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peachypinkygloss · 10 months

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call me later — jjk

Summer break is always your favourite period of the year, enjoying the fresh water of the pool and the sun kissing your skin. Everything's going great until a sudden boy appears in your life and becomes the centre of your world.

☼ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

☼ genre: strangers to fwb to lovers, summer break au, university au, smut

☼ word count: 2.5k

☼ warnings: kinda inspired by outer banks, rich kid!oc, jk's a munch, oc pushes jk away 😔, they're a bit awkward together lol, outdoor sex, unprotected oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, brief overstimulation, cum eating.

a.n.: don't get fooled... this isn't cherry!jk ik this one's a munch too but they're very different. you'll see 😉

The sunlight gently graces the skin of your face, enveloping you in a warm embrace, relaxing both your limbs and mind. It's around one p.m., the perfect hour to sunbathe by the pool and to reread the PLL series.

That's what you had planned for today, but you ended up doing something vastly different. Something a bit unpredictable and perverted... To your defence, this would have never happened if he hadn't decided to show up.

Technically, he didn't decide, he's just following the schedule your dad gave him, but still. This isn't entirely your fault; it takes two people to do something like this.

Your chest heaves rapidly as you're looking down between your legs, a hand pulling on his black locks while the other is thrown over your forehead. The lounge chair doesn't allow you to have much space, but you're handling it pretty well you think.

He's handling it well too because you can't imagine how his knees must hurt right now. They're probably all red, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's such a good boy. He knows you'd do the same for him, so he doesn't complain.

Your book is long forgotten on the ground beside your chair and the bookmark has been quickly secured between the pages the moment things have begun to be more intense.

You softly moan, your sounds accompanying the chirps of the birds and the far away noises of the neighbours mowing their lawns. This is public, yet very private. The fences prevent anyone from looking — and there are small chances of people hearing you, considering how big your backyard is and how far your neighbours are — but that doesn't mean nobody can't walk in on you two.

This was really impulsive of you.

Though it's risky and kind of stupid, you regret nothing. How could you when he's so skilled with his tongue...

"Are you usually that vocal?" Jungkook wonders, a stupid grin drawn on his pretty face. He rubs slow circles on your clit to compensate for the loss of his mouth, waiting patiently for your answer.

You let out a pleasant sigh, watching the pads of his fingers playing with your pussy, tattoos inked on his skin and chunky rings adorning his fingers.

You sink your teeth in your bottom lip, collecting your thoughts as Jungkook traces your entrance, dipping his fingers in just a little bit. He really likes to tease.

"When I like the guy," you say breathily, lazy eyes blinking up to stare at him. This only brightens Jungkook's smile and you're confused as to why it makes your stomach flutter.

"You like me?" He smirks, satisfied you've just confessed to liking him.

But you didn't. Or did you? Damn it.

You roll your eyes and grip his hair again. "Get back to business," you groan. You don't miss the laugh he lets out while you push down on his head, shoving his face back between your thighs.

He slides his fingers in completely and you gasp softly, loving how they stretch you out really well. You roll your hips slightly, getting used to the feeling of being full.

Jungkook parts his fingers, scissoring your insides to see how much he can stretch your pussy. He hums as if he was listening to it, and you don't know what it told him, but that was surely good advice because the next thing he does sends you over the moon.

He pumps his fingers in you and wraps his lips around your clit, stimulating two areas at the same time. "Oh, my god, Jungkook," you moan in pleasure, twisting his hair in your fist.

You have a hard time focusing on anything else than him, feeling the cool silver of his piercings brushing against your skin and your wetness dripping down your ass every time he thrusts into you.

You pass your fingers through his hair, your eyes not once looking away from his pink lips sucking on your poor little clit. His digits enter and exit your wet cunt at a rapid pace, eliciting moans and whines out of you, taking your breath away.

You clench your thighs around his head, feeling so overwhelmed right now, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all, on the contrary. Your legs hang over his large shoulders, shaking a little bit as he darts his tongue out to lap at your swollen bud.

He's changed the rhythm of his fingers, going in less faster — but still fast enough to make you roll your eyes back — to go deeper instead. Your juices drip down to his knuckles and he can't believe how wet you are, especially during a hot temperature like this.

"Mmmh," you hear him mumble against your pussy, completely obsessed with it. "Your pussy's so wet, baby," he observes, circling your clit with his thumb to look at you for a second. "Taste so fucking sweet."

You know it's just dirty talk, but you have to admit it has your heart beating excitedly in your chest. He smiles at you as you're a little bit dizzy, drunk on your sexual pleasure.

"Thanks," you reply and he chuckles, finding adorable how you become a bit stupid from getting fucked by his fingers. He curls them into you and you moan out when he brushes against your magic spot, knitting your eyebrows together. "There!" You exclaim, feeling Jungkook's hot breath hitting your pussy as he tilts his head down to look at his hand.

"Right there, baby?" He repeats to make sure he has found the correct spot. You nod repeatedly when you feel the pads of his fingers patting the spongy spot inside you, the knot in your stomach tightening. "Yeah? Okay, I got you, princess," he coos and continues sensually moving his fingers in you.

He focuses on his digits, calculating every single one of his movements. Your pussy quivers around him and he understands you won't last long if he keeps going at this rhythm, but that's exactly his goal, so he continues.

Then he comes to lick at your puffy clit, left alone for too long now. You whimper when he does so, flattening his pink muscle over your bud and moving it from side to side, still pumping his big fingers in and out of your sloppy pussy.

"Fuck, Jungkook!" You whine, being so close to your orgasm. He has such a good technique that works for you, it's so hard to not fall apart as soon as he puts his mouth on you. "I'm gonna cum," you warn him, voice breathy and kind of desperate at this point.

He hums against you, sending vibrations through your body. You curl your toes as you feel it burning at the pit of your stomach, ready to rip off and send you over the edge.

"Don't stop, please," you beg him, but you don't have to worry, he has no intention of stopping, especially not when your moans sound so sweet to his ears.

You're not sure if you should cry, moan or scream. Your little brain is so confused, never been that close to an orgasm all because of a man's fingers and tongue.

Where was Jungkook all those times you couldn't make yourself cum or you were left frustrated by useless men who had absolutely no idea how a pussy worked? He really should have come sooner.

This is it, it grows rapidly in your stomach, a sensation so intense and euphoric, exploding and passing through your entire body like an avalanche. Your moans are stuck in your throat and your fingers pull harshly on Jungkook's hair, trying to not fall too far.

Your legs shake beside his head and he groans when you clench around him, sucking his fingers in, his tongue gently stroking your clit as you slowly drive off your high.

He slips out of your pussy, quickly licking his fingers clean before pulling your legs apart wider. He lowers his mouth to your quivering hole, literally making out with it and drinking your arousal out of you to satisfy his thirst.

He opens and closes his mouth on your pussy while your legs are still shaking, coming down from your previous orgasm. "Jungkook, this is too much," you say in a whiny voice, gasping softly when you feel his tongue teasing your entrance.

It's only when he hears the sound of a car parking at the front of the house that he pulls himself away from your leaking sex. You look at him, as confused as he is. He hurriedly wipes his chin with the back of his hand and he picks up your bikini bottom from the ground, handing it to you.

He stands up as you put back on your bikini. "I thought you said my dad wouldn't come back until five p.m.!" You whisper-shout at Jungkook, passing your fingers in your hair, trying to detangle it and make yourself presentable — and not like you've just received head from the hot guy your father hired to mow the lawn and maintain the pool this summer.

"Yeah, I thought so too," he answers, guilty he may have misheard what your dad said to him.

You sigh, taking your towel and your book in hand, ready to go back in the house, but before you can Jungkook grabs your arm. "Call me later, yeah?"

You look up at him, surprised he just asked you that. Does it mean he wants... more? See you in another context than at your house?

You swallow, wondering if that's what you want. You guess you never considered boys could be interested in knowing you or hanging out with you after having sex. You didn't think Jungkook would want that either.

Your attention is brought to your dad when he enters the backyard, waving at Jungkook and you. "Hey, kids!" He yells from across the yard and you can't help but roll your eyes. He walks up to you two and you wish you could escape, but you don't want to get reprimanded by your dad after.

"Hi, sir," Jungkook greets him, smiling politely. "I did the front of the house like you asked," he explains, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I've cut around the patio, too."

"That's awesome, you did a great job, Jungkook," your father nods his head, clearly a sign that he's really proud of him. "How long did it take you?"

"One hour and a half, I'd say," he answers, not really sure when he got the job done since, well, he's been a little distracted by something else.

"Good. I'll go take my wallet, I left it in the truck," he points behind him and then glances at you, giving you a tap on the back. "You enjoyed the pool, honey? You applied sunscreen, right?"

"Yes, dad," you groan. You want one thing and it's to get out of this awkward situation as soon as possible. Your father then disappears, going to take his wallet to pay Jungkook.

This one looks back at you, sweet eyes laying on you. "So?"

"I'll call you later," you confirm, not giving him time to answer and going back inside.

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

You look around the convenience store, searching for energy drinks. When you find them, you open the fridge's door, hesitating between a Rockstar or a Monster. There aren't many flavours, but you know you definitely won't take one without sugar. You decide to settle for a Monster, Pacific Punch flavour.

Now for the food. You eye the tteokbokki, but also the spicy ramen. You should combine both. And take some for your father, too. He always has night cravings like you.

As you check the different brands of ramen, wondering which one you feel like eating the most, someone says your name.

"You didn't call me."

You turn around and your eyes widen when you see Jungkook standing in front of you. Your heartbeat accelerates and you don't know what to say.

Your plan was to hide in the house the next time he'd come, avoiding him seemingly the best idea you've thought about, but of course, he had to find you here.

You feel bad as he looks at you with disappointed eyes as if he actually thought you'd call, that you were different and not like the others. Turns out that you're not. You're exactly like them, exactly like the people who you grew up with and who you live with.

"Um, well, I..." You stammer, caught red-handed. You glance down, biting down on your lip, too much of a coward to hold Jungkook's gaze. "No, I didn't," you sigh, admitting your mistake. "I... forgot."

He only lets out a 'mh' and you're really embarrassed. Yes, it was childish of you, but you don't understand what he expected. He works for your dad, you don't go to the same university, you don't have the same circle of friends, you have nothing in common.

Yet, when you look at him, it's like he knows everything about you — every single one of your secrets and fears.

"You don't have your eyebrow piercing anymore," you comment suddenly, desperately searching for a way to make things less awkward, to redeem yourself or whatever that would make him stop looking at you like you're a bad person.

He touches his eyebrow as if to confirm his piercing's really gone. "Yeah, it was a bitch to disinfect," he shrugs and hides his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

"I really liked it," you say honestly.

The corner of his mouth tugs upward and you can't help but do the same, butterflies erupting in your stomach. "I've noticed." His eyes glint and your face heats up immediately when you understand what he's referring to.

Last time, you couldn't stop running your fingers over his face, touching his eyebrow piercing when he was kissing you. You don't know why you were doing that, but there was something that really fascinated you about it.

Fortunately, Jungkook didn't mind you touching him. He quite really enjoyed it, in fact.

When he doesn't say anything else, you quickly take two packs of ramen with the tteokbokki and your energy juice. You turn around and Jungkook's still there.

"Are you eating with someone?" He questions and he knows how it sounds, but he's only curious. If it's the reason why you didn't call, he wants you to tell him.

"Um, it's for my dad and me," you reply. "We're the kind to eat at like... one a.m.," you chuckle and he smiles at the sound of your laugh. "And you?" You ask back even though he's not holding anything other than his cellphone.

"Oh, just filling up the gas tank," he points outside where his car is parked. "But I might take a snack. Yours make me hungry."

"You should," you nod your head.

He sends you a faint smile before passing by you, walking to the other aisle. You watch him for a second, analyzing his outfit. Black baggy jeans, a graphic white hoodie and beige beanie.

You go pay for your items and it's only when you push the door that you get a glimpse of Jungkook walking up to the cashier. He doesn't see you so you exit the store, refraining yourself from looking back.

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

a.n.: hellooo you guys... 🤭

i had jungkook working for oc's dad in mind for likeee a long time and since it's summer, i finally found the time to write it... i have more planned for this fic (obvi because I wouldn't make it end like this 🫣), so this isn't just a drabble, it's more like a test to see if you're interested in this story. so tell me if you want it to become a lil series. ngl, i'm very insecure about this one idk why 😭 but let me know if you'd like to read a next part!

part 1: call me later ☼ part 2: call me soon ☾ part 3: call me tomorrow ☼

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader

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gojossocks · 24 days

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Ex to FWB! Gojo

Ex to FWB! Gojo x Reader content: angst, hurt/comfort, smut

I LOVE A YEARNING SATORU SO MUCH

Ex to FWB! Gojo who broke up with you out of the blue after a 3 year relationship with you without ever telling you why. He just told you that he lost the spark and he simply grew out of the relationship. He didn’t bother coming to get his things and just disappeared out of your life completely.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who you saw after a year of no contact in a house party. He’s still as handsome as ever and he went over to you as if you didn’t go through a shitty break up.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who had this elaborate plan to win you back but only let out a shaky sigh when he’s face to face with you. He misses you, he realizes— so much so that he feels as though he would combust if he doesn’t hold you right now and he wonders how he could endure an entire year without being by your side, without meaning something to you other than the jerk who broke your heart.

Ex to FWB! Gojo got desperate when you seem to be uninterested with whatever he has to say so he asked you to be fwb with him instead.

“use me, then.” His words sounded so weirdly nonchalant but you could see the desperation in his eyes as he looked at you with so much intensity.

and how could you resist him when he’s practically right where you imagine him to be? pleading so much that you’re sure that he’ll beg on his knees if you asked him to. So for your own self-satisfaction you said yes, and his face beamed so bright that it reminded you of the complex history you had with him you desperately try to unrecall.

So you laid out the rules, He’s not allowed to kiss you during sex, hold you afterwards, or even make a genuine connection during the time you’re hooking up, then lastly, both of you are allowed to date whoever and the arrangement wouldn’t continue anymore if any.

He scoffed when you told him the rules but you noticed the way he looked so nervous under the flashing lights.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who kisses you like he needs you to breathe, slipping his tongue when your mouth slightly parted, groaning when he finally gets to taste you.

Ex to FWB! Gojo died and almost went to heaven (cum in his pants) when you breathily whispered his name—”Satoru”, for the first time since he broke up with you. He had to teleport the both of you to his bedroom before he rips your dress off for everyone to see.

Ex to FWB! Gojo holds your hand while he’s fucking you, the other wandering your body until it reaches your clit, drawing fast harsh circles until it has you writhing underneath him. He remembers your body too well, even more than you do. He buries his face in the crook of your neck to prevent himself from kissing you.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, pounding into you harshly that you couldn’t even think anymore. He got you so cockdrunk that the only word you remember is his name. It doesn’t even register to you when the bed frame breaks.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who desperately wants to kiss you but bites your neck instead when he cums deep inside you. He doesn’t stop thrusting even when you’ve both already came because he wanted a few more minutes to cage you in his arms because it’s the only time he only gets to do it.

Ex to FWB! Gojo felt disappointed when you left after the two of you fucked. He feels a hole punctured in his chest after you left him alone in his own apartment, he didn’t get to sleep that night.

Ex to FWB! Gojo getting frustrated when you’re adamant to follow the rules you made after 2 months of fucking. Each time he tries to make his actions genuine, you ask him to go faster and be rougher with you. He thought that little ‘act’ of yours is just a front to make him win you back but he soon realizes that you were being serious and you’re really only using him for your own sexual pleasure— all because he’s good in bed and he knows your body well. Nothing more, nothing less.

Ex to FWB! Gojo fakes his sleep to see what you’re going to do with him—if you’re going to run your hands through his hair, caress his cheek, kiss his forehead or speak to him when you think he’s asleep. Those little things that he took for granted during the course of your relationship that he misses so much. Instead, you get dressed and leave. The hole in his chest expanded tenfold after that.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who ‘coincidentally’ shows up near your apartment or the place where you work, claiming that he just happened to hang near where you’re at. He attempts to talk to you only to be met by subtle rejections and your fake excuses to go somewhere else.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who finally realizes the damage he has done with your relationship and how good he had it with you. He regrets not talking things out with you and leaving you without explaining the truth, that really, he’s just scared that he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he loses you because of the nature of his work or you realize that you deserve someone better than him.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who misses it when you used to look at him with soft, loving eyes. Not the one driven out of primal need and lust you always give him before the two of you fuck. He loves the scratches you give down his back, he thinks it’s a tangible proof that he still somehow has a hold on you and you’re still not completely out of his life, at least not yet. He wishes he could just show you how much he’s in love with you still— if only you’d let him.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who jokes about you staying the night, coaxing you to agree with him to just sleep in his place because your apartment is far away, you’re tired, and you have work tomorrow. Not because he wants more of you. (his whole being is shaking with need)

Ex to FWB! Gojo yearns for you so much that he couldn’t hide his despondent face anymore when you rejected his attempt to ask you out to stay over for the third time.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who heard from your mutual best friend, Shoko, that you’re going on a blind date next week and that you’re planning to break up the arrangement that week too.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who wishes you would give him a chance to explain everything, to win you back and allow him in your life again.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #gojo fic #gojo angst #gojo headcanons

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oikasugayama · 6 months

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BSD MEN AS BOYFRIENDS pt. 1

pt. 1 Dazai, Kunikida, Atsushi, and Chuuya. pt. 2 Ango, Ranpo, Poe GN!reader!! Smut in Atsushi and Chuuya's, minor angst in Dazai's

Dazai

Dazai does not use petnames. He does not like them. He will not call you a nickname. He uses nicknames to tease and belittle people or to charm and persuade them. He's not manipulating you into liking him or wanting him. You've come to like him all on your own and he realized when you confessed to him that shit he likes you too.

Contrary to popular belief, Dazai has never been in a proper relationship. He's hooked up with people he's met at bars, paid for sex, maybe even had a FWB before but he's never wanted to put someone at risk by opening his heart to them. When he was in the Mafia he just wasn't able to feel like he can now in the ADA. (That's the trauma, babyyyyy) It's taken him a long time to be able to recognize that maybe he IS human, maybe he does want human things like companionship and love.

You're special to him. He lets you lead the way entirely. Every move made in your relationship is up to you. That's not to say that he doesn't plan dates or initiate intimacy--he does!!--but when it comes to big stages he makes sure you're still doing what YOU want to do and not just doing what HE wants. He's so used to manipulating and controlling people that he's afraid to do it to you so your presence makes him far more self reflective than he has been before. You call him your boyfriend before he calls you his girlfriend. You say you love him first and he says it twice as often now. He treats you with so much respect he's almost formal. He just thinks you're so incredible for being able to love someone like him. It blows his mind every time you smile at him with adoration sparkling in your eyes. He knows you mean it and that scares him sometimes.

He's a bit messy. He may break up with you once or twice, or try to "take a break" because he scares himself into thinking he doesn't deserve you and is better off dead or just alone. You understand that he's hurting far more than he lets on and you love him SO much so you never let him disappear, you always get him to come back. You know he's human. It's the best part about him.

Kunikida

He's a good boyfriend if you meet him AFTER everyone made fun of his "ideal girlfriend" list and some of the girls in his office taught him that love should be spontaneous and special and not something you plan out to the letter. If you meet him before that, even if you're a great person, he won't give you the time of day.

Though he gives up on the concept of an ideal partner, he does still think that he isn't interested in being in a relationship until he's 26. That is, until you come along.

He knows what it's like to be challenged--he works with Dazai's dumb ass every day--but you challenge him in a way he LIKES. You so innocently tilt your head and ask "why" when he says something must be done in the ideal way, and he doesn't have it in him to scold you for wasting his time. He explains things to you and offers to help whenever you need something. You're so polite and genuinely nice and helpful to him where you can be, so he returns the sentiment tenfold.

You get him off schedule one day by telling him a story of the last place you worked and he's so enthralled that he starts asking you questions and sharing some of his own work stories-- before he knows it, almost an hour has passed. You apologize and let him go back to work, but all he can think is that he doesn't want you to go away.

He courts you very properly. He waits until you're off the clock and away from the office to ask you on a date. He tells you he likes you and respects you and will never bring it up again if this makes you uncomfortable -- you say yes before he can give any more disclaimers.

He brings you somewhere you've mentioned wanting to go, makes sure you give you a little gift for saying yes to dating him, and he's very kind and gentlemanly the whole night. He even asks before holding your hand while walking you home and before kissing your cheek at the end of the night.

