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annwrites · 2 days

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my lil' cherry pie

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: honestly, it's just a whole lotta fuckin' in this one

— tags: billy being extremely happy. billy having an idea involving the hood of his car. you & billy getting frisky in the shower.

— tw: sex, exhibitionism, bj, f receiving oral

— word count: 5,509

— a/n: i wish loverboy's lovin' every minute of it had come out a year earlier, bc billy would've 100% been blaring that in the camaro, too, after spending all morning in bed with reader lol.

i am also AWARE that bon jovi's slippery when wet didn't come out until '86, but i wanted to use that line in the shower scene, so it is what it is.

i'm not writing billy as some perfect casanova in the bedroom. i'm aware that's the fantasy with him, but he's still an eighteen-year-old boy. and i think it's actually sweet that he has a harder time lasting with reader in certain situations, bc he's just that turned on bc it's with her—his dream girl.

find my other posts concerning billy here

Billy grinds his hips down against your ass, unable to sink any deeper inside your soaking heat. “That feel good, honey?”

You whimper in response, nearly drooling on the pillow beneath you, which your cheek rests upon, your head turned toward the curtained window. “Y-yes,” you say quietly, clenching around him.

“Mm, I bet.” He drawls out.

He slowly eases out and then back into you, and your eyes roll back at the feeling, slowly closing. You grip the sheets under you.

He removes one hand from gripping the mattress and instead grips your hip instead, circling his own. “You like that, sweetheart?”

You nod, burying your face in the pillow as he flexes his shoulder blades, gripping you harder.

“I can tell. God, you’re fucking soaked. I can hear just how wet you are.”

He wasn’t wrong. After last night—you not orgasming from penetration alone during your first time—he’d awoken shortly before dawn on a mission.

He’d woken you with hot kisses along your bare breasts, down your stomach, then back up to your lips. You’d been half-asleep when he’d eased inside of you, causing you to gasp in surprise.

You’d orgasmed the second time the two of you had sex the night before, but that’d only been due to him rubbing feverishly at your clit until you did so.

You think that maybe his manhood feels a bit threatened by it. So, he’d spent hours this morning inside of you, using everything he had, everything he knew, to make you cum from his cock alone.

While you enjoyed yourself, he treated it more like some training exercise. Learning the ins and out of your body. What made you tremble and shake with pleasure and what didn’t.

Your first ‘session’ had to be cut short because he’d gotten a cramp it was taking so long for you to reach a climax—you hadn’t even been close when he’d stopped.

You’d tried explaining to him that it was okay—you saw nothing wrong with only being able to come from clitoral stimulation alone, but he’d said that wasn’t good enough.

So, a few minutes later, he’d sat you in his lap, your back pressed to his chest and his cock between your legs once more. Halfway through, you’d reached down to begin playing with yourself, until he’d grabbed your hand, lightly smacking it. “Aa, none of that,” he’d chastised you.

That position had reached some new place inside of you, but still not quite right. So he’d laid down, gripping your hips, telling you to do whatever felt good. You’d bounced on his cock and it’d only taken him watching you do as much for a few minutes before he’d came himself. And loudly.

He’d needed to take another break after that.

The third time, he’d had the both of you lay down on your sides, him once again pressed up behind you, your left leg thrown over his hip as he gripped yours, fucking you fervently. He had pounded away inside of you, both of his hands eventually moving higher, grabbing your tits, squeezing, toying with your nipples, even sticking his fingers in your mouth, but you still didn’t cum.

And right now was his fourth attempt. You were so wet now that it was all over your thighs. His as well. You could hear it every time he eased his cock in and out—squelching. It made your face heat in embarrassment, even if he’d stressed how hot he found it to be. Teasing you about it earlier had not helped, however. Like when he had told you 'It's like a fuckin' slip and slide down here. At least I don't have to worry about pickin' up lube once we hit the road again.'.

He reaches down, spreading your left leg, until your knee is bent and he slips slowly out, then back in.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, his cock twitching inside of you.

You lay your cheek back against the pillow, panting lightly at just how relaxed you feel.

He runs his palm down your spine and your body trembles, you clenching around him again. You want so badly to reach between your legs. You’d been desperate to come hours ago, but unless it was from his cock and only that, he wouldn’t allow it.

He lowers himself closer to you. “C’mon, baby, I know you like this. Tell me what you need.”

Honestly, it all felt pretty good. Okay, really good. But no matter what he did, there just didn’t seem to be some magical spot inside of you that would bring you over the edge.

“I…dunno. Mm. Feels good, though.”

His brow twitches, back starting to hurt. “Believe me, I can tell just how good you feel. Just,” he grunts. “Tell me how to get you to cum all over my cock, doll.”

You snuggle the pillow under you, pushing your hips back against him. “My clit.”

He groans. “Anything else.”

You shrug slightly, now drooling. “Ah, Billy…”

He slips out of you and you pout quietly, until he flips you onto your back.

When you look up at him, the curls at his hairline are now damp and sticking to his forehead, a few drops of sweat beading there. He really was working hard at this.

“Alright, time to try something else,” he says lowly.

You spread your legs wide for him, gripping your breasts, tugging against your nipples and he takes himself in-hand, easing into you.

You sigh in satisfaction.

He then presses his right hand down on your lower stomach, applying pressure there.

He reaches up with his other hand, sticking two fingers in your mouth and you drool all over them, sucking, licking, nearly gagging yourself on them you’re so into it.

He turns his hips just the least bit to the left and you gasp, pulling his fingers out. “Ah, there.”

He looks up at you, stilling for only a moment, eyes wide—excited. “Yeah?”

You nod, shoving his fingers back in your mouth.

He keeps his body just like that—his cock positioned in that exact spot, and he begins to pound away inside of you.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You push his fingers back out, gripping his hand in both of yours—and hard—holding on for dear life as his tip continually teases and hits that most perfect part of you inside.

At first, it almost feels like your bladder is about to let loose, but God it feels so good. You thought everything else he’d done to you for the last few hours had been pleasurable? Wrong. This was pleasure.

You reach back, your palm planted flat against the headboard, your back arching, hips grinding down against his own, head thrown back. “Oh God, don’t stop. Please. Oh, Billy. Mm, yes, right there!”

He fucks you harder. “Oh, I’m not fucking stopping.”

He was worn out and his calf was cramping something fucking awful, his lower back needing a break, but this was what he’d spent all morning working toward. He couldn’t give in now.

“C’mon, darlin’, c’mon. Come on my cock, baby. That’s it. You’re so fucking close, I know it.”

You begin to clench rapidly around him and your eyes go wide as you take in shallow gasps of breath in anticipation as the feeling builds and builds and then…you scream. So hard you nearly choke yourself on calling out his name in ecstasy. “Billy! Yes! Oh God, yes! Ah!”

He begins to laugh, skin slapping against yours, groaning as he fills yet another condom to the brim, coming fucking hard. “Jesus Christ, baby,” he says as he finishes.

Finally, he collapses on top of you, the both of you heaving for breath, drenched in sweat, the sheets beneath you an utter mess. The room…smells of the both of you, to put it kindly. Sweat and cum and heat and something primitive. Sex. This was the smell of sex. Purely unadulterated.

He’s so weak, he can barely lift his head. So, he instead lies there, crushing you with his body weight, but having him covering you feels…nice. Secure. Safe, even.

You wrap one arm around his broad shoulders, your other hand smoothing back sweat-slick curls as you kiss the side of his head. A pulse still going strong between your legs.

He mutters into the mattress, his tone that of exhaustion. “So, you finally came that time?”

You giggle lightly. “Yes, I definitely did.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can take anymore. You’re fuckin’ insatiable. And I thought my sex-drive was bad.”

You burst out laughing. “Me? You’re the one who wouldn’t let it go.”

He buries his face in your shoulder. “Just like a woman to let a man do all the work without a word of thanks in return.”

You roll your eyes, then kiss the top of his head of messy hair. “Thank you, Billy.”

“You’re fuckin’ welcome.”

Currently, you and Billy are sitting in traffic at a red light while he blares the song Cherry Pie—so loudly it makes your eardrums hurt.

He gets especially into the lyrics when he bangs the palm of his hand against the wheel, his wide smile growing even larger, to the line ‘swingin’ to the bass in the back of my car!’.

A smile crawls onto your own face—he’d been like this all morning since you’d gotten out of bed—which you’re unsuccessful in hiding from him.

He gives you a toothy grin, sliding his hand up your thigh to the edge of your skirt, then under it, blowing you a kiss, even winking, and then you glance to the girls in the yellow convertible next to you, who seem to be admiring his ride. Him as well, clearly.

And you decide now is the moment to put everything that’s developed between the two of you to the test. You nod toward their car. “I think you have a couple of admirers!” You shout over the music.

He shrugs. “Do I?” He asks, shifting, turning back to the windshield, accelerating as he drives past them, never once looking in their direction.

When Billy stops for gas, he leaves you to fill the car while he goes inside to ‘get a pack of smokes’, but actually purchases another box of condoms, having used up all the rest of his—minus one—that morning.

When he returns to you, you’re just putting the nozzle back, and he comes up from behind you, squeezing you.

When you turn around, smiling warmly, he picks you up, spinning you around. You laugh, your hands holding onto his shoulders, looking down at his happy, smiling face. He finally lowers you back onto the ground, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing your backside up against the pump as he kisses you long and deep.

When he pulls back, you grip the collar of his button-up shirt. “Someone’s in a good mood today.”

He nuzzles his nose against your neck and you giggle at the ticklish gesture. “I’m in a great fucking mood, baby.”

He walks around, opening your door for you and your heart melts. Had you finally, after all the fighting and running and pushing back against each other, reached a mutually happy place with one another?

You lower yourself inside and he leans down, kissing you again.

“Mhm,” he hums in approval, closing the door.

Once you reach Flagstaff, Billy has calmed. Minimally. He still occasionally blared his music—particularly when AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long came on—and a selection of other music. He also had put his hands on you every chance he got—you were sure you had every line and callus memorized by now. And he’d told you a couple times how lucky he was. That he loved you.

He stressed how happy you made him.

You’d cried tears of joy at it all, in disbelief that he was finally treating you the way you’d always dreamed of being treated by another. You had truly thought just a couple days ago that you would never find love. Now? The love of your life sat right next to you.

Once the sky grew dark, Billy had pulled off into an empty lot, turning to you, head leaned back, hand once again slipping between your thighs. “Once the engine cools off a bit, I want to try something.”

You raised a brow, your hand sliding up his strong, tanned arm. “Oh?”

He’d nodded, leaning in toward you, slipping his hand into your panties, fingers playing with your clit.

He spent the next few minutes teasing you and toying with that sensitive bundle until you were soaking.

He pulls away. “So, not that I need to ask,” he says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “But it’s safe to assume that you still want to see the West with me?”

You smile, nodding, looking at him adoringly.

He smirks. “I told you I always get what I want.”

You glance down to his hand, rolling your eyes.

And then he cups your cheek. “I meant you, baby. It was always you.”

Your brows furrow, eyes stinging, and then you kiss him again.

“Billy, if someone sees us doing this we could be arrested for…public indecency, or-”

He sighs. “Live a little, will you? C’mon, I’ve been dreaming about doing this since I had you in the driver’s seat. Alright, way before that. Like the first fuckin' day I put eyes on you.”

You look around the empty lot and jolt from nerves when you hear someone laying on their car horn off in the distance.

He reaches down to the hem of your dress with a raised brow, his own shirt already unbuttoned.

You sigh. “So help me, Billy Hargrove, if we both end up in jail-”

“Y’know what, putting you in cuffs at some point seems like a good idea, too, now that you mention it.”

You groan as he takes the rest of your clothes off.

Currently, you’re completely naked, laid back on the hood of Billy’s Camaro, your legs spread open, him standing between them. You watch as he unbuckles his belt, tossing it inside the car, and he then unbuttons and unzips his jeans, easing them, along with his briefs, down to his ankles, taking himself in his hand.

And then you sit up suddenly, hanging your head between your knees, groaning in irritation.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t want to now. I've had enough of you given' me blue balls for the last week.”

You look up at him. He’d already gotten the two of you a room for the night at a local motel—recently opened, so for once you were to be staying in a nice place—so all your things were there. Including condoms. The only reason the two of you had gone back out was to get a bite to eat for dinner.

“We don’t have any protection.”

He swears, yanking his pants back up. “Fuck!”

He looks back to you, considering. “What if I use the pull-out method instead?”

You shift atop the hood. “Is that…does it always work? I mean, what is it, exactly?”

“I come anywhere but inside of you.”

“Have you done it before like that?” You ask, doubtful.

In truth, no, he hadn’t. He’d always used condoms. Always.

“First time for everything,” he says, looking at you from under his lashes, forehead creased, hands on his hips.

After a moment, you lay back down. “Okay.”

He positions himself between your legs again, dropping his pants. He leans over you, palm pressed against the hood of the car, his other hand guiding himself into you.

He grips both of your hips, gently fucking you, your feet planted on either side of the hood.

His eyes trail along your bare body and he grows impossibly harder. “God, you look so fucking hot right now. You’re perfect, honey.”

You scoot closer to him, trying to wrap your legs around his waist, so he grips you by your thighs, pounding away inside of you, skin slapping against skin, his breathing ragged as he watches your breasts bounce with each pump of him, your fingers clawing against the hood.

He angles his hips, trying to reach that spot inside of you that you both enjoy, and knows he’s found it when your eyes roll back, body slightly arching off the car.

He smirks, running his hands up your thighs, then back down, squeezing them. “Maybe I should see what my shifter looks like inside of you next.”

You clench around him, then look up at him with curious eyes.

He shrugs. “After you polish my knob first, maybe.”

You roll your eyes, whimpering. “You need help. Who even comes up with something like that?”

“Oh, you’re definitely helping me, sweetheart,” he says, thrusting into you again and again. “And you’d be surprised.”

You then wonder what it would be like: having him in your mouth. You’d not done that yet. Maybe an idea for when you get back to the room.

Your imagination toying with the thought gets cut short by a sudden boom of thunder overhead, lightning flashing not far from the two of you…and then it begins to downpour.

You try to shield your eyes from the sudden onslaught of rain, Billy essentially paying it no mind as he continues to work his body with yours in tandem.

You gasp and his head jerks up, smirking, thinking it’s from him, but it’s the cool droplets pelting against your hot skin, quickly cooling you.

“Now you’re really wet,” he calls over the sound of rain pounding against the car, laughing.

You begin to shiver. “A-are you almost done yet?”

He raises a brow. “Me? What about you?” He angles his hips yet again and you curse, saying his name.

“We’re not leaving until we’ve both come, sweetheart, so we might be here for awhile!” He moves his hand to your clit, his thumb beginning to rub fast circles.

You wrap your arms around yourself, the only part of you that now feels warm being that which is between your legs.

“Can’t we just go back and I try what you said instead?”

“What’s that?”

“You in my mouth?”

He stares at you for just a moment, then quickly pulls out, moaning as he finishes all over your stomach at the thought, the rain washing it off of you.

“So…how do we uh…”

He lifts your chin with his finger, putting your eyes on his instead of on his erection.

“Well, you’ll be on your knees either way,” he says quietly. “But I don’t know which would be easier for you: me sitting or standing.”

“Which would you prefer?” You ask nervously.

He’d just fucked you on the hood of his car right out in the open in the middle of a thunderstorm and now you were nervous?

He decides sitting would be the better option. You’d not done this before and if it took you awhile—which it likely would—he didn’t want to interrupt things because his legs were tired.

He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping in the middle from his weight, and you settle onto your knees in front of him, taking him in your hand.

He knows just from the sight of you like this alone, he won’t last long.

He’d thought before that he had pretty good stamina when it came to sex. But with you… Jesus, had it shortened.

You look at him with wide eyes, stroking like you’d done the other night. “Does that feel good?”

He quickly nods, throwing his head back, closing his eyes. “Yeah, honey, that feels good.”

You study it for a moment, then decide to just go for it. You lower your mouth onto his length and his eyes shoot open, hips bucking, causing you to gag as he hits the back of your throat.

You pull back, licking your lips. “Did I do something wrong?”

He runs one of his hands through his hair, worrying about coming all over you already. “No, just…try again. It was good, sweetheart.”

You lower your mouth onto him again and he curls his toes, fisting the comforter underneath him, holding on with everything he has, trying not to…not to…

You begin to bob your head, gently sucking, swirling your tongue around him, not really sure what you’re doing, but giving it your best shot either way. You rest your palms atop his thighs, then pull back, him slipping out of your mouth and you stroke him again as you take a breath, then swallow the length of him again.

“Fuck,” he curses, reaching up, gripping your hair, making a ponytail with both of his hands, holding it out of the way as he watches you.

“Oh God,” he mutters and before you can ask what’s wrong, you feel him shooting into the back of your throat.

You gag at the unusual feeling, pulling away, cum dribbling off of your chin.

You look up to him, silent for a moment, then, “That…was…” Fast? You don’t think you should say that, however.

He stares down at you, mortified. “What?” He asks, tone unreadable.

You need to give him a reassuring answer. You smile softly. “Different. I liked it. Did…did you? I mean, did I do okay?”

He could nearly cry from relief. You had no idea that he’d prematurely… He couldn’t even think of it.

He lays back on the bed, reaching toward the nightstand, pulling a number of tissues out of the box which sits on it and his hips jerk when he feels you suddenly take him in your hand again.

He sits up, wiping your face. “You were incredible, doll.”

You smile.

And he’d been worried that you would take too long, not that he wouldn’t able to last.

He lays back again, shaking his head.

Billy had excused himself to the bathroom for a moment afterward and you'd sat quietly on the bed, patiently waiting for him. He may've been your first in everything—minus kissing; you'd done that with a boy you couldn't remember the name of now, when you were seven on the playground—but you knew finishing that quickly wasn't...the norm. Not for him, at least.

If anything, though, it made you feel flattered. He'd enjoyed the sight of you like that in front of him—the feel of himself in your mouth—so much that he hadn't been able to hold back, or exercise practically any kind of self-control to last even a moment longer.

When he emerges, you speak. "Do you want to take a shower together?"

He smirks, mood lightening, embarrassment waning. "You don't have to ask me twice, darlin'."

"It's in my eyes!" You holler, wiping suds away from your face, the chemical taste also getting in your mouth.

Billy curses, grabbing your shoulders, holding you directly under the shower head, erection pressed firmly into the small of your back.

You'd been busy trying to wash your hair when you'd felt his hand slipping between your legs, fingers easing inside of you and next thing you knew, you were being blinded by a bit of Finesse.

You keep your eyes squeezed shut as his fingers work diligently against your scalp, getting all the soap out.

He then turns you around to face him. "Alright, open."

You slowly blink up at him, then scowl. "Don't ever do that again."

He shrugs, shampooing his own hair then. "Just thought your bush needed a little extra attention with the shampoo, too."

You glance down, crossing your arms, looking back up to him. "You're one to talk."

He smirks. "Never said I didn't like it."

You cock your head to the side, then smile up at him.

He raises a brow in interest.

And then you pinch one of his nipples.

