another. All the while, everyone tries to convince you that it won't ever work out.
nsfw warning under the cut!
18+...penetrative sex, fingering
inspired by this !
cherry here!...as a wise person once told me: footnotes = crumbs. hope that helps!! enjoy :)
The table was long, practically going for miles, but not really—it was just your closest friends. They all converse with one another, talking about the upcoming season, the upcoming season, and oh, what’s that? The upcoming season. And you’ve had enough of it, he can tell, so he gently rubs his thumb over your hand, easing your nervous tick.
White florals lay neatly on the wooden top, fairy lights hang up above your heads, and Frank Sinatra plays from your fiancé’s phone, connected to the Bluetooth.
Pierre stands up firmly, clinking his glass with a spoon. When it doesn’t seem to get anyones attention, Alex lets out a loud whistle. Everyone’s heads turn. “Merde—finally. Well, first of all, welcome on behalf of the groom's best man!” Crickets. His smile drops. “I-Its me. I’m the best man.”
“More like Best Party Killer. Sit down,” Daniel yells, aiming a peony at his friend's head.
The Frenchman swats it away, to which Kika glares as it hits her. He nervously chuckles, pecking her cheek, swiftly. “Comme je le disais…we’re here to celebrate two very important people. Can ya take a guess?”
“Why did you choose Pierre as your best man again?” you whisper to the twenty-six year old. He shrugs, hushing you once before his watercolor eyes flicker back to his friend.
“Any more guesses?”
“Okay, thank you!” you yelp, standing up and motioning him down. “Thank you, Pierre, for saying a whole lot of nothing, really.”
The blue eyed boy silently pleads, hands pressed together in prayer. “Oui, oui, I’m done, I’m done.” A warm hand snakes to wrap around your wrist and you sigh, sitting back down onto his lap. He clears his throat. “I thought we could go around and…share some stories about the soon-to-be husband and wife. I’ll start.”
“Great,” Kika groans, massaging her temples.
“September 4, 2022.”
-
Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)
“You said it would be warm!”
Lissie squeals when you reach out to pinch her forearm. “I said slightly warm. More so cool.” A harsh glare. She winces. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
Despite the evident goosebumps, you march your way over to the pen, awaiting your first interview. Lissie stands besides you, raising two thumbs up and a toothy grin. You got this! Your stomach churns as you fix your set up. She’s right, you’ve worked for this moment, day and night. You weren't going to mess up for any reas—
“Should I just come back later or…”
Blinking, your heart stops beating as your mouth runs completely dry. He looks around for his publicist who just sighs and starts tugging him away.
And we’re here with Max Verstappen, Lissie hisses—assisists. Coughing loudly, you bring up the microphone to your lips. “Max Verstappen!” The RedBull driver turns back to face you, clearly puzzled. You cringe at your sudden outburst, but continue. “So nice to see you. Saw you had a magnificent drive.”
Blue eyes pierce basically through your soul. He smiles, shoulders relaxing, hands leaning against the barrier. “Yeah. We did have a lot of luck on our side today. Plenty.”
It wasn’t that hard to pick up from there, question after question being basically given to you, to which he answers with professional ease. His dimples even pop out with every punctuation, it makes your chest swell. You clear your throat, eyes flickering to your list that now narrows down to one last inquiry.
“Everyone nowadays fears you, it seems like.” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “But I do have one question—how does it feel to be the villain in all of Formula One?”
His smile slips away. “Sorry?”
“Uh-oh,” Lissie mutters.
But you don’t catch onto it, his sudden defensive tone, his dark glare. Beaming like the sun on the earth, you nod. “Well you aren’t the most liked, per se. Often hated by others. Do you think your dominance has affected your relationship with the drivers on the grid?”
When you finally look up, you clearly notice his change in demeanor, and that makes you flinch. We should get going, his publicist squeaks, already pushing him away. Let’s not air that last question, thank you.
Fiercely, you turn to face your friend. “I still had a minute left!”
“Why would you say that?” she screeches. “Why, why, why?”
You blink. “I’m lost. What did I do wrong?”
The brunette sighs, brown orbs analyzing the short clip. “You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what.”
-
“Their relationship had started rather…rocky,” Pierre announces, swaying his hands back and forth for emphasis. “But don’t you worry! I. Fixed. Everything.”
-
“She really said that?”
Max whips his head to Checo, then to Yuki, then to Pierre. Each wears a loopy smile. He scowls. “She’s new here, she must be—I’ve never seen her before. Who does she think she is?”
“A legend, that’s who,” the Frenchman retorts, almost high and mighty.
Max takes a long sip of his energy drink before scoffing. “I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”
A few hours have now rolled by and you’ve finally realized—you messed up. Here you go, basically painting him out to be the bad guy, when really, he’s just a strong driver. No one thinks he’s a villain, you think he’s a villain.
“You think he’s going to protest against me? Get me fired? Boycott? Hates me?”
Lissie giggles, tidying up the equipment from the last round. “No. No. No. Maybe?”
Groaning, you hit your forehead over and over again with your clipboard before a sharp accent makes you stop. “Hello.”
“Oh! Hi!”
His lips stretch, then steps closer to you. “I’m Pierre—”
“I know who you are,” you cut him off. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m—”
“New?”
Your cheeks burn up at his accuracy. “Yes?”
“I thought so,” he pronounced with a goofy grin. Annoyance builds up inside of you but hold back and bite your tongue. The Frenchman fixes his sunglasses that lay on the bridge of his nose. “So…I’m going to take the chance and say that what you asked wasn’t meant to hurt his feelings?”
You soften up quickly. “I hurt his feelings?”
A nose scrunch. “Let me backtrack; Max doesn’t have feelings, therefore there’s nothing to hurt, but he does hold killer grudges, so yeah.” He lifts the frames. “He doesn’t like you.”