He keeps work and home VERY separate so even when Dazai notices that Kunikida seems more relaxed and happy and tries to pry the information out of him, Kunikida never tells anyone that you're dating. If it gets around the office, it's because you were talking about your boyfriend with Naomi and she pieced together that it was Kunikida, and she told Junichiro, and he mentions it to Atsushi who tells Kyouka and then everyone knows eventually. Not that it really matters. Once the initial chatter dies down after a few days, everything is back to normal

Atsushi

NERVOUS CLINGY INSECURE

We all know this. Almost everyone makes him a nervous boyfriend. Or a clingy one. It's because he IS.

He's afraid to introduce you to his coworkers because he thinks they're all more attractive and more talented and more interesting than him. You have to reassure him over and over that you aren't going to leave him and that it's not nice for him to think you'd boyfriend hop just because someone else came along. That's often how you have to make him calm down: ask if his insecurity is a reflection of you or your actions. He quickly realizes each time that no, you're right, he's projecting.

He LOVES cuddling. He gets cold very easily given how skinny he is. His favorite evening activity is laying in bed with you under blankets after having a hot meal. If he can crawl into the same sweater you're wearing he'll do it. Sometimes he just sticks his head under your shirt and lays his head on your chest to get warm. Or he'll put his hands in your pockets to keep them warm. He will siphon all of your body heat.

Speaking of heat... 👀🥵 Atsushi loves cockwarming. There, I said it!! He loves it!! He'll mewl in your ear all pretty and overstimulated while you play on your phone or read or book and he's trying to keep still because the point wasn't to keep having sex it was to just enjoy feeling connected to you but God it's so HOT he can't believe you let him inside your body ALL THE TIME!! WHENEVER HE WANTS???? his whole body burns and tingles with literal warmth but also love and some embarrassment at working himself up so much. He's blushing and squirming and there always comes a point where he can't take it anymore and he presses you down into the bed and fucks you. He can be rough sometimes, especially if he isn't focusing on keeping his tiger abilities under wraps, but you swear to him you think it's hot for him to manhandle you and hold you down and fuck the shit out of you. It often takes some convincing to get him to let himself go and actually do it.

Chuuya

A GENTLEMAN you cannot tell me he isn't a great boyfriend

Chuuya is amazing at compartmentalizing. There's a chance you don't even know he's in the Port Mafia when you start dating him. He's just a tough punk guy who holds the door open for you and brings you huge, BEAUTIFUL bouquets every time he sees you, and says sweet nothings to you when you're alone.

Eventually you ask him where he works in an incredibly casual way because you expect it's something like a garage or a business office, but when he kinda clams up and asks "you don't know?" you give him a confused look and he gets NERVOUS. He doesn't want you to leave him, he's so worried all of a sudden realizing that you don't KNOW what he does and how you're in danger just for being associated with him.

He finally tells you and swears that you're safe, he'll always protect you, and so will his connections. You honestly have to take a minute to think about it but then you nod and say it's fine, you've always felt safe with him and you didn't know before so you'll just keep pretending you don't know. "Just please don't tell me any of the details, I don't want to know."

When Chuuya leaves for long missions he texts and calls you almost every night from random phone numbers (some public phones, some burner phones). He always lets you know he's okay and tells you how much he misses you. He's not afraid of a bit of dirty talk and sending some spicy pictures when he's able to have a phone somewhere in private 🥵

Speaking of sex, he's very adventurous. He'll fuck you anywhere, any time. He always thinks you look good no matter what, but when you look ESPECIALLY good like when you wear his favorite color with your hair pulled away from your face, god he can't keep his hands off you. You could be walking through a grocery store and he'd be pressing you against a shelf and muttering in your ear how he could take you right here and no one would dare stop him. He also likes to hold you up when you fuck, doesn't matter if you have something to lean on or how much you weigh (I hc Chuuya LOVES big women and thinks anyone who doesn't is a coward). Chuuya can manipulate gravity, he's holding you every which way and getting the exact angle he wants.

#bsd headcanons #dazai x reader #Chuuya x reader #Kunikida x reader #Atsushi x reader #bsd x reader #Chuuya x reader smut #Atsushi x reader smut

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scoonsalicious · 2 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 10, Uneasy - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, Jade Carthage (sorry), petty behavior.

Word Count: 368

Previously On...: The Lion, the Witch, and the Audacity of this Bitch... Bucky had the balls to answers a call from Jade, abruptly ending sex with you to do so. You contemplated getting back into your old self-harm habits, but decided against it. You and Bucky argued, and it seemed like you really got through to him when you asked him to think of how he'd want you and Steve to interact every time he found himself in a situation with Jade. I'd say it seemed to work, but this is only Chapter 10 out of 28 :(

A/N: As promised, due to my lack of any updates yesterday, here's your second update for today! It's short, I know, but at least you didn't have to wait an entire day to just get < 370 words! :D

I love you! (no question mark) Also, when reviewing it to post, I noticed there was no swearing, and I thought 'can't have that! gotta reputation to maintain!' So I added a 'fucking' at the end, just to keep things on brand.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @crist1216 @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23

While Bucky took his shower, you threw on one of his Henleys and made your way to the communal kitchen to grab some snacks for your film. To your disdain, Jade was already there, pouring herself a glass of juice.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked with a smirk as she put the juice back in the fridge. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but you and Jamie were just arguing so loudly.”

“We’re fine,” you said. You grabbed a couple of bags of chips, some Twizzlers, chocolate, and some drinks. “But thank you so much for your apparent concern.”

“Didn’t sound fine to me,” she beamed. “You forget, I have super soldier hearing. Maybe you should consider getting a new therapist, since the one you’re seeing now clearly isn’t helping. I’m heading back to my room, but don’t feel the need to keep the fighting down on my account, ‘kay? It’s better than Netflix!” With a wink, she turned and walked out the door, juice in hand.

In your anger, you were gripping one of the bags of chips so tightly, it popped open in your hand. Coming to a quick and, probably stupid decision, you grabbed your snacks and raced back to your room.

Bucky was just coming out of the bathroom, with only a towel around his waist, when you burst through the door, tossing the snacks and drinks onto your nightstand.

“Ready for the movie now, doll?” he asked, toweling off his damp hair.

“Changed my mind,” you said as you started taking off your clothes. “Sex is back on the table.”

Bucky grinned at you, but his face quickly fell. “Are you sure, sweets? What changed all of a sudden?”

You pulled the towel from around his waist, licking your lips as his cock sprung free, already growing hard in front of you. “Just something I heard,” you told him before pouncing on him. “I’m gonna need you to make me scream, Barnes.”

“It’ll be my pleasure, doll,” he said before hoisting you up and kissing you.

You knew you were being petty, and it was not a great quality, but you didn’t care: you were going to make sure Jade Carthage heard every. single. filthy. fucking. thing.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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darlingofvalyria · 9 months

Text

❝—Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!❞

part 02 | baby, all you gotta do is trust me

chapter summary:

[ Cregan is a menace in bed (sexily), Aemond is a menace on social media (derogatory), Helaena is a menace (lovingly). ]

[ 4,715 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— smutty beginnings, a bit angsty, mostly fluff - nsfw: p & v sex, orgasm denial, degradation kink, mating press - lemme just introduce you to firefighter!cregan stark ahe - toxic alysmond but both of them are at fault, fwb situations, fake dating, slow-ish burn - sad sack aemy is a pathetic meow meow - viserys i has a spank kink, no i will not elaborate further - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— it's entirely my fault, i know. i made cregan too hot. aemond might be a bit op w/ his relationship with reader, but he & her have a comfortable past...soz. comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

There's this thing that Cregan does with his hips.

It's always that sweet spot when your legs are either over his shoulders or haphazardly splayed against his waist, wide open as he drilled into you like a miner trying to find gold (and he would argue that in fact, your orgasms are gold to him)—

There's that moment when he feels you clenching, when you're so close to the precipice of seeing heaven that the motherfucker of the North slows down, sweat-slicked and breathing hard, he slows down enough at the haze of you reaching orgasm where he just.

Produces waves across his body, keeping a slow, toe-curling momentum with his hips, body-waving his dick in and out of you in a slow but purposeful movement— and he's smirking down atyou're fucked out state growing irritated doing something for him.

And before you're truly out of that orgasmic state, about to curse his entire bloodline of ruined orgasms forever or push him off his own godsdamned bed and break his stupidly good penis, he's bracing himself against the side of your head, laughing— not meanly, just amused, the asshole —and asks, almost like he's just asking you for the weather, "Does the pretty little slut want to cum?"

And he's not really asking, because he's grasped your thighs, shoving you into a mating press, and having you see stars in seconds.

"You think my neighbours called 911?" he muses, fixing his hair while in front of the floor length mirror in his room as you lounge about lazily on his bed, already washed and dressed for your own shift at Meleys, sans your pants. That's still in the living room from where Cregan yanked it.

"Hm?" you ask idly, not really focused on the conversation as you scrolled through IG, rolling your eyes at Aegon's post; Hel's big brother was in Ibiza getting sun-tanned in the morning (as much as his pale as fuck skin could tan) and getting it down at clubs at night, liking it nevertheless.

"Your scream at the end there was so loud, I'm pretty sure you broke Mrs. Beesbury out of her coma." You look up at Cregan's menace of a grin, playful and goofy in his tight shirt and thick work pants for his shift at the fire station. "I might be expecting five jars of honey from Mr. Beesbury as thanks."

You roll your eyes at him, laughing. He always got like this post-orgasm; loose and goofy and prone to making the dumbest jokes. It's cute, and on a good day, it does it for you.

It's not like you don't find Cregan attractive. It's how you got into this FWB situation with him in the first place; the dark hair, the scruff on his face, the firefighter bod— and by the Seven, what. A. Bod — when he and his co-workers stumbled into Meleys two months back, seeing your former high school crush aged up and hot had you on your knees for him in the back alley faster than he can hold you from the roots of your hair and grunt.

On a good day, it's easy to see getting past the easy arrangement of sending emojis to alert you wanna get dicked down and him sending a tongue and a heart, sending memes just for the hell of it at random parts of the day— breaking the easy friendship, the nice arrangement, and see where it gets you two, with Stark. On a good day, you can be submerge in the what-if, cute couple-y scenarios and giggle.

But despite the orgasm that could shatter a septa's vows quicker than you can say 'Oh holy Mother', your good day was tentative, broken with a click.

Aemond had made his first social media post since breaking up (the latest one) with Alys.

A darkened bathroom with explicit, orange-glowed lights that covered most of his person but not the slick show of water, freshly showered, against his torso, his chest, his abs. Droplets clung in places one would imagine licking him all over.

You know that bathroom to be the one in his high class gym, one of his favourite places. Since the toxic cycle with Alys started, he frequented it more. Aemond Targaryen was a man of routines and sharp o'clocks, so you know this isn't particularly off-key for him. But the posing (mostly) completely bare with water on his wiry muscles?

"Oh, this whore." You can't help it, as much as it irritated you— because it is clearly a means to get it across that he is newly single without actually saying anything, you can just imagine his DMs firing up with notifs — you couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity.

Aemond Targaryen. Publicly posting a thirstrap.

As public as his social media can get, it's a private account with less than 200 people.

A call rings in your phone, Helaena's face flashing, and you're still giggling when she half-shrieks, "DID YOU SEE HIS IG STORY OH MY GOD."

Your gaze meets Cregan, his bushy, dark eyebrows firing upward upon being able to hear Hel's voice while you winced. You put her on speaker as Cregan giddily comes closer to the phone.

"Good evening to you too, Helaena," you say warmly, giving Cregan's arm a light kick, mouthing, 'Don't you have work?'

Stark had the audacity to shush you, pressing a finger against his lips. You mouth, 'Gossip.' In a mature response, he stuck his tongue out.

Truly a wonder that not twenty minutes ago, this man had you keening over an orgasm.

Helaena continues on, "— I've had enough of this. I already have one slutty brother, I cannot have another one. There can only be two sluts in this family and no more. And that backlit? Seven hells, the whorishness."

"Hel, babe, you are not a slut." You meet eyes with Cregan who waggles his eyebrows, pursing his lips in an air kiss. "Trust me."

Hel snorts. "I know that, I meant my father. The whore of Babylon got nothing on Viserys first of his name, spank king extraordinaire."

If you could simultaneously choke on air and saliva, you would. "Helaena Targaryen!"

Cregan smacked his entire face down on his bed and ate his covers to muffle his laughter, his body shuddering as he did his best. His ass did look good in this view.

"What? Stranger may have mercy on me, but I tell you, before he died and before their marriage imploded, and at times traumatically problematic, they sure did get it freaky when they could. They gave it a good run and traumatised me in the process. I shouldn't have insisted my room was that close to them, maybe I would have ended up being an upstanding citizen of the community."

Cregan flips up, giggles spilling him as he muffled it with his hands. You kicked him again, trying to keep him away from your phone lest Hel figure out where you were again.

"Helaena, my love, compared to your brothers, you are such an upstanding person of the citizenry, the mayor should be giving you an award at this point."

"Right? Maiden have mercy, how busy do you think your shift is going to be tonight?"

You bit your lip guiltily while Cregan smirked, standing up as he finished lacing his boots. Hel thought you had gone straight to work, making up excuses about trying out a new recipe for next month. "Um. Not sure? Probably not by much, it's a weekday."

You don't lie, not really. Cregan mouths 'liar' and throw a pillow at him.

"Good, I'll send Aemond to you tonight. I already told him yesterday and he kind of just made a noncommittal hum— praise hands for another traumatised child of Alicent Hightower who has his own brand of communications issues —" You can just see Helaena's hard eye roll, and you massaged your lips to keep your laughter. The first time you met Hel, you never would have thought she slapped-back self-deprecating jokes out of her pockets faster than you can think a response to the last one. She was sweet, kind, a floral, bohemian girl with her pastel lavender pants and daisy flower clips.

And then you met her, vibed, and there was a dark funny humour to Helaena Targaryen that you always fought just bursting out laughter at the most inopportune of moments.

As sweet and floaty as she appeared, she was a menace.

"— anyway, Mr. Social Whore is going there later tonight, I made him promise. I said if you don't tell me he didn't come, I'm posting every photo I have of him from his naked baby pics to pre-pubescent Teen Teeny-Weeny Aemond, I do not care."

You whistle. "Damn, Hel, okay, I'll tell you when he comes."

"Good. OPLAN Get Aemond Out of This Bad Track Before He Fully Becomes Aegon 2.0 has now commenced. I love my brothers, I truly do, but I can only handle one Aegon at a time. I cannot be scrolling through social media in fear for my life times two, bestie, I refuse." Hel's voice pitches. "I'll talk to you later, bye, babe."

"Bye, Hel!"

Before you could put the phone down, she calls out, teasing, "BYE CREGAN!"

Silence. Then Cregan laughs, calling out, "Bye, Hel!"

The last thing either of you heard is her tinkling giggle before she drops the call.

"Fuck," you mutter, call finished.

Cregan wolf-whistles. "She's good."

You throw another pillow. "It's because you kept giggling like a schoolgirl!"

"Excuse me, that was a manly schoolgirl giggle, I'll have you know." He picks up his keys, winking. "Come on, I'll drop you off at the bar before I pole dance the night away to my job."

You cracked, snorting through the mental image of Cregan Stark, Lead Firefighter of the Ice Wolves Division, shaking his ass on the pole. You pad to the living room. "I'll give you a dollar for your troubles."

"Cheap ass!" he shouts after you.

Aemond arrives two hours into your shift, a little awkward— no doubt remembering your silent judgment of him the morning of his post-break up affair as that has also been the last interaction you've had with him before this, almost a week ago, and now here, meeting you at the insistence (and plotting) of his sister.

Your eyes meet ice water blue. He freezes, then straightens up, giving you a shrewd tilt forward. A nod. It's jerky, mechanical. You roll your eyes, mouth twitching, before you motion him over.

You are already making his favoured drink starter, Sazerac, when he slides into an empty seat on the bar. Your back is to him, refusing anymore interaction, and you know the usual comfort he finds in the eased silence you provide is nonexistent.

Out of all of Helaena's brothers, you've always liked Aemond the most. You teased him it was because the others are Aegon, duh, and Daeron, still in high school and never really around you "old people", but it's also because it's so easy to be around Aemond. When Helaena introduced you to the tall, lithe man who hummed politely at his sister's introduction of you, you found him intriguing.

It's not just the scarred eye, or the pretty, almost marble-statue visage (because by gods, seriously. The Mother took her sweet, loving time crafting the fourth Targaryen, bloody hell— like those cheekbones? With that cupid's bow lip? Okay, Mother, you have your favourites, we get it), or that he tended to keep himself in the background, let everyone else stretch into the conversation.

He often dipped in and out of the social pool like a mirage; a trick of the eye. A nod, a hum— almost, always an answer to someone else's direct question or someone— usually Aegon — dragging him into the conversation with an anecdote needing an input, not matter how inane.

And it intrigued you.

You took yourself and your drink of choice at the time— a Shirley Temple — and sat right beside him. He looked up at you, that one eye of violet widening slightly because you had just. Plopped beside him, thighs touching, before he smoothens out his expression, shifting at your direct eye contact and small smile.

"Can I... help you?" he finally asks, thoroughly waylaid but trying not to appear so.

"The scar." You nodded to his face as he froze. "Tell me about it."

His face had been so controlled, so guarded, when he tersely said, "My sister didn't tell you?"

"Nope. It's not something for her to tell me, isn't it? It's a personal thing. Most scars are." You shrugged. "Even if they aren't, I'd prefer if you tell me. It's your body. Your body your story."

He stared at you for a quarter of a minute before he asked, "Are you drunk?"

"No, why?"

"You're too... forward."

You smirked. "I've been told. So are you telling me or nah, pretty boy?"

And he stared at you for a minute longer, or two, or three— the stare flickers to emotions so fast; shock, confusion, flatter, his own intrigue — before he told you about a stupid fight between children, about a stupid reason par another, and though his words had been concise, obviously keeping a hell of a lot more between vowels and tightened jaw, you don't press him. You let him talk.

At the end, you said, "Badass. Definitely less of a lame reason than what I was imagining, but 9/10 story. Your voice really sold most of it. It's good for telling stories."

In his brain, you could just see the click when his eyes flicked to his sister and back to you. Ah, so that's how they're friends. And he hums, truly, more than anything, stumped by you. And you smiled.

"You're definitely going to be my favourite Targaryen Brother."

It's no wonder then, that you two had gotten close. You had forced a friendship out of him, and the very unattached guy to literally anything new— suspicious of offerings, angry at pity, wary of kindness — had taken into it with a white flag.

So when the whole Alys situation happened, things shifted.

"Sazerac," you announce finally, placing the drink in front of him. He thanks you with a quiet hum, having stopped fidgeting now that you've acknowledged his existence. You raise your eyebrow as his sips turns to gulp, crossing your arms.

Just because you had promised Hel you were going to help him, doesn't mean you were going to make it easy for him. He knows you're pissed; despite the calm structure he had composed himself in, you can see the twitch in his fingers, the way his eye turned away from you the moment you refused to project your normal, warm aura with him.

He settles his drink down, watching the rim of the glass for a minute before he speaks, low and steady. "You're angry with me."

You snort softly. "Wonder why you think so?"

He sighs. "I didn't mean to. To let it get this... messy." He winces at the word, hating it.

You sigh. "Aemy." He comes alive at the familiar nickname, sitting straighter, a relief on the edge of a cliff. "Honestly, I don't give a shit. You want to be trapped in this mess? You don't want to listen to other people tellign you, 'hey dude, maybe no?'"

He winces, remembering the third time he and Alys had broken up. The police car, Aegon vomitting, Hel crying. It makes you roll your eyes.

"Sure, have at it. Have fun, in fact. There's only so much sympathy I can give you for seeking out the problem that you know is a problem before I get tired. Before I stop giving a shit, because there's someone else I love that is starting to get hurt by it. I can only love you enough as much as you are willing to help yourself." Your eyes then narrow, half-glaring into him. "But what I'm truly getting angry about is how much this is affecting Helaena."

"I understand." He sighs again, calling your name but you raise a hand.

"Hold on, I have a bone to pick with you."

"Okay."

You look at him. A second. He waits. And waits.

He speaks up. "Yes?"

You sigh. It's hard to stay mad at him, you've always found so. "I don't know. I had paragraphs to say to you in front of a mirror, but now that it's you I'm looking at, everything just went away." Under your breath, you mutter, "stupid pathetic meow, meow face."

His mouth twitch. Ah. The familiar Targaryen smugness. Pinch Cocky Aemond is back. "Did my face distract you too much, ñuha riña my lady?"

You roll your eyes, unable to hide your own smile. If you called him Aemy, he called you the High Valyrian, his ancestral tongue, my lady. To tease, to establish comfort. You've always liked this better, being closer to Aemond than despising him for his stupid choices and big feelings he has a hard time unraveling, so he makes said stupid choices.

It's ease, it's familiarity, and you both fall into a high step.