He reaches up, pressing his palm overtop of it. "Ow! The fuck did you do that for?"

You smirk. "Just a bit of payback for all the times you yanked on my hair in class."

He leans down toward you then, causing your back to bump against the shower wall. He slips one hand down your waist, grabbing one of your asscheeks. "Now there's an idea. You want me to pull your hair, honey? I always wondered what it'd feel like wrapped around my fist."

You nearly make a joke, asking just how long he'd last that time, but don't want to hurt him.

He presses a kiss to your neck, then whispers, "Maybe I'll let you yank on mine, too, next time I have my head between your legs."

You take him in your hand, then, and he sucks in a sharp breath, watching as you get on your knees.

You look up at him. "Why don't we just start now?"

You swallow the length of him and he slaps one of his hands against the wet shower wall, cursing.

He reaches down, winding your long hair around one of his fists, vowing to last longer this time. He gently pushes further into your mouth, pulling against your hair, biting his lip.

You stare up, drooling all over him just a bit, then suck, pulling your mouth away with a 'pop', stroking him.

He closes his eyes, brows furrowed, using every ounce of strength he has in him not to come all over your face right now.

You ease back down onto him again, cupping the bottom of his shaft with your tongue and you gag when his hips jerk, sending him deeper. You pull back for a moment, taking a breath, then going back in.

Billy stares up at the ceiling, fist iron-tight around your hair. Looking at you is not a good idea at the moment. But the fucking sounds you're making aren't helping in the least, either. Gagging and sucking and—fuck—you keep doing this thing with your tongue that no girl has ever done before. How the hell are you so good at this?

You're not afraid to get messy, that much is clear. Then again, being already in the shower will make clean-up that much easier.

He prays to God the hot water doesn't run out anytime soon.

You hollow your cheeks, sucking harder then and he groans, saying your name, cock twitching in the back of your throat.

You wonder if you're doing alright, if he likes it—you still having not much of an idea of what to do—but from the way his entire body is tensed up, you take it as a sign that you're onto something.

You swirl your tongue around the tip of him, the taste somewhat salty, then swallow, head continuing to bob along his length.

Billy looks down finally, seeing that your eyes are closed, like you're enjoying yourself just as much as he is. "Fuck, angel. I don't know how much longer I can-"

You pull back, looking up at him, batting your lashes, stroking him in your hand. "Hm?"

He twitches in your grip, knowing he's getting closer.

After a moment of silence, you shrug, easing your mouth onto him once more.

You reach up, gently cupping his testicles and his eyes go wide when you gently tug against them. "Holy fuck-"

You hollow your cheeks.

"Jesus fuckin'-"

You swirl your tongue, taking him as deep as you can manage without gagging, moving your neck at a rapid pace.

And then he suddenly pulls your head closer to him, fist still in your hair, and he begins to buck his hips, cock slamming against the back of your throat, until he finally throws his head back, groaning, spilling down your throat as he finishes.

Once you've cleaned him with your tongue, he reaches down, gently pulling your hand away from his softening member.

You stand then.

"Did...did you swallow again?" He asks.

Wait. Were you not supposed to do that? Was...was that bad? You'd done it earlier, too, and he hadn't said anything... So you'd just gone with it, assuming that it was a normal thing to do.

"Yes, why? Am I not supposed to do-"

He smirks, shaking his head. "No, it's not that, sweetheart. Just...most girls spit."

"Oh." Your brows furrow. Sounds like a waste to you. "Well, I don't mind swallowing."

His smile grows wider. And then he leans down, muttering 'my lil' cherry pie', before kissing you passionately.

He then pulls back, lips still touching against your own. "Time to repay the favor."

He kneels on one knee, other leg bent, foot still flat on the tiled shower floor.

You lean back against the corner of the shower and he lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder and begins to lick, easing two fingers inside of you, curling them, massaging, sucking against your clit.

"Oh God, Billy..." You grip his shoulder, until he grabs your hand, settling it on the top of his head.

He glances up to you with a wicked smirk. "Fair's fair, sugar."

He goes back to teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue and your fingers clench tightly around his wet curls, pulling his face in closer to your core.

He chuckles against you, muttering into your mound, "needy little thing" before kissing you there and spearing his tongue inside of you.

You nearly slam your head back against the wall as he begins tracing his name on your clit, intent on finishing this time.

He grabs your thigh tightly, feeling you growing closer, and he begins to go faster. On the 'o' in his last name, you begin to clench more rapidly around him.

Not fucking yet, he thinks, making a swift 'v'.

You gasp, fingers pulling so tightly against his strands that he's sure you're about to rip a few out. He hopes you fucking do.

Just as he completes the last 'e', do you shatter, crying out, legs shaking, body trembling, his fingers working rapidly inside of your tight hot walls that're squeezing against his digits.

He slips them out of you then, gripping your right hip as he smiles up at you. "You know, that is one of my favorite albums," he says standing, smirking down at you as he cups both of your cheeks in his palms. "Slippery When Wet."

He crushes his lips against yours.

When the two of you laid down for the night, Billy was naked, as per usual, and you had decided to try it out as well, knowing he'd get a kick out of it, if nothing else. Besides, if your feet got cold, you could always just stick them on his back.

He turns onto his side as you slip under the covers, sliding his hand along your bare hip. He hums in interest. "Look who decided she doesn't like sleeping with clothes on anymore either."

You reply nonchalantly. "I can always put them back on."

He wraps a leg around one of yours, pulling you to him. "You won't hear me complaining. Besides, makes for easier access this way."

You sigh. "Go to sleep, Billy." You fight against a smirk he can't see anyway, as the room is pitch black.

"That's my name, please wear it out." A beat of silence, then, "Besides, how the hell am I supposed to sleep with you pressed up against me like this all night?"

"Who pressed up against who when they got into bed?"

"Oh, you were practically asking for it." He snuggles his face against your neck.

"How?"

"By looking like that."

You suddenly regret this decision. He was never going to shut up now. "You can't see anything. Now will you please-"

"Oh, I can see it right now. All I have to do is close my eyes, doll."

"Billy-" You jerk when you feel his erection poking you in the side.

"Woops, seems someone else is up now, too. Maybe he just needs a kiss goodnight."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"Mm, which ones," he asks, hand settling between your legs.

You sigh loudly in irritation.

You can practically hear the smirk on his face when he says, "That good, huh? And I've barely even touched you yet."

You flip around so you're on your side, facing him. You clamp your hand over his mouth. "Shh, go to sleep."

He licks your hand and you pull away. "Oh, Billy, that's so gross." You say, wiping your palm against his chest.

"My face has been between your legs, making a meal out of the place you piss from, and that's what turns you off?"

You groan, pressing your forehead against his pectoral.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "Alright, I'll lay off."

You cuddle closer.

"But I can't make any promises for him," he says, pushing his hips closer to you, erection poking against your stomach.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not bothering with replying.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n

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onmyyan · 2 days

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👋 You mentioned that Marcos killed the earliest out of his brothers and is the best at it, and even that he's gotten paid for it before. If you're still taking requests I'd love to see Marcos in a "falling for the mark" situation where someone hires him to "handle" the reader but during the research process he falls in love with her (or he can fall in love at first sight or even after their first conversation, whatever works best) and ends up killing the person who hired him instead

Loooove your OCs, especially the Delmonts! Super excited for whatever you drop next!

Marcos felt his fingers twitching in his coat pocket as he entered the building, making a b-line for the mahogany bar full of patrons he couldn't help but grin to himself, this was his favorite part after all.

Sure he was good at the killing bit and sure he was talented at it, man oh man did his skills shine when it came to the parts before that, the stalking, the studying, he relishes the feeling of getting to know his target, and today that target was you, a pretty little bartender who'd been unfortunate enough to serve Marcos client, Tito, see Tito liked to get hammered and run his mouth, turns out he said some things to you, his bartender, that really shouldn't have left his mouth and now to cover his own ass, he'd hired Marcos.

You were a classic case in his eyes, in the wrong place at the wrong time, overhearing something you shouldn't have, put you in the line of sight of a bad man like Marcos.

He came on a particularly busy day intentionally, wanting to see you in your natural state amid the chaos of rush hour, and he noticed a few things immediately, you were very attentive to your patrons, probably how you ended up in this mess he thought to himself, it showed a level of care not many people had in their jobs, the second thing he noticed was your laugh, it carried over the music and the chatter and the yells from customers, and he felt a twinge of guilt, the idea of never hearing that laugh again, of depriving the world from it, didn't sit well with him.

He shifts in his seat uncomfortable, lost in his subconscious he doesn't realize he'd walked up to the bar, sneakily taking his place amongst the crowd, he let his eyes drift to you from your Doc Martin's to the old jeans you had on, then up past your wonderfully sculpted ass, and finally settling on your face, this is when he knew he was really fucked.

You filled glass after glass never stopping, your motion fluid and smooth, he could watch you work forever, and he did. So long in fact the bar had closed, "you know I've never had someone take this long to decide what to drink." You joke making your way towards him, most of the lingering patrons were slowly, drunkenly, heading for the door, leaving Marcos and you alone. In theory this was the perfect time, he could finish the job and pour himself a drink before anyone noticed your body.

But he didn't.

Instead he smiled, his ringed fingers knocking into the wood of the bar, "Maybe I'm shy."

"A pretty boy like you? No way." Your response was quick, like your mind, your warm (e/c) eyes held him there where he sat, unable to lift a finger to do his job. "You probably say that to all your customers, but I know I'm the prettiest." He leaned into his chair, red eyes never leaving your gaze, "Well no matter how true that is, it's closing time gorgeous, order something now or hit the bricks." You leaned on your hand , nails drumming along to the music playing from the speakers above you.

"what takes the longest to make?"

"are you trying to screw with me?"

"No! I just don't know how else to stall long enough to get your number." He folds his fingers together, resting his chin on his hands, the pose makes you laugh, you shake your head ripping a piece of napkin, you jot down a number and slide it to him with two pretty fingers. "Here, now get out."

And he did, with a grin so wide it showed off all his teeth, he couldn't recall the last time someone had lit a fire under him the way you did, the piece of napkin seemed to burn a hole in his pocket, all he wanted to do was call you and really lay on the charm he knew he had, but first, he had a visit to make to his friend Tito. He whistles the song that was playing as he left the bar and thumbs the knife in his pocket, someone would be dying tonight, but it wasn't you.

#yananswers #anon submission #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #delmont brothers #yandere oc x reader #marcos delmont #marcos delmont x reader #yandere oc marcos #marcos x reader

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angryducktimemachine · 4 months

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I want to draw I want to create but alas!!!! No inspiration!!

#I swear if i start this year with the same art block i did last years beginning I'm gonna cry #I should maybe just practice some things but that's unfortunately. so fucking boring.#I'm not!! satisfied with my art and it's making me very angry because i can't pinpoint down what i need to do #to be on better terms with it #like it's not bad art i like what things i draw well enough but rn I'm very grumpy about it >:((#I'm being very overdramatic here btw i have drawn a few things the past days but now that i have NO ideas/inspiration it #just feels worse shdjsjsjfk #get some rest boy!!!! but I'm unable to do that

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catboyieejeno · 7 months

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.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・★

cw: little plot, roommates/fwb to lovers (ig?), strength kink, oral (fem receiving), slightly toxic (?), jealousy, very possessive jeno, overstimulation

18+ minors do not interact !

"stop fucking moving,"

you gasp out when jeno lands a slap on your clit, unable to help but jolt at the wave of pain and pleasure that shoots through your nerves. your eyes are dazed, but you can still make out his figure between your legs. he readjusts, using his big palms to keep your thighs far apart.

"i-i'm sorry, i'm sorry," you whimper weakly. he doesn't pay any mind to your apology, though, attaching his mouth to your dripping cunt once again.

by now, you knew jeno well enough to know exactly what pushed his buttons. it's exhilarating to test his limits, because more often than not, you'd end up with a few mind-blowing orgasms as your so-called 'punishment' at the end of the night.

so earlier, when your mutual friend jaemin came over, you thought it would be ingenious to settle down on the couch beside him and swing your legs over his lap.

that was your first mistake.

"sit there and take it," jeno growls, "and stay fucking still unless you want me to edge you all night,"

you knew your little plan would bother jeno, and it very much did. it was painfully obvious on his features, from the moment you hiked up your smooth legs and laid them over jaemin's thighs.

jeno's glare was unyielding, and he had his jaw clenched so tight, you worried his teeth might crack.

purely oblivious to your antics and jeno’s sudden sour mood, jaemin didn't think twice about resting his hands on your bare skin—it was an innocent gesture, really. the problem was, when he told a joke that made you laugh, you laughed a little too hard, taking his hand into your own and sliding it up your thigh.

it was bad enough that your cotton shorts were absolutely tiny, but it was worse that they were now tucked high between your legs. by the time you settled jaemin's hand where you wanted it to be, he was no less than a few inches from your core.

that was mistake number two.

"jeno. holy shit, please,"

"you wanna tease me, huh? wanna get me jealous? you like that shit," it doesn't matter that he's mumbling into your folds and his speech is slightly slurred, you catch onto his every word.

he laps you up again and again, alternating between laying his tongue flat on your clit and wrapping his lips around it to suck on it. his hands have slid up your waist, but his elbows keep your legs pinned open.

you're, quite literally, on fire. the wet, slurping sounds of him making out with your pussy are so loud that they're deafening. every groan and growl he grants shoots vibrations through you, and there doesn't seem to be enough oxygen in the room with the way you're rigidly panting.

if he didn't let you come soon, you're pretty sure you'd pass out.

"do you want anything to drink, jae?"

jeno scoffs. since when the fuck did you call jaemin 'jae?'

"some water would be nice, thanks," the boy flashed his smile at you and you stood up, ass practically hanging out of your shorts and right in his face. you couldn't see with your back turned, but jeno caught the way his friend's eyes darted to your pretty, plump cheeks, adam's apple bobbing as he gulped.

you returned with his glass, but just before you handed it to him, you pretended to stumble, and some of the water landed right over his crotch.

was it extremely cliche? sure, but it certainly did the trick.

when you came back with a kitchen towel chanting fake apologies and just about straddled one of his legs, jeno had pretty much had enough.

but then, as if that wasn't nearly enough, you went on to wipe away at jaemin's jeans (right over his slightly swelling bulge) wearing the most infuriatingly innocent look on your face.

"i'm so sorry!"

"it's okay, really," jaemin insisted, subconsciously spreading his knees farther apart so you could continue to dry him off.

"it's really not! jeno," you called, turning and batting your eyes, "can't you lend him one of your pairs?"

the moment your gaze landed on him, you knew you were fucked.

he narrowed his eyes on you, shooting daggers your way. after letting some air out through his nose, he seethed through his tightened teeth a small "sure."

and that? that was mistake number three.

"jeno, baby, i'm so close,"

"no," he warns, "don't you dare fucking come."

"i can't help it, i'm gonna-"

he stops at once, pulling the rug clean from under you and smirking at the way you whine out, body seizing up as your orgasm is stripped away. he watches as your hole pulses incessantly with need, grinding himself into the mattress.

you cry out, "i said i was sorry," but he only tuts, shaking his head.

"you made your bed, now lie in it."

"please," you're breathless and desperate for some sort of release. so much so, that you resort to shamelessly bargaining, "i'll give you head everyday for the next week,"

"not good enough. I can fuck your mouth whenever I want,"

"jeno! i'll- fuck, i don't know," you look around as you rack through your brain, but he doesn't let you finish your thought.

"say you're mine."

"but,” you pause, eyes widening, “i-i'm not,"

jeno sticks his middle finger knuckle deep into you, stilling it there within your tight, fluttering walls, "so then, tell me. you want jaemin's mouth on you instead of mine?"

"no," you answer quickly, honestly.

he pumps into you once, then twice, slowly coaxing the confession out of you, "then say it, baby. say you're mine, that i'm the only one who makes you feel this good,"

"i'm not yours, jeno. we-we've been over this,"

"i guess you don't wanna come then, do you?" he withdraws his digit and sits up on his knees, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, "i don't know why you have to be so fucking stubborn all the time,"

you watch as he pulls his length out of his boxers, mouth working to gather saliva to the front of his mouth. he spits, letting it fall onto his swollen, pink tip. it's hard to hide the way you're basically squirming in anticipation, hips practically bucking up and closer to him.

"i'm sorry," you try again, voice sweet and airy. but again, he doesn't answer. he simply lines himself up with your hole and pushes in with a hiss, training his eyes on you to watch the way your jaw goes slack.

"you're a brat," he scolds, "and a tease," his hands press down on your tummy, resting his weight there. when he bottoms out, you grip his wrists, looking down to watch the way he sits on his heels with his dick buried in you.

"i'm sorr-“

"stop fucking saying that," he thrusts into you and you moan out, "you know what i wanna hear," his gradually increasing pace makes you shudder, and your orgasm starts building within you once again, "i'm gonna fuck you so good, you'll never even think about jaemin again,"

jeno rams his hips into you and the sound of your skin slapping against his echoes around your bedroom. you try to cover up how close you're getting, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he won't notice until it's too late.

the only problem is: jeno knows you just as well as you know him, and even more so, he knows your body. he prides himself in that—in catching every little involuntary sign and habit you have.

he knows the way your toes curl when he hits the right spot, deep within your gummy walls, and he knows the way your eyes gloss over to spill hot tears when he chokes you.

your face might be able to conceal your true intentions, but your pussy, gushing and squeezing around him, can not.

“if i feel you come around me, so help me god, i’m gonna stop,”

there isn’t the slightest hint of a bluff behind his sharp tone, and it pisses you off. your cheeks are red hot with frustration, nails digging into his skin, which only makes him squeeze your waist harder. the pleasure is dizzying, his thick length dragging up and down your walls in the most delectable way.

you aren’t gonna last much longer, you know that. he knows that.

“please, jeno. please please please,”

“i’ll let you come, baby. there’s nothing i want more than for you to come on my cock, but i need you to tell me,”

sneakily, you trail your hand between your legs to stimulate your clit, but he’s quick to grasp both of your wrists before you can even savor the feeling, pinning your arms on your chest between your bouncing breasts.

you’re a mere second away from whining out in protest when his own free hand flies to rub circles on your puffy clit, and suddenly, the feeling is far too overwhelming.

forced to blink harshly a few times to regain focus, you look at his features and come to the conclusion that truthfully, jaemin, and no one else for that matter, could ever make you feel like this.

you didn’t want anyone else anyway. your little act was just a ploy to get you to this very point, stuck underneath jeno who manages to make you come so hard each and every time he’s inside you that you wind up seeing stars.

as the cord threatens to snap in your belly, every ounce of you longing for release, you moan out loudly, giving in, “i’m yours! i don’t want anyone else, i promise,”

“yeah?”