“Lovely,” Lissie mumbles from her spot besides you. “Is there a way…we…can fix all this misunderstanding? Because that’s what this is! A misunderstanding!”
The Alpha Tauri driver clicks his tongue in deep thought. “There’s not much to do other than apologize. Explain yourselves, maybe? He’s very Old-Fashioned.”
“Okay, yes.” You scurry down the paddock. “I could do that! I could so do that.”
“Other way!” he yells. Turning around, you see him pointing you down to the right. You giggle, nervously, and continue your sprint.
You catch him quite fast; his tall stature and blond hair are pretty easy to spot. “Hey—hi!” Gasping for air, you clutch onto your side. “H-hello. Again.”
His jaw ticks once, and in an eerie motion, a warm smile forms. You shudder. “Yes?”
“I just wanted to apologize about before. That was not the right thing to say, I am so sorry…please don’t demand for my release.”
A dark brow quirks up, looks around, then back down to you. “I’m not here to ruin your life, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
You sigh in relief. “God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Crouching down to you, he tilts his head to the side with a sly grin. “You’re very welcome, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”
Your breath hitches, shivers spreading like a wildfire. “Sorry?”
“Yeah.” He steps away. “You already said that.”
-
“He was a bit guarded. Definitely guarded.”
“Isn’t this supposed to make me look good?” your fiancé grunts, dark eyes narrowing down on the Frenchman. “You know what? Just sit down.”
Pierre smirks. “See? Guarded.”
-
Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)
“I’m not a quitter.”
“There we go!”
“But he makes me want to quit.”
“Oh, well now we’re back to square one,” Pierre groans. “He’s being hard headed, that’s all. I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry.”
And he does.
It happens during one of the worst moments in your life; you weren’t wearing makeup.
“You look—”
“Hideous?” You blush. “Yeah, don’t even mention it.”
He swallows, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “I wanted to apologize… for the way I reacted. It was immature.”
“N-no, you had every right to be upset. I crossed the line and I’m sorry.”
Max nods, Adam’s Apple dancing up, then down. “Truce?”
Staring down at his large hand, you smile and slip yours past it. “Truce.”
And as a rare occasion, his smile meets his eyes, crinkles and all. The RedBull driver disconnects first, then rubs his jaw once before signaling down to your wet hair. “Pool day, I see? Enjoying the benefits?”
With a cheesy look, you shrug. “It’s one way to relieve stress.”
“Yeah—and what’s another?”
His tone is sultry and irresistible, you can’t help but rip your gaze away. “Anything that brings thrill, I suppose.” A tick. “Whatever that may be.”
“And what if it’s something bad? Does that still count?”
You laugh, throwing your head back. The Dutchman’s lips wobble as a weak attempt to not smile. “You’re not a bad person, so yes.”
His tongue clicks. “Uh, I don't know. As I recall, you called me a villain?”
Groaning, you gently smack his chest. “Will you ever let it go?”
“Might take me a while…”
Just as you’re about to respond, your phone rings and you smile. “L-Lissie.”
The blue eyed boy nods. “Are you going to be interviewing me from now on?”
“Ah—is my ban lifted?”
“Yes.”
You roll your eyes. “Then yes.” Strolling past him, you wave. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”
-
“Where are you even going with any of this?” Lewis hollers from the end of the table, taking a sip of wine. “You’ve just been talking about yourself, not them.”
Pierre scowls. “I’m getting there!” He returns his attention to the couple, gleaming. “So, as you can imagine, once I weaseled my way in and fixed their problems—your welcome, by the way—a certain spark came through. It was clearly evident.”
-
Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)
“Nepo-Baby?”
You hum. “They all are.”
Lissie groans. “So how will I know which one?”
“Oh, you’ll know.”
Squinting accusingly, the British girl sticks her tongue out before standing up, hands on her hips. She yawns. “I have to go find Will. Something about—whatever, you probably don’t even care.”
You giggle. “Nope. Have fun.”
Silence engulfs you as you close your eyes momentarily, pulling your coat over your chest.
“Don’t you have to watch the race in order to report back on it? Ask questions?”
“Dude, I was just falling asleep…” You peek an eye open. “And yes. But it hasn’t started, so I'm clear.”
Max whistles, unimpressed. Falling down next to you on the fluffy couch, he places his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes, too. You try not to laugh and instead do the same.
“Haven’t seen you around much.”
“Been hiding from you.”
“Seems like. Don’t do that.”
“Fine.” You grin, sitting up straight. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
“Probably.”
You snicker, pink tongue poking from in between your teeth. The cold air makes you snuggle deeper into your wannabe-blanket and he can’t help but take occasional glances. Teeth chatter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you.”
“...and I turned and said, isn’t that Celine Dion?” Lissie waves her hands back and forth, swaying like a Fly Guy. She pouts, stopping her movements. “Turns out I was just really freaking high.” Will laughs, jotting down God knows what onto a piece of paper as she continues cluttering herself with an obnoxious amount of wires. The British girl huffs. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it was—” A sharp gasp. “Him? Oh my—it’s him!”
“Don’t you mean her?” Will hums from his spot, still not looking up.
But wide-eyed Lissie stares with her jaw on the floor as you and Max cross by, laughing and pushing each other as you make your way down the paddock. As soon as you blush when he winks, it becomes all the more real. The young reporter nods, curled hair bobbing up and down.
“R-right—her.”
-
Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)
“Is he cute? Yeah, maybe.” A finger pinches her top lip before releasing. “In a weird way.”
“Hey,” you warn.
“Is he your type? Don’t know why, but yes. I could see why you’re into him.”
“Great…”
“But is he the right choice? No. Not at all.”
“...and fantastic.” Flopping down onto your towel, you groan. Suddenly the blazing sun wasn’t the worst feeling because Lissie was right. It’s unbearable, almost. You prop up, facing her with a scrunched nose and squinted eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh?”