"Okay, nerd, so what did Hel—" A customer calls you. "—One sec. Sorry about that, what can I get you? Ooh, nice choice, alright give me a minute." As you pulled a measuring cup and gin, you nod back to Aemond. "What did Hel tell you we're doing exactly?"

"That you're helping me... with Alys." A hesitance. "I know you don't like her—"

"— whoa, hold up, Aemy, I like her. I like her very much. I think she's a bad bitch, absolutely sexy, and clearly, she has good tastes which I respect her for." He had the good graces to blush, still sort of unused by the compliments you so freely give him. "What I don't like is how your relationship with her— here, hey, you're welcome! — has evolved. You were so good with each other, Aemy. And then..."

You mimic a sound of a crash and burn, and a tiny person screaming. He huffs out a laugh before sobering.

"I know." He sighs. "I don't... I don't understand it myself. There's a part of me that recognises I should walk away. And then there's another part that is just... it's Alys."

His palms, open and upturned, falls on the counter. Pensive. Begging. A confused, wanting penitent looking up at a god asking for direction. "I've loved her for so long." His voice quiets, like the words are sacred.

"I've loved her for so long," he repeats as if the words have worn itself out on his tongue, "it's hard to see past her. Ñuha riña, she has always been my future. It's all her. I don't know anything else outside of her."

You pour an Arbor Gold in a stemmed glass and pushes it to him. It's his favourite drink and he smiles at you, at the care, at the memories.

"I understand that," you say carefully. "And I already promised Hel I'd do it, whatever you need of me, to make her see you. But you should know that I'm doing this more for her than for you because... Aems, I believe you deserve so much more. A love that's exciting without it being harmful. A love that's pretty, as easy as breathing. One that doesn't hurt at the edges and pinches like a barbed wire."

"Is that possible for me?" he asks ironically, trying for a joke but you catch that lilt at the end. At that exhale. So much of his history had been broached by pain, borne from it. There are injuries that run so deep, they continue to bleed.

"Honestly?"

He places the wineglass down. "Yes."

You smile. "Yes."

You don't know if he believes you, or if he just indulges in your starry-eyed view of his future, but he smiles nevertheless, as best as he can and murmurs a gratitude.

It's pacifying, insecurity. You let it go for now because there's nothing you can say to a person truly down to trust your words.

"You're going to do this, then?" he asks. "For Alys and I?"

You shake your head. "I'm doing this for Hel and no chores for a month." And you, to show you that there's more past a future that you and I both know doesn't exist anymore. That if you prolong it, ignore how deep the barbed wire has gotten into your skin, it'll be too hard to untangle it when you realised you've bled out enough.

So will you just wear the pain proudly after that?

You shake another order in place, pulling ice and mint. You raise an eyebrow. "I've always known I was going to help. Are you willing to do this? Honestly Aemy, this can go two ways. One, she'll realise losing you is the worst thing that can ever happen— truly losing you to someone else, or two, she thinks you're truly moving on from her. And that's assuming she even thinks it's real, like I mean come on, it's me and you."

He arches a perfect silver eyebrow. You had already asked him if he gets his eyebrows done, and apart from Helaena messing with him back in high school, has been all natural. You think he's lying.

"And what is me and you?"

"Aemy, come on. I'm your sister's best friend. We're like... I dunno, family? She's always known that."

"Doesn't mean she's never felt jealous of you," he hums, swirling his wine with pinch fingers. It's elegant. Entrancing. The red liquid swirls and there are knots and strain in his hand, going through his arm.

And despite the bags under his eye, he still looks so good. Silvery blond hair wrapped in a low half updo, the shirt that hid nothing of his muscled chest.

His words sink in, breaking you from the hypnotizing reverie of looking at a marbled statue. "What? She felt jealous of me?"

He smiles gently, a little bit cockily. "Ñuha riña. Of course she did. Just because she understood your place in my life, in Hel's, doesn't erase the fact that you're gorgeous and we get along well. She liked you, truly, but she isn't blind. It's nothing that you've done, even she knew that. You're just too perfect."

You blink at him, unable to stop yourself from blushing. He chuckles meanly.

"Shut up."

He exhales a laugh. "I didn't say anything!"

"You know what you did." You give him the stink eye before you serve two more customers, thanking at a pretty hefty tip from one of your regulars, bidding him goodnight as he left. It is a slow night, you didn't lie to Helaena.

You almost don't catch Aemond murmuring, "I've missed this. I've missed you. I never like it when you're pissed at me."

"Good," you joke. "So you can watch yourself better. But yeah, I've missed you too. So how are we doing this?"

"I thought you had an idea, having agreed to Hel's plan before I even knew there was a plan."

You roll your eyes. "Well, I've had a few ideas here and there... it's more your comfort I'm worried about."

He frowns, pouty lips pursing. "My comfort?"

You place your palms behind the bar and hitch yourself up by your physical strength. He leans forward, confused still. You smirk. "Well, Aemy, I'm wearing a skirt."

"I... I don't know what that means, ñuha riña." He blinks his one good eye. "Nice skirt? You look pretty."

You force a pout instead of getting flustered by the compliment out of the blue. "I forgot you weren't all that popular in high school."

"No need for insults," he deadpans.

You laugh. "We're going to make Alys jealous, right? It'll be too much to hard launch my new status of existence in your life when you just broke up... but... if we can allude, at least..."

"I-" His frown deepens, the skin on his other eye, the scar, pinches as you see his mind whirr and whirr where your mind was reaching. "I'm still confused."

"Gods, alright, I'll just show you."

"Dude, bro, just put your hand under my skirt—"

"Ñuha riña—"

"Yeah, you know what, godsfuckingdamnit, if I alienate you that bad just shove your fist up my skirt, yes, Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!"

He calls your name, tips of his ears beet red, as a few patrons turn to you two, bewildered and a little amused. You wave at them but you sigh noisily at him. You're sat beside him on the counter, your phone on one hand with the camera app open, and you're glaring at him.

"Are you seriously telling me you've never placed your hand on Alys' thigh?"

"Of course I have!" He lets out a strangled sigh and groan.

"What's the difference?"

"I've never done it so publicly," he explains as calmly as possible, as if he's talking to a child. "And with the idea of posting it for everyone else to ogle. I've always just done it... under a table. Or. On her knee..."

"You're blushing so hard, you look like a tomato?" You snort. "I'm your fake Alys now, and we're soft launching an intimate relationship. This is basic."

"You're not my fake Alys. You're not my fake anytihng and you're not Alys." he says seriously, frown sharpening into a point before he exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can't it just be my hand over yours?"

You frown, forgoing the uncomfortable twinge from not my anything and not Alys. "Is this uncomfortable for you? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"It's not that, never that." He purses his lip. "It's the opposite. I don't want to make you uncomfortable with my touch."

"Aemy," you say softly, smiling slightly. "I am giving you permission. Wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. And you touching me has never made me uncomfortable. Now, come on. Hand on my thigh, pretty boy, so I can take this pic and get the ball rolling."

There's a second more of restraint, of holding back, and before you sigh and suggest something else— maybe he is truly uncomfortable with you, with you not being anything to him, and not being Alys, but is too polite to say anything — he places his palm, warm and heavy, against your exposed thigh.

It's a... new sensation. You've held hands with Aemond before, smacked it a few times even, but it's different when it's on a more... well, when it's not on a non intimate area of your body. New skin, new nerve endings to his familiar warmth and crease.

It makes you swallow how big his hand is compared to your whole ass thigh. Thumb to pinky and he nearly swallows the gaps.

He really has pretty hands. Knotted veins twisting upward to muscled arms.

Both of you nestle in the quiet, just staring at his hand over your thigh.

"Okay," he says, voice even. He's taller than you, always taller even when you're both sat down, and he's closer to the top of your head at this distance, his breath flutters against your hair. "What now?"

"I... take the picture." You blink, shaking your head slightly, as you take his drink and add your hand within the frame so it looks like you mean to take a photo of your drink and not the glaringly obvious hand on your thigh, before you you angle it. You take one, two, three. A few different angles before you feel you've got a few nice ones. "Okay, done."

It feels cold when he takes his hand away, giving your thigh a soft tap before it's back on the counter. He hums.

You get back on the work, choosing one and posting it promptly on your stories. You place Meleys' location and a kiss mark emoji before you post it.

"It does look intimate," Aemond hums, observing the story from his own phone. "But why did you post it on your account and not mine?"

"She's your ex, Aemy," you say, hopping off the chair and moving back behind the counter. The world re-orbits. Everyone back in their positions, the lines clear. The planets move in their normal trajectory again.

"She'll know it's your hand. And if we post it on mine, it has more of an impact, don't you think? We're friends on IG. She sees it on my stories, a man's hand on her thigh, in a background that's no doubt a bar. The hand is sorta familiar. And you posted that slutty mirror pic earlier tonight."

He blushes, you smirk. Planets and moons orbit back, their pace slow, their lightyears fast. Best friend's sister. Sister's best friend.

"If she doesn't recognise your hand at first, your story will prompt it on her brain. It's not a hard connection, you've been together for years. It's a girl thing. An exes thing. Bingo bango, the brain is running. Surely it isn't Aemond's hand? Even if it is... is it truly romantic?"

He exhales. "You're... kind of an evil genius."

"Just kind of? Damn." And you smile because he laughs, the sound spreading warmth across your chest.

Yeah, this is better. It always feels good when you and Aemond are on the same team, when you're not mad at him and vice versa, no matter how stupid the reason.

Saturn rings snap, black holes sink and swim in galaxies so far, far away.

You put your phone on DND as soon as the first five notifs pop up, prompting a barrage of other notifications. When you took a glance at it, it's all a varying degree of 'WHAT THE FUCK', 'WHO THE FUCK', and 'GO GET THAT DICK, GIRL OMG!!'

Only Helaena's message matters, and it brings a smile on your lips.

'Noice'.

Another ping.

'Also— what a bunch of harlots'.

You show it to Aemond and both of you burst in stupid laughter.

TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr

#aemond angst #cregan stark x reader #best friend's brother!aemond #aemond fluff #cregan smut #hotd fluff #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #hotd x you #hotd smut #cregan stark x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#aemond fanfiction #aemond crack #aemond targaryen x reader #tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ

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manicpixiefelix · 4 months

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 13.

Summary: As you promised, you spend the morning with Farleigh as moral support for Oliver's upcoming visit. Perhaps getting reasonably high and discussing your sex life wasn't the best move, all things considered, but it definitely seemed like a good idea at the time.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, kind of explicit discussions about sex, reader gets high and is high for the second half of the chapter (based on my experiences & understanding of weed)

A/N: 6673 words. OH WE ARE SO BACK. we get to spend more time with farleigh this chapter, i love him so very much omg. also the reader's experiences/behaviour while stoned is definitely reflective of my experience, and everyone experiences these things differently so that's that. also felix being down So Bad for the reader when they're high because of how fucking adorable he thinks they are??? man is In Love. but please, leave a comment letting me know how we're feeling about getting back into it after a break for some AU and oneshot shenanigans! next chapter will be from oliver's POV and im THRILLED about it.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

On your first morning back at Saltburn, you wake to the smell of cigarette smoke. Felix is beside you, sitting up against his headboard, cigarette in one hand and book in the other. Groggily you lean over, bumping your forehead to his lowered elbow, and he smiles down at you. In the morning light, Felix is ethereal; at Saltburn, in his element, completely relaxed and at home, he glows.

You'd lost count of how many times you'd woken up next to him, it feels like hundreds, possibly thousands at this point, but something about this, the thousand and first, is different. Is better. Soon enough this dream-space will be broken by the idea of breakfast, and the anticipation of Oliver arriving, but right now you bask in this one, tiny piece of perfect.

Your room.

"My Felix," you mumble mostly to yourself in the morning light. It's more like a sigh, like a dreamy reminder of the Summer to come. Felix goes pink, which you don't even see, eyes closed and wearing a blissful, sleepy expression, half pressed to the pillow by his side.

You'll never be entirely privy to the ongoing thoughts of Felix Catton, no matter how well it may seem that you can read them. But you've always wondered. Sometimes you ask, and you know he wouldn't lie to you, but you always find yourself curious about the things he leaves unsaid. Not now, of course, now you're falling back asleep, but it's moments like this, moments you wonder about how he perceives the vague, offhand possessiveness - or overt possessiveness, if that afternoon you'd spent meticulously marking him said anything - you so frequently display. It's not always intentional. You wonder if he's ever found it off-putting.

It's never been a conversation the two of you have outright had; why not me? Why not only me? It's never had to be asked; beautiful, fanciful people should not be confined. What a shallow answer. Because you are the home I will always come back to, I promise, I promise, I promise. But there's no way to say that out loud. There never has been, even if you've both known it for years.

But none of that plagues you now; the bed and the early morning are both pleasantly warm. The heat from Felix sitting beside you is as comforting and familiar as is the smell of his cigarette amongst the fresh air from the open window. You're drifting back off for what little more sleep you could capture before the day begins, and you don't see the way Felix is watching you in this moment.

There are no eyes on Felix now, no-one to watch, no-one to judge. No-one else who knows how you smile when you sleep next to him.

Breakfast has everyone else in the house buzzing. Venetia's hungry-eyed across the table from Farleigh, her food practically untouched as she demanded as much information from him as possible after complaining about you and Felix being stubbornly tight-lipped. As you hear them gossip, you and Felix share an exasperated look at the edge of the room, you with two plates of food and him with two steaming mugs, before you both head back to the table.

"Y/N, dear," Elspeth cuts over Farleigh's sarcastic remarks about Oliver's fashion choices the minute you settle yourself down. Looking to her with a polite smile, as was custom, she smiles back, "Duncan has put together our Summer event schedule for you, would you still like it to be left in the lilac study?" You nod, quiet and grateful, trying to start on your breakfast before she adds, "as always we've made particular note of the events which your parents have been included as part of the guest list for, so please do just let us know ahead of time whether you plan to be in attendance also -"

"Mum," Felix hissed, to which Elspeth looked rather confused and startled, as if she couldn't understand what she'd done wrong. Pamela, as ginger as you'd ever seen her, and clearly having come back to the house despite not having been here over Christmas, looks to you with that doe-eyed softness that she always seem to have.

"Darling, I didn't know you had parents," she mused with her trademark far-away tone of voice. Her words, however, set off both Farleigh and Venetia, who couldn't help but laugh, and even Felix was grinning behind his mug.

"Of course they have parents, Pamela," Elspeth whispered loudly to her, clearly embarrassed on the woman's behalf, while you just tried to enjoy breakfast, and the absurdity of it all.

"No, I always thought-" Pamela frowned for a minute, looking between Elspeth and Sir James, "aren't they one of yours?" Her gaze turning back upon you, then to Felix next to you, "I recall something about you two being twins, isn't that right?"

"No, dear, that's not -" Elspeth is desperately trying to salvage the conversation despite Venetia all but crying with laughter. Both yourself and Felix, after sharing a vaguely horrified look about the whole situation, try to focus on your breakfasts, even as Elspeth continues, "Pamela please don't say something so crass at the table."

"What's crass about the idea of Y/N and Felix being twins, Auntie Elspeth?" Farleigh asks, wearing a smile that's all teeth as his Aunt freezes momentarily. Venetia's laughing has gone past the point of being audible.

Felix chokes on the coffee he's been trying to hide behind, right as your eggs go down your windpipe and send you into a coughing fit.

"When was Oliver set to arrive again?" Sir James asks like he's absolutely oblivious to the situation that has arisen at his breakfast table, instead lowering his paper to smile brightly at his son.

"Um," Felix takes half a moment to compose himself once more, before levelling a weak smile at his father, "I believe his train gets in at three."

"Wonderful," ever enthusiastic, James nods, "we'll have a car sent out and waiting for him." As if the Cattons have ever made anyone catch a taxi if they didn't have a town car of their own. Forever eager to be the perfect hosts.

"Do you think he even knows what a town car is?" Farleigh asks disdainfully, which sets Elspeth off and cooing about the sorry state of their upcoming guest, while you attempted to swat Farleigh's arm for his comment.

"Hey, no," he leans out of your reach, all but oozing contempt at the reminder of Oliver's impending arrival, "you're my ally in this today, you promised; no being bitchy about my opinions just because I don't want to save a horse, ride a pauper like you do -" even as you snap at him, the eyes of most of the table are on you in an instant.

"Farleigh," you snarled under your breath, feeling yourself growing flustered.

"You're a dreadful fucking pest," Felix frowns at his cousin around you, but Farleigh merely shrugged without even a shred of remorse. Several pairs of newly intrigued eyes are still fixed on you.

"Felix had mentioned that you were fond of Oliver, pet, isn't that right?" Elspeth began tentatively. You kind of wished your chair would spontaneously collapse beneath you, if only to give everyone something else to talk about. Alas, it remained sturdy, and you remained pinned like a butterfly beneath Elspeth and Venetia's gazes, "I never really thought to ask what you thought of the boy, which is foolish of me, he's your friend too, is he not?"

"Clearly," Venetia said, smile surprisingly wolfish.

Oliver's constantly searching eyes shine blue as the sky in your mind. Everything Oliver Quick says, does, and is, seems so deliberate; he's constantly a man with more thoughts than words, so you know that what he chooses to say always has meaning. You love that he's capable of directness that so many others will shy away from, but is able to chatter through small talk if it's to be had. He can read a room and let it affect his approach without feeling the need to change himself; that's why so many of your friends back at Oxford found him so off-putting. It's one of the things you loved about him.

Oliver is Oliver at the club, at the pub, walking to class, in the grocery store listening to you and Felix argue about pasta sauce, in your bed, smiling at you and kissing you and murmuring the kinds of things to you that none's ever taken the time to say, the kinds of things that makes your heart beat hard against your ribs and in your throat in a way that you don't get from people who aren't Felix anymore -

"Uh, yeah, he's a good friend," you shrug and try to seem as nonplussed about the discussion as you're able to, while your eyes are all but burning holes into your plate, "he's really quite lovely, and he's got such a beautiful, unique face; I think you'll be very charmed by him, Elspeth." Beside you, Felix coughs very deliberately to cover a laugh.

Chancing a glance at him, you're both pleased and vaguely mortified to see, not the jealousy you would have seen perhaps a week ago during a discussion like this where he is privy to far too much information about your feelings regarding Oliver. Instead, you see your best friend trying not to laugh at your casual act knowing your casual 'he's a good friend' and 'he's really quite lovely' actual means 'I've been absolutely railed by the young gentleman coming to stay at our house, so yes you could say I adore him'. This is much better than the jealousy. This is one of the many reasons you love having Felix as a best friend. You also desperately wished you weren't at the breakfast table with the entire rest of his family.

Elspeth, however, seems pleased enough by the answer to let you finish your breakfast in peace. Felix does too, but he's wearing this amused little knowing smile the entire time. Okay, if it means Felix isn't being weird and jealous about it, you'll take it.

After breakfast, you allow Farleigh to pull you outside to the picnic table you'd had installed in the middle of your favourite flower garden. He'd asked you to paint his nails, promising to return the favour, claiming to desperately want to spend his last hours of freedom surrounded by beauty while he could.

"You're mad at me," he says bluntly as you're concentrating on painting the nails on his left hand black. Like Freddy Mercury used to, he'd told you.

"No..." you murmured distractedly, trying to wipe carefully at where you'd gotten a bit on his skin.

"You don't have to be here," Farleigh could be heard rolling his eyes, and as you dipped the brush back into the bottle, you paused for a moment, looking up at him in genuine confusion.

"You asked me to spend time with you today," like it's the simplest thing in the world.

"You are aware that you're not actually a robot, right?" It surprises you how genuinely concerned he looks in this moment, leaning forwards, as if proximity would better impart the importance of his words, "you don't have to do just what everyone says; you have free will."

Looking down at the bottle, as if to continue your work and not to hide your expression, you once again tell him that you know. You move onto the next nail, and Farleigh falls silent.

It is beautiful out here. The garden itself that you found yourselves in was actually considered to be yours. It had been a birthday gift from James and Elspeth after hearing some of your idle musings as a late teen. It was an overwhelming offer, one you'd tried to turn down countless times; there were books about the Saltburn Estate as it was, they shouldn't allow you to alter it in any way! But they'd been terribly insistent. Our home is your home. You won't even lie; you started crying on the spot at that.

They'd asked you if you wanted to hire people to get it all taken care of, and while you'd accepted in part, the actual planting and initial maintaining of the garden itself was something you put an entire Summer into.

A circular design with a beautiful vine-covered arch as it's entrance, two thick rows of flowers in various shades of pinks, blues, purples, and whites bordering the outside, with a bubbling stream separating them. Smooth stones lead through the arch to a circular opening of lush, green grass, itself encircled by another small stream. The picnic bench sat at the back of the inner circle, while several small white chairs and benches with ornate tables between them sat either side, still leaving a generous patch of grass that you'd often had picnics on in the years since it's creation.