“yes,” you insist, “yes, baby. fuck, m’all yours, always yours,”

he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and suddenly, all the anger he had been airing out fades for a moment. he doesn’t shove his tongue down your throat (although you wouldn’t have minded much), and he doesn’t move his lips in any kind of rush; instead, they move against yours softly, almost feather-like, as if your confession would float away from any suddenness.

and finally, against your lips, he mumbles, “go ahead and come, sweet girl. i’ve got you.”

instantly, your nerves ignite and your breath hitches, your orgasm washing over you at last.

he isn’t far behind, not at all. he had been sensitive ever since he’d started humping the bed with his head stuck between your legs.

he finishes with you, in you, shooting streams of hot white cum inside your clenched walls. the grip he holds on your hand releases as a grunt rumbles in his throat, and you instinctively wrap your arms around him, letting him bury his face into your neck.

when he stills his movements, he lays his weight on top of you, warm, slick skin pressing right up against you, chest to chest.

after a few moments of silence, other than the settling heavy breaths from both of you, you rake your fingers through his hair, muttering timidly by his ear.

“i mean it. i’m yours. i only did all that earlier for—well, for this.”

“all mine?”

you nod, giving him reassurance when he lifts his head to read the expression on your face, “mhm.”

“good. i’m all yours, too.”

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ynbabe · 14 days

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Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2.

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

Charles:

"Wanna nap?" You asked the man as soon as he stepped into his hotel room, tired and eyes red. You knew Ferrari wasn't some winter wonderland but you didn't know why Charles put up with it.

You had been close friends with the man, since before he'd started f3 too, you knew he bled Ferrari red but this wasn't bleeding this was suicide.

Nonetheless, you were there for him, every weekend, only today there wasn't much to do, he had just come back from some meetings. He looked at you and hummed, taking off team-issued merch and throwing himself on the bed beside you.

You turned on some sad Adele song and faded into sleep, holding the boy close to you, his head resting on the curve of your neck.

Carlos:

"Wanna nap?" You asked Carlos as you both walked into his drivers' room, it was early in the morning at the Las Vegas GP and just as the year before they had messed up the timings and the drivers had to wait till four-thirty in the morning to get on with the programme.

Knowing the both of you, you were sure if you hadn't extended the offer the both of you would have ended up doom-scrolling through Netflix looking for some show to watch fighting off sleep.

"What?" He asked, shocked at the offer for a second before raising his browns and winking at you, "You finally feel my charm didn't you?" he laughed as he climbed onto the small and rickety bed next to you. "Smooth operator strikes again," he praised himself, pulling you close to him, enveloping you in his arms as the big spoon.

You groaned and kicked his shin, making him complain, "Dude you're so fucking lame!" You made fun of the older man who only replied with terrorism (tickling you,) "S-top, stop, I'm sorry," you laughed, trying to escape the death grip he had on you, eventually getting him to stop.

He let you catch your breath as he set an alarm, before trapping you in his warm arms again, both drifting into a comfortable sleep.

Lando:

It was way past midnight but you couldn't sleep, unable to get yourself out of the party high, too drunk to rest your brain. Thankfully you weren't the only one.

There was a barrage of knocks on your hotel room, a slurred voice with a British accent begging to be let in. "Y/n/nnnnn, I can't sleep," he cried once in the room, stumbling over nothing as you both made your way to your bed.

You giggled as he fell, brushing his hands over the cold blanket. You joined him, crawling onto the bed slowly as the room around you spun. You laid on your back, clinging onto the bed for dear life.

Lando noticed and piled on top of you, making you raise a question brow. "So you don't fall off," he muttered, his face buried in your chest.

"Ohhhh, that makes sense," you said, understanding his thought process as the spinning slowed down. "We should nap," you said out loud, eyes shutting due to the comforting warm weight on top of you.

Lando hummed in return, wrapping his hands around your waist, as you pulled one hand up to his and another grabbing his curls for extra support.

Oscar:

There were two things everyone knew about Oscar, he hated waking up early and he loved sleeping. So when his trainer woke him up on a perfectly cosy yet cool Monday morning to exercise, he nearly wanted to kill the man, only stopping because that would take much more effort than simply going through with the workout.

Your apartment was closer to the gym than his, so he happily invited himself in to bitch and moan about his trainer and how that man must have hated him.

Rolling at your friend's antics, you pushed away your laptop, walking from the dining table to where he was sitting on your sofa.

"Wanna nap?" You had barely finished your question when you were pulled onto the Australian.

"I thought you'd never ask," he whispered, as he shuffled on the narrow sofa to get comfortable, you still on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist and your face buried in his neck.

"Are you using me as a teddy bear?" You asked incredulously, trying to get up to no avail as the man's grip on you was far too strong.

"Yes, now let me sleep," he murmured, already half gone.

George:

George had a habit of pushing himself too far, ever since he was a child. When you guys had just newly become friends, the boy had spent hours trying to find out what exactly you liked and didn't, stalking your Instagram and your family's Facebook.

You had found it endearing but also concerning how he always wanted to be perfect. So when you walked into his house at midnight (you got a key made- there's a reason the both of you got along so well,) and found him staring unblinkingly at his laptop and a large mess of papers spread across the wooden coffee table.

"Dude, what is wrong with you," You whisper-yelled at the man making him jump, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Me? What is wrong with you?" He yelled, panting as you jumped over the back of the couch, sitting right next to him, ruffling through the papers much to his chagrin.

"Shut it, Georgie boy," you smirked at him using the nick name he hated. “What are you even doing, it’s so late?” You asked looking at the taller man who started off in a rant about the car and everything he was doing wrong, making you slide down on the sofa till you head was resting on the backrest. You lifted your feet up to rest them on the coffee table, making George rush to move a stack of papers so they wouldn’t be under your feet.

Perfect. You grabbed the man’s shoulders and made his head rest on your lap.

“What on earth are you doing!” He yelled more than asked, trying to get up but you doubled down.

“George you need to sleep,” you deadpanned as he tried to make you let him go, knowing his pleas fell on deaf ears he gave up.

You raised your brow, “wanna nap?” You asked teasing the boy.

“Only for a few minutes,” he pressed, making himself comfortable, while you tangled your fingers in his hair, “maybe more then,” he sighed and let his eyes shut, slightly watering and finally fell asleep.

Lewis

Lewis had never been a friend to you, he was more like an annoying yet caring older brother or like a fun uncle of sorts. The man was fiercely protective of his friends, even those whom he saw in animosity.

But you were different, Lewis would steal your coffee, eat your food, and push you around but he'd also sneak you Red Bull (much to his disgust,) into his driver's room during late races, walk you to your hotel room after parties and get you souvenirs from races you couldn't be at. Similarly, you loved to annoy the man, stealing his expensive jackets, which looked hilarious due to the size difference, stealing his headphones and running away with them and most importantly coming to him with your problems day or night.

So no, Lewis wasn't surprised when you showed up to his driver's room in the middle of the day, even though Toto had revoked your pass for the day (for bullying George, but it was worth it,). He was ready to tease you but then he saw your eyes, red and tears flowing down your face.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He immediately came up to you, giving you a once-over to see if you were injured. "Did someone say something, are you hurt?" He asked panicking at your silence. You simply wrapped your arms around the older man, hiding your face in his chest, quietly sobbing and sniffling.

He walked you both to the sofa in his room, seating you down, trying to wipe your tears, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked as you finally calmed down, using his arm as support to sit up.

You cleared your throat, "No, I just wanna nap," you hiccuped slightly.

"Okay," he leaned back so you could rest your head on his shoulder, giving you one of his airpods to relax, which you gladly accepted.

Lance & Fernando (they aren't always gonna be together but the situations... THE SITUATIONS WRITE THEMSELVES)

"Oh honey that’s not," Lance said pointing to your coloured hair (matching with Alex) and thats how the conversation had started and had ended in a cat fight.

“At least I’m not a nepo baby,” you yelled as you threw a basket of oranges at him, which he dodged, darn those f1 reflexes. The basket itself smacked him square in the face, leaving a red indent across his nose. He glared for a second before jumping over the table you were fighting across and pulled your hair. “Owww, you bitch”

You bit his hands in defence, to which he kicked your shin, screaming you launched yourself at him, crashing the both of you to the ground, “oh my god, okay, truce, truce,” he panted, pushing you off him.

“Just so you can catch your breath,” you retorted making him mock you. In reality, you were definitely much more tired than he was. You were struggling to catch your breath, your head killing you where he grabbed a large chunk of your hair.

You turned to look at him, resting your head on his stretched arm, he was massaging his nose, the bruise turning purple now, “well that was fun,” he turned to face you.

“Sooooo fun,” you rolled your eyes, “wanna nap? My heads killing me,” you are far him in accusation but he glared right back pointing to his swollen nose.

“Sure,” he shrugged, shifting closer to you and closing his eyes. You opened your mouth to make a joke but were interrupted, “there are like a million oranges on the floor right now, I’ll throw one at you,” you accepted defeat and fell into a comfortable sleep.

That’s how Fernando found the both of you, slightly scowling but fast asleep, he took a picture for blackmail’s sake and placed a blanket over the two of you.

PT-2 w/ Max, Logan, Alex, Daniel, Yuki, Pierre, Esteban, Zhou.

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imrllytootiredforthis · 2 months

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The ‘bad’ kind of desire

pairing: soobin x reader

synopsis: you can't touch him, because he's too innocent, too sweet. but god you wish you could.

warnings: implied fem reader (can't remember if it's outright said), dom reader, sub soobin, masturbation, fingering, lowkey corruption kink, mentioned mommy kink, think that's really it

a/n: the first portion of this fic has been in my drafts since roughly july last year and was in my notes app for a few months - at least - longer than that so don't even ask me how old this really is, but at least it's out!!😭

“Am I bad person?”

Beomgyu scoffs, looking at you with eyebrows raised. He nearly laughs at the ridiculous statement coming from your mouth.

"What?"

And that makes him lose it, unable to even hold it back as he barks out a laugh, looking at you as if you've grown a second head.

It’s a hard thing to fathom coming from you given that you’ve definitely never had any qualms about your morality when it comes to this kind of stuff. “Really? You’re asking me that?”

His best friend sits across the room, oblivious to the conversation, his headphones pulled over his ears, the game he’s playing flashing on the computer screen in front of him.

Soobin.

Sweet sweet Soobin, messy blonde hair left unbrushed, pajamas still on, not bothering to change as this was all he was planning to do all day.

Sweet Soobin who you can’t help but want to play with.

Who you can’t help but imagine how pretty he’d look with tears in his eyes.

"I'm not fucking around Gyu-am I a bad person?"

You groan and flop over on the couch, rolling over to rest your head in Beomgyu’s lap, looking up at him with a comically-in his opinion-concerned expression.

He gives you nothing but an exaggerated eye-roll. "Don't even start."

“But aren’t I?” You look again at the boy across the room, wondering why, why he had to be so stupidly adorable. His lips were twisted into a small pout and why it was so fucking cute.

Why? You wondered, feeling like this was all you were doing nowadays.

Beomgyu resists the urge to roll his eyes at you for the second time in a row, now at the way that you look at his best friend like some kind of lovesick fool, especially considering that all you really wanted was get into his pants. It didn’t really make sense, but hey, who was he to judge?

“Why? Just because you want to rock his shit? Step on him and make him cry? That makes you question your morality? Out of everything that you've done?”

You gasp, slapping his chest. “He’s right there.” You hiss, not exactly denying the words.

He ignores that, shoving you off of him. He knows as well as you do that those headphones are the expensive noise cancelling ones that he'd gotten from you last Christmas. He barely hear himself yelling at his online teammates much less your hushed conversation.

You look at him as if you want to take him out on a nice picnic date and let him lay his head in your lap while playing with his hair pointing at clouds. Which Beomgyu couldn’t really see in any world, you were never really the type.

But who knows? Maybe you were really just that eager for his dick at this point-or the more probable scenario-have him on your dick, that it broke something inside you.

“Why’re you so concerned now? Not like you had any issues with Yeonjun or Taehyun. Hell, you kept up everyone else in the dorms,” His voice goes higher as he attempts to poorly mock his roommates. “‘Y/N, more~’ ‘please, I need it-need y-‘“

“Shut the hell up.” You spit, quickly covering his mouth with your hand while your eyes flicker once more to him, still staring intently at his game.

Really, why were you so concerned now?

Beomgyu was right. You’d had no problem doing the same to them, to Tae and Yeonjun, but they were different-he was different.

Soobin was different than any of them. They were the product of having fun with someone you knew like the back of your hand and vice versa. Simply satisfying-albeit unimportant-a matter of getting your rocks off with people you knew could find your clit and would let you hit it from the back.

Soobin was Soobin though. The sweet boy who looked at you with the most innocent smile.

Who got all blushy and embarrassed when you so much as lightly and non-vulgarly flirted with him.

He’d squeak and duck his head away when you called him bunny - again, non-vulgarly, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing and it turned him on-just a little bit.

In other words, painfully obviously, it was clear.

“He’s a virgin!” You hiss, hand still clamped over his mouth despite his garbled reply. You know just as well as Beomgyu knows how bitchless his friend is. Despite the fact that offers for him were nearly endless he was too shy, too awkward to accept said advances. “-I can’t take that away from him, it needs to be special, it needs-“

Your hand, still over his mouth is touched by something warm and wet and you shriek, pulling away quickly with a look of disgusted horror. “Are you serious right now?”

“Fight me bitch, I will not hesitate.” He growls, looking triumphant with the fact that you’ve now backed up to the edge of the couch.

You roll your eyes at him, looking once again at Soobin.

Fuck, why does he have to be so adorably innocent?

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, wiping at his mouth. "Just trust me, he'd be happy to be used by you. He might be a virgin, but he's nowhere near innocent."

"And what do you mean by that?" You sit against the arm of the couch, wiping Beomgyu's saliva onto the cushions.

He lets out a dry laugh, glancing back at Soobin before reaching for the previously forgotten remote control. "It means he wouldn't be as freaked as you think he would be if he found your sex toy collection."

—-

You suppose Soobin had always been special in some sort of way.

Always there over the span of time that you'd known all of them. Sitting off to the side while you hung out with the others. In his own room while you were fucking around with his other roommates. Playing his game while you were hanging out with Gyu.

He'd caught your eye more than once or twice, or three times over the years.

He was hot. You'd never discount that. Hot in the loser-y, adorable, cute, corruptible kind of way.

But then again, that kind of was your type if you thought about it.

You'd never been particularly close with him like you'd been with the others. He'd never made much effort to hang out with you but he was there when all the others were, if not one-on-one.

And he got really, really embarrassed when you tried to flirt with him like you did the others.

You didn't mind much, you'd just come under the impression that he was kind of scared of women. Which was also kind of cute.

But Beomgyu was right when he'd said that you'd never cared much about morals in the first place.

It didn't matter how close of friends or if they were a virgin or whatever other silly things that made things like that 'trivial'.

Life was too short to pretend you didn't feel things and besides. Sometimes, you really, just...didn't care.

And it wasn't personal, when you wanted someone, you would pursue it and if there was now friend groups you'd single handedly broken up, well they'd clearly made it personal themselves because you always made it very clear that there was no feelings involved.

Besides the raw, hot tension that made your skin tingle like your nerves were livewire.

Soobin was different though, special.

You felt bad for wanting him. For wanting to dirty him up.

He was something pure, something beyond and above you, perhaps and that was something you weren't willing to ruin, no matter what Beomgyu told you.

—-

"Fuck," he panted, "please,"

The room was dark, the light of his laptop being the only thing illuminating his face.

"Please,"

Sounds filled his ears through the crappy pair he'd owned for years, refusing to get wireless ones.

"Please."

"Bet you fucking like that, don't you?" The voice, only a few octaves higher than your own, still sent shivers down his spine.

Close enough.

"You're a such a dirty slut, you know?"

He whined into his sleeve, a sweater paw pressed over his mouth to keep the moans at bay. "I'm sorry, no, no please I'm sorry~" It wasn't doing a very good job muffling his voice though.

"I need it~"

The video seemed to respond to his desperate pleas. "If you need it so fucking bad then you'll be a good boy and wait for mommy's permission. You hear me?"

Or maybe he'd just watched this video so many times he'd memorized all of the male counterpart's lines. "Yes mommy," he panted, "I'll be good, I-I'll wait for your permission!"

He wouldn't. He knew he wouldn't.

He couldn't, as much as he prided himself on being a good boy. This time he knew he wouldn't even make it through the seven minute and thirty-two second video.

Not with you in the next room.

He couldn't tell if you were with Yeonjun or Taehyun. It didn't really matter either way.

Because he would only focus on you.

You weren't loud, having endured enough of Beomgyu's teasing and gripes about your sexual habits. He decided he hated Beomgyu for that.

But he could hear your pants through the paper-thin walls, heavy and followed by your quiet praises. "Sweet boy," you cooed, just as the porn on his laptop continued, "Naughty boy, such a messy little-" He ripped the earbuds out mid-sentence.

He wanted to hear you.

Not some substitute for the real thing.

He could imagine if you walked it on him right now.

Laying spread out on his bed, pants not even all the way off-just messily pulled below his hips, just enough for his dick to breathe properly and for his hand to easily slide up and down with the amount of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

"Fucking please." He moaned, quiet and needy.

You'd see him a mess, his soaked through sleeves catching the drool from his lips, teeth biting into the soft fabric to keep from crying out too loud.

You'd see him shamelessly fucking up into his fist, calling out pleas with no one there to hear him.

"C'mon baby, you can take it, take it all for me." Your voice was accompanied by the wet sounds of what, Soobin wasn't completely sure but his mind quickly conjured a few different theories. "That's it, a little more~"

Fuck him, he wished you were speaking to him.

Cockwarming him, your pussy wrapped around his dick, warm and wet and squeezing around him so good. Fluttering kisses over his face and throat as you teased along the length of him, slowly lifting up just to agonizingly sink back down onto him, clenching tight while he moaned into a kiss.

Or stroking him to another orgasm, making him cum again and again until his body was shaking and tears streaming down his cheeks. Telling him he could take more, do it one more time, for you. Because whatever pain you'd inflict would be worth it, after all it was your hands doing the damage.

"Fuck you look so pretty like this, just makes me wanna fucking wreck you. Turn you into a mindless whore on my dick."

Fuck, so that was what it was.

His mind managed to come up with one more picture through the haze.

You'd have his wrists pinned over his head with one hand, over him, keeping him down with a surprising amount of strength.

God, he could imagine the way you'd look at him. Maybe you'd be kind and gentle, sweet words and a sweet hand, fulfilling every one of his fantasies while calling him your sweet little bunny.

Like you were with whoever you were with on the other side of that wall.

But he doubted it. Or, he hoped not at least.

In his head you'd be meaner, crueler. Look at him with dark, hungry eyes and watch in a sadistic sort of glee when he cried, when he whined, when he begged and pleaded for more.

You'd thrust into him, hard and punishing, slowing down just to make sure that he wasn't crying from serious pain before you'd slam your hips against his, driving the tip of the toy dead into his prostate.

He'd beg you, plead you to slow down, to be nicer to him.

You'd tell him no. Tell him to be a good boy, voice patronizing and low, tell him only good boys get rewards.

God, that’s what he needed right now.

Needed you.

Your words, your touch, your scent, your presence even. You eyes on him, watching as he fell apart.

Not you fucking someone else in a different room.