“Oh no.” A sip of coconut water. She purses her lips. “God no.” You sigh, slowly, then sprawl back down with a sour snarl. You can hear her debate; muttering, mumbling. Still, that doesn’t get rid of your bad mood. The brunette pokes your thigh gently, nibbling her bottom lip. “He’s just so—and you’re just so—” A beat. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“Yeah.” Waves crash harder. Sun beams brighter. You open up the bottle of sunscreen, spurting some onto your burnt legs. You rub briskly; up, down. She flinches. “Yeah, I know.”
-
“And for a while, that was that,” Pierre announces, feigning indifference. “No more love birds.”
“Oh,” George blurts. Dark brows pinch up, teasing smile playing out. “Then why are we here?”
“Oh God,” you groan, digging your face into the nape of the twenty-six year old. You can faintly sniff out his musk scent, clean and so him. It makes you smile like a teen. “What if we just elope?”
He chuckles, vibrating and sending you on your own personal rollercoaster. “We always can. Is that what you want?” And he asks because he knows—no. That’s not what you want. Separating yourself to peck his cheek, you shake your head with a playful pout. “No. That’s not what I want.”
“Good.” Watercolor eyes flicker to where Pierre finally gets yanked down and Lissie takes over with a proud smile. “Because I think this is actually going somewhere.”
-
Bahrain International Circuit—-March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)
So you kept your distance, and oddly enough, he did too. For plenty of reasons. And it wasn’t even that hard, really. He spent his summer break traveling and you spent yours as a homebody. No texts, no calls, no nothing.
“Heads or tails?”
“Tails.”
A sly grin. The silver coins flips a couple rounds before jumping up and down, clapping. “Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”
“You’re going to get a sugar high and not be able to sleep later.”
“Until I can feel my teeth rot,” you retort, slipping your tongue over your pearly whites.
Answering a few emails, you perch onto a chair. It’s too stiff, so you twist and turn until you ultimately decide to just stand. A gust of wind salutes you as your orbs flicker up to the sudden shadow. A breath catches.
Max tilts his head in greeting. “Working hard already?” Your lips part. “The season’s barely begun.”
And just like that, your world tilts on its axis, but this time with more to lose.
-
“As your best friend—” Lissie points clumsily at Carmen who giggles while the British girl furrows her thick brows. She glances around before spotting you dying with laughter on your fiancé’s lap. She claps. “I knew straight away—he was the one for you.”
-
Miami International Autodrome—-May 7, 2023 (Miami Grand Prix)
“How long has this been going on for?” she hisses, disappointed eyes challenging both you and Max. She gags at the hickeys on your neck and his tousled hair.
With wobbly legs, you take her hands into yours. “A week—”
“No.”
“Well, two—”
Green paints her face. “No.”
“One month,” he murmurs from his corner in the elevator. Watercolor eyes flicker up, loopy. “It’s been a month. Ever since—”
“Azerbaijan.” Shamefully, you look down at your shoes and nearly scream bloody murder when you spot your thong just a few steps behind her. “Ew, gross,” Lissie gasps, shutting her eyes in despair. Taking in the opportunity, you scatter down and retrieve the thin fabric. The Dutchman releases a laugh, but bites down when the British girl glares hard. She curls a brow at your breathless state. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Giggling nervously from your place on the floor, you keep your hands behind your back; out of sight, out of mind. “Begging for forgiveness?”
“Oh stop it, a piece of land is what I need in order to forgive you for being dumb as shit.”
You frown, but quickly stand up when she exits the elevator. You can hear him follow with a bored expression. “Lissie, wait!”
Like a spinning top, she turns back, long layers slapping her pink face. “You two know this isn’t a good idea, right?”
“Yes—”
“For a million different reasons—”
“I-I’m aware,” you stutter.
“Then why did you do it?” she whispers.
And the truth is, you don’t know. All you know is that nothing else matters when you're with him. It’s sickening how blindsighted you get. Anxious eyes twirl over to the blue eyed boy who shared the same expression despite being unbothered a few seconds ago.
Licking your lips, you play with the fabric. “That’s it. We’re done.” You turn to the RedBull driver. “Tell her.”
“Done.”
For a moment, you almost let yourself flinch from how fast and easy he’s able to say that one word. Lissie’s judgmental eyes look at you, then him, then sighs, reluctantly nodding. An awkward moment ticks by and then she’s focused, appalled.
“Are those your panties?”
-
“You were like a dog who couldn’t bear the idea of leaving its bone.” Everyone snickers while you throw the same peony Daniel had aimed at Pierre to shut him up. She laughs, raising her arms up in defense. “And I know—I know—I came in like a monster, warning you off of all the drivers because like it or not, they’re scumbags—”
“Ey. Watch it,” Carlos deadpans from the corner, brown eyes playfully glaring.
She shrugs. “But I no longer liked playing the role of an evil step-sister so…” Tears brim and you choke on a wet sob. “I’m just so happy that you’re happy.” A pause. “That you're both happy.”
Leaping off his thick lap, you rush over, embracing her. She laughs, returning the gesture. “I love you,” you start. I know. “And I’m so happy that you never—”
A knowing smile. “I’d do anything for you.”
-
Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)
Sneaking into his motorhome, you moan as soon as he gets his hands on your; sliding up and down your body with urgency. Heat radiates off of him and onto you. All of this— the cramped room, his lips attacking your neck—makes you dizzy. Clutching onto his sweaty hair, you arch, completely to him and for him.
“We s-shouldn’t.” You gasp. Long fingers tease your aching pussy as you whine. He instantly slaps a large hand over your mouth as he continues his movements. The stretch burns, but it's fairly familiar that you don’t even cry out, just stare back with knitted brows and an open mouth that he can’t see, but can feel expand beneath his palm.