When you had come back over the following break after the garden had been completed, you see that a single statue had been placed flush against the back of the picnic table, between it and the edge of the stream, fitting perfectly. Far more understated than most of the other statues littering the Saltburn estate, it was of a young woman, her hair tied back and looking even to be quite short if you looked at it the right way, in a surprisingly shapeless toga, arm raised, hand poise to her mouth as if she's about to eat whatever's in her hand. Four large seeds. The figure looks gleeful at the prospect of eating them. The figure kind of almost looks like you. But you've always brushed it off; you're not that vain.

The Cattons have always had loved their mythology.

The family called it the Fairy Ring Garden, and Elspeth especially enjoyed hosting gatherings there.

Now, it was peaceful, just as Farleigh had hoped, smelling sweet even when the flowers weren't all in their full bloom. You cap the bottle, reaching for the top coat.

"They're not going to kick you out," Farleigh breaks the silence as you're shaking up the formula and waiting for his nails to dry. But his words have you stopping dead.

"I never said I thought they would..." you say slowly, while something uncomfortable begins to gnaw at your stomach. Farleigh's expression, while unimpressed at what he knows is a lie, is still full of that concern.

"But you do think it."

Logically, rationally, you know they won't. But you also know that you can't even bring yourself to say it in a way that was believable. Farleigh's looking at you like you're a puzzle he can't even being to solve, a friend with a problem he doesn't know how to talk through. So you ignore the comment altogether.

"I am mad at you," you say instead, looking up at him with a humourless smile.

"About... this?" He frowns.

"About implying that I have the hots for Oliver at the breakfast table, you dick," and you got back to shaking the nail polish as Farleigh laughs in that sharp and familiar way that breaks all the rest of the tension.

"I was not expecting breakfast to be such a shitshow," he wheezes with laughter, his free hand coming to rest on his chest as he kept his hand with it's black nails still on the table for you, "Pamela is a riot, God I love her."

"Where did she get the impression that Fi and I were twins?" You crows with amusement, which just set Farleigh off again, "and Elspeth's horror at the thought - did you see her face?!"

"I'm not even lying to you, I didn't realise she like, actually knew you and Felix were boning until she made that comment to Pamela -" Farleigh grinned with a scandalous little gasp.

"I hardly did either, except yesterday she got all weird about Fi and I officially sharing a room while Oliver was here, and it was clearly because she knew we sleep together; I have no idea how much she knows, or how long she's known, but she definitely knows," you offered with a smirk, while Farleigh ate up the gossip with glee.

As your focus returned to your work on the final layer of polish on his fingers, the conversation died down for several, serene minutes.

"Felix is going to show Oliver to his room when he arrives -" Farleigh's voice was unfortunately once more laced with disdain.

"Can I ask what your genuine problem is with him?"

It's quiet, but there's a distinct, irate hum from across the table after half a minute. Farleigh, when you glance up at him, is frowning down at his fingers, at you painting the final one, carefully cultivating his thoughts.

"There is an inherent unwillingness to engage in the stylistic aspects of, well, everything, despite how he is a constant, lurking watcher of the world, and must still see the value that is placed on it, that I find... off-putting," he says very carefully, and the minutes you've finished his nails, he picks up the base coat from the table and starts shaking it, waiting for you to present your hands for him to return the favour. "He acts like this weak, little mouse, but he's the cat, always watching every fucking thing, judging all of us but pretending like he's not and he's innocent. He's like you, but at least you're upfront about it," it's not a surprise when he finishes your first hand and looks up to gauge your reaction.

It's the second time someone's compared you to Oliver. Somehow you think you like this comparison better. Still, it feels strange to hear. Farleigh only waits for half a second, however, before he starts on the next hand.

"You..." you too carefully pick your next words, "have clearly put some thought into this."

"Adriana is going to hear a lot about Oliver tomorrow in our session; I'm trying to put some of the work in before I get there," he says flatly, though you can't help but genuinely smile.

"Adriana?"

"Therapist; phone session scheduled for tomorrow. Organised it before I knew about yours and Felix's little coup of my Summer, but I'm more than glad for it now."

"You're still going to those sessions? Good for you, man."

"Yeah, mom and Uncle James thought it might help me stick it out at Oxford," he sucks his teeth loudly for a second, "guess they were right." Then, without even looking up, "she still think you need therapy too," he practically sings, and you hum noncommittally. Farleigh's mentioned once or twice that the few times he'd brought you up in his own sessions, his therapist had seemed reasonably concerned about you. You had chosen to ignore it before, and you would continue ignoring it now.

"You brought weed, right?" That was the other thing about the Fairy Circle Garden, it was tradition to get high if it was any combination of the four of you children. Farleigh grins as he finishes off your left hand, both because your obvious attempt to dodge his statement, and because yeah, obviously.

"Let me finish your nails first; did you bring your iPod?"

"Of course."

You'd chosen a pale, gold polish, something almost close to a cream colour, that sparkled in the light, and spent the entire time Farleigh was furiously searching his pockets for his lighter admiring them.

In the afternoon sun, you and Farleigh lay in the grass of the Fairy Circle Garden, sharing a joint and listen to a shuffled mix of Queen songs. Elspeth had put one of their albums on after dinner, which the whole family let themselves enjoy, and it had been on all your minds ever since.

"Can I ask you something?" Farleigh mumbles, holding his hand up to the sky to admire the shiny, black polish adorning his nails.

"My dearest Fars," you grinned widely at him, "you can ask me anything ever in the world; it's me, you know this, but -" you turn faux serious, though only for a second, taking back the almost finished joint, "now you can ask me anything." And you breathe deeply, letting the smoke sit in your lungs, passing the last of it back to Farleigh. He takes his time, however, and your head swirls the longer you let the smoke settle in your lungs.

"I genuinely cannot picture Oliver being any fucking good in bed," he blurts out, and turns to you; unfortunately there's a look in his eyes that's genuine rather than disdainful, "granted," he amends, seemingly actually reasonable about this, "sometimes my mind does replace him with the puppet version of Pinocchio, from the cartoon - I'm actually not trying to be mean here, my brain just does that -" while you're actually rolling on the grass with laughter, both from his apparent situation, but also because the weed has definitely already hit you.

"Farleigh, oh my god -"

"Stop it," he's starting to sound genuinely distressed, "I've had sex with you, I know what you've got going on down there; I can't stop vividly imagining you getting puppet dick!" Your attempts to comfort him aren't particularly successful when you're still cackling even as you try and hug him. At least he accepts it, returns your hug despite sulking at your continued laughter. Then, and you can actually hear him getting over his distressed bit as he adds, "it's wooden, right? And it grows like his nose?"

It takes you a full five minutes to calm down from your laughter once more, but at least this time Farleigh's laughing too.

"Christ, Fars -" you're wiping tears of laughter from your eyes, sitting up, your legs crossed. Farleigh is still stretched out, lounging on his side and propped up on his elbow, "I'm never going to be able to watch Pinocchio again."

"Now you know how I feel," he shrugs, "and that was before I knew you'd -"

"Whatever weird, possible puppet-based euphemism -"

"Oh, you know me so well," he smirked, though the look in his eyes is warm.

"- I'll pass on," a lull comes in the conversation, and you lay yourself back once more. Checking your watch, you're surprised that there's still quite some time before lunch, "why would I lie?" You lower your arm, and prop your hands behind your head. Farleigh makes a confused noise, "about Oliver; do you think I'm lying?"

"My dearest Y/N," he echoes your tone and affection from minutes earlier, before sliding to his more familiar cadence, "you can, will, and have gotten in bed with every person who's caught your fancy. I have watched you transcend sexuality literally all over the globe, and I know from countless personal experiences - thank you by the way - that you rate sex by how good you can make your partner feel," he looks up at you for just a moment where he's laying on his back like he's remembering those countless personal experiences and you do not have the self restraint to not roll onto your side to face him, to watch him. Farleigh both knows what you're doing, while also finally making his point; "I don't think Oliver Quick is good in bed, I think you just made that man find God."

It's quite the compliment, and if it were anyone else, he'd probably be right.

"Fars-" your smile widens bashfully, and he has to close his eyes for a moment, shaking his head.

"Don't say my name like that, you're derailing the conversation," he mumbles, sounding rather bashful.

"Like what?"

"The way you do when you're high," he huffs an embarrassed breath, cracking an eye open to look at you. You hadn't realised that there was any special way that you would say it, but you apologise faintly, shifting yourself to lay at an angle, your head on his chest, facing him. Farleigh closes his eyes again, wearing a faint smile as he runs his fingertips up and down your arm in a soothing, repetitive gesture. Which does nothing but feel like teasing in your current state.

"Why do you care so much about Oliver's dick-game?" You try and focus. It catches Farleigh off guard, judging by his bark of laughter.

"As you have so thoroughly pointed out at least twice by now, the man has a limited number of features that would be arguably hot on someone with a better personality -"

"Oh, right," you nodded, "your repressed crush on my poor friend who you hate," tone flat, you brace for whatever response you know you will get, but still yelp when you receive a hard pinch on the arm. "Those are some big words, by the way; Adriana should give you a gold star - ow! Fine!" You pout, doing your best to cross your arms despite not actually moving yourself from Farleigh. It takes a few beats, but you hear the faintest laugh echo in Farleigh's chest, and moments later he returns to idly running his fingers up and down your arm.

The moment settles around you both, and you let your eyes fall closed. This moment of contentment almost mirrors the one from this morning, but your head swirls too much for it to be entirely perfect.

"I'm not lying," you finally say. Farleigh makes a noise of interest. Eyes still closed, you're kind of willing to bet his are too, "you said so yourself; Oliver's like me, he... watches," you wet your lips, hesitating for a moment, "he listens."

"But you listen," Farleigh says like the equation isn't adding up in his mind. God why did you have to talk about this in the first place, now all you can think about is Oliver, Oliver, Oliver -

Harder, he'd actually listened. Hold me here. Listened. This angle. You can bend me like this. Pull. Bite. Move. Fuck.

You had to open your eyes; Farleigh is watching you, half seemingly aroused by whatever picture he has in his head, half still relatively confused. Every sensation in your mind feels tenfold right now, you could have said any number of things to prove your point, but there's one that sticks. Slowly, you sit up, half bracing yourself over Farleigh, hands planted in the grass either side of him as your silhouette blocks the sun from his face.

"Fars," you've already forgotten that there's something about that nickname that always gets him, even soft and serious like this, "Ollie's the first person outside of Felix who's made me cum before they've gotten the chance to finish in my entire memory."

Farleigh, who'd been grinning up at you, gently running his fingertips across your cheek and down your jaw, actually looks a little stunned.

"That can't be right." He mutters faintly. Your answering expression is grim and telling, "oh my god," with the exact tone of someone discovering shocking, world altering news about situations far less trivial, but the apology in his eyes and faint horror in his voice is rather amusing.

"Doomed to the life of a - what did you call me that one time?" You grinned despite yourself, sitting back a little, "a service bottom?"

"Oh my god I definitely did!" Farleigh lights up at the memory, glad too for the breaking of tension once more, and you rather eagerly add.

"So it was nice to be, you know, be listened to, taken care of the way I kind of take care of people?" You try to put it to words, "but I still- uh, I think I was just a regular- um -"

"Oliver Quick; service top," Farleigh muses like it's of great importance, which is enough to make you laugh once more. But your arms are getting tired of holding you up, and your self restraint is worn past the point of no return, so finally you lean down to kiss him. Farleigh grins against your lips, "hey."

"Hi," you murmur, everything about you radiating a syrupy kind of fondness, "I'm not mad at you."

"Clearly," Farleigh chuckles faintly, pulling you back in. The second day of Summer and it feels like freedom already, and of Summers long passed. Getting high and making out in the Fairy Circle Garden is not an unfamiliar experience, and you'd always considered it a good way to pass the time. In your mind, it seems like a great idea at the time to share another joint together; you end up with Farleigh's knee between your thighs by the time you realise that you're almost late for lunch.

"Oh my god, Fars, they're going to kill us," you couldn't contain your laughter as you briskly made your way back to the house.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Farleigh called out from a few feet behind, and you stopped, looking at him with concern for his urgent tone. Instead, he swooped in with a grin to give you one more kiss before passing you, "they're not going to care," he adds.

"They're so going to care!" You hissed, voice a guilty mix of concerned and amused as you stepped into the house. Then, after a moment, "I care if they know!"

"That is not something I can help you with, pet," Farleigh shrugged, "but I think they might care about the grass stains on our clothes." And with that he swans away, radiating a bright confidence that you can't help but be endeared by in this moment, that distracts you, if only for a second, from your nerves.

Back in your room, the nerves set in tenfold when you find Felix to be there as well.

"How's Farleigh coping?" He asks with a pleasant smile.

Be totally cool and stealthy and not high right before Oliver's meant to arrive. You can do this.

"Surprisingly well," you responded cheerfully, raising your hands to show off your nails, "we listened to Queen," maybe a non sequitur, but not an incriminating one, you tell yourself, "and..." frowning for a moment, you pull at the shoulder of your shirt, trying to examine it for the grassy faux par Farleigh had been accusing you of. As you're trying to figure out if you really do need to change, it appears that your mouth takes on a mind of it's own, adding, distractedly, "... grass stains. Fi-" you look to him with sudden intensity, not having realised that in your attempt to see the back of your shirt, you'd tried to turn to get a better look, like a dog chasing it's own tail, "Fi, is there grass on me?"

Felix, taking you by the shoulders to steady you, is giving you a truly bemused look. It's enough for you to already be pulling away from him, stripping off your shirt to look in your drawers.

"I'm going to kill Farleigh," but you can hear his exasperation is highly coloured with amusement. He chuckles faintly, "and you, probably."

"Ooh~" you mused mostly to yourself, "see, I told Farleigh this would happen," you clicked your tongue as you squinted into the drawer for the perfect replacement. Then, very suddenly, you processed all of what Felix had said; "and boo, don't kill me," you pout, pulling out a button down and taking a few moments to check the size on the tag to see if it was yours or Felix's, "I'm capable of a great many things, Felix," you tell him matter-of-factly as you pull the shirt on. Satisfied with your change in wardrobe, you look to see him sitting on the end of the bed, looking thankfully endeared by your antics, "and we're late to lunch, almost," despite how you strode over to him with purpose, standing yourself between his legs, arms draped around his neck, "poor form showing up late, covered in blood, and with a dead friend in the other room;" he can't help himself, he laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist, looking up at you with the most loving exasperation in his eyes. However the sound of his laughter is absolutely what you would consider a victory, "see, don't kill me I'm occasionally funny."

"You're so fucking high." He laughed a little helplessly. Drat. At least he seemed to find it funny, leaning forward to press his face against your chest for a long moment as he let out a faint sigh. Felix is warm, his breath on your skin through the fibres of your shirt, his arms around you, knees pressed against your legs; Summer is sweltering, and if he were anyone else you'd be extracting yourself in an instant, but you want to melt into him in this moment.

"Shh," you stage whispered, petting his head, "don't tell Felix, we've got an important guest arriving today," and he looks up to see the apologetic smile you wear as you run your fingers through his hair. You drop the bit, "it seemed like a good idea at the time, then I..." you hummed for a moment, frowning, "lost track of... it. Time."

Felix's gaze softens as he looks at you, eyes shiny and pupils blown wide, holding him so tenderly. Does he even know that he looks at you like that? Does he know how much it means to you?

"You make it frustratingly difficult to - we have lunch-" he has to firmly remind you, even though he is grinning and endeared by your antics, as you bring one leg up over his, knee settling beside him on the bed. Your smile is only guilty because you know it should be, not because you feel any kind of actual guilt. You bring your knee off the bed, but are now straddling his thigh.

"We have lunch," you parrot back with a nod. But Felix's hands are still on you, still wrapped around you and holding you to him, watching you with this look like he's endeared, like he's almost mesmerised by you in this moment; you, who keeps echoing 'we have lunch' until it starts to lose all meaning, and you kind of forget that you're still just standing in your room with Felix, until you're chanting those three words under your breath like a little song that you're bopping along to. Any real thoughts had absolutely left your head about a minute ago.

Felix is watching you with that look in his eyes like he's never loved anyone more in his life.

"I am so hungry," you finally broke out of your little, strange trace, before lighting up, "oh my god we have lunch!" Suddenly enthused, as if you'd forgotten the entire few minutes that had just passed, you step back. Taking Felix's hands, you pull him to his feet as he laughs sweetly, "come on," tugging him through the halls, he lets you lead him by the hand, "once we finish lunch it means its almost time to see Ollie, and we love Ollie!"

Very suddenly three rooms away from the dining hall, you stop. The pace you'd set was eager, so Felix practically crashes into you without a warning, and has to catch you both on a doorframe. You've got your hands flat on his chest, the airy, pale linen shirt he'd chosen for the warm day, staring at them as he's braced over you. Then, very suddenly, your focused expression breaks into a smile like the sun from behind a cloud, looking up at him with absolute joy.

"We match."

He looks down; your nails, his shirt, almost identical shades, though your nails still sparkle faintly.

"I should have said I was stopping," you added, though neither of you had moved. You were still looking at your hands; "I should say more of the things that I think in my head out loud." Then, after a long few moments, and Felix continuing to indulge you, he hears you mutter, "I can feel your heartbeat in my hands."

You should definitely move and go to lunch and not stand here and be close to Felix for an infinite amount of time even if you know that Felix loves you and would definitely indulge you and would let you stay in this space and this moment and this close to him forever and ever if you asked. None of which you say out loud. Instead, what comes out is -

"I like that we match," and you drag your hands down his chest to take the hem of his shirt between your fingers, momentarily tugging on it as Felix finally stepped back.

"You're an absolute terror," he says fondly, taking your hand.

"Yes, but I'm your terror, fuck-o," you tell him with a childish kind of glee, and Felix was rather glad you couldn't see the way the silly little sentiment had made him melt.

As much as he adored the way you became overwhelmingly talkative, loving, and bold whilst high, he still had to stop you both outside of the dining hall to remind you to tone it down.

"Mum and dad can't know," Felix insisted, and you nodded very seriously.

"Mum and dad can't know," you agreed in a whisper, collecting your composure as best you could. For the record, you did pretty good; you didn't serve yourself an ungodly amount of food despite how hungry you were, you used the correct knives and forks even if it took you about twenty seconds of squinting to identify which would be best, and you made a point to be pretty much monosyllabic in conversation. It was working. For the most part.

"It's such a wonderful day, such a lovely omen," Sir James cheerfully gazed through the large windows in the dining hall, clearly glad for the sun.

"Yes, I forgot how beautiful it is to see you all taking advantage of the grounds on days like today," Elspeth added, "I think I saw you two heading out there," looking up, you see her gesturing to yourself and Farleigh with a polite smile, "how was it?"

"A beautiful place to cope with Oliver's impending arrival," Farleigh says through a humourless smile. Venetia leaned over her plate to leer at you both.

"Fucking in the Fairy Garden again?"

"No," you replied arguably too forcefully, mouth half full of food and gaze focused on your plate, terrified of giving away your state right now. Pamela, across the table, spluttered into her tea.

"Venetia," Elspeth admonished, scandalised. However, as much as you were trying to act normal, considering your relationship with three of the individuals at the table, it didn't register until it was too late that your normal may not be everyone's normal at the table -

"It's the middle of the day, Ven, I have a sense of propriety when the sun can see me," then, clearly losing your grip on self restraint while Venetia grins upon seeing her mother's exasperated face momentarily in her hands, you leaned a touch closer to Farleigh, "oh, and Felix is going to kill you."

"I'll add it to my calendar," Farleigh rolls his eyes with a smirk.

"I'm going to kill you both," Felix himself chimes in blithely.

"See, I told you so," you again leaned in to Farleigh, who just gave you a fond, amused smile in response.

"What?" Comes Elspeth in the lull, unsurprisingly befuddled, "Felix, darling, why are you killing your cousin and Y/N?"

"No reason!" You respond jauntily with a sincere, sweet smile. It seems like Elspeth's trying to decide if she should be concerned or not. After a long moment, she decides to accept that it's a joke.

"Well don't do it where I can see," she sits back primly, "or if you must, I request it not be bloody."

"I'll exsanguinate myself in preparation," Farleigh says flatly without missing a beat. No-one at the table had been expecting anything like that, and the mood breaks, turning as light as the sky outside, with the sound of everyone's laughter.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start imagine #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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worldlxvlys · 3 months

Text

texts with fwb! nate (part 8)

fwb nate x sturniolo reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

a/n: hehehee

when i walked into nick’s room, he was sat with his legs crossed on his bed.

upon hearing me, his head shot up in my direction.

“hey” he spoke softly, flashing a small smile.

“hey” i whispered as i closed his door before joining him on his bed.

“ok, so. start from the beginning” he said.

i explained the entire situation to him, leaving out the explicit details.

when i finished, his eyes were wide and mouth hung open.