Liquid heat flowed through his body, scorching and consuming every coherent thought.

"More."

He imagined it was you. Your hands all over him, pressing up against his throat, fondling his balls, purposely, maliciously ignoring where he needed to be touched most while you drove into him over and over and over until he was screaming in ecstasy.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly

"You just love my cock, don't you angel? Love being fucked by me into a mindless whore?"

He silently cracked the lube open, lathering his fingers in it before letting them drift lower.

He'd done this before, but it had been awhile and the stretch was beyond overwhelming with your words ringing through the wall.

“You’re just a little angel, aren’t you, bunny?” And he pressed a finger inside, thrusting shallowly, breath picking up as you got louder.

"No, you're not an angel. You're a fucking whore, taking it like you were made for it, huh?" A second finger, following the first, scissoring himself open with a quiet gasp.

"Yeah? Fuck, is that it?" You laugh and he swears it's right in his ear, ringing through his head. "'m gonna make you scream for me baby,"

He whines in frustration, his fingers not deep enough - you not deep enough inside of him. No, he needs it deeper, harder.

More.

"Get on top of me baby, ride me," you mutter, so far but so close.

He can imagine, as he settles on his knees, that the pillow he straddles is you. That his legs are around your hips. That his fingers, positioning on the bed under him is your dick and your hands are pressing against his hips, holding him in place.

"You're mine, you hear that? Mine. My perfect little slut, taking my cock like a pretty little slut." His body trembles, eyes rolling back as he slowly sinks down onto three fingers.

"Your's." He moans in reply.

And finally, finally, he reaches his prostate, hitting it head on with his fingers.

Stars burst behind his eyelids as they slip shut, back arching into the intrusion. He could cry, he thinks distantly that he maybe is.

But it doesn't matter.

Because your hands are on his hips, controlling his movements, leading him the way you want him to ride your cock.

Up,

"Slut." You whisper.

and down,

"Whore." You lean up, teeth nipping at his neck but not hard enough to leave marks.

over,

"Baby," Breathing over the shell of his ear.

and over,

"Good boy~" Teasingly biting at his earlobe.

harder,

"Bunny," Kissing along his jaw.

faster,

"Mine." Across his cheek.

deeper.

Just barely there, ghosting across his lips-

"-Cum for me baby,"

And he does. With his mouth hung open, drool covered sleeve long forgotten over. With his eyebrows furrowed and body curled into itself, fingers pressed against his prostate.

Ropes of cum covering his chest, and his face. Some reaching his lips and his chin, staining his skin and landing in his open mouth.

"Fuck,"

And on the other side of the wall, "Good boy,"

a/n: i was thinking about making a part two but honestly if it took me a year to find the inspiration to finish this one, i'm not sure a second one will ever come out😭

#soobin x reader #soobin smut #sub txt #txt x reader #txt smut #sub!txt #sub kpop #sub idol #sub!soobin #sub soobin #afab reader #dom reader #dom!reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 5 days

Text

Are You My Dad

Synopsis: The trials and tribulations of being a Grid Dad and sometimes an actual father

Charles and Sebastian: Monaco '24

Sebastian knew that when he watched the interview and that Charles would be partying like the animal he should've immediately stuck an air tag to the little brat.

He kept checking twitter, knowing damn well that everyone would be posting about his wear abouts, Sebastian at one point in his life would've joined, but even after Charles won, the idea of partying made him groan and his bones ache. How Lewis and Jenson were still partying was beyond him. They were crazy anyways, he mellowed out when he got older, no matter what Mark said.

Sighing when Sebastian saw Charles walking around a club with the Monaco, this is when he decided he had to go and gather the little gremlin. Sliding on pants, a plain black shirt, and baseball hat he makes the short walk to Jimmyz, memories of his own partying sweeping him up.

The guard doesn't even stop him, automatically letting him go in and Sebastian flinches at the flashing lights and booming music that makes his blood bubble with the beat. It doesn't take him long, noticing the Ferrari driver, taking shot after shot. Sebastian didn't want to ruin his fun, be he also didn't need the kid ending up with alcohol poisoning.

Moving around, he gently moves his fingers to Charles's neck, who relaxes and turns smiling brightly, and leans into his touch. "You came," He giggles and moves hugging his old teammate. Sebastian chuckles and pulls him close, Charles easily moveable like water, going where you push and pull it.

"Let's get you home," Charles whines, but Sebastian refuses to hear the whining of Charles as he leads him out of the club and out into the warm Monaco air. "Seb?" Charles voice is quiet as they make the short walk back to Sebastian's place. "Yeah?" Charles moves closer, "Are you proud of me? I always thought my father would be proud of me, are you?" Sebastian has to push down tight feeling and burning in his eyes and throat.

"Yeah, Charlie, I'm proud of you," Sebastian whispers. Damn kid.

--------------------------------

Mark and Oscar: Qatar '23

"Are you sure you're okay," Mark fusses and Oscar just sits there, in the ice bath staring up at his manager like he's grown a second head. "Yes, Mark, I'm okay," Oscar whispers dipping down as he feels the heat be swapped for the cold icy chill. This race was hard, with others ending up in medical, or transported to the hospital.

"Oscar, that was...one of the worst races in terms of weather ever, are you sure you're, okay?" Mark pulls at his pants and squats down, becoming eye level with Oscar. This was the thing with Mark, he always got protective of Oscar, when it wasn't even needed.

Mark has watched Oscar grown since he was a young boy, seeing the raw talent, the talent befitting of a champion, the talent Mark had, but was never jealous of Oscar, more so protective of it. "Oscar, when you're finished we're going to the hotel to rest," Oscar groans and dunks under before popping back up. "Mark, really, the team wants to party." Mark raises and eyebrow and Oscar suddenly feels like the karting kid after his first scrapped knee and Mark fussing over it.

"Alright, alright." Mark seems satisfied with that answer and ruffles his hair. "I'll pick up some dinner and all that, anything in particular?" Oscar narrows his eyes, upset about the fact he couldn't go to the party. "Osc, don't be acting like a child. Your mother would thrash me," Oscar snorts at the image of his mother trying to kill Mark Webber.

"Burger, with fries?" Mark sighs, but unable to say no, the kid got a podium and handled the heat like a champ. "Fine, I'll even get you a milkshake." Oscar smiles, knowing that Mark would get him anything he wanted.

--------------------------

Jenson and Logan: New York '24

"Think I'll do good this season?" Jenson was caught of guard by the question, not expecting the young American to bare himself to openly to him. There was a little break between events and Jenson had been watching Logan all day.

A young man, who shook everyone's hand, asked them questions and was smiling, but Jenson could tell that the smile he had was a little reserved, unable to fully smile. Jenson sighs and rolls his neck, unsure how to answer such a loaded question. "Do you think you'll do good?" Jenson knew how to handle this, he dealt with Lewis, Sebastian, Mark, and Fernando all legends of the sport, all that got ripped to shreds by their teammates at one point.

"I don't know, I feel like....the team regrets signing me," Jenson schools his features, it was no secret that Williams had no one else and simply chose him to be a seat warmer, Jenson wasn't looking forward to watch what was going to happen. "I think I can do good, but I think one screw up and everyone will just talk about it," Logan muses sitting down and taking a sip of water.

"Logan, ignore people, you made it into Formula 1, and besides, if it doesn't work out, Indy could be your thing, you could do wonderful things there." Logan smiles at that, "Yeah, but this is my dream," His smiles falters a little. Jenson groans, dammit Sebastian, he hates that the little blonde bastard was right.

"Look," Jenson sits down and pats his back, "This sport is cruel, far crueler than it should be, and it pisses me off sometimes, but life is hard, and I hate to watch you kids destroy yourselves for something that could never love you back." Jenson sighs, and pats Logan's back.

"But, sometimes it has to be hard before you learn to make it easy, you'll be fine Logan, you've got people that care for you," Jenson whispers and curses the German.

"Careful, Jenson, or you'll be the next one to get a grid kid," Jenson was going to kill Sebastian.

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artsyebonyrose · 29 days

Text

constantly having headaches, call me hajime hinata

lil vent! bc sometimes when i take meds for my frequent headaches i'm like "wow so hajime coded of me"

below this are alternate versions and an infodump about some of my post-game hajime headcanons (that i copy and pasted from my instagram post lol)

Anyway I hc hajime with a lot of pain post-game (and the rest of 77-b, but especially hajime). Despite being stronger than he was before the experiment, the after effects of the kamukura project take a great toll on him physically after he wakes up from the nwp. Pain where his surgeries were, deep down to his bones, heavy body and heavy head that gets frequent migraines. You wanted to be ultimate everything? There's a price to pay for all those talents boy ! (aka I don't like op unstoppable post-game hajime so I nerf him and make him more realistic, not superhuman)

Oh and the stress of their situation, the weight and heaviness of everything they did in the past and the state of the world presently, along with trying to rehabilitate his struggling ex-terrorist friends and support them through their healing journeys, trying to be a good selfless leader and help out around the island, trying to be useful to future foundation and to his friends, while also trying to cope (most likely alone because he doesn't want to burden the others when he's meant to have it all together and they're struggling with their own plights) with his newfound body and mind and the overflowing memories that plague him at all hours of the day, but ESPECIALLY at night when he stays awake unable to shut his mind up or drown out the memories of everything he's seen and done, or spectres of junko that haunt him and the others, refusing to let go, a reminder of who they were, what they did, how they can never escape that, and how if they could do it before then they could fall back into despair and do it again,,,,, yeah all that will definitely contribute to the frequent headaches and migraines too methinks 😁

#danganronpa #sdr2 #sdr2 fanart #danganronpa hajime #hajime hinata #hajime #hinata #dr #hinata hajime #danganronpa fanart #art #fanart #danganronpa art #artsyebonyrose art

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ithebookhoarder · 28 days

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Hiiiiiii, Could i request an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic where Anthony married reader who is from a lower class (basically like Theo) and they end up having a fight because reader did something that would be considered out of class or simply wrong while she’s trying to learn to be a viscountess. Sorry if it didn’t make any sense English isn’t my first language 😭😭😭

All's Fair in Love and Cricket (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Synopsis: After getting into a fight with your new husband you decide to settle your differences in a 'sporting' fashion, whilst reminding Anthony once and for all just who he married.

A/N: Ohhhhh boy did I enjoy this one. I'm sorry if it feels a little rushed or clunky in places, I may make some more edits at some point. I struggled with the flow of writing so much action but I loved it too much not to post it. So yeah, anxiety be damned else this would join the rest of the unposted drafts I have stashed away. I hope you enjoy it. 💕

Warnings: Anthony being a stupid idiot, class references (discrimination), reference to illness

Masterlist

It was late summer and as the sun beat down on the green lawns of St James’ Palace the lords and ladies below began to wilt. Many a woman held her parasol above her head in a desperate attempt to remain cool, which was hard when you wore petticoats and had nothing to do but sit and watch the men play cricket for hours on end.

Even Her Majesty looked like she was struggling to make it through the afternoon's entertainment, her attendants desperately fanning her where she sat under her canopy. They looked close to melting in their ornate gowns, however they were clearly willing to endure if it allowed them to continue admiring the game - and more importantly, those playing it. It was like waving a bone in a dog’s face as they watched all the eligible young men of the court sprinting about the green, their physique and athletic talents on clear display.

No wonder the Queen had her opera glasses with her, despite her proximity to the field.

You almost felt bad for them, watching as the men were subjected to the same treatment as the young ladies were night after night at social functions… hence the 'almost'. After all, there was a sense of satisfaction watching them preen and dance about like show ponies on display. That, and the view wasn’t exactly a terrible one when your husband was one of those playing.

You’d have endured sitting on that blasted green a thousand times over, baking in the afternoon sun and surrounded by swooning women, just to watch Anthony Bridgerton as he captained his team.

Being one of Anthony’s oldest and dearest friends, his competitive nature was well known to you (for which you had one too many games of Pall Mall at Aubrey Hall to thank), but it seemed to be out in full force today. You’d simply lost track of how many times he had dashed back and forth, working up somewhat of a sweat as he barked orders at his teammates in a desperate bid to ensure victory. It was no surprise to you that he had subsequently been forced to remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves, exposing his rather sculpted arms to those watching.

As you said, there were worse ways to spend an afternoon - and normally, you’d have been smugly lapping it up, however, today you were unable to truly enjoy yourself. Not when all you wanted to do was march over to him, take that cricket bat and give him a good whack or two. Maybe that would knock some sense back into idiot…

That was the issue with being in love with your dearest friend: those who knew you best also knew the best ways to hurt you, and Anthony’s behaviour at dinner the following evening had proven just how true a statement that was.

It had all started after the entire family had been summoned to the townhouse for a dinner, to toast you and what had so far been a successful first Season as Viscountess Bridgerton. At first, everything had appeared normal, with the usual laughter, merriment, and ease that one would typically experience at a Bridgerton gathering. It was what had first endeared the family to you, back when you had been but a small child, living at Aubrey Hall as the only daughter of their Stable Master.

They had never been anything other than kind to you, inviting you to play with their children, and join them in their daily lessons. They had also bought you gifts on your birthdays, invited you to join them at events, and even paid for the finest doctors when your father had fallen unwell several years ago. It was as if, to the Bridgertons, your family was their family - an attitude that they extended to the all members of the staff that kept their ancestral seat running. It didn’t matter if you were Head House Keeper, or the greenest of scullery maids. Everyone was counted and cherished, and the Bridgertons had earned utmost loyalty in return.

The rigid rules and divisions of high society didn’t appear to exist within the wisteria covered walls, and it had been that way well into your young adult life. In fact, it had been you that had initially rejected Anthony when he first declared his love for you one day, after taking you along with him on one of your many afternoon rides.

You’d been the one to remind him who he was and that society expected him to marry someone they deemed worthy of him and his title - and that wasn’t you. You didn’t have a penny to your name beyond the small sum you’d saved from helping with the younger Bridgerton children as a governess. You didn’t have a title or an estate or anything to bring to a marriage.

“Except the most important thing!” Anthony had pleaded. “Love… I love you, and there is no one else for me in this life except you. Life is short, terrifyingly short. Look at my mother and father… to be without the person you love most in the world is an agony and I cannot bear it. Please. I can’t lose you. I will not spend my life without you, knowing love is within both of our reach but that we were too afraid to grasp it? If I cannot spend my life, no matter how long it may be, with you then I will have no-one. No-one. My brothers can have the title. I don’t want it. I only want you.”

He’d continued to insist that for the following 6 months, even after his family had moved to their London house for the Season. It didn’t matter how many beautiful, eligible, wealthy heiresses he was introduced to. He would entertain none of them. He would have none of them. Only you.

It’s what he’d continued to insist until you’d eventually accepted, realising that he was right; Love was the most important thing and you both deserved to have it in your lives, come what may.

So, you’d said yes.

You’d become engaged and gradually made your way out into society as the new Viscountess Bridgerton, armed with the support and guidance of the Bridgertons.

Which brought you to last night and the dinner that had been organised to mark the end of the most challenging, but rewarding, Season of your life - and the dinner had started so wonderfully. Yet, somehow it had all gone to hell in a hand basket in the mere blink of an eye thanks the well meaning, but ill timed, teasing of Colin and Benedict.

Your brothers-in-law had both decided to raise a toast to your first Season as an ‘official’ member of the family and they'd got off to a rather complimentary start, if you were being honest. However, they had somehow moved from their praise on to reminiscing about the many years and many adventures you had had since joining their family.

Whereas every anecdote had caused the rest of the family to spiral into more laughter, your husband had looked more and more infuriated. In fact, Anthony had warned them not too kindly to ‘sit down’ and ‘shut up’ about your childish behaviours, which of course had only encouraged them further.

“Oh, hush, brother,” Benedict had quipped, raising a glass to your successful debut. “She knows we mean it all in good fun. After all, she once had a phase where she refused to wear shoes and would walk barefoot around the estate, traipsing mud everywhere! I think we’re allowed to be surprised by how far our dear darling Y/N has come.”

“It’s true - It’s a miracle,” Colin added, wiping the tears of laughter from his cheeks. “The transformation is remarkable. Who knew she would go from feral ragamuffin to lofty Lady Bridgerton.”

Anthony’s only response had been to tighten his grip on his glass to the point it looked like it would shatter.

Whether it was the residual stress of your busy social calendar, or something else entirely you had no idea. All you did know was that Anthony was angry, and even your gentle touch would not soothe him.

In a desperate attempt to calm him, you’d pulled Anthony out onto the terrace shortly after dessert had been cleared and asked what was happening. Much to your surprise, he had turned on you, venting about how childish his brothers were and how embarrassing it was that they were discussing things unbefitting someone who was a Viscountess.

“They’re just joking, my love. They were doing it to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” he’d growled, causing you to bristle. “They’re so immature. They need to grow up and realise we’re not children any more. That… that you’re my wife and joint head of this family.”

“So? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, Anthony,” you snapped, the warning clear in your tone. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, I just - it - they’re… it’s embarrassing.”

“So, you’re embarrassed? By what? Your family? Or me? Because everything they said tonight is true. I did do those things, as did you. I may not have been born a noble lady but you knew that when you asked me to marry you. So don’t suddenly act like you're ashamed, that you are somehow better than your family - than me.”

Somehow the argument had only spiralled from there, with both of you saying things you didn’t mean, and with both of you storming off and slamming the doors behind you.

Even now, sat on the edge of the cricket pitch, the thought made your blood boil. How dare he? How dare he act ashamed of you and the wondrous memories of your youth together? It wasn’t as if you hadn’t grown and matured since then. You had done everything within your power to be worthy of him and his family, and yet all it took was one mention of the girl you had once been to make him upset?

As if sensing your silent fury, Eloise had been glued to your side since the moment you'd left the house. Her company had been a blessing, with her numerous whispered remarks and jokes, making the day almost bearable. One remark in particular from Eloise had caused you to burst out laughing in a most undignified fashion after watching Anthony trip over one of the opposite team - the Duke of Hastings of all people.

You still weren’t quite sure how they had been positioned on opposite teams, but you were sure there was some kind of wicked divine intervention responsible. Who else would think it a good idea to put two competitive men against one another? Your hosts, perhaps? After all, Lady Danbury and Her Majesty had organised the game and you had learned long ago not to underestimate the women - especially when they decided to conspire together.

“How long is this delightful game again?” Eloise’s polite remark oozed with sarcasm as she leant back against the tree behind her.

It was obvious she was bored senseless. In fact, you half suspected she would have already left had her mother not been sat on the opposite side of the green, watching her like a hawk.

“I’m not sure,” you groaned in reply. “I lost count of who was winning about an hour ago.”

“So, we’re to be trapped here for eternity?”

“Pretty much, considering this part will not end until either Simon or Anthony lose, and we both know that neither one of them will concede defeat easily.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “And I thought they were bad at Pall Mall-”

“-LOOK OUT!”

The cry interrupted both of you as you turned in surprise. Given the so-far sedimentary tone of the day, neither of you had expected such excitement as numerous Lords and Ladies began to hurl themselves out of the way as a stray cricket ball rocketed through the air, towards the crowd.