“You’re probably right.” A steady stroke. “You should be out there.” His knuckles curl as he reaches your g-spot. “Preparing those foolish questions.” A muffled moan. “But you’re here, because you know that this excites you as much as it does me.”
Calloused pads push down before drawing figure eights deep inside. “You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be—”
“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t even try and blame it on—”
“Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”
Feeling your orgasm rolling in is one thing, but your snarkiness is another. Gritting your teeth, you force him down to kiss you, teeth and all, and then rip away with a sultry smile. “Maybe, but who cares?”
You’re not completely off. At that moment in time, neither of you cared about the consequences. It’s just that as soon as a room of watchful eyes flicker to you two, you swallow a low wince.
Grabbing your microphone, you fix your disheveled hair. Lissie’s eyes flicker between you and him, slow and scary. Like she’s reading right through you and your lies.
Beaming at the awaiting grid, you raise your chin up. “Who’s ready?”
-
“Finally,” Daniel yells, rolling his cuffed sleeves. “Someone with an actual story to tell.” A wide smile has never made you more nervous than at this very instant, so reasonably so, you swallow the entire glass of—
“Vodka, baby! That was my vodka—your champagne is right there.”
Blinking, you giggle, wiping your plump lips with the back of your hand. “What yours is mine, no? Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”
He chuckles. Lean arms wrap around your waist like a harness. “Keep this up and you’re not going to be able to sleep later.”
“The opposite, actually,” you state as a matter-of-fact. “Just need to get blackout drunk.”
He cocks his head to the side. “That’s not like you.”
“...should have seen her! She was wasted as shit!” the Australian yelps, buzzing with excitement. You nip at the air all while he raises his voice an additional octave. “I found her there, at the bar, close to getting alcohol poisoning, but you know what they say—only drunks and children tell the truth.”
-
Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)
“Oui, the beer! Fucking amazing,” Pierre declares with a mouthful.
“Say it, don’t spray it,” someone screeches, and is quickly identified to be Alex when he wipes his shimmery forehead. You laugh, taking baby sips from your drink. Shirley Temple, because contrary to belief, you weren’t a nasty drunk.
The Frenchman pouts, tapping his fingers against the brown glass. He turns to you with a sheepish grin. “I read your article.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Have to admit, it's kind of boring. It’s not your fault though. Max Verstappen's domination has made the sport sort of…” He pretends to wilt, to which you toss your head back with laughter.
“Your time will come, Pierre, your time will come.”
“Shit, shit, shit! Bathroom!” Lissie’s long legs wobble like a plate of jello as you hurry over to catch her.
“Crap—you smell like shit.”
The British girl squeals, yanking her hair, dancing from side to side. “I smoked a fat blunt, but never mind that, if I don’t find a loo in approximately five seconds, then I will smell like actual shit.”
A nose scrunch. “That’s not very lady-like.” She paces some more. “Let’s go.”
Meanwhile, on the other side of the crowded room, Max watches as the two journalists slip away. He keeps a close eye for a while until a certain brunette swoops in right next to him with a loopy grin and crinkly eyes.
“You should talk to her. Seems like you really like her.”
“What? What makes you say that? What makes you think that?”
Daniel shrugs, rotating his blunt back into his mouth. “Dilation.”
The Dutchman gags. “What…like when a woman gives birth?”
A sore laugh. “As in your eyes.” Another hit. “Y’know…they just look—different. When you look at her, I mean.”
And he hopes it is not apparent that these words make him swallow. For the past year, he’s tried his best to hide his feelings for the sake of not making a fool out of himself, and later for a whole other, but…
He licks his sudden dry lips. “Hm. Doesn’t matter if my eyes fucking shine or not, she’s not my type.”
The Australian frowns. “Sucks. Lissie’s really cool.” His eyes flicker over to the RedBull driver in a nonchalant manner, but when he blinks back with rose tinted cheeks, despite not having a sip of alcohol, he chokes on his puff. “Oh shit, no…”
In a flash, Max yanks the blunt away, dipping it into an anonymous drink. “You’re right, she is so cool—”
Brown eyes narrow down in accusation, brows knitted sharply. “Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie…” A wince. “Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.”
And just like that, Daniel notices the blown out pupils revert back to its original shape. Small and empty. “Yeah. Of course.” He plops back down onto his stiff seat, rubs his eyes, then smiles. “I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.”
-
“He—” Daniel points over to the broad twenty-six year old who sits with a timid smile. “...didn't have a single sip of beer that night because he was too focused looking after her.” A whistle. “And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”
“Wow, congrats,” George says to your fiancé. “For not being an alcoholic, really, that's impressive.” You can hear the humor that coats his voice and you can’t help but giggle. Calloused fingers slip up to pinch your thigh as you laugh harder.
“That’s why I drank twice as much that day,” Pierre announces with a firm voice. “Because he was missing out on some fantastic beer.”
“Drunkard,” Alex whispers to Lily who stifles a snicker.
The tall Australian clicks his tongue. “So who was the wasted one who confessed their little white lies?”
Everyone’s eyes turn to face you as you burn up with mortification.
“What the fuck, I barely even drink!”
-
Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)
“You.”
“Me?”
You snarl, stomping over. “She's a lightweight, dumbass. Why would you get her high? Jesus, we have a flight in eight hours.”
Daniel cackles, clapping as if delighted at the fact. “She kept insisting! I felt bad.”
An eye roll. “Douche.”
He tries to make it up to you with a drink. “Pierre says they’re good.” You eye the bottle hesitantly. He sighs. “Come on, trust me.” He eventually sneaks off for a minute, but returns with a new blunt.
“Did you pull another one out of your ass or where did you get that from?”
“Oh no. How many did you drink?”