“you mean to tell me you two have been sneaking around for months ?” he looked distraught.

“i know, i get it, you’re disgusted in me. i couldn’t keep my legs closed-“ he cut me off.

“hey, don’t talk about yourself like that. i’m not mad that you kept it from me, i’m upset that you felt like you had to keep it from me”

my face scrunched up in confusion.

“listen, i don’t love the idea of you being with one of my best friends, but if he makes you happy then i’m not opposed to it” he said.

“and i get you keeping it from matt and chris, but why me? i always thought that we were close enough to tell each other anything” i never considered the fact that he might be more hurt about me not telling him than he was about me being with nate.

i let out a sigh, “i don’t know, nick. i always just assumed you would tell them. you never keep things from them, isn’t that breaking triplet code, or whatever ?”

he placed his hand on my arm gently.

“yes they are my triplet brothers, but you’re my sister. when have i ever told them about your business ? it’s not mine to tell. i’ve told you a million times before and i’ll tell you again, i have your back. of course i won’t tell them”

“thank you, nick. i really appreciate it”

“always. but you do know you can’t keep this from them forever, right ? you’re gonna have to tell them eventually”

“yeah, i know. i just gotta figure out how”

“hey, we’ll figure it out together. that’s what i’m here for” i pulled him in for a hug, squeezing his shoulders.

“ok, so, give me all the details” my eyes widened.

“you want the details ?” he immediately caught onto what i meant.

“wha- NO! NO! not the sexual details, jesus”

i raised my hands in defense, “alright, well, how was i supposed to know what type of details you were talking about !?”

“i meant, the stuff you were talking about in the texts”

i felt my face begin to heat up and i looked down. “oh, those details”

he tilted his head, dropping it slightly to meet my eyes “you have feelings for him” he asked in a softer voice.

i squeezed my eyes shut as i fought the smile that was growing on my face.

“OHHHH! you’re getting all bashfullll !” he teased.

“nick, stoppp” i said as i covered my face with my hands.

“don’t hide now girl, you weren’t shy when your bed was banging against the wall last night”

my eyes widened in horror, jaw hanging open.

“yeah, bitch, you forgot we share a wall, huh ?”

“y- you heard that ?” i asked, eyes still as wide as ever.

“ girl. you’re not quiet, sorry. i knew you were fucking someone, just never thought it was nate of all people. that man has you screaming and moa-“ i slapped his chest quickly, trying to shut him up.

“oh my gosh, nick. please stop”

“ok, ok” he said. we both looked at each other before breaking out into fits of laughter.

tears streamed down our faces and we held our stomachs as we continued to laugh at each other’s laughter.

when we finally calmed down, we wiped out tears away.

“ok, but i’m actually really glad that you found out. i need to talk about my feelings”

“that’s what i’m here for”

we talked for a while, staying up until the early hours of the next day.

eventually, we fell into a peaceful slumber.

we were blissfully unaware of what chaos we were going to wake up to.

———————

yayyyy supportive nickkk

fwb! nate masterlist

main masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnsdior @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @freshloveforthefit @creamoncreamoncream2 @whos-avi @imwetforyourmom @rootbeerworshiper

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yuanology · 10 months

Note

Im back again👹, I’ve been thinking on fwb with suguru, and I believe that in some way Suguru would prefer fucking in the night, only the moon through the window as a source of light, yknow like i can’t get out of my head praising suguru, telling him how pretty he is but he can’t help it but feel not enough ,like not enough to be something more than a sexual partner

lowpropgeo my head is full of sad ideas 🐸(it’s a sad frog )

jesus fucking christ.

suguru lets out the prettiest noises when you're buried deep inside of him, thrusting into him lazily as if you intended to make love to him until the end of the world came and passed, leaving your skeletons still wrapped in each other's arms; a perfect mimicry of the lovers you were not.

he was shy about his noises. you knew that from the very beginning. he would cover his mouth with his hand, beg you to stuff his mouth full with your fingers. even so, you always taught him that there was nothing at all to be embarrassed about. you always caught his wrists, pinning them over his head, as you coaxed sound after sound out of his lips.

tonight was no different. the blinds were parted slightly, just enough for the moonlight to filter through. it was a pleasant reminder that just one wrong move was all that it would take to reveal everything unraveling here to the rest of the world.

you were always careful with him. this sight was just for you, after all—geto suguru in your sheets, his back arched and his lips parted, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull and his toes curling in his pleasure as you coaxed out pretty sound after pretty sound from his mouth. he was beautiful, always had been, and unlike most people, you had the privilege to tell him that straight to his face.

so you did.

"you're beautiful," you whispered. your voice was too soft, too loaded with such reverence and awe, but you had learned to stop catching yourself a long time ago. suguru was always the most beautiful when the compliments would filter through his ears, and the weight of your words would settle on his ribs.

true enough, suguru let out a sound that was akin to a sob. his nails dragged across the skin on your back, no doubt leaving red marks that wouldn't fade away for days. you only let out a low chuckle, the sound helplessly fond, as your mouth met the skin of his jaw.

"it's true," you continued. "you're beautiful, suguru. every inch of you." especially this way, bathed in the moonlight with his hair splayed all around him like a crown; a halo befitting a fallen angel

here, cradled in your existence, geto suguru was entirely yours—and what a thrill it was to hold him in your arms, to simply hold him as you fuck into him lazily without a care for the world. "so, so beautiful," you murmured.

he let out a ruined sound. "please," he choked out. it wasn't the first time he had begged you tonight, and you sincerely doubted this would be the last if you kept this up.

he was always so good to you, setting aside his pride and arrogance just so that you would hold him the way he deserved to be held—as if he was something precious, as if he was someone worthy. it was still nice, admittedly, to see suguru break and become a mindless being who just wanted more of your touch, your presence, your love.

"please what, gorgeous?" your lips skirted over his jaw.

his voice was strangled. "want more. not enough." he sounded fucked out, entirely braindead. you doubted he even noticed the way his hips were fucking against you, the motion steady enough that you could stop thrusting into him and he would barely notice.

"what's not enough, lovely?" you asked him. a customary question.

you expected the ordinary answers, the sound of his voice catching in his throat repeatedly before he managed to grit out his answer. please, you could already hear him say. please, this isn't enough. i want more. it was routine at this point, a predictable motion, a back and forth.

so you weren't expecting it when he choked out—

"you."

there were tears in his eyes. his nails were scratching down your back. his voice was ruined. this should all be the usual. this should be predictable.

except his answer was all the wrong ones.

oblivious to your internal struggle, suguru sobbed underneath you. his body writhed, clinging onto you tighter. "please, please, please," he babbled. "i want more. not enough. please, not enough."

not enough. not enough. not enough.

all thoughts of lingering quickly curdled into something sour in your stomach. you reared back, hips meeting his in one abrupt motion. a loud scream escaped suguru's throat, a sound that you would usually relish in but couldn't focus on now.

your motions were robotic as you fucked him, sharp and hard and fast the way suguru liked it when you ruined him. not enough, huh? fine. if suguru thought none of this was enough, then you would just please him the way he wanted to be pleased. you wouldn't linger any longer, wouldn't give him reprieve or a chance to be touched the way he deserved to be touched.

(and fuck, didn't that thought hurt? you thought you were both doing well; that something more was perhaps blooming. you must have thought wrong.)

suguru continued letting out slurred words under his breath, his pleas bleeding into the sound of his own choked moans. you disregarded it. instead, you fucked him as if you didn't care about him, fucked him as if he was just another warm body for you to get yourself off on.

suguru wailed, and you swallowed the heart beating in the back of your mouth.

not enough. not enough. not enough.

you leaned your forehead on his shoulder, feeling him shudder underneath you beautifully. you couldn't help the lump that formed in your throat, the gentle ache in your chest that you had learned to associate with geto suguru.

not enough.

it shouldn't be a surprise, really, that suguru woke up the next morning without you by his side for the first time in a long time. there was no letter, no message, none of your warmth lingering on the bed next to him. you were gone, just like that.

still, suguru thought as he clenched his fists. at least, if you were going to leave him, you shouldn't cook him breakfast and leave out coffee before you did.

#this ran away from me . again .#i can't believe i put this on backburner for so long and instead of even writing good smut it just became angst #i'm so sorry frog anon i hope you can forgive me of my crimes #geto suguru x reader #sub jjk #sub geto suguru #top reader #male reader #( thirsts. )

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55sturn · 3 months

Text

𖥔 ݁ ˖ WISH YOU’D LET ME STAY

↳ masterlist!

↳ summary: in which matt and y/n have a complicated relationship, they label it friends with benefits, but deep down they both know it’s much more than that, however neither one wants to crack first, but one of them is pushed to their breaking point and makes a decision they can’t take back.

↳ pairing: fwb!matt sturniolo x fem!reader

↳ warnings: swearing, partying, mentions of alcohol + drugs, alcohol + drug consumption, mentions & allusions to smut, possessive!matt, jealous!reader, jealous!matt, verbal arguments, mentions of physical fights & injuries [descriptions of blood].

↳ author’s note: i know the triplets are sober but for the sake of this story, they are not!

THIRD PERSON POV

the first thing anyone will tell you when considering a friends with benefits situation, is to not pursue it with a close friend. the second thing they tell you, don’t enter any emotional territory. do not get to know the person outside of what they like in the bedroom. that’s why people opt for an acquaintance that they are comfortable with but don’t have a tight-knit bond with. if you decide to pick up a friends with benefits situation with someone you’re comfortable with but don’t know much about, you don’t end up seeing them as someone more than who you’re having sex with, you don’t start to feel guilty when the inevitable happens.

what is the inevitable you ask?

someone is bound to catch feelings.

sex is rather intimate, for the most part. you see someone in their most vulnerable, most bare state. and it’s rare for someone to be vulnerable nowadays, to see someone bare their entire being is incredibly special.

so to pursue that with a close friend, it’s dangerous. because the intimacy of the bond changes, slowly but surely it begins to manifest into something more than just sex. it becomes more than just two people using each other to get off. it becomes something special, where you learn more than just surface level stuff about your best friend. you do not only get to be there for them and make them feel good emotionally, you get to do it physically.

and that is what slowly morphs the reality of what you’re doing.

so when matt and y/n decided to take up a friends with benefits situation, they ignored the warnings from those they confided in. they were adamant that they weren’t going to let it ruin the friendship. they were so sure it wasn’t going to be another cliche that is seen in movies that they had even said the infamous last words.

“if things get to be too much, we stop and stay friends. we’re not gonna let this wreck the friendship we have.”

and they wholeheartedly believed themselves for the first four weeks after their initial agreement. they had been hooking up almost daily without spending too much time with one another once they had both cum, but silently, over time, things became much more difficult. feelings started to arise and were getting harder and harder to ignore they longer they spent in each other’s beds after many hours of exploring each others bodies with their hands, eyes, and mouths.

matt knew from the get-go that partaking in this type of relationship with y/n was going to end badly, given the fact that he’s secretly harboured feelings for the girl since middle school. he figured if he couldn’t be her boyfriend, he could at least be the person she turned to when she was insatiably horny.

and y/n knew she was emotionally fucked from the last time they hooked up. it was the first time she had genuinely kissed matt for the sole reason of just wanting to feel him close. she normally kissed him because she wanted to get to the point of them being locked away in some room. but that fourth hook up had changed things for her.

it didn’t help that hooking up had changed the way they hung out with each other. from careful and safe physical interaction came pointed, comfortable teasing and flirting. they figured that physical affection shown in the same way couples would show it, was acceptable given the fact that they were fucking on the low.

it also didn’t help that matt would say the sweetest things to her during and after sex, his words would have her heart swelling and melting, and the pet names he used would have her feeling like a schoolgirl sitting beside her crush. and the fact that y/n would always have a change of clothes laid out for matt to change into after sex and showering so that he could feel comfortable, and the fact that she always made sure to bring him water and food after they cleaned made him feel butterflies swirling in the pit of his stomach. he knew that y/n’s main love language was acts of service, so for her to show that to him considering she didn’t show it to people she wasn’t extremely comfortable or close with, had him questioning if maybe his feelings weren’t unreciprocated.

FLASHBACK

y/n smiled at matt as made his way into her apartment after she buzzed him up. the two of them had hooked up earlier that day but matt was bored out of his mind at home alone after chris and nick had gone to some random ass party. so he shot y/n a quick text that read “buzz me up in 15.” and she happily obliged.

“hey, need your dick sucked again?” she laughed as she made her way to her couch, tucking her legs beneath her body as she sat down. if she had known matt was coming back over, she would’ve put more effort into her outfit. she definitely wouldn’t have worn a ratty college t-shirt that she had bought from urban outfitters and something prettier than a plain black thong.

“nah, nick and chris went out and i didn’t feel like going to a party so i decided i’d come over.”

“i just figured you needed something, yknow, sexual.” she teased as she tossed him the remote, letting him pick the show to movie for the night.

“that’s not the only reason i come over, y’know.”

“i know, it’s just been the only reason we’ve seen each other lately.”

“i know and i feel like a douche about it.”

“nah it’s okay matt, i promise.”

the two fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the tv that played the office and their occasional laughs as they quoted the show. the two had gradually gotten physically closer as the night progressed, ending with y/n sitting with her head on matt’s chest as they watched tv. but eventually, matt had to leave after chris called him about fifteen times, both he and nick completely shitfaced, and they need a ride home.

so when matt solemnly got up to leave, she did as well so she could walk him to the door, what happened next left them both questioning their feelings for the first time.

“okay text me when you get home so i know you made it.”

“of course pretty girl, can’t have you spending all your time worrying.” matt laughed as he slipped into his shoes. y/n rolled her eyes and leaned up, pressing a quick kiss to matt’s lips, pulling away before he could reciprocate it.

“fuck i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay but i should go.” matt spoke quickly, briskly turning to the door and walking out, letting it shut softly before standing outside her door, his chest rising and falling quite quickly as he processed what happened.

he knew it wasn’t rare for them to kiss but what was rare was them kissing without it leading to sex.

the two slowly began to pull away, spending more time lost in their own minds instead of lost between each other’s sheets.

FLASHBACK OVER

as y/n made her way through the crowds of people littered around the rented out mansion, she sighed sadly. she had been looking for her favourite triplets, needing to get drunk with nick for the first time in months but she hadn’t been able to find them. nick said that they were planning on showing up, and if they were there, they had done a good job of not wanting to be spotted. however she figured matt was the reason behind that.

ever since their accidental kiss, matt hadn’t reached out to her asking her to come over to his place or asking if he could go over to hers. it had been completely silent between the two of them.

y/n had felt like she’d appear clingy or desperate if she texted him first, and matt felt like he’d come off as a complete douchebag if he asked to fuck after their accidental kiss, so he settled for using his own hand and her pictures.

y/n had tried getting off on her own but it was to no avail each time, and she didn’t really like the idea of reaching out after kissing him unexpectedly so she suffered in silence. but tonight, she decided she was going to go home with someone new, she was sexually blocked and she needed to forget about matt for a little while. she figured that the radio silence between them meant that their little situation was over.

as if on cue, she felt someone tap her shoulder, turning she was met with the most gorgeous brown eyes she’s ever seen.

“hey i’m jake, i noticed you earlier and i’ve been working up the courage to talk to you because i think you’re the prettiest girl here.” he smiled, his cheeks were dusted a deep pink as he shyly met her eyes.

“i’m y/n, and thank you.” she giggled, sticking out her hand for him to shake. the two spent a few minutes talking, getting to briefly know each other before one of her favourite songs came on.

“wanna dance with me? please? i love this song!”

“how can i say no when you asked so nicely.” jake flirted, making y/n giggle and roll her eyes as she dragged him to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. she pressed her back against his chest, slowly grinding and swaying her hips against, letting the tension and friction slowly build as his hands roamed her sides. she leaned her head back against his shoulder, turning to face him, pressing her lips against his. the two of them losing themselves in a heated make-out, unaware of the eyes burning holes into the side of jake’s head.

matt watched the scene unfold with a disgruntled expression, his eyes narrowing as y/n pulled away from the random guy, wiping her lip with her thumb. matt felt his anger build as she turned to fully face him, leaning back in to kiss him again, and before matt knew it, he was charging to the unsuspecting pair.

without a moment’s hesitation, matt ripped jake off of her, whipping the stranger around to face him as he pulled back his fist, letting it fly forward with as much power as he could muster. jake dropped to floor in a crumpled heap as matt loomed over him, ready to keep punching until the guy was nothing but a bloody mess but y/n’s hand wrapping around his bicep, her nails digging into his exposed flesh had him stopping. however jake had other plans as he stood up, cocking back his fist and swinging, clipping matt in the jaw hard enough to make matt bite his tongue which drew blood.

matt was quick to rip his arm out of y/n’s grip, quickly delivering blow and blow to jake’s abdomen, making the six foot something guy quickly double over, giving matt the opportunity to punch him square in the nose, which left jake curled up on the floor.

“you better stay the fuck away from her, you hear me?” matt seethed, spitting out blood on the floor beside jake’s curled up body.

matt’/ chest slowly starts heaving as y/n tears him away from the crowd, toward the deck. as they stand outside, away from prying ears, y/n paces slowly, her face in her hands as she shakes her head. looking up at matt, a blank expression covers her face.

“matt what the actual fuck is wrong with you? what was that?” she spits, unable to wrap her head around matt’s behaviour.

“i didn’t like seeing him all over you like that.”

“why?“

“because you’re mine!”

“excuse me? you’re the one that ghosted me out of fucking nowhere because i fucking kissed you! it wasn’t the first time we’ve kissed so i don’t understand why you pulled away matt.” she replies, a dry and bitter laugh following.

“so me ignoring you for a couple days gives you the right to throw yourself at anything with a dick?” matt spits out, rolling his eyes at her reaction.

“what the fuck is your problem?” she scoffs, her chest heaving slowly as she steps toward him, getting ready to slap the smug look off his face.

“you are! you fucking kissed me. you made me fall in love with you. you have taken over every single fucking inch of my brain, of my fucking room, of my entire life! you are everywhere and i can’t fucking breathe without smelling your perfume on my sheets, on my clothes, everywhere in my fucking room. you are lingering everywhere in my life and i’m so sick of it because i am so fucking helplessly in love with you and i have been since we were in middle school. and i thought that being fuck buddies would help that feeling go away. i thought that if i had even a little bit of you, i would see what it’s like and i would be able to move on. but it didn’t work, it made me go absolutely fucking crazy over you, y/n because i don’t know what you feel, so that’s my problem. you are my fucking problem.” matt yells, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he realizes he just confessed his love for her.

“you’re such a fucking idiot, matt.” she rolls her eyes, roughly gripping the collar of his muscle shirt, yanking him towards her and pressing her lips against his. his hands immediately find her waist and he tugs her impossibly close as he hands move up to either side of his neck.

“i love you matt, you dumbass, i have for years.”

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ssinboo · 1 year

Text

As it was

summary: There’s nothing that nourishes the ego more than envious looks from old classmates. At a ten-year class reunion, Seungkwan is looking forward to enact his long-term revenge plan. When it all comes crashing down, you're helping him pick himself up the only way you know how.

You and Seungkwan are occasional friends with benefits

pairing: fwb!Seungkwan x Reader, they bicker a lot but don't hate each other enough to call it enemies lol

word count: 5.4k (20~ minute read)

warnings: toxic couple, unprotected sex, unresolved feelings, alcohol, sex in a public place, oral (f rec.)

a/n: happy new year and happy valentine's day! I'm immensely thankful for the past reception of my fics <3 thank you so much! I do have a couple ideas for a sequel on this, which makes me insanely excited <3 I hope you like it ^_^

There’s nothing that nourishes the ego more than envious looks from old classmates. The same eyes that underestimated now quietly calculate the overpriced budget of designer clothes.

Ten-year high-school reunion? That’s just what Seungkwan needed to flaunt his new prime spot as a host of "Bad Clue." He’s certain no person alive in this century hadn’t heard of him and his many accomplishments, but it felt good to rub it in.

“Oh, Seungkwan? I saw you on TV, do you think you could sign this for me?”

It’s a phrase he’s heard all night as his old high-school mates pour into the cramped barbecue restaurant. Not many dare to converse besides the cheeky favour. “Do you think you could get my resume in?”

Why did he even come?

Ah, that’s right. His first love, Lee Sohee.

She’d completely abhorred his very existence, but now, no one could. He’d make his comeback and completely captivate her heart only to get his revenge by giving her a taste of her own medicine.

“Did your injections go wrong? you can’t smile.”

The sound of your voice makes Seungkwan cringe. He scoots away when you plop down on one of the free seats to his side.

“Why are you here?” He spits back, watching you struggle to open the Soju bottle.

“You looked miserable,” You flash him a mischievous smile.