“Good god!”

The exclamation seemed apt as both you and Eloise ducked, watching as the ball sailed past, causing several yelps and groans from the people around you. You were pretty sure you also spied a glass of lemonade flying through the air in all the chaos. However, your attention was drawn to the figure charging towards you to retrieve the offending item as it rolled to a stop.

Anthony.

“Pardon me, Y/N,” he murmured, reaching down to collect the ball that now lay a small distance from your feet. You nodded in greeting, aware of the many eyes watching but you elected not to say anything, not trusting yourself not to make some snide remark.

As it was, you both had barely said more than a handful of words to each other since your argument last night.

Clearly sensing the lingering tension between you, Anthony quickly turned to address his sister instead. “Eloise.”

“Ah, brother," Eloise cheered. "Splendid play so far. Tell me, when did the object of the game become the decapitation of the ton? I would have attended far more cricket matches had I known that was the aim of the game.”

“You can blame Simon for that one,” he replied, his taunt hidden beneath his neutral smile. “Still, good dodging back there. I thought he might have nearly caught you both.”

“Almost.”

“But alas he missed, like most of your players today,” you quipped, enjoying the way Anthony seemed to redden at the reminder of his team’s less than stellar performance. “Still, good effort. You’ve almost caught up with Her Majesty’s team. I believe that’s better than last year.”

“Well, that might have had something to do with the fact that she does have Simon,” Anthony grumbled.

It was true, no one could out-run Simon - even if Anthony always gave it a damn good try: hence why the Queen often had him captain her team when he was in London for the season. Besides, the head of the other team was usually Lord Duval, due to his position as the Queen’s chief administrator. However, it seemed his brains and financial strength were all he had, due to the fact his social skills, and athleticism were sorely lacking.

“Touché, and who is up next?” Eloise asked.

“I don't actually know. The other team seem to be taking remarkably long to sort themselves out.”

Just then, almost as if on cue, three men began to hurry towards them.

A quick glance revealed that one of the gentlemen who was approaching was Colin Bridgeton, and the other the Duke of Hastings; that much you knew. The third was rather unfamiliar to you, however, you were pretty certain he’d been playing on Simon’s team. Regardless of his identity, neither he nor any of the other gentlemen now stood in front of you looked very pleased. Rather, they looked as if they had all sucked on a lemon, their frowns were so deep.

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I must reclaim Lord Bridgerton here for a moment. It appears Anthony will be needed to bowl again,” Simon sighed by way of explanation.

“What on earth for?”

Colin was the first to answer. “Lord Dingby is unable to bowl on account of the heat, and the Baron will not play.” His skepticism was clear as he shot the so called Baron a disapproving look. “He ’twisted his ankle’ or so he claims, thus we are down a bowler and the other team is down a player.”

You all rolled your eyes.

“So then, who will bat?” questioned Eloise curiously. “If Anthony is bowling you still require one more man to take their place on the other team?”

Wasn’t that the question of the hour. However, no one appeared to have an answer, and by the disapproving glare steadily growing on the Queen’s face, they didn’t have long to come up with one.

“Maybe Lord Stevens?” suggested the third man hastily, staring around at the crowd.

“No. He injured himself riding the other week,” Simon replied. “And unfortunately our hosts only saw fit to invite enough male guests as were playing. We aren’t exactly spoilt for choice regarding possible options.”

It was true. There didn’t seem to be any visible answer in sight given that those most suited to the game were already positioned on the field.

“What about female guests though?”

Your question hung in the air for a moment, causing everyone around you to turn in surprise.

“Excuse me?” Anthony looked at you suspiciously as you began to rise from your seat. He was well versed enough to know when mischief was afoot. A fact that was proven right a moment later as you held your hand out towards a shocked - and excited - Colin.

He was only too happy to oblige your silent request as he placed the bat in your grip. It was rapidly becoming the most exciting event of the season and lord knows he wasn’t about to spoil the fun - especially if he got to rub salt into Anthony’s wounds at the same time.

After all, given his display the previous evening, it was time you truly gave him something to feel embarrassed about. Losing.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Perfectly,” you smiled. “You’ve seen me when we’ve played Pall Mall. I have a decent enough swing. Besides, you said yourselves you need an extra player and there isn’t exactly anyone suited left - not anyone male, anyway.”

“Anthony?”

To his credit, your husband was also smiling, even if you could see the sudden tension forming behind his perfect smile. “I see no problem with it. I’m sure our hosts would prefer the game finished rather than called off because we ran out of players.”

“Agreed. Well, it’s settled then.” Simon cheered, clapping a hand on Anthony’s shoulder as they looked back towards the field. “It seems she will be taking his go.”

Then they noticed the rain cloud of a man next to them.

"She can’t play!” protested the third man. Everyone looked at him in silent disbelief. “This is a gentleman’s game. A Lady can not play."

“Her Majesty seems to have no objections,” Eloise commented smugly, glancing across the field. Indeed, it was true Her Majesty seemed to have no objections to the turn of events, choosing instead to exchange a wad of pound notes with the man beside her. If anything she looked exhilarated by the prospect. "Besides, I doubt a feeble female such as ourselves will pose any threat to your team, your Lordship.”

“Well… I… Bridgerton, I still don’t think-”

Thankfully, Anthony was all too busy gazing at you to take any notice of the pompous oaf’s objections.

It was a look you were more than familiar with, the unspoken desire and encouragement obvious in the way his gaze softened. It was the same look he always gave you when you’d done something amazing (and most things were amazing in his eyes). It didn't matter if it was taming a particularly unruly horse, solving a maths problem that left the rest of them scratching their heads, or daring to step onto the dance floor at your first ball, knowing not another soul in that room other than him.

It was a look that made you feel invincible. That you could do anything and everything you put your mind to as long as you had Anthony cheering you on from the sidelines... you were a team. Always.

"Anthony?" you asked, the challenge obvious - but also your sincerity. If he truly did not want you to play then you'd have marched back to your chair and sat right back down.

You'd meant it before. You loved your husband and wanted nothing more than to be the best partner you could be. Your hurt from last night had stemmed from the fear that, for a moment, that wasn't enough for him anymore.

Fortunately, it appeared you were wrong. Your husband wasn't embarrassed by you. If anything, he looked ready to kiss the ground you walked on as he leaned over and whispered in your ear, "If you can get four runs, I will personally pay you 5 pounds."

"You have a deal," you laughed. "As it is, women and ladies alike play cricket up and down the country. It’s high time we had a chance to show you boys up."

The other man began to protest again. "My Lady, my La-"

He never got very far. You simply stopped, turning and handing him your parasol and shawl.

"Thank you," you cheered marching away.

He paused, taken aback. It didn’t help that Eloise was only too eager to firmly pull him back into your now vacant seat with a glare that could have melted ice.

All around applause broke out as the players resumed their positions on the field. It took a moment or two for them to prepare for play but now everyone seemed to be watching intently.

Oh well, if you were to dare to play at all then you may as well dare to achieve something from it, you mused, gripping the bat handle and aligning yourself with the wicket. Victory seemed a rather good start, especially given the fact you had no idea what Lady Whistledown would make of this turn of affairs. You’d already had a shocking enough entrance into the world of the Ton, what was one more daring display?

"Go easy, Lord Bridgerton," the referee cautioned from the side of the green.

Anthony nodded obediently at the crowd’s titters. You could see the restraint he was demonstrating, choosing not to hurl the ball at you the way he would had you both been in the privacy of your home. Instead, it took all his will power to grip the cricket ball and resume his position on the field.

Unfortunately, you never knew when best to desist from poking proverbial bears. That, and Anthony was too easy a target.

"Yes, do go easy on me," you jibed. Everyone who knew you could hear the sarcasm buried in your voice as you took the bat and fluttered your eyelashes at him. "I’m only a delicate woman, but I must endeavour to ensure her Majesty’s team at least has an opportunity to best you, Lord Bridgerton. You’re only losing by what? A few wickets?"

Oh. You were in for it now.

Anthony’s grin was devious as he stepped back a few paces, weighing the ball in his hand till finally he charged at you, swinging his arm over in the perfect bowl.

It was then you brought up your bat to send the ball back in a high arc.

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone followed the ball with their eyes. It was as if they couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to hit it. However, the shock quickly wore off as everyone remembered the point of hitting the ball in the first place.

"GO!" came a yell from the crowd as excitement began to spread.

So, you did.

Hitching your skirts in one hand, you began to sprint towards the other set of wickets, grinning as your partner passed you along the way.

Of course, you would have liked to protest that you could have indeed run faster had you not been encumbered by your stays and petticoats. Your slippers were also rather terrible for any movement. What you wouldn’t have given for a pair of trousers right then.

"Come on!" came another yell - it seemed as if everyone was forgetting their dignity in all the excitement as you tore back and forth across the grass in a mad blur.

Had it been anyone but you, it would have been a terribly scandalous moment. Yet, your name - and the status of your betrothed - meant this was all merely seen as sport. Besides, from the way Her Majesty was whooping from her perch by the trees, it was clear where her loyalties lay.

"Come on Y/N!"

"Anthony! Run!"

"Over here!"

"Come on!"

The cries blurred into one as you finally turned at what you planned on being your final run, only to spot Anthony as he came sprinting back towards you… and the wicket.

"Oh no, you don’t," you laughed, charging onwards in a final burst of energy.

You could hardly catch your breath as the world slowed around you.

All that remained was you, Anthony, and the closing distance between you.

You could see his desperation laced with delight as he watched you stagger towards the wicket… just as the ball he’d thrown hit it.

"IN!"

The referee’s declaration initiated an eruption of noise as all around the green, men and women celebrated the spectacle they’d just witnessed, and the victory you had now ensured. Within seconds you were swarmed, mobbed by well wishers and triumphant team mates. There were so many hugs and snatched ‘well done’s that you were quite at a loss what to do other than stand there and accept it. Thankfully, Anthony seemed to have read your mind and was at your side as soon as he was able to fight through the jubilant throng.

The moment he reach you he took your hand in his. His expression was a mixture of awe and contrition, clearly unsure what to say to you.

"Good game," he praised. "Simon better watch out - I think Her Majesty will be asking you to captain her team next year."

"What a tremendous idea, Lord Bridgerton. I may just do that."

As if summoned by the very mention of her, a voice rang out clearly from behind you. Without even turning you knew exactly who was standing behind you, as the throng suddenly fell silent around you and parted like the Red Sea. In all the excitement you had failed to notice the Royal party making their way across the field to join in the celebrations.

With a gulp, you turned and dropped into the most respectful curtsey you could manage without falling flat on your face. "Y - your Majesty."

The Queen chuckled. "I must thank you, Lady Bridgerton, for providing such excitement to our proceedings today. I also must thank you for the twenty pounds I just procured off of Brimbsley - that’ll teach him to bet against me."

You merely dipped your head in gratitude, unsure whether this was actually happening or not. After all, the closest the you’d ever been to monarch was your hasty presentation several months ago and that had barely earned you more than a curious glance, like you had been some exotic animal on parade at the Zoo. And now, the Queen was addressing you? A lowly Stable Master’s daughter?

It was enough to make you feel as if this was all some kind of surreal dream.

"Anyone who bets against your Majesty deserves to be relieved of their coin."

"True, True," she preened, gesturing for you and everyone else to rise. "I gather you have played this game before?"

"Growing up around the Bridgertons ensured I had little alternative," you confirmed, relieved when the Queen proceeded to chuckle good-naturedly.

"I dare say you didn’t, my dear. Well, it certainly makes for a rather entertaining afternoon, as well as a victorious one. Perhaps we aught to have women playing more often." She turned her head and chose to direct her next words directly to your husband. "You’ve chosen quite the bride, Lord Bridgerton - you are to be congratulated on choosing such a spirited partner. I hope you realise how lucky you are."

"Indeed, your Majesty," Anthony replied, the earnestness clear in his eyes. "I’ve realised just how truly unique and remarkable she is… and how lucky I am that she chose to be on my team, even if not on the cricket pitch."

Another round of laughter echoed out at his declaration but you knew it was more than just a jest. In fact, by the all-too-clear pride radiating off of the eldest Bridgerton you knew what he truly meant with his honeyed praise.

It was all the apology you could need and had you not been in such company you’d have dragged him into the bushes and shown him just how much you forgave him. Besides, your victory on the Cricket pitch was enough pay-back for both of you.

As if sensing the amorous tension steadily rising around her, the Queen chose that moment to make a well-timed departure, in search of a refreshment. She barely gave you all a final nod before marching off to greet the rest of her guests, leaving you stood there with a rather gobsmacked expression on your face.

"Well… that really happened," you murmured, struggling to maintain your newfound confidence now that the whole saga had come to an end. "Did I actually just do that? Did the Queen actually just … talk to me?"

"She really did," Anthony confirmed, hands grazing yours nervously, as if unsure whether or not you’d accept his touch. However, your hands accepted his readily, fingers intertwining as you squeezed his palm in an obvious attempt to ground yourself. "You truly were incredible today - I know you don’t need to hear it but, for what it’s worth, I am proud of you."

"Thank you."

"And I truly am sorry for being such a world class fool, last night," he continued swiftly, clearly keen to make his apology whilst you were willing to receive it. "I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I was embarrassed by you. I never could be. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I was vexed with my brothers and because of several other trivial matters, but I allowed my temper to get the better of me and I handled it poorly. I lashed out at the wrong person - the one person who deserves nothing less than to be told how incredible she is, every single day. I am unworthy of you, Y/N. I know no one else in the entire world so awe inspiring and to let you think otherwise for even a moment was my failing entirely. You are brave and smart and funny and kind and beautiful-"

"Ok, Anthony. I get it."

"-and I am unworthy of someone with such skill on the cricket pitch-"

"Anthony," you squealed, trying to hide your laughter as he pulled you into his arms and smothered your face in kisses. "It’s fine. I forgive you. After all, I also lost my temper and said some things I didn’t mean. Can we just agree we’re both sorry and put this mess behind us?"

"Yes! God yes," he sighed, looking like a weight had visibly lifted from his shoulder. "Because I really do not like fighting with you. Instead, I think we should be enjoying your victory parade. Today is your triumph, after all - the Queen’s champion."

"Hmmm, I rather like that title," you purred, gazing up at him. "But between us? I prefer being your wife, much much more."

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #Bridgerton

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erensangel444 · 7 months

Note

hey this had been playing on my mind so i was wondering if i could request a eren x fem reader. so what do you think about a scenario where eren is tutoring the girl and she is sitting on his lap while they study but she accidentally keeps shifting around and he gets hard and then things progress from there …

anonnie. you're killing me. tutor eren = my dream man

bjhTHIS IS AAHHH' THIS IS AAHHHH

okay lemme stop losing my mind n here you go....

content warnings: unprotected sex(WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP IT!!!), degradation, praise, choking, creampie.

word count: 6.2k

edit: so this actually turned into a whole fic ummmm my bad. i heard tutor eren and got a little carried away.....

if anyone asked you, chemistry was the thing you hated most in this world. frankly, in your opinion, it was unnecessary and it made no sense! no matter how much you studied, the material seemed like another language to you.

inevitably, and much to your dismay, you were forced to get a tutor. you had never struggled so much in a subject before, so this was a first to you.

you needed a tutoring session as soon as possible, hoping to boost your grade in the class. when you had gotten the notification on your school email that you were assigned a tutor, you quickly opened it.

to: y/n5411@edu

from: chemistrydepartment@edu

Thank you for contacting us about enrolling with a tutor. This email is meant to notify you of your assigned tutor and provide you with their contact information. If you have any questions or are unable to view any contents of this email, please email us back or contact this number 913-470-8999. If you have any trouble getting in contact with your tutor, please also refer to the contact information just stated. Thank you!

URL to tutor information

you quickly opened the url, navigating the chemistry department website. once you logged in, your eyes widened when you read the name.

Tutor: Eren Jaeger

Contact Information: Phone - 913-875-9022

Email - erenjaeger4113@edu

this was just your luck. of course your tutor was the TA that you couldn't take your eyes off of when you were in class.

eren was a TA for your class section, so you saw him every monday, wednesday, and friday. for some reason, those were always the days you decided to ditch the sweatpants and put on light makeup.

eren was....hard not to notice. with his height and sea-green eyes, you couldn't help but glance over at him about 100 times throughout each class.

maybe that's why you were failing chemistry.

if he was your tutor, how were you meant to focus? you were convinced the universe was playing some sort of sick joke on you. either way, you had no choice but to play with the cards you were dealt. your next exam was at the end of this week, and there was no way they'd assign you a new tutor before then.

also, what reason were you meant to give them? you couldn't exactly send the chemistry department an email saying you had the hots for the tutor they assigned you, so you needed a new one.

you decided you could be civil enough to control yourself, and really focus on the material. you were here to get your degree, not to get heart eyes over some stupid boy.

you quickly drafted an email to eren,

to: erenjaeger4113@edu

from: y/n5411@edu

Hi Eren, my name is Y/N L/N. You were assigned as my tutor for chemistry 110, and I was wondering if you'd be open to go over material sometime this week? I'm really hoping to clarify some of the content before the exam on Friday, so it'd be great if you'd be free for a tutoring session. If not, I completely understand. Either way, thank you so much and have a great rest of your night.

Best,

Y/N L/N

you sent the email before you could stop yourself, and quickly shut your laptop. god, what were you getting yourself into?

when you had woken up next morning, eren had emailed you back.

to: y/n5411@edu

from: erenjaeger4113@edu

Hi Y/N! I'm actually free tonight at 6 if that works for you? Would you be okay with meeting at my dorm? I live in Mckee Hall. We can study in the common room. You can come with some example questions of what's been confusing you. Take some practice problems from the lecture slides that you didn't understand and we'll work through them together. Let me know if tonight works. Have a great rest of your day!

Sincerely, Eren Jaeger

you had to stop yourself from blushing at his message. he was simply being polite and doing his job but for some reason you were smiling. you quickly drafted a reply thanking him and letting him know that tonight works and you'd see him then.

you shook your head, chastising yourself for getting all worked-up from a simple message. you closed your laptop and got ready for the day.

you don't know why you were so nervous. it was 6pm, exactly, and you were standing outside the main door of Mckee Hall, where eren had told you to meet him.

the door opened, and there he was, a pretty smile on his face. "y/n, right?"

you nodded your head, unable to form words. eren had on a simple brown sweater with a white shirt underneath, and khaki pants. his hair was done up in a half up, half down style, a bun tied at the back of his head.

"here, come on in, s'cold," he said, holding the door open for you. you thanked him, walking inside. eren led you to the study room, asking if you were able to find the dorm alright, to which you said yes. you thanked him for "being able to schedule so soon," to which eren smiled, saying it was no problem.

once the two of you were settled in to the study room, eren asked if you had gone through the lecture slides. you stuttered out a "y-yeah," pulling your notebook out of your backpack, opening up to the page where you had written down the problems.

eren stood up abruptly, startling you slightly. he laughed softly, grabbing his chair and moving it to your side of the table, directly next to yours. "sorry, just thought it'd be easier if we were next to each other," he spoke, looking right at you, "is that alright?"