Squinting, you motion him to take a seat. He does, but he can’t even smoke in peace now that you sway from side to side, despite being seated. “I don’t know. Too many.” He groans, large hands tugging his hair. You take a long sip, then raise your glass like some wannabe. “He told me he loves me. Tonight. Right when you left. And you know what I told him?” Another sip. “I told him I love him too.”
The Australian chuckles. “I didn’t expect you to fall for someone like him.”
“Me either. But I fell—tumbled.” You frown. “I’m just not sure this is the right thing to feel, y’know?”
His orbs flicker to the twenty-six year old who huddles with a bunch of the other drivers. He smiles, tilting his head. “Why not?”
“Because everytime I look at him, I fear the way my heart beats. He laughs, I laugh, and it feels wrong. He smiles, I smile, and it feels wrong. He makes one of our inside jokes, I understand, and it feels wrong.” A shaky laugh. “And something that should feel fucking right, doesn’t.” Glossy eyes switch over to him. “Does that make sense?”
“Not really.”
“Great,” you let out, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to understand.”
Daniel smiles, fondly, like an older brother. “It doesn’t, and you want to know why?”
“Why?”
A second passes by before he leans back against his chair. “Because it looks like you really—really—like him, so why should any of that matter? Just let yourself be happy, fuck everything else.”
You scoff, furrowing your brows. “You’re a bad influence.”
“Why?”
“Because it would never work out.”
“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” Almost robotically, he drops his blunt into your beer bottle. “You can’t…”
“Yeah. I know.” A pause. “Beer’s ass, by the way.”
-
Daniel taps his fingers against his chin, comedically. His orbs flicker between you two who stare up at him in deep focus, awaiting for his next words. He grins. “You two, it works. It always has.”
-
Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)
“Oh fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into you harder as you cling onto his arm, eyes screwed shut. “H-holy fucking—hell.”
You moan, mouth hung wide open. “Feel so good, Maxie, so, so good.”
Blue eyes admire the way you arch towards him like some sort of warm invitation. The way your legs lazily drape over his sweaty waist, how your scent hugs him like no one else. It’s all so familiar, and nice, and right. Your soft palm grazing his jaw makes him alert in an instant, desperate to not miss a single thing that lives inside this moment.
He furrows his dark brows. “We-We’re not made for one another.”
“I know.” He grunts, animalistically. “They warned me about you.”
“They told me to stay away from you.” His tip brushes against your g-spot and your head lolls back, a loud sound. “But God, it’s been impossible.”
“Max, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m close.”
He grins, rubs your clit, and whimpers when he feels you reach your orgasm. You shudder when he follows soon after, face digging into the nape of your neck. Your heart pounds like a ticking time bomb, but still, you run your fingers through his dirty blond waves.
“Lissie…Daniel…they’re—”
“Right?” You choke up. “Yeah, you don’t know how much I hate that they are.”
He pulls away, and somehow, his watercolor eyes appear more blue than ever before. Black, almost—nearly. And you’re sure yours do too.
Max plays with your hair, tracing it like a map. He gulps. “So do I.” A tug. “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”
A wet laugh. “I love you, too.” Wobbly smile. “And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”
He hums. “What would that be?”
“Nothing.”
-
“I know many of you guys are wondering why I’m best man—”
“Not wondering, more like questioning,” Carlos quips with a sly smirk.
Pierre flips him off and you laugh at the immature interaction between the drivers. “Because it really could have easily been anyone else. Ha! Even you Carlos.” The Spaniard mocks him with a shady, playful, look.
“Then again, who would have thrown a better rehearsal dinner for Charles and his bride-to-be?”
-
Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)
"You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what."
“It’s probably nothing or he’s just a sensitive little pussy,” you shoot back defensively.
Lissie snickers, hushing you, orbs scanning the pen. “You can’t say shit like that! Any of it, actually,” she adds. “Just…think before saying anything.”
You huff, arms crossed, stubbornly. “Fine.”
As the open area starts filling up more and more, by some miracle, your nerves start dying down.
Or so you thought.
“Before I let you go, I do have one more question.” Charles smiles down at you, shy dimples poking through. You return the gesture. “Would you consider yourself Ferrari’s savior or their scapegoat?”
“Jesus,” the British girl groans, covering her eyes with second-hand embarrassment.
The Monegasque lets out a nervous laugh, turning to face his publicist who simply tippy toes and whispers something into his ear. He nods. “I-I-I actually have another interview set up, but thank you for your…questions.” Pink tints his ears as he looks at you one more time before strolling away.
“Alrighty then,” Lissie hollers. She sneaks the microphone away. “Jitters, totally normal, but yeah, you’re done for today.”
-
“I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”
“Would you look at that?” Pierre gloats with a wicked grin. “Max Verstappen got butthurt.”
The Dutchman scoffs. “No, I did not. I just don’t like stupid questions, and she made one.”
Yuki snickers at his wary response. Pierre rolls his eyes. “I could talk to her, if you want me to. I love shit like this.”
“I don’t.”
“Well too bad, I’m going to.”
-
“Yeah. You already said that.”
Dumbfounded, you blink as he walks away, wet towel draped over his head. If you had known he was this much of a shithead, then you wouldn’t have bothered to try and apologize. Clicking your tongue, you burn with fury as you glare, but as soon as the Ferrari driver brushes past you, you fall back from your trance.
“Hey!”
He turns, green eyes furrowed with confusion. “Hey.”
A wince. “I’m sorry about my ignorant question from earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Charles blushes. “Am I that easy to read?”
“No, but Pierre let me know.” You awkwardly kick your shoe against the pavement and his eyes follow. You stop. “I sort of pissed off two of the most important drivers on the grid today. You, uh, just happen to be one of them.”