Your relationship was complicated, to put it kindly. Living in a small town, Seungkwan had known you his entire life. You were classmates throughout all of school and you haunted your way around him all through university, as well.

He said everything he knew about you had been against his wishes. And part of it was true, with how much time you inevitably spent together, you became closer than planned.

It was during his first year of uni when someone implied he was unpopular with girls and he panicked. Saying ‘of course not!’ He even had a girlfriend; You, the first girl that came to his stupid drunk mind.

Oh, you had a field day with that one. It was easy using it as blackmail material, getting a ride anywhere, takeout, and help with your homework. Seungkwan practically lived at your place, cleaning up and making you breakfast every day. University was a breeze for you after he dug his own grave.

“Seeing your face made me miserable.”

You scoff.

Seungkwan mumbles some curses under his breath and snatches the bottle away from your hand, opening it with ease. You cheekily hold your cup up.

A couple months into the pretend relationship, you decided to try it out for real. Not that anything changed except for the physical part, it was a convenient relationship until the very end, with none of that lovey-dovey bullshit. You parted ways when Seungkwan got into one of the many companies he auditioned for and left for the capital.

Motherfucker never even bothered breaking up with you.

You had a lot of fun being dramatic in front of his mother and getting him in trouble for that one, too.

“How long you in town for?” You raise your shot glass toward his with a satisfying ‘clink’ before downing the liquid in one go.

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” He replies curtly, finishing his own shot.

“Wow,” You hiss at the burning in your throat, shooing it away with a shake of your head. “Forgotten your roots, already?”

He scoffs, “I have to work, dumbass.”

“When’s your flight?”

“Eight hours.”

Widening your eyes, you can only stare at him in disbelief, “Why are you here? You should be fuckin’ sleepin’ or somethin’.”

“Not yet.”

And you’re hit with the stupid epiphany over the reason Seungkwan is so damn intent on watching the door.

“Oh my God, Kwannie,” You groan, dramatically flailing in your chair at that fact. It’s been a decade already, he’s like a superstar, why is he so hung up on this?! “Just… Stop! This is getting sad!”

“Mind your business.” He hisses, pouring himself another shot to help cope with your presence. That’s what he tells himself, it’s totally your cringey voice and not the anxious blackhole that has set in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m serious, why are you in love with her?” You lean closer, and your concerned gaze burns him.

“I’m not! This isn’t love! This is revenge!”

You sigh, patting his shoulder, “I know, buddy, whatever you tell yourself.”

Seungkwan lets out a frustrated groan, “Why can’t you just— Mind your business?” He shoves your pity pats away.

Turning around, you stand up. “Oi! DK!” You yell, setting Seungkwan in complete panic mode.

“No! No! No!” Seungkwan tries to shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth but it’s too late, you’ve caught the attention of the loud drunk.

“Aye! My gorgeous! You called?!” Seokmin stumbles toward where you sit.

Seungkwan gives up with a frustrated sigh and plops back on his chair, taking you down with him.

Seokmin and Sohee were polar opposites, she was popular and elegant. Every guy wanted to date her while every girl wanted to be her. She excelled in all classes and was loved by faculty and student body alike, she was student council president and never let anyone forget that. While Seokmin was a loudmouth, always making people laugh, not too long into his second year of high school, his teachers gave up on making any information go into that thick skull of his. He compensated his single-digit IQ with the kindest heart possible in a human male.

“Where’s our princess Sohee?” You giggle, leaning over Seungkwan’s shoulder to face Seokmin.

“Ah! My beautiful, precious, gorgeous noona!” He announces with a bright smile. You can’t help but laugh at his intoxicated antics. “She said she’d pick up the invitations after work, she’ll stop by later.”

“Invitations for what?!” Seungkwan whips his head around. You’re the only one that notices his jaw trembling.

The word doesn’t take a genius to know its many connotations; Especially the only one that made sense in the context.

“AH!” Seokmin claps his hands. “YOU DON’T KNOW!” He laughs, only building up suspense. “Sohee is getting married.”

Ah… He screwed up.

All of a sudden, there’s no fucking reason for all this. The carpet has been swept from under his feet without a moment’s notice. Everything has built up to this moment and for what? Sohee is getting married and didn’t even bother to send a message.

She wouldn’t care.

He could stand before her, wave his shiny accessories, flaunt his status and she would be happily married.

Everything so far wouldn’t mean anything if he didn’t get his fucking revenge.

You watch as Seungkwan clenches his fists under the table, biting into his lips. Seokmin, of course, doesn’t notice the way the news was taken and has entered a monologue on how happy his older sister is with the matrimony.

Before you can call his name, Seungkwan bolts from his seat, leaving you and his belongings behind.

“He has a flight to catch soon! Thanks, DK!” You yell, hastily gathering up your bag and his coat and stumbling your way out of the restaurant to follow Seungkwan.

“Kwannie! Kwan! Stop!”

He pays you no mind, stomping his way toward his expensive rental and you quicken your pace, high heels loudly clacking against the asphalt.

“Seungkwan! STOP!” You snatch the keys away from his hand and shove your body between him and the door. “Are you fucking crazy?! You’re not driving.”

That seems to wake him up from his anger-induced trance, but now that you’re close, you seem like the perfect target to channel his rage.

“Get out of my way.” He hisses, eyes glazed in deep-rooted hatred that burns its way through his veins, its flames feeding on the very oxygen he inhales in shallow breaths.

You cross your arms, reciprocating his heated stare.

Seungkwan breathes in, ramming his fist against the doorframe only an inch or two away from your face. You’re not proud to say how hard you flinched.

“Fine, I’ll walk.” With a sigh, he just leaves you there.

“At least take your fucking jacket.” You jog toward him, juggling both your coats as you try to swing your bag over your shoulder, “What if you get sick? Your manager will kill you—“

Seungkwan turns around and snatches his expensive item from your hands, returning to his fast pace afterwards.

You struggle to keep up in your platform high-heels, so you shrug them off and run. Your tights will only protect your feet for so many steps but you’re too intoxicated to think that far.

He sighs at your unbothered smile and quickens his step. His legs might be long and slender, but you have quite the stamina and willingness to be a menace.

“Where are you staying?” You ask, hoping there would be a cab available downtown to escort your angry friend.

“Mind your business.”

You click your tongue.

Gathering up your courage, you blurt it out:

“I thought you knew.”

Seungkwan halts and turns around just in time for you to crash into his chest. His lungs heave with curt breaths, and he swallows hard, eyes studying your face for a sign of jest. There isn’t any.

“You knew? You knew?!" His fingers dig deep into your shoulders as he shakes your body, jaw tight in anger.

Sohee wasn’t just a pretty girl, I mean, she was– is, gorgeous. But that was never the reason young and impressionable Seungkwan fell for her, no. He was a chubby-cheeked, awkward boy who blushed at just about anything, and she was a goddess, descending from heaven to help him gather his scattered books back into his hand-me-down backpack. And he held this crush, letting it root deep into his teenage heart and blossom into first love. He talked about her all the time, his every waking thought plagued by Sohee, you remember how angry he got whenever one of his sisters teased him about it.

Entering High-school, he gathered up his courage and on the last day of school, he confessed.

And she had this look on her face, of utter and total disgust. As if he wasn’t even worthy of the oxygen he consumed. He was a mere bug that dared to enter her sight. She never uttered a word, but she didn’t have to; As her friends threw insults, crushing his weakened spirit, Sohee laughed.

The following year, he’d become someone totally different.

You can’t find it in your heart to mind his reaction, you actually understand it and you feel nothing but sorry, “I mean… She wouldn’t shut up about it. The whole town knows, I thought your mum had told you.”

“She didn’t.”

He lets go of you with a push and you stumble slightly.

You adjust your bag strap, “I figured…”

It seems the news finally settle into the pit of his stomach as Seungkwan runs his fingers through his perfectly styled hair with a heavy sigh. It crunches slightly under the weight of his fingers.

He’s a thirty-year-old man crouched down in the middle of a deserted road in his minuscule hometown, grieving his ten-year-old plan of getting revenge on his first love. God, the paparazzi would have his ass had he been in Seoul.

But in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, the only audience is you; And despite your track record, you show empathy, like a real, feeling, breathing, human being and not a folklore swamp witch that ate children for breakfast.

“Come on,” You announce, jogging up to grab his wrist and drag him before he can protest.

The school was very well-located. Standing strong in the very middle of town, its pebbled paths are still the same decade after decade.

The trees stand strong, far older than either of you and certainly outlive you. Its leaves are a bright shade of green this time of year, lively and healthy. God, you skipped so many classes under that shady spot behind the gym.

When you stop at the side gate, Seungkwan is horrified.

“You’re not planning to break in, are you?”

You roll your eyes, digging around in your purse for your crowded keychain. It’s dangling with many keys, but they are outnumbered by the sheer amount of keychains you have. Childish and colourful they make all sorts of noises as you look for the right key. When you unlock the gate, his surprise is visible for almost an entire minute.

“I keep forgetting you’re someone with a job, given how nosy you are.”

His dig goes ignored as you pick your heels back up and head in without further notice. Seungkwan had no choice but to follow lest he wanted to stand on a deserted road in the middle of the night with nowhere to go.

It’s a weird feeling coming back to your old high school after so long. The walls feel all too familiar at the same time they feel foreign. Scattered memories find their way into your thoughts as you navigate the ambience. Every corner holds a moment that would change you forever, that shaped you into the person you are. And yet, the decor has not changed, despite how much you have.

“I’ll give you an exclusive tour through our lounge, how about that?”

You stretch your arms in a flashy way, pushing open the door labelled as “Teacher’s Lounge”.

Becoming a middle school teacher was far from being your dream since childhood. It was something you had never thought of, but it felt natural once you received a recommendation from the guidance counsellor. Seungkwan bullied you over your sad, boring, life and how you were doomed to live in the middle of nowhere until you are wrinkly and old.

In the lounge, there are desks neatly arranged in the middle as well as a sofa in the corner with a fridge and a microwave. The decoration is minimal, a framed prize of excellence that’s almost three or four decades old, but it’s the only one you have to display.

You launch your heels and bag toward the couch and bee-line for the fridge. All while Seungkwan feels out of place in such a saintly space for teachers, the child in him feels naughty for entering the lounge without being invited by a grown-up. (You don’t count.)

Just behind the leftovers, in a box labelled “Frozen peas" was your communal stash of booze. Of course, no one was drinking on the job, but sometimes when you and your co-workers stayed back way past the sunset, you’d crack open a bottle to share.

“Is that allowed?!” Seungkwan widens his eyes at the familiar green bottles.

“It’s allowed as long as you mind your damn business,” You hiss, comfortably dropping into the battered old couch and patting the seat next to yours.

Giving up, Seungkwan cracks open his bottle and plops down next to you.

With a mischievous smile, you stretch your legs over his, laying down by the couch arm. He doesn’t even bat an eye, not as much as a side-eye or grumble. God, he must feel like shit.

“What’s the plan for now?” You ask.

Seungkwan sighs, taking a long sip.

“I don’t know… It’s meaningless.”

“There’s still plenty of ways of making her miserable,” You announce, taking a sip before announcing your marvellous idea. “Oh, you could crash her wedding!”

He gives you a half-hearted laugh, it eases the anxiety that looms in your stomach.

“And go to jail? Lose my career?” Shit, he has a point. You hate when Seungkwan has a point. “No, thanks.”

You’re deep in thought, mulling over ways to obliterate Sohee’s happiness in the cruellest form possible when he speaks up.

“I’m pathetic.”

There are no other words the egomaniac, arrogant Boo Seungkwan could say that would break your heart. The atmosphere feels wrong, having those words dissipate into the air, become a reality as soon as he speaks them out loud.

“No. No, you’re not” You lean forward, a light hand coming to touch his shoulder.

You wish you had better words, you wish you could be normal for a second and be serious about your emotions without roundabout ways of making the conversation lighthearted lest you actually acknowledge how much he means to you.

“Yes, I am. I’m almost thirty and I’m still fucking hung up on her—I mean, is that pathetic or what?

“Kwannie, shut the fuck up, you’re our national treasure. Everyone we went to school with WISHES they were in the place you are right now.”

He shakes his head, but you don’t allow yourself to be interrupted.

“Didn’t you see how everyone looked at you tonight? You stole the spotlight from the moment you walked in. You have everything you worked for.” Seungkwan is quiet, biting on his lower lip. He appreciates your words and it’s implied by the small pat he gives to your thigh.

You’ve got the bottle attached to your lips as you toe off your ripped tights, peeling them off your tired legs. No saving this pair, too bad, they were brand new. Warm alcohol buzzing down his throat, Seungkwan is almost hypnotised by the sight of your creamy thighs peeking from under your skirt as you struggle with the fabric.

“I could fuck her husband,” You joke, throwing the useless tights across the room and barely missing the trash can.

“No. No, you can’t,” His tone is so overly-serious you just can’t help but elaborate.

“That would ruin her wedding— Or do you mean I couldn’t seduce him? I mean have you looked at me? I could totally bag that snarky city boy,” You’re so engulfed in your argument, pulling your waistband over your feet that you don’t see Seungkwan leaning over to pull you into his lap.

“No, I mean. I won’t let you,” He stares deeply into your soul, hot breath hitting your lips, “You’re not allowed to fuck him.”

It’s the booze. It has to be.

I mean, why else would you, out of everyone, find this somewhat possessive behaviour so fucking hot?

Maybe it’s just how out of character it feels. Seungkwan always treated sex, with you at least, as such a mundane activity.

“wow. Sexist much?” You laugh awkwardly, wrapping your hands around his neck.

He smirks, “What? Like it doesn’t make your pussy wet?”

Your breath hitches and your mouth feels dry, dry and lonely, especially when his lips look so soft and rosy covered in his high-end tinted lip balm. You’d like to think it’s the alcohol clouding your judgement and that you are not that desperate for him in your other encounters.

Hypnotised by his lips, you’re melting into his body, finding your place on his lap. Every slight move of your hips his thighs tense up, your skirt has ridden far enough for your clothed core to touch his bulge, a shameful wet patch finding its way on the fabric.

“Say it again,” You ask and it’s a breathless plea that tickles his nose with lustful intent. Seungkwan smiles, eyes locked on the way you bite at your lower lips, so eagerly awaiting him.

“I won’t let you, you will not leave my sight,” He says, his adam’s apple bobs up and down in a dry swallow, “You can’t fuck anyone else.”

And you find his lips, consumed by your want. Mouth crashing on his with the weight of burnout, alcohol and horniness buzzing through your veins; Only heightened by how long it’s been since your last rendezvous.

Seungkwan holds your waist tight, fingers burying into your skin, leaving his mark everywhere they touch. He pulls you into his chest, impossibly close and even then, it’s not enough.

He groans into your mouth and you greedily swallow every sound he makes, eager to devour everything he will let you have, you will wait on hand for every drop of attention if you have to.

Arms secured around your hips, Seungkwan leans back. You’re still glued to his lips, chest flushed with his; Hips mindlessly grinding against his slacks, every bit of friction a blessing bestowed on his strained erection.

“Come up–” He says, lessening his grip on your waist.

“Wha… What–” You’re panting against his lips, breath tickling sensitive skin making him regret parting the kiss.

“Ride my face–” Oh.

Well, he didn’t have to say it twice.

Blood is rushing to your lower bits so fast you almost feel lightheaded, you want nothing but to crush his head between your thighs until he is out of breath and moaning nothing but your name.

He licks a long strip, moaning against your cunt at the intoxicating taste. Unconsciously, you’re thrusting your hips at his tongue, spreading your slick around his face.

Every time felt like the first when he tasted you on his tongue, when you dripped onto him, melted into his lips so willingly. When you moaned his name and chased your high, using him as you wished.

His nose bumps against your clit, making your body flinch instantly at the friction. Seungkwan chuckles against your cunt, tongue focused on prodding at your expectant hole. You gulp, reaching your hand to grab fistfuls of his hair, it crunches softly under your fingers, the hair pomade smells of tangerine.

Fingers digging into your flesh, he leaves crescent moons tattooed into your skin; part of you wishes they would last, constant reminders of him and every emotion that follows, you wish this moon cycle ended in something other than being left on read.

But at this moment, as Seungkwan eats your pussy like a starved man, bringing your hips closer and closer as if you were the very oxygen in his lungs, you can pretend.

With a soft mewl of his name, you glide your pussy along his open tongue, lewd wet noises filling your ears with sinful thoughts. His eyes are glazed with lust, staring up at you to capture every breath you take to drink your every moan with senseless intent.

“Pull my hair—“ he whines against your thighs, his voice is a hoarse whisper that tickles your sensitive skin, “Pretend you’re my teacher— Call me a bad boy,” Nipping at your skin, Seungkwan stares expectedly into your eyes.

God forbid you ever felt anything but maternal love for any of your snotty students, but Seungkwan words go straight to your pussy like a slap to your face. And you’re crushing his head between your thighs with such strength it has left the perfect imprint of your legs on his cheeks.

“You are such a weirdo–” You reply, absolutely floored by his request and even more by how willing you are to comply with any of his wishes.

Seungkwan whimpers, biting at your skin. Every word that dances in malice travel through his burning body, eliciting goosebumps over every inch of skin.

“Stop being such a brat and eat my pussy,” You command. The power feels dizzying, dripping from your lips with an unfamiliar venom.

“Fuck–” He curses before diving back in.

His thumb finds your clit, toying with the sensitive nerve at a slow pace even as his tongue absolutely demolishes your hole. You whine, tightening your grip around the locks of his hair.

The vibrations coming from his soft moans are going straight into your core, travelling along your bloodstream, rushing to your brain with the addicting dopamine.

“You– You’ll be a good boy, huh?” You ask, unsure of how to phrase it, if it will please him, domination feels unfamiliar on your tongue, “Be a– Fuck! Be a good boy and make me cum…?”

He nods fervently against your pussy, nose tickling your clitoris with the perfect amount of pressure to make the knot in your belly tighten.

His name falls from your lips as you cum, keeling over with a strained moan, legs convulsing from sheer pleasure.

Seungkwan taps your thigh when he can’t breathe and you pry yourself off his face, stumbling over your numb legs. A string connects your slick to his lips and you almost moan at the very sight.

“Fuck– That was hot. You’re so fucking hot–” He smirks, pulling you flush to his chest, crashing his wet lips against yours and you can taste yourself on him.

And you taste of unrequited love.

His hands are on your body so caringly, caressing every inch of exposed skin and exposing more on his way. You part the kiss to urge him to remove the tee shirt he wears and he practically destroys your pretty button-up with how roughly he tears it apart.

You whine at the fact and he shushes you with soft promises of getting you something prettier.

Your chest feels so soft against his, heartbeats matching in ardent craving, longing for the next minutes you will spend in each other’s arms.

When your hands find his perfectly ironed slacks, you can feel the strained bulge and the very obvious wet spot that stains the dark navy fabric. Seungkwan groans, flinching away from your touch as much as his brain yells at him to chase your hand.

“Fuck– I need your pussy— I’m gonna fuckin’ die–” He groans, pulling your hands away before he can waste any of his cum on your hands. He can’t do it today, he needs to be inside, to claim and conquer, to feel part of something.

Biting your lips at his words, you lay back, spreading your legs willingly. God, Seungkwan almost cums at the sight.

You’re looking up at him with such a lewd glaze painting your doe eyes, your own slick coating your lips above smeared lipstick. Chest heaving, your tits heaving up and down with every bated breath.

He pries open his belt and lowers his trousers just enough to free his throbbing erection. You whine at the sight, it stands red and angry, oozing precum and so ready to plough you into tomorrow.

Seungkwan didn’t wear condoms with you very often, only when he was fresh off a relationship and didn’t have time to get tested before your meetings. The last time you’d met, he had just broken up with a rookie idol, a petite thing with big dreams and pretty eyes.

He’d fucked his frustration into your hips that night, not a word about how his feelings. The next morning, he was back to normal.

But tonight, he was going to fill you up; God, it had been too long since he felt your walls clamping around his cock with such enthusiasm.

You adjust yourself over the pillow and watch as Seungkwan rubs himself over your slit, collecting as much lubrication as possible. Hissing, you hurry him up. He slightly thumbs at your hole, stretching it.

“Just fucking do it already–!”

He slaps your clit, “Shut up.”

Crossing your arms, you look away in resentment. Seungkwan chuckles at the sight of your pouty lips.

“Stop sulking, yeah?” He leans forward, whispering against your lips, “I’ll fuck you nice and good once you’re ready,” His kisses are gentle against your swollen lips, collecting more of your cheap red lipstick that stains more than you’d wish.

Deciding you’re somewhat ready, but mostly giving in to the extreme horniness that burns through his bloodstream, Seungkwan slowly thrusts into your tight hole.