"yeah s'alright m-makes sense," you said, smiling softly before looking back down at your notebook. your cheeks felt so hot, and you felt embarrassed getting nervous simply due to his proximity.

as he got closer, a vanilla, woody scent waved by your nose. it must be his cologne. god, he was pretty, he could dress, and he smelt good! how were you supposed to focus for the next two hours?

"mmkay," eren mumbled, looking at your notebook, "you have really nice handwriting," he said, smiling over at you. you gave him a quiet, "thank you," as eren read the first problem.

"okay, okay, so walk me through this first one. how would you start it?"

you grabbed your pencil and started by writing out the variables you knew, "mhm, good," eren assured you as you continued. you made a mishap with your first calculation, and eren stopped you.

"okay, hold on," he said softly. "d'you mind if i steal your pencil real fast?" he asked. "oh-oh! yeah yeah of course," eren laughed at you softly. your fingers brushed his as you handed him the pencil, and you swear your heart skipped a beat.

"okay so when we have heating curves like this one, it's important to recognize which equation we need to use." you nodded your head.

"you already started off really well, by writing what variables you have, that was really really great," he said smiling. you swear your cheeks were growing hotter by the second.

"so there's 3 possible equations we can use and we can find the right one based on the variables we know we have. first, deltaH minus the specific heat capacity...."

the two hours with eren seemed to go by in minutes. you were surprised that you were actually seeming to grasp some of the content. it helped how encouraging eren was, smiling and praising what you did correctly, and helping you re-route when you did something wrong.

he actually cheered when you did the last question correctly without any help from him, getting a "shh!" from another person in the study lounge. you giggled softly at his embarrassed face.

as you began to pack up, eren's voice caused your ears to perk up, "did you want to meet again this week to go over the study guide? and i can help with any questions you have as you work through it."

"u-uhm, yeah! that would be great, thank you so much," you smiled at him, eren returning an even bigger smile.

"does tuesday at 7 work?" eren asked, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "that's perfect," you said, zipping yours closed. "o-okay, i'll see you then," he said, an almost shy demeanor taking over. "see you then," you copied, eren grinning at that. he held open the study lounge door for you, letting you walk out first.

you both paused, "well, uhm, thank you again, eren, this was really helpful,"

"of course, anytime, and i'll see you on tuesday," eren said. "tuesday," you smiled. "tuesday." eren said in a joking-serious tone causing you to giggle softly, his grin widening at the sound.

you started to walk away, giving eren a quick wave. eren gave you one back, smiling before he turned to walk up the staircase.

you couldn't help but grin the whole walk home.

tuesday came, and at exactly 6:58pm you were walking towards the main door of Mckee Hall, surprised to see eren sitting outside on the bench, waiting for you.

he looked up from his phone, smiling when he saw you. he stood up, putting his hands in his pockets, "hey," he said softly, "hi," you said back, in the same tone.

"ready to get your chemistry on?" eren joked, causing you to laugh softly. "please never ever say that again," you joked, eren giggling.

eren scanned his id card to get the two of you into the building, holding the door open for you.

it was cute that he had waited outside for you, backpack on and everything. the two of you walked to the study room, eren asking about how your day had been.

your conversation came to an abrupt end when the two of you entered the study room, to see there were no tables open. you looked at each other with a sort of "what now?" look.

eren's cheeks flushed slightly pink, "well uhm, w-we could study up in my room, o-only if you want! i-i just figured since we're already here, and like if you don't want to that's completely okay because.." he began to ramble on, unable to hear your "eren," as you smiled. "i-i only suggested it because the lounge s'full, n like n-no funny business or anything, like obviously! and i uh..." you began to laugh, eren's rambling coming to a pause as he looked over at you.

he smiled, thinking to himself how pretty you were when you laughed. "eren," you said, once you had caught your breath, still smiling. "i'm more than okay with studying in your room"

"yeah?" he asked, his cheeks still a pretty pink. "yeah," you smiled, eren smiling softly before looking down at his shoes.

"u-uhm okay, alright, follow me," he said, leading you out of the study lounge and up to his room.

eren's room was nothing like you expected. being in his room let you take a little peek inside his brain. in looking at eren, you wouldn't expect it, but he was actually quite the nerd.

the top of his desk was lined with books, and funko pops from different animes. you smiled softly at the little nanami kento funko pop.

his walls were lined with posters and canvases. "you watch cowboy bebop?" you said, smiling at the poster.

"yeah, s'one of my favorites," he said. "me too," you replied turning to look at him with a soft smile.

eren watched as you explored his room, smiling at the way you were so intrigued. "these canvases," you started, "did you paint these?"

"uhm yeah," he said, coming to stand next to you, "my mom's actually an artist, so i kinda get it from her i guess."

"they're beautiful, eren," you complimented, eren trying to stop his cheeks from getting any redder.

eventually after you had your fill, you had asked eren where you should sit. "uhm, you can take my bed, o-or the desk if you want! whichever one you prefer."

you plopped up on his bed, eren laughing softly at your jump. he grabbed your backpack for you, setting it next to you on the bed. "thank you," you said, eren smiling at you with a "mhm".

eventually, the two of you had gotten into the content of the study guide, eren helping you work through problems you were confused on, and explaining them to you.

at around 10pm, you guys had finished the study guide. "eren, i actually understand chemistry, it's a miracle," you joked, eren laughing softly. "seriously though," you continued, "thank you, you don't understand how big of a help you've been."

"well, you're a great student so s'not hard," eren smiled, and there came that fluttering feeling in your stomach again.

"have you eaten?" eren asked, catching you off guard. "i-i just realized, we kinda spent dinner time studying, and i was gonna go down to the kitchen n make some mac n cheese if, uh, if you want some?"

"y-yeah, i could go for some mac n' cheese."

"i'm convinced you're gordon ramsey or some shit," you said as you took another bite of mac n cheese. eren laughed, "don't boost my ego like that."

as the two of you ate, you continued to converse about random things. the conversation initially started with you asking eren what his major was, which you found out, was biology. you laughed asking him why he TA'd for chemistry and not biology, and eren was quick to joke,

"i guess i'm just that multi-faceted, you know it's a struggle just having so much genius in my head," "oh shut up," you giggled, eren smiling over at you.

the conversation eventually drifted into anime, which the two of you bonded over. you were ranting about jujutsu kaisen,

"and i just don't get how people are complaining about this season's animation! like i'd like to see you do it, mr. i live in my mom's basement," eren snorted at that, causing you to laugh loudly.

it was a dinner filled with laughs and smiles, and that warm feeling in both of your chests that just would not go away.

and to be honest, neither of you wanted to let go of that feeling.

since eren was a TA, he was also a proctor for the exams. he smiled when you came to the front to grab your scantron. he handed it to you, with a soft whisper of, "you're gonna do great, don't stress."

you smiled at him, walking back to your seat. and for the first time this year, the questions on your exam didn't look like a child's scribbling. you still struggled on some questions, but you mostly understood what you were doing.

for once, you finished the exam with a feeling of hope instead of impending doom.

and when you got your score back the next day, you had gotten an 85!

your first thought was that you couldn't wait to tell eren.

"an 85!" he yelped. you nodded, biting your lip with a big smile. "holy shit, y/n!" he cheered, his arms wrapping around you in a big hug.

it caught you off guard, but you quickly melted into his embrace, hugging him back. after 10 seconds, eren pulled away, awkwardly putting his hands at his side.

"s-sorry!" he apologized, "just got really excited," he said softly, his cheeks that pretty shade of pink that they often turned.

"s'okay," you smiled, "thank you," was all you could say.

"i'm....i'm really proud of you," eren said softly.

that sentence had you on top of the world.

" i couldn't of done it without you, eren."

december had quickly approached, and with it so had snowstorms and finals week. eren had continued to tutoring you, helping you cover content that had confused you during lectures, and providing you with weekly quizzes to help test your knowledge on each chapter.

now that finals week was here, you and eren had been in cram-mode. eren was intent on helping you ace this final, and he knew you could do it.

the two of you were in his room, as you usually were. after that first study session in his room, you asked eren if you guys could keep studying in his room. you said, "s'just nice in there. feels comfortable, i think it helps me focus," and who was he to say no?

if anything, the image of you on his bed, pencil in between your teeth was more than enough motivation for you guys to have your study sessions in his dorm room.

like now, you were sitting on his bed, in spandex and a big T-shirt. you had came in sweats and a sweatshirt, with your big winter coat over you.

when you had asked eren if you could take your sweats off, he was at a loss for words, just looking at you with wide eyes. "i-i have shorts on underneath," you promised, eren sputtering out words, "uhm, uh yeah, of course! s-sorry,"

when you had said shorts, eren wasn't expecting spandex that clung to your figure. he was trying his best to respectful, but, oh my god, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

and then your sweatshirt came off, revealing your big T-shirt, and he couldn't help but imagine how you'd look in one of his shirts. how you'd put it on in the morning, and the way it would drape over your figure. that combined with the image of you sat atop his bed, had him shifting in his pants.

he was doing his best to not pop a boner right now.

regardless, he was here to help you study! and that's what he was trying to do, but...you seemed distracted. your pencil was between your teeth as usual, but your eyes were glazed over with something he had never seen in you before.

you hadn't written anything in your notebook for the past 5 minutes. eren cleared his throat, causing you to shake your head slightly and let out a shaky breath.

"you good?" he asked, to which you gave a simple, "mhm."

eren didn't believe you.

"c'mere," he said, causing you to look at him, with raised eyebrows. "y/n, c'mere," he repeated. you listened, getting down from the bed.

he pushed the chair he was sitting in back from the desk slightly, "sit," was all he said. "h-huh?" you spoke softly, trying to stop your thighs from clenching together.

"y/n, you seem distracted up on the bed, so just sit n' i'll keep you focused. you can't do good on the exam if you spend our whole study session chewing on your pencil."

your cheeks were getting hotter, "o-okay," was all you said, sitting down on eren's lap.

eren was convinced he like to torture himself because the second you sat down on his lap, he was trying his best not to run his hand over your thighs.

eren let out a soft, shaky breath. "a-am i too heavy? m'sorry i-i can get up," you said, lifting yourself up from eren's lap. eren's hands came to your waist, pulling you back down, "mm mm s'not it, jus hot n here s'all."

"o-okay," eren stuttered, "walk me through problem 6," he said referencing to his open binder on the desk. "u-uhm" you said, your voice shaking, "so it's asking a-about dihedral angles."

you could feel yourself getting wet and you were beginning to curse yourself for wearing such thin spandex.

eren listened as you spoke, "so it's either psi, phi, or omega." "mhm, keep going," he said, voice low.

eren's eyes widened as you continued to speak. he doesn't think you notice how you're slightly rocking your hips over his lap.

fuck. he couldn't stop it even if he wanted to. his dick was starting to twitch in his pants, getting thicker as your pretty hips started to rock over him. the slightest whimpers were slipping out in between your words and eren swears he must of died and gone to heaven.

was it okay to put his hands on you now? could he? god, he wanted to so badly. would you be okay with it? fuck, if the way you were moving over his dick had anything to say about it, he thinks you'd be okay with it.

fuck it. eren brought his hands to your thigh, humming as you continued. you paused what you were saying, hips stuttering in their movements. "s'this okay?' eren asked. "y-yeah," you said, cringing at the whimper that accompanied your words.

"okay, keep working through the problem for me," eren sighed, his hands resting on your thighs. "uhm, so the psi angle is from the alpha carbon to the carbonyl carbon, and the, uhm.." you words began to drift off as eren's hands began to trace over your thighs.

"c'mon y/n, focus," eren said, resting his chin over your shoulder as he watched your hand shake as you held the pencil. "m'trying, i'm sorry," you said voice shaky, your hips still rocking over eren's lap.

"don't apologize, pretty girl. just finish the problem for me and then we can take a break," eren promised, his hands rubbing over the inside of your thighs now.

pretty girl. he was trying to kill you.

"o-okay, ren', i-i'll focus," you said softly. "u-uhm this angle, though, is from the alpha carbon to the nitrogen, w-which would uhm," eren's fingers were lightly rubbing over your clit through your spandex.

"c'mon baby spit it out. what would it be, you're s'close," eren hummed softly. "i-it would be t-the phi angle, p-please eren,"

eren was grinning at how desperate you had gotten, your hips were rocking with fervor now, and you had thrown your head back to rest on his shoulder, leaning your body into his as he rubbed over your clit.

"mmm good job, baby, so smart, hmm?" eren's dick was throbbing, you just looked so pretty for him. he couldn't take his eyes off of your face, the way your eyebrows scrunched together, your pretty lips open in an o-shape.

"c'mon baby tell me how smart you are," eren said, rubbing over your clit more intensely now. "i-i'm smart," you said breathlessly, rocking your hips into eren's hand. "yeah you are, angel," eren said, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"n i think you deserve something for being so good, huh? whaddya' think?" "yes, yes, please ren', need it," you whined.

eren laughed at you softly, removing his hand from over your clit, and tapping at your thigh, "stand up, baby," he said lowly.

you whimpered at the loss of his touch, but listened nonetheless, standing up and turning around to face him. eren sat up straight, bringing his hands to your thighs once more. "so, so pretty," he murmured to himself. "wanna take this off for me, angel?" eren said, tugging at your shirt. "mhm," you hummed, lifting your shirt over your head.

"fuck me," eren sighed. you had on a pretty, lacy pink bra. eren was convinced he was the luckiest man on earth. "shorts too, baby," he said, and you were more than happy to oblige.

eren swore his heart was going to beat out of his chest. pretty pink underwear with a little bow in the middle. you were pure perfection. "oh my god, c'mere," he said pulling at your waist, having you straddle him. you giggled as he pulled you on top of him, the both of you smiling at one another.

your hands looped around his neck, and eren's hand came up to your face softly stroking your cheek. "you're so pretty, y'know that?" he said, his eyes entrapped with yours.

you couldn't take the attention, looking down. "mm mm, look at me," he said, his hand falling to your chin to force your eyes back on his. "so so pretty," he repeated, pulling you in for a kiss.

it was everything you had imagined and more. the way eren's lips moved against yours had your hips rocking in his lap once more. the soft sounds the both of you were making being muffled by the other's lips.

eren's tongue slipped in to your mouth, brushing against yours. eren pulled away, lips slick with spit. you were breathing heavily, pouting as you looked at eren.

"w-wanna see you too," you said, your hand bunched into his shirt. eren smiled at you, "yeah? help me take it off.""

your hands came to the bottom of his shirt lifting it up, eren grabbed at the neckline of his shirt to pull it over his head, but not before it got stuck slightly, causing the two of you to laugh.

he finally got it off, grinning at your pretty smile. your hands came to trace over his abs, looking back up at him and back down at them.

"let's get on the bed, hmm?" eren said, his hand coming back to rub softly at your cheek. you looked up at him, nodding. eren wrapped his arm around you, standing up. eren tossed you softly on to the bed, before joining you atop it.

you were laying down, head propped up on his pillow. eren hovered over you, leaning down for a kiss. what started off soft and slow, quickly became more desperate.

eren's hands were running over your body, yours arching into his. he took the chance to reach for the clasp of your bra and undo it. after feeling it come undone, you slid the straps over your arms and let it fall down slightly.

eren pulled away from your lips, grabbing your bra and tossing it down onto the floor. he looked down at your breasts, moaning at the sight. your nipples were stiff from the cold air.

eren didn't know what he wanted to do first, but he knew he had to have his lips on you. he kissed you once more, moving to your cheek, then your neck. he kissed down your shoulder, to your collarbone, finally landing one on your breasts.

he looked up at you before sucking a nipple into his mouth, evoking a soft whimper from you. his right hand began to tweak at your other nipple, rubbing the bud between his fingers, pinching and twisting softly.

he loved how reactive you were, the way you moaned and whimpered at each touch. he needed to taste you.

eren kissed down your stomach, right to the bow on your panties. his hands came to the hem of your panties as he looked up at you. "s'this okay?" he asked, wanting to make sure you were comfortable.

"s'more than okay, please touch me," you begged so sweetly, eren couldn't help but smile. he landed one more kiss right below your belly button before pulling your panties down your legs.

your panties were left dangling around your left foot as eren spread your thighs apart. you were dripping, your arousal evident as he took his fingers and spread you apart.

you were hiding your face in your hands when eren looked up at you. "getting shy on me now?" he asked, voice low. "there's no reason to be," he said, breathless as he watched you clench around nothing.

"s'so perfect," he muttered, before landing a kiss on your clit. his lips quickly wrapped around your clit, suckling softly at the bundle of nerves.

you were a mess, legs kicking, thighs trying to shut close around eren's head. he just put a hand around each thigh, and kept you spread open for him.

"ren', ren!" you whine, sounding like a broken record. eren was in heaven. there's no way he was letting you go anywhere after this.

he brought a finger down to your entrance, softly licking at your clit as he slid it in. his finger was reaching depths that yours never could. he curled it slightly, feeling that gummy, sensitive spot that had you losing your mind.

your hips bucked when he first touched it, eren laughing softly at your reaction. he continued to push his fingers against that spot, and you were going dumb, whining absolute nonsense, "mm oh my! oh e-eren oh fff-please!"

eren needed you to cum on his face, needed to see how pretty you looked when you reached your peak. he hadn't taken his eyes off of your face as he analyzed your every reaction and expression.

"r-ren', i-i'm gonna! gonna-oh!" you were trying to tell him you were close. eren understood, and sucked at your clit even harder, lightly grazing his teeth against it. you were so loud, he knows his dorm neighbors probably hated him.

"c'mon baby," he said, words muffled by his face pressed into your clit. your hips were grinding into his face now, your hands coming down to grab onto his hair. eren moaned at the feeling, the vibrations making you haywire.

you were so, so, so close, and with one final press of his fingers, your orgasm was washing over you, juices pooling out of you and into eren's mouth.

"mmmm" he hummed as he worked you through it. eren pulled away, his chin wet with your arousal. "ren', p-please kiss me," you said softly, your hands coming to his cheek as you pulled him up towards you.

his lips were on yours once more and you could taste yourself on his lips. "taste s'good, huh?" eren grinned at you. "w-wanna make you feel good, too," you said, your hand coming down to softly palm at eren's cock through his boxers.

"oh, fuck," he sighed, his forehead resting against yours. " can i, ren?" you asked so sweetly, your eyes boring into his. "y-yeah," he choked out.

you told him to sit back as you two swapped positions.

you were on your knees in front of eren, who had spread his legs enough to make room for you in between them. you pulled his boxers down along with his shorts, eren helping as he lifted himself off the bed so you could get them off.

his cock sprung out, hitting his stomach softly. he was so big, your mouth started to water. the tip was a blush red, his cock curved slightly. he was so thick, you didn't know how he was going to fit inside of you.

the second you wrapped your hand around his cock, eren was a goner. he was watching you so intently, and when your pretty lips opened to take his tip into your mouth, eren threw his head back with a soft groan.

he looked back down, watching as you sucked softly on the tip. when your eyes looked up to stare into his, eren whimpered. "d-doing so good, baby," he praised you, his hand coming to softly rest on your head.

you took his cock out of your mouth, looking up at him ever-so-innocently, "what do you wanna do to me, ren?"

you were stroking his cock, the pre-cum leaking from his tip helping you as your hand slip up and down. "f-fuck, oh my god," he whined.