He softens like ice cream on a hot summer day. “I’m not pissed.” You almost let out a giggle from how foreign his accent makes the curse sound. He stammers. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. Plus, I can’t answer questions like those. It would make all of us look bad.”
“Oh. Duh. Of course.” Now you burn up. “I should have known. And it’s no excuse, but I’m new and I’m just…figuring it out.”
His eyes crinkle as he nods. “Who was the other driver?”
You groan. “Max.”
He winces, shaking his hands, theatrically. “Yikes. Yeah, now he’s probably pissed.”
-
Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)
“Will you ever let it go?”
“Might take me a while…”
As soon as your phone dings, vibrating against your palm, he curls a brow. “L-Lissie,” you fill in with a subtle smile. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”
Rushing back to the pool with a new bottle of SPF, you grin as he aims a deadpan expression. “A little Vitamin D is always necessary.”
“Don’t care, I don’t want to look like a peanut in two years.” You plop some onto his hand as he childishly swipes it over his face. You squirm with the way droplets slither down his toned chest.
Charles extends his hands. “Can I have some more?”
You laugh, wet hair tossing back like a curtain. “Hypocrite.”
Green eyes glare down, playfully.
-
Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)
“I can’t believe someone’s rocking your boat,” Lissie yelps, clutching onto your hand desperately. “This is monumental.” A teasing giggle. “We should definitely document this.”
As soon as she pulls out her phone, you flip her off. “And this, my dear, dear friend, is why I’ve been keeping this a secret.” She zooms in as you laugh, brushing her away. “Quit!”
The British girl groans, slipping it into her back pocket, then wiggles her thick brows. “Can I guess who it is?”
“No.”
“It’ll be fun!”
You spin around. “No, Lissie—no.”
“Nepo-Baby?”
Flustered, you twirl your necklace and hum. “They all are.”
“Fucking hell. So how will I know which one?”
A mocking laugh. “Oh, you’ll know.”
The brunette stays wondering despite being in the middle of telling her story from last week at the pub. She traces back to every possible driver, but they’re all natural flirts, so fuck that, how would she ever even be able to guess that—
“Oh my—it’s him!” She gasps with hawk eyes as she watches you two keep a careful distance from one another, as if temptation burns within the gap. Lissie lets out a delirious laugh as she turns to Will, who is still rather focused on his task. “I, um, will be right back!”
Wearing a goofy smile, you make your way back to the pen, but squeal when a firm grip wraps around your waist, tugging you into a cramped bathroom. You cringe at the suffocated smell. On the other hand, Lissie jumps from corner to corner. “How did I not notice? I mean, shit, you’re eyes—they’re huge!”
You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
With a toothy grin, she pokes your ribs. “It means I know who it is.”
Your heart stops, then bite the inside of your cheek, feigning indifference. “We’re just getting to know each other, but he’s really kind, and I…I really like him.”
“Oh, I bet you do,” she whispers in a seductive manner, jeweled hands slapping your ass. You chuckle, opening the door, and turning back. “You get lost in his eyes, don’t you? Heard that could happen.” A swoon. “So what? Are they like the ocean? Like a blueberry Laffy Taffy?”
“Hm. No. More like green apple.”
She halts, mid-shimmy. “What do you mean green? His eyes are blue. And I would know—they scare me half of the time.”
“What are you talking about? Charles’ eyes are green.” The brunette gapes, mouth hung wide open as she pushes herself to speak, but can’t find the strength. You knit your brows, neat and high. “I told you not to scroll through your phone at three a.m. anymore. See? Jet lag is catching up to you.”
-
Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)
“I’m just looking out for you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Tired eyes squint over at the blue waves, then at the kids who build sandcastles.
She sighs, propping herself to face you with a sorrowful smile. “It’s okay to be confused about your feelings.”
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, I know its as bad as it sounds.” You raise your straw onto your plump lips, sucking. “But they’re just so different from one another. I mean, Charles makes me feel giddy. Like really giddy. It’s nauseating. He’s sweet, and caring, and he's snappy but it’s endearing.” A soft smile and dreamy eyes. “He even helps with my notes.”
“But Max…he’s hot tempered. It drives me nuts. He never asks for help and always hides behind some brick wall. It isn’t like him to show me that he’s interested in getting to know me, but…” Cries ring through the hot air as a wave washes the sandcastle. “I want to get to know him. The real him.”
Lissie’s lips turn downwards at your broken tone. You act uninterested, but she knows it just for show, and that might be the worst torture of all.
She bumps your head with her shoulder, softly, and you instantly pout. “You’ll know what to do, babe. But if we’re being realistic here, Charles won’t wait forever.” Pause. “And Max isn’t the kind to grovel for anything other than podiums.”
-
Bahrain International Circuit—March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)
“Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”
Charles lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as he strolls away. You pick and choose emails to respond to before leaning against one leg, typing away fiercely. You even have time to get back to your sister who begs for a souvenir. Any, she adds with a thousand smiley faces.
“Working hard already? The season’s barely begun.” Your breath catches so sharply that it hurts your throat for a second. His voice is somehow deeper, but it could be because you haven’t seen or heard from him in about forever. Max steps closer. “H-how was your summer break?”
Your berry lips open, then close, then repeat. It’s embarrassing. “Never bad to get ahead, and I—had a good one. Much needed.” He nods attentively. “You look—” You stop before admitting. “Healthy. You look really healthy”
A booming chuckle. “Thanks. You look really healthy, too.”
Blue eyes linger for a second too long and that fills you up with unwanted adrenaline. “Why are you here?” Pink expands through your cheekbones as you grimace. “I mean—here.” You point at the tiny tent as if it weren’t obvious what you were referring to. “Here, here.”
The Dutchman’s lips dance, fondly. “Well I was walking by, saw you, and wanted to say hi.” He looks around with a subtle frown. “Is now a bad time?”