“H-Holy shit–” He chokes, leaning forward to bury his reddened face into your neck. “How are you so fucking tight? No matter how many times I fuck you–”

He bottoms out, kissing the tip of your cervix, filling up the hole that sits at the bottom of your heart with plain arousal.

Your brain oozes dopamine at the stretch, tearing you apart to scramble your insides and batter your heart, only to put you back together with a single soft smile.

“Fuckin’ Move–” You managed to gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing his chest flush to yours.

Seungkwan half-worries he might go too harsh, that you’re not ready by how tight you still are; But you’re thrusting your hips against his, mewling sweet, tempting pleas against his ear.

So he cedes to your wishes, hips pistoning into yours with relentless desire. Your pussy squelches lewdly around his cock, a ring of arousal pooling around the base. He groans at the sight.

And you’re squirming under him, his name dripping from your tongue in a harmonic prayer.

Between thrusts, he finds your lips with the intent to drink your every moan, every syllable of his name that leaves your lips in a breathy moan.

Hands tight on your hips, Seungkwan lifts your leg to wrap around his waist, allowing him more leverage to plough your pussy as he wishes, to ravage you in every way. Stake his claim in the most primal way possible.

The new angle allows him to caress your sensitive spot with every merciless shove of his dick into your hole. The sofa creaks under the weight of you, and you’re silently praying it doesn’t break because you will flee the country before you explain to the principal why the lounge couch is broken.

Tears leak from your glazed eyes, you bury your face into his hair, smelling the citric hair gel, the woody cologne he created in a collab with an indie brand a couple years back.

Seungkwan nips at your neck, biting at your skin, trying his damndest to hold back the groans that want to escape, the praise that boils over on his tongue at how well you take him, on how you were made for him. Words that feel heavy, that elicit tears from your eyes and make you clench around him too hard.

“Come on, come on–” He urges, hand reaching to rub at your clit. Knowing fully he won’t last long.

“Fuck– M’ close!” You whine, arching your back, handing yourself on a plater, pliant and willing.

When you come, you’re silent, pulling at his hair with breathy gasps. Your walls convulse around him, milking his cock for all he’s worth, coaxing his own orgasm.

Seungkwan comes undone in hot spurts, painting you white with his cum, collapsing against your chest with a faint whisper of your name.

Still inside, he wraps his arms around your waist, peppering soft kisses along your collarbone.

He is only loving in the aftermath when the room smells of sex.

You wake up not too long after, and Seungkwan snores softly on your chest, drooling over your sweaty skin. You feel anything but sexy, all clammy and gross. And he’s gone soft and you can feel the cum leaking over your thighs.

With a sigh, you grab a pillow from the floor, shoving it under his head so you can hopefully leave without waking the beast. Luckily, you’re out of his embrace.

Plucking your clothes from the floor, you realise only one of the buttons remains on your blouse. Cursing Seungkwan in your head, you wear it anyway, having nothing better. You pull the skirt down after wiping away the fluids from your skin.

Seungkwan groans, mouth dry and arms numb, he sits up.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” You ask, leaning over the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“What time is it?” His voice is hoarse, it tickles your tummy with the tempting domesticity.

“Just past two. When’s your flight?”

“At six,” He huffs, leaning against his knees.

You offer him some water, which he gladly accepts.

The silence isn’t awkward, it’s a comfortable blanket of omission that hides in its thread the unresolved feelings that snowball over decades.

“Do you miss it?” You ask, eyes focused on the night scenery outside the window, not nearly courageous enough to stare at him.

“What?”

“Our school years.”

“No fucking way. They sucked,” He laughs.

You chuckle.

“Didn’t you have fun? We used to go over to Chan’s after school and make his life a living hell.”

Seungkwan laughs at the nostalgic memory.

Lee Chan was the brother of an upperclassman and you became friends by chance. He was absolutely obsessed with girl groups and you, Seungkwan, Seokmin and Soonyoung just loved to make fun of his taste.

“What is he doing these days? Man, he was so easy to mess with.”

“He left for Seoul, to become a trainee in high school.”

He nods.

“If… If it hadn’t been for Sohee, do you think you’d have enjoyed it?”

It’s almost a hopeful question, a melancholic plea for acknowledgement. In the underlines, there is a secret question, “Do you miss me?”

“…I don’t know, maybe.” He shrugs.

maybe.

That was enough for you.

When he gets into the uber with a soft wave, heading back into his glamorous lifestyle, you’re left to pick the pieces of your heart back up, glue them all together with a boring routine and mind-numbing deskwork until he can break them again.

384 notes · View notes

ak4e7a · 3 months

Note

hoon eating ur pussy and getting pussy drunk !!! then making reader squirt and he acts all cocky ab it bc he’s hoon

oh my god ... oh my god ... okay ... yeah ... I just fainted but I'm up now so let's get into it !!! thank you anon I love u and I love cocky hoon <3

jealous fwb hoon incoming >:)

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅::✼✿ smut under the cut ✿✼:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

you heard the rumors. you knew he heard the rumors. choi yeonjun from your econ class was planning on asking you to be his girlfriend. anyone with eyes would tell you to say yes, but anyone with a brain would suggest that you reconsider because, well, yeonjun wasn't exactly known for his loyalty or ability to be in a long-term relationship.

anyone with ears would tell you that he tells every girl the same recycled lines, anyone with a mouth has probably been kissed by him at one point or another. and anyone who knew both you and sunghoon would tell you to say no to yeonjun.

why? well, because for as long as you've been fucking park sunghoon and he's been fucking you, he's had feelings for you. he just doesn't want to confess because as the story goes, he thinks you don't want a relationship.

and you think you don't, either, because the sex is so good and he gives you aftercare after every session. but then you keep finding yourself staying over at his place after he fucks you to sleep, dozing off in his arms because you feel spent and tired and most importantly, safe.

"don't say you'll be his girlfriend," sunghoon blurts out when he comes up for air, his head between your legs. he's been eating you out for the past hour; it's the longest he's ever edged you for and part of you feels like it's a punishment of some sort. "you won't be his girlfriend, you're mine."

"what?" you gasp, your chest heaving, entire body covered in a sheen of sweat. "what are you talking–aaaaahhhhhh fuck, hoon!"

"I'm not fucking saying his name, yn, and if you wanna cum, the only name you should be saying is mine," he growls, nudging your legs open and holding them there so you can't close them around his head. you think his self-control is insane but then you catch a glimpse of him grinding his hips into your bed, clearly trying to give himself some friction, even if just by a little bit. sunghoon is definitely losing his mind, you think, but you're no better than him.

"I-i w-won't!" you cry out. "I don't want him!"

"oh, yeah? then who do you want, baby?" he asks, prodding at your entrance with two of his fingers, staring directly at your cunt with his pupils blown wide and dark.

"you, hoonie! nobody fucks me like you!"

"yeah? you're gonna be my girl?" he attaches his lips back over your clit and sucks hard as he thrusts his fingers inside you, curling his fingers up to massage at your g-spot that you're sure by now has his fingerprints indented on it. "no one will ever love this pussy as much as I do, baby, fuck, you can't take this away from me, just be mine, stay with me, I'll fucking do anything for you..."

"yes! yesyesyesyes! 'm yours!" you scream. "hoonie, stop, please, I'm, fuck, I can't, it's so much!"

"no, baby, you're gonna squirt for me so that you remember who you and this pussy belong to," he says against your wet center, flicking his tongue over your clit while his fingers move even faster and harder. "and in case your little fucked out brain can't remember, it's me."

"fuck! sunghoon!" you wail as the dam breaks and you squirt right into his mouth.

he laps it up appreciatively, humming to himself. when your eyes open, he's still between your legs, gently stroking your folds with the most smug smirk you've ever seen him wear (and you've seen a similar look on his face every time he makes you cum easily).

"yeah," you sigh happily. "i'm never leaving you."

#park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #need him biblically #enha smut #🀄️ask #🀄️anon #🀄️thoughts

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yeoosaangg · 7 months

Text

Babydoll || Kinktober - Day 12

pairing ▸ han jisung × f!reader

now playing ▸ babydoll - ari abdul

⤷ ❝wrapped around your finger, wish your tongue would linger.❞

genre ▸ idol au, fwb to lovers, smut

warnings ▸ masochism, praise, degradation, choking, fingering, rimming, marking, blood kink, consented recording, overstimulation, dumbification

--------

You haven't seen Jisung in a while, so you were a bit surprised when he called you. He was already whiny, asking you to meet him in his studio.

You were in the middle of getting your pussy ate by some random dude, but you couldn't just say no to your baby.

You told him to go faster, squirting all over his face before kicking him out.

When you started messing around with Jisung, you made it clear it wasn't just going to be him. He was perfectly okay with it back then.

Until he fell in love with you.

Now, it breaks his heart everytime he finds out you've been with other men. He wants to be the only one to have your attention.

Not that he'd ever tell you, though. Your arrangement has rules, specifically a "no falling in love" rule. He hates it now, regretting signing the documents.

But he doesn't regret the times he does spend with you. You help release a lot of his stress by feeding into his kinks. You being a domme was perfect for his disgusting fantasies.

You walk through the familiar hallway and find his studio. As soon as you lock the door behind you, he throws himself into your arms.

He kisses all over your face, saying how much he's missed you. You rub circles into his hips to calm him down, fingers slipping under his hoodie.

You kiss his forehead, amused at how giggly he is at your presence.

Y/n: Hey, there pretty baby. I missed you, too.

You had another guy's tongue in your cunt just ten minutes ago... But he doesn't need to know that.

Jisung pulls you onto his chair, sitting on your lap. His legs hand off the side, arms wrapped around your neck.

Y/n: Needy for me, aren't you?

Jisung: Need you so bad. Too much stress.

You kiss his entire face, hands groping his ass. He moans into your mouth, turning to straddle your lap.

He tugs at his clothes, whining when they don't come off. You chuckle, helping him get completely naked.

He tugs at your clothes, big eyes staring at you with such eagerness.

You give him permission to remove your clothes, and he leaves you in only your panties. You question his motives and then realize he's staring at your wet spot.

His face turns into a scowl.

Jisung: Who was it this time?

Y/n: Don't even know his name.

Jisung: Did he fuck you?

Y/n: Nah. Just ate me out.

You know he's jealous. Though, you think it's adorable. What's he gonna do to you, huh? You actually want to see him try.

Jisung: Why do you do this to me, Mistress? Do you secretly hate me?

Where did that come from?

Y/n: Of course not, baby. Why would you think that?

Jisung: You let other men touch you. Especially on the same day I want you all to myself. Do I not satisfy you enough? Am I too boring?

You frown, cupping his face when he tries to look away. You use your thumbs to wipe the river of tears pooling down his face

Y/n: What is it exactly that you want to tell me? You're spiraling and I need you to reel it back in, Hannie.

His bottom lip trembles as he stares at you with such sad eyes.

Jisung: I'm in love with you. And it hurts me everytime you're with men that aren't me. Why can't you just love me back?

Oh.

It's not that you don't want to love him, you just never thought about him that way.

You're the type of person that needs to be 100% sure that someone's interested in you in order to open up that part of yourself.

Just like now.

Y/n: I'm sorry that I hurt you, but that wasn't my intention. I was not aware you had feelings for me, seeing as our agreement was strictly of us being friends with benefits. That doesn't mean I can't love you one day.

His forehead creases, confusion now adorning his adorable features.

Jisung: What do you mean by that?

Y/n: I'm someone that believes it's unrealistic for someone to be into me. I don't pick up signals as well as others do because I assume it's just a friendly gesture.

He hums, playing with the string of his hoodie.

Y/n: Now that I'm aware of your feelings, I can slowly open up to the possibility of dating you. But it'll take time, Hannie.

Jisung: I'll wait for you, Mistress. I truly don't mind.

You give him a long and passionate kiss, a huge contrast to the hasty and lustful ones you usually give him.

Y/n: How about I take care of you today? Do whatever you want me to do to you, yeah?

Jisung: Really?

Y/n: Yes, babydoll. Anything you want.

He grins in excitement, looking around to see if anything can give him inspiration. He pulls the microphone and starts a brand new recording, pressing the button.

Jisung: Is this okay? Want to listen to it whenever you're not with me.

He's so fucking adorable.

Y/n: Humiliating, isn't it? Listening to yourself fall apart at my touch.

He moans when you grab his cock, pumping it at an agonizingly slow pace.

Jisung: Not at- Fuck! Not at all, Mistress. Love it when you ruin me.

Y/n: Yeah? Then what else do you want me to do other than tease your cock?

He melts in as your hand starts to pump at a faster pace.

Jisung: Carve your name onto me. Brand me as yours.

You bite down on his shoulder, the thought causing such nasty and vile comments to flood your brain.

Y/n: Where, babydoll.

Jisung: My hips. Please, Mistress.

You watch as his cum shoots out, coating your hand and his abdomen. You lick his cum clean of your hand, gathering the rest from his body.

Jisung: That's so hot.

You stand up, placing him on the chair. You take out a small switchblade and chuckle at how his cock twitched at the sight.

Y/n: Want me to lick the blood away, my little painslut?

He moans, nodding his head.

Jisung: Can I touch myself?

Y/n: Go ahead, baby.

He was so desperate to jerk himself off as you start cutting into the flesh of his hipbone. He cries out, loving how you lick the blood off with each letter.

Jisung: A heart too, please.

You chuckle, adding a heart next to your name.

You don't stop licking the blood until it has somewhat stopped.

His cum coats your face and he panics.

Jisung: I'm sorry, Mistress! Just felt so good, didn't mean to cum without permission.

You slap his tender thigh, eliciting a whine from the back of his throat.

Y/n: This is about you, babydoll. No need to apologize. How does my masterpiece look?

He looks down and moans at the sight.

Jisung: Now everyone's gonna know I'm yours.

Y/n: And from now on, I'm yours. No more sleeping around.

Jisung: Good. Now please finger me, Mistress.

You spread his legs, eyebrows raising at the small plug lodge in his ass.

Jisung: Wanted to be ready for you.

You kiss the inside of his thighs, pulling the toy out. He moans at the feeling, choking when you shove three fingers into his tight hole.

Jisung: Fuck! Yes, use me like a whore.

Y/n: Looks like you didn't prep yourself right. Did you do this on purpose?

He nods, screaming when you take his cock in your mouth.

Jisung: So good! Warm and wet.

You deep throat him, fingers opening him up as his eyes roll to the back of his head. He plays with his nipples, his breathing labored.

Jisung: Too much! Feeling lots!

Your fingers hit his prostate, his cum shooting down your throat. His whining and moaning tells you he's severely overstimulated.

You pull your fingers out, only for him to grab your wrist to keep them there. But you slap his hand away and he gasps when you hold his hips down.

Jisung: What- Oh, fuck!

You pull off his cock and start eating him out. Your tongue pushes into his ass so deliciously, his legs start shaking.

Jisung: Can I- Mmm- Can I please pull your hair?

You nod, not withdrawing from rimming his hole.

His hands weave through your hair, pulling you closer to have your tongue as far inside him as you can.

Jisung: So good!

You bring a hand up and pump his cock. He throws his head back and cums hard against his abdomen. Before you pull away, you bite his inner thigh, earning a beautiful whimper.

Jisung: Can I be inside you now?

Y/n: Look at you, sweet pup. So eager for me to use you like a dildo.

Jisung: Mhm! Wanna make Mistress feel good, too.

You push his legs into his chest and smack his ass hard. He whines at the sting, but laughs when the pleasure takes over.

Y/n: Dildos don't speak, mutt. Now sit there, don't move, and let me fuck myself on your cock.

He nods, sitting back on the chair. He tries to be as limp as possible, wanting to please you.

You straddle his lap, not wasting any time and bounce on his cock. You don't hold back your moans, squatting up and down, fondling your own breasts.

Y/n: Such an obedient little puppy, so perfectly trained. You can get all the rewards for being so good.

He holds back from whimpering at your words. Your gummy walls engulf his hard cock so deliciously, he's seeing stars.

Y/n: You can speak and move now, baby.

He screams, his mouth attaching to your left nipple. He uses it like it's his own personal chew toy.

Y/n: Such a whore for my boobs. You'd have them in your mouth all the time if it was allowed, huh?

He whines, bucking his hips up. You yelp in surprise at the way his tip hit your cervix.

Y/n: Be a good boy and fuck your Mistress. Use her like your own personal fleshlight.

He was so dazed, he thought he was halucinating. But when you wrap your hand around his neck, he knew you actually meant it.

Jisung: Anything for you.

He grabs your hips and desperately rams his cock into your begging cunt. He watches the way your eyes roll into the back of your head - he wants more.

He starts marking your neck, hickeys lining up your collarbone in a pretty shade of red.

Your orgasm hits you hard, creaming all over his lower half. He smiles in satisfaction from making you feel just as good as you make him feel.

Jisung: Was that good, Mistress?

Y/n: So fucking good.

You roll your hips, overstimulating the both of you. You just want to keep him forever with the way he makes your pussy scream.

Jisung: So... Another round?

---

a/n: *evil laughter* thanks for reading ‹𝟹

102 notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 27 days

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 27, Unhinged - Pt. 8

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, violence, voyerism, coercive sex, manipulation, Pocket reaching her Ultimate Bitch Form.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: Carthage has been spying on you and manipulating both you and Bucky from Day One.

A/N: THE FIRST TIME DIDN'T COUNT, GUYS!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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“She was just toying with you, Jamie, because she could. She doesn’t respect you. Do you honestly think she would pick you over Steve Rogers? Captain Fucking America? Especially with all the pain you’ve caused? The lives you’ve ended? Come on, Jamie, don’t be dumb.” Video Jade caressed Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky’s face fell, and you knew she’d hit him where it hurt him the most.

Jade sat back on her haunches on the mattress. “Don’t be stupid, Jamie,” she reiterated. “Do you really think she’d want someone like you, who can’t even control their cock in a fight, when she could have America’s Golden Dick? I bet they laugh at you, how easy it is for them to get away with it, right under your nose. You think it’s just a coincidence that, as soon as you're out of the country, she’s seen by all of New York’s elite getting cozy with your best friend? The one person you asked her to stay away from? She was just waiting for you to get out of the picture so she can show her real boyfriend off to the public.”

You watched as Bucky’s entire body clenched, his face tightening in anger. “You said you wanted to get back at her,” Jade urged, putting her hands back on Bucky’s body. “To punish her for what she did. So punish her, Jamie. Use me. Use me to make her hurt the way she made you hurt. Don’t let her play you for a fool.” You saw Bucky struggle, at war with himself, but you could see the anger pulse through him, and you knew that, with this snake whispering in his ear, there was no way he could have come to any other conclusion than that you had betrayed him. You almost felt sorry for him– he didn’t have a chance.

“Come on,” she said, leaning Bucky back so he was lying propped up on the pillows. “You won’t even need to do anything. Let me take care of you, okay? Let Vixen make you feel good.” Bucky scrunched his eyes closed, putting his hands over his face. It was painfully clear he wasn’t an enthusiastic participant, but it still hurt knowing that he had been so angry at you for something you hadn’t done that he was willing to do this.

“We just have to get Little Jamie to come out to play,” Jade teased as she straddled him. Your view was obstructed by her body, but you had no doubt that she was jerking him off in an attempt to get him hard.

It just… seemed to be taking a really long time.

“Come on Jamie,” Jade said after a few minutes. “You gotta help me out here. Give me a little something to work with.”

It seemed to finally work after a while, and Jade re-positioned herself as she lined Bucky up with her entrance. You couldn’t watch anymore, so you shut your eyes. It didn’t stop you from hearing the horrible sounds of her moaning as she bounced up and down on his cock, though.

You thought you were going to be sick, but then you heard it, so soft that if you had your eyes open, your senses diluted, you would have missed it. “Pocket,” Bucky moaned. “Fuck, Pocket. Keep going, baby. I’m so sorry, doll. I’m so sorry. I love you so fucking much.”

His moans grew louder. “Pocket,” he cried, “God, baby, I miss you so fucking much!”

You started laughing. It was the fucking weirdest, most uncomfortable position you’d ever found yourself in in your entire life, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Oh my god,” you panted, trying to catch your breath as Jade looked down on you in confusion. “That’s the most pathetic thing I have ever seen!”

Jade wrapped a hand roughly around your throat and squeezed threateningly, cutting off your laughter. “What did you say?” she seethed.

You coughed when she’d released your neck and you could breathe again. A few drops of your blood had fallen from your nose to rest on Jade’s wrist. “I said, that’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” You jutted your chin toward the phone she still held. “You think that’s proof that he wants you? Oh, honey. You truly are a stupid cunt, aren’t you? He couldn’t even get hard for you without thinking about me. You were a convenient fleshlight– just a hole when I wasn’t available.”