"want you to use me however you want," you said, your pretty voice sweet and soft. "f-fuck, however i want?" eren said, voice breaking.

god, what were you doing to him?

"mhm," you hummed, kissing the tip softly. "c'mon ren," you pouted, "don't you wanna use my throat?" eren groaned, both of his hands coming down to rest on your cheeks now. "f-fuck, c'mon open up," he ordered, the change in his tone making your clit throb.

eren's hands move to your hair, wrapping around it. you opened your mouth, lips around eren's cock once more. "yeah just like that," eren said as he pushed your head down softly, forcing more of his cock down your throat.

"god, you take it so good," he sighed, his hips bucking at the feeling. you gagged softly, eren groaning at the feeling before pulling you off his cock.

you were breathing heavily, eyes watering slightly as you looked up at eren. "m-more, please," you whined, eren's thumb coming to play with your bottom lip.

"you're such a slut for it, hmm?" he said, his words causing you to whimper. "you like that too, don't you?" he spoke, voice gravely as he stared down at you.

"wanna be a good slut for me, yeah?" he asked, to which you nodded. eren softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon use your words for me,"

"y-yes eren wanna be your good slut."

eren was smirking down at you now, "then be good n choke on it," he said, bringing you back down to his cock. eren was moaning as you took him deeper, his hips bucking.

"f-fuck, oh y/n," he sighed, his hands falling from your hair. you took the chance to wrap your hand around his cock, stroking and sucking at the same time.

eren thinks he was starting to lose his mind. "g-god baby! go-gotta stop m' gonna cum," he was saying, his voice breaking in between the words.

you took his cock out of your mouth, still stroking him slowly. you looked up at him, smiling, and eren knew that image would forever be engrained in his brain.

"baby c'mere," he said, his hands coming to your cheeks as he pulled you in for a kiss. eren was smooth as he flipped your bodies over, hovering on top of you now.

"needa be inside you, pretty girl," eren said, his cock resting over your stomach. "h-hold on," he said, "i n-needa grab a condom."

your hands braced against his shoulders to stop him. "wanna feel you," you said, eren's eyes widening. "n, n i'm clean and i'm on birth control," you rationalized, as if eren needed a reason to be inside you raw.

"fuck, baby, are you sure?" "mhm," you nodded, pulling him in for a kiss. eren's hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he stroked the tip of his cock in between your folds. "f-fuck," eren moaned at the feeling of your wetness coating his tip.

every time his tip nudged your clit, you jolted, causing eren to smile devilishly. eren brought the tip down to your entrance, softly pushing inside. when the tip slipped in the both of you let out a soft sigh.

as eren pushed further in, you were whining. there was so much of him, so much to take. "you can do it, pretty girl," eren said softly, slowing pressing himself in further and further.

when he was fully inside, he just sat there, giving you a moment to adjust. he watched your face scrunch, getting used to the feeling of him inside of you.

he watched as your facial expression then relaxed, eyes opening to look at him. "s-so full," you whimpered, "p-please move," you whined, eager to feel eren more.

eren was quick to listen, pulling out till just the tip was in before thrusting back inside of you roughly. you both were reeling at the feeling, you from how deep eren was hitting, and eren from how wet and warm you felt around him.

"f-fuck, such a good fucking girl," eren moaned, his hand drifting up to rest on your neck. you took your hand and wrapped it around his rest, signaling you wanted more.

eren just grinned down at you before wrapping his hand around your neck. he couldn't help but think how pretty you looked being fucked stupid.

"god, the way you're squeezing around me baby, trying to milk me for all m'worth huh?" eren groaned. your legs were wrapped around him tight now, not wanting to let him go.

"please, please ren' want you to cum, w-want you to fill me up," you begged. if eren thought he was close before, he was right on the edge now, his hips stuttering as he spoke, "f-fuck, you want it inside?" eren asked, his eyes raking over your body, hand still wrapped around your pretty neck.

"p-please!" you whined, eren thrusting even faster now. "fuck, gotta cum for me then angel," eren said, taking his hand that was wrapped around your neck and bringing it down to your clit, his thumb rubbing circles on the bundle.

"f-fuck ren!" you were moaning loudly now, hips having a mind of their own, your wetness creating a squelching sound with each of eren's thrust.

"that's it baby, c'mon cum for me," eren was moaning too, so close, but he needed you to cum first. "show me how good you are," eren groaned, that being the final thing to tip you over the edge.

your orgasm triggered eren's, his warm cum filling you up as he moaned your name loudly, hips stuttering as pumped you full. "f-fuck" he sighed, as he came down from his high, looking down at your dazed-out expression.

"did so good for me baby," he said softly, pulling out of you. "t-thank you, ren," you said, your voice so soft.

"think after a shower n some food you'll be able to focus now?" eren joked. "mmm, i don't know," you said, turning to him with a smile, "think you may have to help me focus again."

thank you for reading! i sincerely hope you enjoyed the fic<333

also for anyone who's watched the finale can we talk about cabin eren. oh my lawd i am feral over him!!!

if you would like to, reblog or leave comment if you liked the fic! my requests are also open:D

also if there are any spelling/grammar errors, let me know!

sending you all lots of love, and happiness - angel (*o*)

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hyunsvngs · 8 months

Text

kinktober !

kink: crossdressing

pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

wc: 1.8k

crossdressing: wearing clothing typical of the opposite sex.

"How about this one?"

You turned back to Felix, twirling in the mini-skirt you'd bought earlier that day.

"Mm. I like that one."

Felix usually loved your little fashion shows after a shopping spree. The tent in his pants proved that he was enjoying this one, to a degree, but there was a dull look in his eyes and a pout on his plump pink lips.

You bent over, meeting his eye level. "C'mon, Lix. What's the matter? Do you wanna see my tits?"

"Yeah."

His cheeks went pink when you lifted your shirt, but he still didn't perk up. This was bad. Your tits usually fixed everything. You climbed atop him, straddling his lap and squeezing his cheeks. "Spill. What is it?"

He sighed, looking away. "I don't know. I'm just jealous, I guess. You get all these pretty clothes, and pretty underwear and lingerie… Sometimes I wanna be dressed up all nice, y'know?"

You couldn't help but smile. "Aww, Lixie, is that all? Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"You don't think it's weird?" he asked, the tips of his ears turning red.

You shook your head at him. "Wait right here, okay? I'm gonna find some things for you to try on."

Grinning to yourself, you hurried to your closet. Truth being told, you'd been waiting for a chance to play dress-up with your boyfriend for a long time. He was such a pretty boy with such beautiful features. He deserved to be dolled up.

You turned back to him minutes later, after having resisted the urge to toss every pink or lacy item you found in your closet and drawers across the room at him. You had just a few items bundled in your arms.

Felix looked at you, eyes wide. You could tell he was pleased, but also a little overwhelmed. "Can I have a minute to look through everything?" he asked.

"Of course, angel. Let me know when you want me to come back, okay?"

You were practically vibrating as you waited, pacing backwards and forwards, unable to contain your excitement. You couldn't help but picture him, his cock pitching a tent beneath a skirt, precum leaking and staining the fabric.

"Hey," you heard Felix's voice from behind the door, after what felt like forever. "Can you help me?"

You pushed open the door. He was standing at your vanity, facing away from you, though the show he was giving you from the back was delicious enough. He'd dressed himself in a very short pastel pink tennis skirt that you hadn't worn in forever, and quite frankly had forgotten you owned, paired with your white thigh-high socks. He'd put on a white lace bralette, stretched a little across his slightly broader frame.

Felix turned around. "Could you help me with…" He trailed off, seeing your astounded expression. "What? Do I look okay?"

"Holy fuck, Lixie. You look perfect."

His pretty pink nipples peeking out through the lace bralette, his bulge swelling out beneath the skirt - it was a fucking glorious sight.

He smiled, his whole face lighting up at your praise. "Yeah? Do I look pretty?"

"So fucking pretty, baby." You closed in on him, backing him against the vanity. One hand went to his waist, thumb stroking his hip bones where they peaked out from the waistband of the skirt. Your other ghosted up the skirt, going to rest on his upper thigh.

"I-I was just gonna ask…" His voice was barely above a whisper, a rosy blush dusting his cheeks. His tongue swiped across his lips, a clear sign that he was feeling a little flustered at your reaction. "Was gonna ask if you could do my make-up… put some of these in my hair…"

You looked down at the butterfly clips and lip gloss on the desk, briefly considering them. He would look so sweet. But you didn't know if you could hold yourself back. No, the accessories would have to wait for next time.

"Go get on the bed, princess."

Felix squeaked, complying immediately, jumping onto the bed. The skirt rose up as he did so, revealing further lace beneath…

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Lee Felix, are you wearing my panties?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours nervously. "Is that okay?"

"More than okay." You nodded. "Lixie, you look so pretty in that skirt but I want it off. Now."

His fingers went to the zip, tugging it down over his hips and onto the floor. Your breath hitched at the sight - you could feel yourself growing wetter by the second. He'd picked out one of your more ornate items, a lacy white pair of panties which complimented the bralette perfectly. His dick was straining through the material, twitching lightly.

You felt breathless, on fire with arousal. You pushed him back against the bed, forcing him down with two fingers against his shoulder. He looked up at you, slightly startled, leaning back on his elbows, as you climbed atop him. Your own skirt rode up your thighs, the wetness on the crotch of your panties lining up perfectly with his dick. You ground down, both of you sighing at the friction. You both moaned when your lips crashed against his, your tongue slipping into his mouth.

When you pulled away, Felix looked like he was about to explode - he looked just as turned on as you felt. You thrusted against him hard, fighting for the friction between your clit and his dick. God, you were like horny teenagers all over again - both so fucked out and he hadn't even entered you yet.

"Can we fuck?" Felix asked, his voice raspy. "Please, I need your pussy so bad."

You caressed his cheek gently, and he leaned into your touch. "Of course. Anything for my pretty boy."

Begrudgingly, you lifted yourself from Felix, kneeling as you straddled him. You lifted the panties, unsheathing his penis and letting them rest at the base of his shaft. The lace adorned his balls, cradling them like precious stones. Your fingers danced across them, enticing a moan from Felix.

"The lace feels so good," he mewled.

"Yeah, baby? Your balls look so pretty, all wrapped up in lace."

He looked up at you, eyes twinkling. "I have pretty balls?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," you said, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Give me your fingers, baby."

He held out his hand, and you took it, extending two of his dainty fingers. You brought them to your pussy, sliding them through your folds.

Felix looked up at you as though you were a shining goddess. "You're so wet. All for me?"

You smiled at him, endeared. "Yeah, baby, all for you. You look so perfect, dressed up all pretty. Driving me fucking crazy."

"Let me in your pussy - please? So wet… are you ready for me? Can I come in, please?"

You took his fingers, pushing them inside yourself. You couldn't help but gasp - you felt a slight stretch, but they slid in so easily. "That answer your question?"

Felix nodded. "Yeah - yeah, baby, fuck. You're ready. Let me in, please, please," he babbled.

You giggled at how needy he was. "Sure, honey." You gripped his dick lightly at its base, steadying it for yourself, positioning yourself just right. You inserted the tip into your pussy, ever so slowly.

"More," Felix whined. "More."

"Patience, Lixie," you chastised him gently. You began to ride him, only taking him an inch deep each time. He was whimpering beneath you, his face contorted into an expression of pure bliss. "Look at you, you can barely take this much. You'd die if I put it all in."

"Don't care," Felix insisted. "Need it!"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Alright, sugar, if you insist." You showed him no mercy, slamming your pussy all the way down, taking his full cock inside you.

It was a sensation that stunned the both of you. You felt so full. However, your desire to overstimulate Felix was immense, and you pushed through your own feelings of overwhelm. You rocked on his dick, grinding your hips down into his with each bounce.

Your hands laid on Felix's chest while you rode him, hands cupping his lace-clad pecks. His nipples were pert, poking into your palms. You couldn't help but grin devilishly as you took them both between your fingers, pinching them gently. Then not-so-gently.

Felix let out a strangled whine. His eyes were watery, his expression far-gone. Honestly, he looked like he could cum at any second. Truth be told, you hadn't been expecting this to be a particularly long session. You knew he was only holding on for you.

"How do you feel, baby?" you asked him. Your own voice was a little choked - you were very much focusing on Felix here, but his dick was still slamming into your g-spot with every tilt of your hips, your clit rocking against his skin every time you brought yourself down.

"I feel so pretty," Felix whispered.

"You look pretty, Lixie." You stroked his cheek gently, and he leaned into your touch, kissing your palm. "My pretty little princess."

"Yeah, fuck - I wanna be your princess! Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna - I can't hold it back!"

"It's okay, darling," you assured him gently. "Cum for me, baby, give me all your cum."

"Gonna fill you up! Gonna - Y/N!"

"That's it, baby, there you go," you encouraged him, continuing to ride his cock as he came.

Felix was incoherent, whining and moaning so sweetly for you. You were sure the neighbours could hear - the whole street, probably. Though you didn't care, and you doubt Felix did either. The two of you had the best sex life potentially in the whole world, and you didn't care who knew.

"Baby, baby - fuck, can't take much more," Felix whimpered.

"Just a little more, honey," you urged him, continuing to fuck yourself on his oversensitive dick, torturing him the way you knew he loved. "You can take it, I know you can."

Felix threw his head back with a whine, a single tear spilling down his cheek. You smiled down at him. He looked so sweet when he was all fucked out. You halted your riding, lifting yourself and letting his poor abused dick fall out of your cunt.

You stayed, kneeling as you straddled him, watching as a drop of his cum trickled out of you, splashing onto Felix's abdomen. Felix raised his arms weakly, hands cupping your ass as he watched his cum drizzle out of you. He squeezed your cheeks and you jolted a little, causing the cum to splash across his chest, painting both Felix and the bralette. It was a work of art; droplets of cum clinging to the lace like dewdrops on a spiderweb, oozing through and decorating Felix's tanned skin.

"You look so pretty covered in cum," you complimented him, running a hand through his hair, damp with sweat.

Felix pouted. "Got your top all messy, though."

"It'll wash out," you reassured him. "Plus, I think it's your top now. You look better in it than I ever did."

#hyunsvngbinitober !#lee felix smut #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #lee felix imagines #lee felix x reader #lee felix x you #lee felix fanfiction #lee felix drabble #felix x reader #felix fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x reader #stray kids fic

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ponderingmoonlight · 4 months

Note

Hi hi! I have a req- can you maybe please write a Megumi x reader where they get lost in a haunted house and the reader is too scared to move and Megumi helps her (as a stranger) and then it goes more from that ?

I fell in love with this immediately and needed to write that wonderful request of yours! Thank you so much darling, I'm crossing my fingers you like what I came up with 😭

Getting lost at a haunted house only to be saved by Megumi

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: After your friends dragged you into a tunnel of terror at an amusement park despite your irrational fear of creepy stuff, you find yourself lost in your own panic. Until a sudden blue-eyed boy appears and helps you out...

Warnings: your friends are shitty, Megumi is a sweetheart, reader is obviously scared of creepy stuff lol

„This is probably the worst thing you ever made me do”, Megumi mutters, annoyed by the sheer sight in front of him.

When Gojo-sensei told them about a day off, he certainly didn’t see himself going to an amusement park with Itadori and Kugisaki. He should have stayed back, he could have read the new book he just bought, enjoying the silence of empty Jujutsu High while the others were out doing whatever they want. But instead, he finds himself surrounded by crying children with their hands covered in sweets, people bumping into him with every step he takes.

What on earth is he doing here?

“You’re such a pain in the ass, Fushiguro. How about going out and having some fun instead of making it your mission to look as if somebody killed your puppy? Geez.”

“Look, a haunted house!”, Yuji cries out, his eyes glossy from sheer excitement.

“Oh, I wanna go in!”

“I don’t wanna go in”, you protest while your friends literally drag you after themselves.

To be honest, the thought of going into a haunted house alone makes you want to leave immediately. If there’s one thing you hate, it’s creepy stuff. No matter if it’s as innocent as Halloween or things like horror films based on a true story. There is nothing worse than getting jump scared, feeling as if your heart will stop beating any minute, cold sweat running down your neck. No, there is absolutely no way in hell you will step one foot into this cursed place, you’ll just wait here and get some ice cream, you’ll-

“I really don’t wanna do this”, you whine into pitch-black darkness, heavy creepy music making you feel sick in an instant.

Your heartbeat hammers against your already aching chest, palm getting so sweaty that you are unable to hold onto the hand of your friend any longer.

“Hey, where are you? I-I think I lost you guys!”

No response, no sign of life. Just you, the darkness around you and your own blood rushing through your ears.

Fuck, you can’t do this alone. Where is the emergency exit when you need it? Is there somebody else around you?

“H-hello?”

No response, no sign of life.

Panic starts to rise in your chest, disturbing screams, violent laughter and creepy music drowning your head in nothing but thick fear. You need to get out of here as fast as possible.

Your wobbly feet carry you down the dark hallway. But instead of being able to simply sprint through the tunnel of horror, you are greeted by a never-ending hallway that is that is filled with macabre clowns decorating each and every centimetre around you. There aren’t many things that scare you more than strange dolls that look like Annabell herself, but clowns…You hated them since you were a child, no matter how friendly they looked.

And these ones definitely don’t.

“Are you lost, little one?”

That voice is close, too close for your liking. You rest your eyes for a second, pretend that this deep voice that shook you to your core isn’t really there. No, this must be part of the music, a stupid joke-

“I am still here.”

Something touches your arm. Out of instinct, you widen your glossy eyes, staring straight into the maniac grin of a clown.

A real clown.

Not just a doll.

Your body react on its own, a violent shriek escaping your lips.

Run.

As fast as you can, past the clown decorating the wall, straight into nothing but darkness while this little voice inside your head can’t stop laughing about your pathetic self. How old are you? 10?

It doesn’t matter. Your frightened eyes are darted fowards, adrenaline pumping through your veins while all you can think about is stepping through that door, getting out of this living nightmare as soon as possible. You just need to push yourself a little harder, get through this dark hallway right in front of you and it will be over, you are almost there-

You see stars. Before you are even process what happens, you bump into something hard and fall straight onto the floor with your head spinning in confusion. Was is a wall, a door? No, the dim light shows you the outline of a person. Your guts turn in an instant, the horrifying face of that clown you saw seconds ago still haunting your mind. Please, not another one of these actors.

It stretches out his hand, ready to grab you.

“NO!”, you scream on top of your lungs, crawling backwards in a desperate attempt to escape those fingertips.

Megumi can’t help but stare at your puny figure in sheer disbelief. Why the hell are you so scared? And why are you here on your own? Your thick and heavy breaths hang in the air between you both, distracting him from his mission to find a way out of here after Itadori and Kugisaki ran away like some 4-year old kids.