“Well—”
“Mate,” a sweet accent rings through the air as you screw your eyes shut. Max turns to face Charles with a slow grin. The Monegasque tilts his head in greeting, hands occupied with your beverage and his. “How have you been?”
“So, so. Yourself?”
“Good. Refreshed.”
“For me?” he jokes. The brunette chuckles, raising the coffee cups with bright orbs. “Lazy Carlos, always sending you, right?”
The Ferrari driver shakes his head, curls following, then hands it to you. You hesitantly take it from him as you avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Charles.”
His smile widens, pecking your lips. “Still don’t think you should drink it on a daily basis, but hey, you’re welcome.”
Max blinks. “W-when did this happen?”
The green eyed boy hums, lips twisting against his straw. “Over break.”
“Oh.” Gaze slips over to where you bite your cheek. “You spent it in Monaco?”
A harsh tick. “Yes.” With an open mouth, he nods, like a muppet. You purse your lips, facing your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Do you want to start making your way over? I don’t want Carlos to say anything about being late. You know how he is.”
Charles snickers, then intertwines his fingers through yours. “See you on track?”
The RedBull driver released a low breath, cracking a smile that looked more like a snarl. And while Charles doesn’t notice it, you do. Of course you do.
“See you on track.”
-
Miami International Autodrome—May 7, 2023
“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. The judgment and confusion that radiates off of Lissie is enough for you to grow gray. She rolls her tongue. “You can’t be doing stuff like this anymore, you have a boyfriend.” Her eyes screw shut, then snap open. “He adores the ground you walk on, are you insane?”
Tears well up at her truthful words. They sting all at once, and you carelessly crumble as your numb lips start to wobble. “Lissie—”
“No. Just—stop. Stop talking.” Max raises his eyebrows at the journalist and her sternness, but feels bad as you inch back, heels clicking. She huffs, pacing the hall. When she comes to a stop, she glares at the Dutchman. “How could you do this, too?”
“I never meant any harm—”
“Bullshit! Both of you are so stupid, it’s worrisome.” Shame fills your veins as you look down, pinching your undergarment as some coping mechanism. The British girl sighs. “You have to tell him.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no? He deserves to know.”
Decreasing the gap between you two, you sniffle, shaky hands clutching harder. “It’s going to kill him, Lissie. I can’t do that.”
And you can tell she’s running through her options because she’s your best friend. And above all, you were hers. With hesitance, she nods. “This has to end.”
You nod, desperately. “That’s it. We’re done.”
-
Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)
“You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be Charles that’s making you feel that way?”
“No. Don’t even try and blame it on him.”
He pinches your nipple, then licks your humid skin. You whine at the sensation. “You’re not getting anything in return for lying. It’s pathetic.”
You hiss when your climax tempts to fall. “What's the lie?”
“That you love him.”
“I do love him—”
He groans into your neck. “You sound so pretty.” A sloppy thrust. “When you choke around my cock, my spit, my cum.” Your eyes roll back when he pushes against your g-spot at a different angle. “Admit it, you’ve always enjoyed it.”
“You’re sick."
“Maybe, but you’re well worth it.”
You clench around his length and he hisses like a snake. In pain. In lust. Doesn’t matter. “You’re a shitty friend—”
Jaw clenches. “You’re a shitty girlfriend.” When you cry out in pleasure, he smirks. “Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”
“Maybe, but who cares?”
And there's nothing left for him to do, simply smiling down at you like the Cheshire Cat, somehow scarier than The Joker. If not more.
-
Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)
“Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie. Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.” Daniel grimaces. “She’s taken.”
“I know,” Max stutters. “Who do you take me for?”
The Australian is easy to tell when he laughs genuinely, but even the RedBull driver can spot the difference to the one exiting his mouth right now. “You think she’s pretty—that’s all.”
“That’s all,” he confirms.
“And that’s not a weird thing to admit because she is a pretty girl,” the brunette tries to help as Max nods happily.
“Exactly.” A pause. “You get it.”
Daniel brings the blunt up to his mouth, taking a hit, then blows out. “Y-yeah…because it’d be bad if you liked her, liked her.”
“I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” His heart pounds fast against his ribs when you giggle, pecking Charles’s neck, all while conversing with Lissie, Kika, and Pierre. He directs his attention back to the Australian and lets out a raw laugh.
“I wouldn’t be that stupid.”
-
“You’re a bad influence.”
“Why?”
“Because it would never work out.”
“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” In an instant, his brown eyes follow yours, and it makes his heart drop. Because it’s not Charles that you’ve suddenly realized that you love, but Max. “You can’t…” Somewhere close by, Pierre yells, cheering with a group of older ladies as Kika glares, shaking her head. He inches closer. “You can’t do that to Charles. He loves you.”
“And I love him,” you announce, brushing your hair back. Timidly, you peek over at him. “I’m not a saint, I know that, but I would appreciate it if we kept this between us.” A sore chuckle. “W-what matters is that I choose Charles. He’s the love of my life.”
And Daniel knows he probably shouldn’t agree to any of this, and yet, he finds himself nodding, curls bouncing. “Just between us.”
You smile gently, going in for another sip before laughing at the blunt that sticks inside.
“Beer’s ass, by the way.”
-
Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)
“I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”
“I love you, too. And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”
“What would that be?”
“Nothing.”
He flinches. “I-it doesn’t have to be that way. You could lea—”
You sigh, pulling your dress up as he zip his race suit. “I can’t leave him, Max. It’s not that easy.”
He pants, blue eyes tracing your face anxiously. “A-and why not? Why can’t it be that easy?”
A cruel laugh wiggles up your throat as you dig your nails into your palm. “Because I’m engaged!”
He ricochets with a scoff. “Oh, what? Now you suddenly care about not being called a cheater?” You look away and he chuckles. “Because that’s what you are—a fucking cheater.”