You would have felt monstrous speaking to any other woman like that, truly, but you had to do everything in your power to keep her distracted, to keep her from moving forward with her plan to auction you off to the highest bidder, so that you could buy some time for the calvary to arrive. And besides, Carthage wasn’t just another woman– she was your fucking nemesis, and she deserved every foul word you could throw at her.

God, you hoped Tony showed up first. The image of him sending Jade through the wall with a repulsor blast was enough to send you into fits of giddy laughter. Then maybe Bruce could toss her around like a ragdoll, the way he had with Loki. You’d pay to see that. You wondered if Carthage had headbutted you hard enough to cause a concussion– you certainly weren’t feeling fully in your right mind.

Jade backhanded you, the force of the blow so hard that your head snapped to the side, leaving you seeing stars. “You’re LYING!” she shouted. Grabbing you by the hair, she hoisted you up, metal chair and all, and slammed your face into the nearest wall. Perhaps she’d rattled a screw loose, because you couldn’t seem to get your laughter under control. “Don’t damage the merchandise, Vixey,” you coughed, spitting out even more blood. “Wouldn’t want to hurt my chances at auction, would you? Bad for business.”

“You fucking bitch!” Jade shouted. She ripped your bindings free from the chair and lifted you up by the throat. “Fuck–” she punched you in the stomach– “the auction!” In the face. “I’m gonna–” In the solar plexus– “fucking kill you–” back to the face– “myself!” Each blow was excruciating, and you were sure you’d heard a rib or two crack under the force of her fist, but still, you kept laughing at her.

“Poor little fox,” you wheezed through the blood that was pouring down the back of your throat. “All those years wasted, thinking you could ever have a chance with him.” Your head lolled to the side as you tried to look up at her through your rapidly swelling eyelids. “Thinking you were special, that you were made for him, and you can’t even get his dick up. He’s so repulsed by you, he has to imagine being with someone else!”

“Shut up!” Jade screeched. “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” She grabbed your left arm in her hands and snapped it. The pain was blinding, sending your vision into a white hot pulses. You screamed, holding the broken appendage to your body, as though that would protect you. You didn’t dare look down at it; knowing you’d be sick at the sight if you did, of your arm dangling uselessly at an unnatural angle. Instead, you curled yourself up into the fetal position, cradling your arm close to your core.

Jade began pacing the room, tugging at her hair and mumbling to herself. You couldn’t quite make out what she was saying– you only caught snippets of words, like “fucking whore,” and “mine.” The girl had completely lost it, had completely gone off the deep end. Meanwhile, you suspected you were going into shock as you listened to the rat-a-tat-tat of your rapid heartbeat.

No. You cocked your head, listening. That wasn’t the sound of your heart, beating out of your chest– that was the sound of gunfire echoing through the bowels of the base. You strained your ears. Mixed within the gunshots, you could hear screaming, voices crying out in agony and then cut short, as if their owners suddenly lost access to their breath.

Through the distant din, you could make out a familiar voice, roaring with rage, and the sound filled your heart up like a balloon. “POCKET!”

You started laughing again.

Jade turned to look at you, her expression furious.

“I feel sorry for you, Vixen,” you said, grinning like a madwoman. “Me?” she asked you incredulously. “I just snapped your arm like a fucking twig and am going to enjoy the shit out of killing you nice and slowly, and you feel sorry for me?”

You nodded vigorously, gleefully noting that the sound of battle was growing closer. Bucky called for you again, his voice contorted with rage and worry. Jade turned her head toward the sound, noticing it for the first time. “Yup,” you agreed, forcing yourself to stand and face her. You could feel the blood dripping from the corners of your mouth as you smiled from ear to ear. “Seems like my boyfriend’s looking for me, and when he sees what you’ve done, he’s going to kick your fucking ass.”

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

155 notes · View notes

hanasnx · 2 years

Note

Ask and ye shall receive, so my take on this is that this is like 19-21 year old Anakin— possessive, jealous, emotional, horny horny horny, break the Jedi code to get my dick wet, falls in love hard, fast, and deeply—Skywalker, who went and caught feelings for his fwb. They were always firmly in agreement that it was "just sex," but it's never just sex with Anakin, he feels too much, so now that she's broken things off to get into a real relationship, he has to channel his all of his feelings into sex. It's not love, he just needs to fuck her one more time right? It's not jealously, he just thinks it's funny that he was fucking her on the side while she was dating this other guy. It's not possesiveness, he just knows he fucks her better than anyone else, even the man she fell in love with. One more time, just one more time, he'll make it so good, he'll channel every morsel of heartache into it, because if he can't have her he might as well make sure she can't forget him.

here's the version with subtle phone effects on the voice

https://soundgasm.net/u/AugustInTheWinter/M4F-Your-Ex-FWB-Leaves-You-a-Jealous-Voicemail

And here's the version without

https://soundgasm.net/u/AugustInTheWinter/M4F-Your-Ex-FWB-Leaves-You-a-Jealous-Voicemail-No-Phone-FX

Also disclaimer he doesn't sound exactly like Anakin, and the audio itself doesn't take place in the SW universe, but I get the feeling we're the same level of delusional and can fill in the gaps mentally. Anyway I hope you enjoy it, I'd love to hear your thoughts 💖

-👑

link 1

link 2

spoilers to the audio under the cut cos omfg these lines got me lookin like :o

☥ “… do you remember what happened next? .. i bet you do.”

☥ “does he know?” talking about fucking you after your dates with your now bf when you were unexclusive at the time that is my CRACK

☥ “fuck one more out of your system. you guy’s just started dating, it’s not even cheating. yea, baby, cmere,”

☥ “wonder if he thought about you during the week. overanalyzing every interaction. ‘oh, am i texting too much?’. maybe you weren’t texting back bcos you were begging for my cum.”

☥ WHEN HE SAID COCKSLAVE WOOOOOOOOOO

☥ “i cant believe i’m never gonna have that pussy again.” sounded so much like anakin’s voice i

☥ “but if you guys break up. you know where to find me.”

👑, i casually ate 5 pieces of pizza listening to this bcos ur right hot damn he does sound like anakin and i couldn’t pay attention to anything else. i was seeing the whole damn thing. usually i’m not into these, but i think bcos it was a “voicemail” and there was no awkward waiting parts where he was expecting u, the listener, to answer— i enjoyed it thoroughly. you know what i mean about those awkward silent parts?

your take?? golden much like your crown, bcos my usual premise for his one shots is that you’re his fwb, and it’s easier this way to keep things separate. but yes, those underlying confusing feelings he pushes away are always ones of “it’s just sex. i don’t love her. that’s crazy.” or “i’m not jealous i’m just aggravated i can’t be jealous when she’s not really mine…”

yet here he is. fisting his cock to the memory of you. the suns gone down where he’s staying, and no doubt you’re asleep. but he had to try to call you anyway, some time when you wouldn’t be around your new boyfriend. it’s just his voice that sends through, too dark to record a hologram for you. talking that filthy shit to you in hopes you’ll remember all the good you two had. come back for more.

i love what u had to say so much i want it tattooed on my forehead bcos it’s so frustratingly anakin to twist his own words and confuse himself in order to avoid the truth. also to fuck someone and then go ahead and fall the hell in love??? so on brand.

“yea i can keep my feelings separate….

no, actually i lied about that entirely. here are my feelings, they’re your problem now.”

specially bcos i imagine in this fwb relationship you took his virginity—

this was all over the place but i fuckig loveeeee the jealous ex fwb knowing he has no business talking to you like this when you’ve got a bf, but trying it anyway. bcos the chance of filling you up one last time is greater than the possibility of you refusing to talk to him because both you and him know the silent treatment won’t last.

literally ur invited into my inbox anytime love. i love ur mind

edit: i should say i do not condone cheating i just have an infidelity fantasy

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ghostaholics · 1 year

Text

ɪɢɴɪᴛᴇ

Pairing: Johnny MacTavish x fem!Reader Warning(s): [ 18 + only ] friends-with-benefits (incoming); implied reverse sunshine/grumpy trope; mentions of sex (w/ dom and sub vibes but like it’s subtext; pining (mutual); religious imagery; angst (?); not much plot while Johnny is clowning around the entire time; I could not explain to you why reader is in a constant state of distress lmao Summary: Johnny thinks a FWB relationship would be good A/N: there will be a follow up; (I made Johnny sound incredibly Scottish?? I dialed it back in various parts for easier reading if you notice inconsistencies) - I tried to get this out as my winter break is ending soon, so sorry for the rushed intro and ending (I’ll come back to fix it after the term) Word Count: 2.7k Translations: [know/ken] [I'm/ahm] [don't/dinnae] [of/o'] [you/ye] [your/yer] [for/fer] [mom/mam] [can't/cannae]

He's an unwavering fixture in your life, a constant that you can depend on; you know that he's always been waiting at the end of your warpath for you in that special way where he can absorb every negative emotion without a second thought.

You’d asked Johnny to spar with you – a terrible decision on your part as you’re now suffering the consequences. He manages to do another take down maneuver that has you slammed onto the ground, your back colliding with the hard surface. It tears the breath out of your lungs.

His voice is low and teasing in your ear, a rough timbre that melts you from the inside out. "Tap out."

You're panting, gasping for air as best you can after being winded from his throw. Still, you show snark in the face of defeat. "Fuck you."

The accent is there. "C'mon hen. You really wan' tae keep this up?"

It is several more moments of him cutting off your air supply before you slap the floor in frustration. It only stokes the annoyance in you further.

He rolls over onto the mat, collapsing onto his back next to you. "Solid work. Gonna have bruises in the morning. Two-fer-o, but—"

“Let's go again.” Your body is sore and aching with a promise of further pain. It’s not enough, especially when you can feel all of the pent-up frustration and disappointment that’s followed you off the field. You wish that it had stayed behind, but you still carry it with despite your best attempts to shake it off.

He turns his face towards you. Sweat dots his temple. He appraises you for a second before he shaking his head. His mouth curls down into an expression of displeasure. “Nah, we're done for the day."

You, decidedly, do not agree with this.

You don't think, only react. Maybe you can catch him off guard. It's undignified, but you do it anyway. You need a win after these past few months, no matter how small and dirty. You swing your body, exploiting the momentum to pinch him into a headlock.

He's quick to act though, expertly avoiding your ambush. A flurry of movement – Johnny lays you out with brutal efficiency.

It's infuriating.

You huff out your annoyance, less than pleased at this turn of events.

He's straddling you, weathered and calloused hands on your skin. Thick fingers curl around your wrists, pinning them to either side of your head. He leans in closer, the weight of his body pressing into yours. "Behave," he admonishes.

A wave of heat draws into your limbs at the command.

You instead, settle for narrowing your eyes at him.

"Thas' three, by the way,” he says around a smug grin. "But whose keepin' count, right?"

"Ready tae tell me what's got you so worked up?"

“What makes you think something’s bothering me?”

“Everybody and their mam’s noticed, hen. You’re not exactly doin' a great job o’ keepin' it under wraps. Hell, you were so strung out on the plane ride, I had to make sure ye didn’t accidentally take home a giant rod up the arse once we landed.”

“Did you just admit to checking me out?”

He did linger a few metres back after deboarding.

Johnny gives you a pointed look. “It was with your best interests in mind, bonnie,” he says solemnly. “Like wan o' those welfare checks. Just bein' a good mate and all that.”

“Thanks for your service,” you say dryly.

He’s a natural flirt at heart, a sweet talker to boot. It’s how he wormed his way into your life in the first place with nothing but boyish charm and megawatt smiles. He’s trouble, and the kind of personality that you never took seriously because for all intents and purposes, he did it with everyone.

“I hate tae be the one tae tell you the bad news, but you’ve also got this… face or somethin’”

“What face?”

“Like whenever my mam bitched at me fer forgettin’ my cleats an she had to swing by the pitch to drop ‘em off.”

“Johnny!”

“Tha's it – tha’s the one. God, you sound jus' like her, too. If I close my eyes, feels like ‘m right back home and she’s chasin’ me around with her broom.”

“I should’ve left you behind in Frankfurt.”

“Funny enough, she said somethin' similar when I was eight. Swear on my life. Now tha' one’s a good story.”

"Come back to my room." The offer is innocent. It's a familiar pattern, practiced enough times that you know the routine by heart now: side-by-side, leaning up against his headboard; third party – the company of an Ardbeg passed between the two of you like clockwork as he does his best to put your mind off of whatever circumstances have you in a piss-poor mood. The effort is always endearing. He tries so hard, the least you can do is pay attention. And you do, closely — so much that you've got the image committed to memory. He’s got permanent residence in that faraway corner of your head where all good things stay safe.

The other parts, you remember too well – ones that he doesn't know about himself. You can't help but notice the little details; they would have to be ripped from your brain for you to forget.

bright blue eyes, glassy and crinkling at the corners when's he had too much to drink and starts laughing at his own jokes

the smell of Scotch on his breath, vanilla and caramel and smoky, spiked with the spearmint from his gum that he chews throughout the day

moonlight, how it blooms across the profile of his face and shines on the scar engraved into his chin (got it because he saved your life and that was his penance – “How’s it look, bonnie? How’s it look?”)

his smile, magnetic and disarming – it draws you in, lowers your defenses and sways you into returning one that matches his own

when he speaks, it's a husky voice, wrapping around you like a blanket, lulls you to sleep as he regales you with all the ways he was a shite-stirrer as a lad and you inevitably drift off

It’s a fever dream, every time – a warm and pleasant haze that washes over you and heats your insides.

And it should not, will not ever happen again.

At least, not after last night, when you'd narrowly avoided the colossal mistake of leaning in and almost kissing him. He might've been too far gone to realize it – you're not sure. But you caught yourself, and that was enough grounds to put a stop to this whole thing.

"Need to ease up on the drinking. With the way we're going, I'll probably die from liver disease before I catch another bullet in the shoulder."

He lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow, an action that reveals the hard planes carved into his lower abdomen from years in the military. A happy trail disappears down into the lining of his cargo trousers – something that you dutifully try to ignore. “Know wha' I think y’need?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You cross the space to grab your towel off the bench. You’re not all that interested in hearing what bright ideas he has to offer anymore, but you decide to humor him anyways. “What?”

“A good shag.”

Your head snaps back in his direction. “Oh my god, could you be less crude?”

His laughter echoes across the room. He thinks he's so fucking hilarious.

You hurl the towel in his direction. “Piss off, Soap!”

To your disappointment, he catches it – stupidly brilliant reaction time – before depositing it on his shoulder with relative ease. Johnny's looking quite chuffed with himself. His eyes sparkle with amusement. “When’s the last time you got one in?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Ah dinnae ken,” he says with skepticism. “Wi’ the way your hand-to-hand is, ‘m fully confident my arse is safe for now.”

You let out a low growl of frustration.

He keeps spurring you on. And Johnny, of course, brings up, “Was it March 18? Swear tha’ was the only time I’ve ever seen you in high spirits without my help.”

Your face burns with indignation.

Bastard.

His mouth curves into a devilish grin. He's looking positively thrilled with this newfound discovery. "’M right, aren't I?"

Your brain stalls as you try to come up with a lie, but the silence is more than telling about your circumstances.

His laughter has died down by ten-fold, but there's still a commiserating smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He tips his head in sympathy, like he's grieving a loss. "Oh, hen..."

You wait for the ground to open up and swallow you whole; it never comes. "Not another fucking word, Johnny."

So anyhow, he can’t bite back his opinions on the matter; he's relentless – too persistent for his own good. He takes a few steps forward, ready to put a hand on your shoulder in consolation. He's never had much consideration for personal space, always the touchy-feely type to throw an arm around you while walking into base after a good op, or drawing you into a hug when he knows you’re feeling down. The expression on your face must have him reconsider his decision, because he wisely stops in his tracks. "Look, it's nothin' t' be ashamed about. You’re sexually frustrated.”

"This conversation is over."

It's a fruitless endeavor. Whatever hope you've held about him dropping the subject is reduced to ashes.

"Jus' a bit o' a dry spell," he carries on – the primary objective is to inflict misery on you. Johnny takes it all in stride, now acting impervious to how much you want to curl up and die. He brings up your sex life as if it's as casual as talking about the bloody weather. "No wonder yer wound up so tight, though. Haven' had the company of a nice bloke in ages —"

You're utterly mortified. You cast your eyes to the ceiling, hoping for some sort of god to strike you down. It would be a merciful death. However, the plea goes unanswered, much to your chagrin. "I'm in hell," you say to yourself in disbelief. "I'm actually in hell right now—"

He continues, paying no mind to the internal crisis that you're suffering at the moment. "Got loads o' friends tha' I think you'd get along wi'. Have plenty o' them on speed dial."

"I'm doing perfectly fine on my own, thank you."

His eyes cut to yours. "I mean, judgin' from how strung out you always are, I'd say tha' whate'er you’re doin' isn' workin' so well. You sure you’re gettin' yourself off alright?”

You almost choke. "Jesus fucking Christ, that's not what I meant. I don't need you to set me up with anybody."

"Alright, hen. I’m hearin' ye loud and clear."

"Finally.”

“It’s just—”

“Johnny…”

"Can I say my piece?”

"For God's sake," you mutter.

He looks at you expectantly.

You gesture to him with an impatient wave of your hand.

“‘M sorry for giving you a hard time. Jus' have trouble believin’ tha’… well, y’know.”

“It’s opportunity. I’m not interested in spending leave with the company of strangers,” you explain. “And I don't exactly have many options on base – nevermind the fact that I'm spending every night slumming it with you."

He snorts at the last revelation.

You roll your eyes at him. You shoot him a look that says, Am I wrong?

“So ye haven’ asked Price or the L.t yet, then? They don’t seem like the relationship type. I think they’d do right by you.”

You give him a flat look.

He grins.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Couldnae help myself, hen. You know me.”

"Keep pulling my chain. See where it gets you."

He studies you for a beat. It’s an awfully long time for him to be thinking about this.

You wonder what his next daft comment will be.

It’s even more stupid than you expect.

“And so you thought about what would happen if you asked me?”

Idiotic, because yes, you've poured over it again and again. There are some lines that you simply shouldn't cross. You’re not entirely aware what your expression is – shock, annoyance? Both?

Either way, Johnny notices. "Don’t give me that look. It's a fair question," he supplies.

You turn your nose up at him, ambivalent. “Must think highly of yourself to assume that the idea even crossed my mind.”

He’s fast with a quip. “I know you’re thorough and tha' ye looked at every option available tae ye, whether it was actually possible or not."

“Clever now, are you?”

"You asked if I could spar with you earlier, aye? But from what I can tell, it didn't do shite. So if you wanna take your anger out on somethin’, I don’t see how this is any different. It’s jus' sex – like scratchin' an itch.”

“Sure,” you deadpan. “If the itch was in the back of my cunt.”

He barks out a laugh. “Aye.” His gaze comes to fix on you, blue eyes all hot and electric with a ferocity so intense it’s nearly scorching. "Ye get it."

Still, he waits patiently – the virtue of a saint.

“Johnny—”

This would never work, you try to say.

And maybe he can sense it. "C'mon," he rasps. His patience wears out, presumably. Then, the words of a sinner – wicked and shameless, unapologetic – they’re cut from the same cloth of forbidden things, a path that you shouldn't go down: “Use me.”

Something catastrophic happens to your brain. If you had any resolve before, it's nowhere to be fucking found now. Every rationale thought, obliterated. There are a million splintered fragments and you can't piece them together enough to form even a semblance of an appropriate response.

What the hell are you supposed to say to that?

Johnny always manages to fill the silence between the two of you. “Dinnae overthink it. I know your scrapin’ together every argument in the book to convince yourself why this is a bad idea. But before you say no, I can promise you tha' I have a thousand better reasons for why it isn’t.”

You're on the verge of capsizing. If you ask, you might never come back up again, and the temptation to go down is very, very appealing. When you finally regain your voice, it sounds like a broken prayer. "Give me one."

He doesn’t even have to mull over it that long. There's no hesitation from him. It’s like he’s had it waiting in the chamber this whole time. "We're close enough fer me to say that I'd do anything fer you, aye? Take what you want. I’m all yours."

“You say that to just any of your mates?”

His face is the picture of innocence. “Only for you.”

You’re stuck in time. Frozen. There’s just his confession still hanging in the air. It’s a long stretch of time before the cogs in your head start running again. You let out a shaky exhale. Fuck, I want you so bad — it's there. Almost, right on the tip of your tongue. Nearly bleeds out. It would make things so messy. “I‘ve got to clear my head. I'll — um, yeah.”

"O’ course." Johnny nods in understanding. There's a small smile on his lips. Polite. He takes a step back, makes space, returns to the sidelines.

You can finally breathe again.

He can’t forget his closing remark though – give you something to chew on. “You’re probably never gonnae wan’ tae be my sparring partner after this, but for what’s it worth, bonnie, I don’ mind the way you feel under me.”

Goddamnit.

#johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #call of duty #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap x you #soap mactavish x you

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