Your face patches into a shade of pink as you breathe heavily, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what does that make you?”
“I am not a cheater.”
You snarl. “No, but you’re a God awful friend.”
He steps back, large hand running against his lips, drying them out, getting rid of your saliva. “You’re just—you know what? Fuck you.”
You gasp. “No. Fuck you.”
Max rolls his blue eyes, finally reaching his breaking point as he pushes you against the wall to his motorhome. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of realizing what we actually are.”
Heavy pants. Orbs flicker down to his rosy lips. He almost smiles. “What are we? A cheater and a bad friend?”
“No. A villain and their accomplice.” That seems to do it. A strong tide takes over as you sob against his grip. And it doesn’t hurt, it’s not tight. It’s only secure. He continues with a dark look swirling his orbs. “You know, you were always the first one to point out someone as a bad person, when in reality, it's you.”
“Okay, stop—”
“And I’m not innocent either—I’m well aware—but I’m not the one with a ring around their finger.”
“Stop!” you yell, pushing him away harshly. It should feel foreign, the fury and the shame, but that’s all you seem to know these days. Or ever since you met him. “You’re right. We’re two rotten apples, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but can you blame me? You’re fucking with my head, Max!”
He softens, and for a moment, its pure silence, other than your tiny cries. Licking his lips, he pats his thigh. “You already know I’m wrongfully in love with you. I just actually thought I stood a chance. That it would be me.”
“Max…”
He winces in pain with how sweet your voice sounds pronouncing his name. It’s always been that way. When you first interviewed him a year ago, to when you first kissed him back and gasped his name. But it only got dirtier and dirtier throughout the course of time.
“Be honest with me, please.” Bloodshot eyes look up at him. “Is he your safest option? Is that what this is?”
And with one final, tormented look, you open your lips to breathe out.
“He’s someone I could envision a future with, Max.” A beat. “And you’re just a footnote.”
-
“Voilá!” Charles cheers as he claps loudly against your ear. You yelp at the sudden sound all while trying to reach for his hands to stop his movements. He grins, deep dimples imprinting like feet on sand. “That was beautiful, really, it really was.”
Rubbing your ass against his bulge is the only way you think you can get him to shut up, and he does, immediately letting out a strained chuckle. Smiling sweetly at your friends, you shrug. “I had my doubts, Pierre, but this was pretty cute. Thank you.”
The Frenchman gloats, clicking his fingers. I told you, I told you they’d like it! Your fiancé kisses your cheek. “That’s why I chose him.” A playful frown. “You see, mon amour? You never hold any faith in my decisions.”
Rolling your eyes, you stick your pink tongue out at him. “I still think you should have chosen one of your brothers.” A stern look. “Like Lorenzo—wasn’t he the one that helped you buy the ring?”
“Yes, but that would have been unfair to Arthur. He would’ve felt left out.”
“Arthur’s too distracted trying to figure out the difference between left and right!” The Monegasque tosses his head back and you admire with a soft glow. “I lo—”
“Wait,” Carlos hollers, deep accent ringing. You and Charles turn, bubble bursting. “We all went around sharing but Max.”
“Yeah,” Lily ponders, fingers tracing her lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Pierre hums. “Mate?”
Max blinks, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s alright. We’ve heard enough, don’t you think?” His joke is meant to be easy going, but it comes out dry, and even to this day, you can notice it. Licking your already glossed lips, you flip your gaze to Lissie and Daniel who share the same worried expression.
Because Lissie was your best friend. She would carry your secret to the grave.
Because Daniel was Max’s best friend. He would carry his secret to the grave.
But the Dutchman himself didn't care. He honestly felt like he had nothing else to lose.
“Okay then,” he whispers, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. He slightly tilts his head to the open sky, as if wondering when it would swallow him whole. He was secretly hoping it would. Beady, excited, and petrified eyes stare back at him as he smiles awkwardly. “I…”
“He doesn’t want to,” you declare, twisting to signal the Frenchman. “If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”
“No.” Blue eyes darken as he places his drink down onto the wooden table. “I want y—” He bites his tongue, immediately tasting metallic. “I want to.”
“Let him,” Charles says, chuckling softly. “Don’t kill his stride.”
So, with neat brown drawn together, clammy fingers playing with your silver band, you sit back down. Like a force of nature, the Monegasque hugs you from behind. You gulp, leaning the back of your head against his shoulder.
“I think it’s crazy how one minor decision can change absolutely fucking everything.”
“Oh shit,” Lissie and Daniel mutter next to each other, exchanging the blunt back and forth.
Your face twists up like a wrinkled shirt. “If you’re not going to say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” he instantly shoots back, but feverishly deflates when Charles furrows his dark brows like some Doberman. Astonished at his cold tone, you blink, lashes fluttering like a notebook. He almost swoons at the sight, but amazingly holds back.
“If you hadn’t taken Pierre’s advice and apologized to Charles, then we wouldn't be here. If you hadn’t spent summer break with him, then we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn't fallen in love, then we wouldn’t be here.” He swallows. “It’s the little things.”
“And, um...what makes a relationship work out is the commitment. If one person commits and the other doesn’t then it won’t ever work out, but you two…” You nibble on your bottom lip harshly, holding your breath as he looks into your bright eyes. He releases a forced chuckle, as if it would help get rid of his splintered heart. “You two chose each other, so…cheers to that.”
“Wow,” Charles hums, blankly. “That was surprisingly heartfelt…” A sheepish grin. “Thank you, mate.”
It’s as if he’s suddenly admitting defeat to someone who didn’t know they had him as an opponent to begin with; the way he throws the peony at the Monegasque, who catches it with ease. “Don’t mention it.”
So, as Max sits alone, with no date, he begins to wonder that maybe—just maybe—you were right all along.
He gave his speech last.
He was the footnote.
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