“Calm down, I’m just trying to find my way out of here”, he calmly announces.

You blink against the darkness around you, too stunned to say a single word. That is definitely a boy with a voice that could calm down entire oceans, making your heartbeat tame down in an instant.

“Let me help you up, okay? Give me your hand.”

There it is, his big hand stretched out in front of you. Like in trance you take it, palms still covered in cold sweat when he lifts you off the ground with ease. In the dim light you aren’t able to see anything but the outline of his features, his tall and actually quite muscular frame.

“We’ll get out of here together, just don’t let go of my-“

In the matter of seconds, your whole body clings onto his arm for what feels like dear life, nails digging into his firm biceps without mercy. He can’t leave you alone here like your friends did, there is absolutely no way in hell you’ll let go of this boy.

Much to Megumi’s fortune, the room is so dark that you can’t tell the deep blush creeping up his face. You’re a girl with a voice sounding so angelic that it caught him off guard, with your breast pressed against his arm-

Oh god.

“Let’s go”, he mumbles.

He forces himself to stare in front of him, to not risk a look at you while tumbling down the dark hallway with you by his side. But the second he opens the next door filled with red lights, his gaze wanders to his left side, gets greeted by your doe eyes immediately.

Time stands still, Megumi’s heart pounding as hard as yours when all he does is staring at your way too gorgeous but frightened features. You have to be around his age, even though it’s hard to tell in that strange light. But oh your face definitely matches your angelic voice.

“Thank you for not leaving me alone”, you mumble against his arm, eyes directed towards the next door ahead of you.

“There’s no need to thank me. How did you end up in here anyway if you are this scared?”

“My friends forced me and left me after the first door on my own.”

Megumi huffs in response. Well, that definitely sounds way too familiar. When he sees these two idiots again…

“But aren’t they aware of the fact that you’re scared?”

“Everyone is. But I guess they just thought it would be funny…”

“It’s not”, Megumi replies in an instant.

“You don’t deserve this. It might not make sense to them, but you are stressed. And no friend should want to see you like this for their own amusement.”

You swallow hard, still holding onto his arm tightly. Of course you know that he’s right, that your “friends” aren’t suppose to treat you this way. But you’d never say it out loud, would never confront them.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

His voice catches your attention just before you start to panic over another set of creepy dolls laughing in the corner, his arm moving you closer to him.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

When you gaze up at him again, his world stops spinning for a minute. You really seem to trust him, your hands still intertwined with his arm, your body firmly pressed against his side. You look so lovely, seem like such a nice person. It becomes more and more personal to get you out of here.

“I’m sure we are close to the exit. Focus on me, okay?”

“My name is (y/n)”, you suddenly blurt out.

“I’m Megumi Fushiguro. Nice to meet you (y/n).”

Out of his mouth, your name sounds so relaxing, so melodic. His calm voice really suits the ocean of his dark blue eyes that never break contact with yours even though he walks down the hallway with you by his side.

“I think this is the last door.”

With a swift motion, he opens it. Slowly but surely his features get light up by lantern light, the cries and screams from the amusement park ringing in your ears again. You take a look around you.

He really did it.

You made your way out of the tunnel of horror.

“Thank you so much for helping me out”, you mutter, pulling him into a tight hug before you are able to stop yourself.

What would have happened if he didn’t find you, if he didn’t keep a cool head and lead you through the right doors? You rest your head against his broad chest, heartbeat calming down completely. How lucky you are to have met him.

“Oh – uh…No problem at all”, he mutters.

Megumi has to tell himself over and over to keep a straight face, to not allow himself to turn redder than the devil himself. But you hold onto him so tightly, so thankful for nothing but the fact that he guided you out of a haunted house.

“Who’s that girl, Fushiguro?”

You let go of him immediately, eyes darting towards a girl with short brown hair coming your way while dragging a pink-haired boy behind her like a bag of trash.

“After you left me alone in there, I met (y/n) and she helped me finding a way out.”

“Nice to meet you (y/n)!”, the other boy greets you instantly, a kind grin plastered on your face.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have helped him, Fushiguro fits just right in a tunnel of horror”, the girl comments dryly.

“There you are! We thought the clowns already ate you up!”

Oh no, not now, not in front of him and his friends. You want to sprint away, to hide yourself from your “friends”. But instead, all you can do is stare blankly why both of them approach you with a toxic smile.

“Is this what you consider funny? Dragging (y/n) in there and leaving her alone even though you know she’s scared?”

Megumi’s body tenses up immediately as he positions himself between you and the other girls. They really have some nerves, approaching you like this after what they did. There is no way he’ll let them get away with that.

“Huh? Who the hell are you and why would you care?”

“Because I was scared as well and (y/n) helped me to find a way out.”

He glimpses at you for the split of a second. It’s more than crystal clear that he’s lying. You need to stand up for him, defend him, tell them the truth.

“Oh, you’re braver than I thought (y/n)”, one of them mutters.

“Yeah…Well…We see each other tomorrow, okay? Bye?”

And with that, they disappear into the evening, their awkward walk leaving you speechless for a second.

“Promise me you’ll never let them treat you like this again”, he finally speaks up again.

“I…I promise….”

“Can you just give her your number so that we’re able to grab something to eat? I’m starving”, the girl next to him complains.

“Yeah, I’m super hungry as well!”

“Can’t you just shut up for a minute?”, Megumi hisses under his breath.

“But…would you mind giving me your number?”

-Bonus-

"Megumi-chan!"

His steps quicken in an instant, carrying down the hallway of Jujutsu High at high tempo. If there's one thing he's not in the mood for right now, it's definetely Gojo-sensei. Itadori and Kugisaki probably told him ever little thing about you.

"There's no running for me. Tell me, who's the girl you've been with today?"

He can't help but roll his eyes, the wide grin on his teacher's face simply driving him insane.

"I just met her today", he mumbles in response.

"Don't forget to use protection, I don't wanna be a grand-"

"CAN YOU JUST SHUT UP"

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pseudowho · 6 months

Text

In Flagrante Delicto

Higuruma Hiromi will fight your help and guidance every step of the way...until one night, he catches himself needing you desperately.

An AU where Higuruma is forced into the employ of Jujutsu High after his role in The Culling Games.

Warnings: 18+, sex pollen!, angst, smut and fluff, Hiromi being willing to argue with anyone about anything, with a little bit of sex pollen needy Hiromi

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Higuruma Hiromi was undoubtedly the most difficult mission you had ever been given.

Tasked with walking Hiromi through 'the systems' of the Jujutsu world, you, a sorcerer who had been introduced to this world more conventionally, had absolutely nothing in your armory to counter the veritable force of nature that this man was.

You argued, constantly. He forced you to acknowledge the hideous insufficiencies and injustices in the system you worked for, at the most inconvenient of times.

Your patience was a finely tuned machine. You had perfected your ability to debate and discuss the ethics and morality of Jujutsu sorcerer activity, both legal and illegal, over a number of years.

But Higuruma Hiromi had driven you to drink. One evening, sat at home, deeper into a bottle of wine than you had anticipated, you received two messages in quick succession; one, from Yaga ("Mission with Higuruma tomorrow. Details to be sent over by Ijichi") and the other, from Higuruma ("I look forward to continuing our discussion tomorrow"), and you groaned, sinking the rest of your wine, and hoping it was enough to get you through the chaos of Higuruma's mind.

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"So," you started, approaching the subway with Higuruma, "lots of late-night civilian disappearances on this one line," you pointed to your map, "and two Second-Grade sorcerers have already disappeared in separate incidents. What does this tell you?"

Higuruma was silent, musing as he tapped his gavel lightly against his hip. Reaching his conclusion, he turned to you with a wry smile: "That your higher-ups knew, by the first Second-Grade's death, that a Second-Grade wasn't strong enough, but sent another Second-Grade anyway."

You sighed, deep and weary, "While that's probably true, we don't know they're dead--"

"Well they're not playing Scrabble, are they--"

"--and that's not the answer I'm looking for--"

"Well, I'm not here to be charitable, or unrealistic."

"Oh, are you here to be insufferable?"

Higuruma half-laughed, "Preferably. God forbid I should be sufferable--"

You swiped his gavel from his hand, and tapped him sharply on the forehead, "Higuruma. Please. I'm begging you," you clasped your hands for dramatic effect as he assessed you, a sardonic half-smile in his hooded eyes, "the quicker you play the game, the quicker you and I can go our separate ways and you can just go out and do this by yourself."

Higuruma's lip curled up in bitter distaste. He wiggled one finger into the knot of his tie, loosening it with an irritated twist of his neck. "I'll reiterate," he said, considered and flat, "that my joining the Jujutsu sorcerer's established hierarchy is a Hobson's Choice."

"If I want to go about making some positive changes to this cesspit," he spat, "I have to prove myself trustworthy in their eyes, and atone for my crimes by playing their game." Higuruma approached you, his chin tilted down as he looked through you, with sombre eyes.

"And the sad thing is," he said softly, now inches from you as you burned under his scrutiny, "you've been playing their game for so many years, you've convinced yourself that the rules are fair."

You swallowed, meeting his gaze; your agreement with him passed as an unspoken pact, but you were, as of yet, unable to betray your established part in this system with words. Higuruma nodded, slowly, understanding.

"So I'll inconvenience you as little as possible," he reassured, "and try to be a good boy today." You closed your eyes, breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth, counting to ten. Opening your eyes, you caught up to Higuruma, who was already halfway down the empty subway steps.

"Please don't go ahead without me," you pressed, "I know you're not completely inexperienced, but fighting Curses is much more nuanced than fighting Curse-users."

"But they're brainless, right? By all means they're probably easier." You tilted your hand from side to side.

"They fight on instinct. We can be guilty of overthinking something that's primal for them. I'd never assume I can out-think evolution."

Higuruma hummed, satisfied with your answer. You were relieved to have averted another argument. Reaching the bottom of the steps together, your shadows were short in the low eerie glow of the empty subway system.

"So the victims got on a train, but never got off it," Higuruma confirmed with you.

"But it hasn't been the same train every time, so it seems to--"

"--pick a host. Right. And you've asked the station master to keep to the same train schedule tonight?"

"Mhm. No people around though."

"So, we could always just get on trains until we're attacked."

"That is completely reckless, and I won't--"

Higuruma breezed away down the corridor, his slim suited figure sloping away so lackadaisically that you felt annoyance bubble up in your throat.

"You don't have to come," he called back, relaxed and confident, "I've got this covered." You ran after him, grabbing his upper arm. He stopped, annoyed and impatient.

"Just...trust me," Higuruma urged, "try something new. You may be pleasantly surprised." He gripped your hand, firmly breaking your grip as he stared you down.

"How can I trust you? I barely know you."

"Then why are you worried about me?" He taunted, heated and scathing, "Not really what you lot do, is it? Worry about each other?"

"Well I worry about you," you snapped, "I worry about you every day and every night since they tasked me with taking care of you." You swallowed, embarrassed by your outburst. Higuruma hesitated briefly, looking...touched? He spun round, his back to you now, tapping his gavel in irritation against his thigh.

"That settles it then," he said, convicted and grabbing you by the hand, "you've got to come with me. It would be cruel not to let you worry. Come along."

You were pulled through the dim corridors of the subway system by Higuruma Hiromi, protesting the whole way.

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"-- so stupid, you could have died--"

"-- but I didn't, and I'm fine, so stop worr--"

You slapped the wounded shoulder you were currently patching up for Higuruma, and he made a noise of protest as you scolded him, "Stop telling me to stop worrying," you cried, pressing gauze to his cuts, "because I've worked in this shitty system for years, so I know that if we don't worry about each other, nobody else will worry about us, and you have no regard for your own wellbeing--"

Higuruma's head snapped up, smiling, "So you agree," he pressed, excited by the new development, "that the higher-ups have no intention to safeguard any of you--"

"--I never disagreed with you, Higuruma. You just...missed the point. As usual."

Higuruma turned, unable to look you in the eye as you continued dabbing the back of his shoulder. His eyes beseeched you to continue, dark and quizzical.

You continued, your voice tight and upset, "Whether or not we fight back against the higher-ups, makes no difference. Almost every sorcerer in this wreck would go where they were sent anyway, because at least we have a chance of defending ourselves against the monsters out here."

You sighed, taping bandages down, Higuruma's bleeding now settled, "So that's what I decided to do. I expend my energy protecting the non-sorcerers because they're the weakest link in the equation. They can't defend themselves. It's the right thing to do. I'll fight the big fight on my days off."

Higuruma was quiet, allowing himself to be chastised. He rolled the gavel between his hands. He suddenly felt so exposed, shirtless in front of you, feeling every touch of your soft hands as they assessed his ribs, and he gulped, unusually unable to find the words to say.

"Do you, uh...do you want to grab a drink? After we're done here," he offered weakly, eager to spend time with you outside of these roles you were forced to play.

"No," you emphasised as he rubbed his nose, "you'd probably tell me my drink order was wrong." Higuruma sunk his face into his hands, laughing.

"I'm not that bad--"

"You are dreadful. I love the...the passion you have, but I'm just...I'm tired. I'd rather go home." Higuruma nodded, thoroughly shot-down, respecting your refusal.

Sloping home that night, insisting he'd prefer to walk over being dropped home by Nitta, Higuruma considered he may have been fighting the wrong person for weeks now. Torn between 'playing the game' to get out from under your feet as soon as possible, and resisting becoming part of another broken, unjust system, Higuruma found himself erring unusually on the side which benefitted you over anyone else.

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In the midst of battle, you found yourself separated from Higuruma, cold dread seeping into your belly as you realised there was nobody else here to save him from himself. Distracted, you took a major hit, thrown by some sordid thrashing beast down an old brick staircase.

You had largely protected your body in swathes of your own Cursed-energy, but still had the breath forced out of your lungs as you had hit the wall below. The Curse, enormous and puce-coloured, roared down the stairs after you.

Trying to stand on a dice roll, your numbers came up short and you stumbled, heart lurching into your mouth.

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You and Higuruma had been assigned to clear out a growing populace of curses in an abandoned block of flats. Trying to talk to him, to plan tactics and methodology, Higuruma had seemed quietly indifferent towards you on the journey there. Refusing to engage with you on any serious level, he seemed almost bored of you, staring impassively out of the window throughout.

You tried not to be hurt, reminding yourself you were here to assess whether or not Higuruma was safe to act independently as a sorcerer. After his series of murders in the Culling Games and before, he was offered two choices: work for Jujutsu High, or refuse and face being hunted down and executed. But, he was an adult, and his safety was ultimately not your jurisdiction if he refused to take your advice.

And yet...the thought of his death by any means filled you with a sickly dread.

Because in reality, Higuruma represented the idealism, the ethical standards that working within a broken system had steadily stamped out of you. Your anger towards him was a projection of your own shame at having fallen into line when you wanted nothing more than to rebel, to protect the weak, including your own colleagues, despite the resistance.

Even worse, Higuruma saw this, and his disappointment in you only deepened your shame. You were meant to be 'helping him' to adapt to your world, and you felt sick to your stomach as you tried to contaminate this man. You felt sicker still as you felt yourself creep closer and closer to his way of thinking, wondering if you fit in this world anymore.

You couldn't tell him how deeply you admired him for being everything you had fallen so far from.

After efforts to interact had fallen flat, you sat beside each other in stony silence. Still, you felt, despite his feigned indifference, anger poured off him, not cold, but white hot.

"What have I...what have I done?" you asked, afraid of the answer.

Higuruma looked at you, eyes still glowing like little coals in his impassive face; "What have you done?" he retaliated. You sighed, a short breath out of your nose.

"...you're not ready to be sent out alone yet. You're reckless and you've got by on luck so far, but--"

"--so you saw fit to carry on this babysitting charade by telling the higher-ups that I'm a danger to myself and others around me." Higuruma scowled at you, not trying to conceal his fury anymore. You blushed, feeling the shame twist in your throat.

"...you...assume you're going to come out on top in every fight, so you don't assess the danger before you jump in, and it's just a matter of time before-- before you--" You reached out to take his hand, desperate to communicate your fear for him in a way he would understand. Higuruma moved to pull his hand away and you held on harder.

"I just...couldn't stand to see you die some pointless death," you urged, "I need-- we need men like you." Higuruma appeared unmoved, silently allowing you to squeeze his hand. Eventually, his long fingers slowly closed around yours.

"I don't think anyone's cared about me this much in years," he replied, as lightly as if he were talking about the weather.

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Brickwork and rubble clouded your vision as the floor rumbled beneath your feet, the Curse blown sideways, shunted by a comedically large gavel. You felt a taut-muscled arm loop around your waist, yanking you to stand-- "get up, come on-- NOW!" -- and you half-ran, half-staggered through a devastated corridor. Your heart sank as you spotted the staircases downward completely collapsed, leaving you both stranded on the fifth floor.

Higuruma appeared, dusty and spitting, wiping residue out of his eyes and slamming his hand to a button on the wall. In a wild flurry, the Curse turned the corner, screeching and hissing, and with a *ping* the lift doors opened. Not looking back at you, Higuruma shoved you into the open lift, slamming his hand on the button again for the doors to close.

"No-- Higuruma! Hiromi!" You skidded across the lift on grazed knees, wedging your arm between the doors with a yell as they closed around it. The lift didn't move down, and you heard Higuruma's incoherent shout of rage at you as you forced the doors open, reaching out for him and dragging him in by the back of his collar, and hammering the 'close doors' button repeatedly as the Curse, still dazed and staggered, made its headlong rush towards you.

As you fell into the lift with Higuruma, you felt a hand press behind your head, its fine bones crunching as it cushioned your head's strike against the wall. You sat, slumped, Higuruma's body over yours in a protective cage, as the doors slid closed, denting inwards as the Curse hit them with a metallic thud, and a roar.

Silence. Higuruma, silent and seething, reached behind him to press another button. The lift started a smooth descent downwards.

"I had it," he spat, lips curled upwards, nose wrinkled in animated fury, "and you stopped me-- for what? Why?"

You gulped, coughing brick dust out of your lungs as you croaked, "You were lunch. You were that close to being killed--"

"--do you really think I'm that inept--"

"--you're not inept, just inexperienced--"

"I'm not a fucking child!" Higuruma's voice rang, deep and final, around the lift. The lift pinged as you reached the bottom floor. You sighed again, pushing him away from you as you stood, moving towards the doors.

"We'll regroup and consider our plan of--" A wiry arm blocked your path, holding down the 'close doors' button.

"We are not finished," Higuruma pressed, enunciating every syllable with gritted teeth. You rested your hand on his forearm, gentle and weary.

"I am. I'm finished." Higuruma stared at you incredulously, hackles still raised. You continued, "I can't coddle you anymore. You're a smart man, you're happy you know what you're doing. So I'm finished. I won't keep fighting you for your own life, Hiromi."

Hiromi deflated slowly, unable to fight without an opponent. His lip still curled, he refused to move his arm from blocking the door, looking away from you as his fury simmered low.

"I'll clear you with the higher ups. Do what you want to finish up here. I'm done." Still, Hiromi didn't let you go, silent as your hand stayed tenderly on his forearm. A few heartbeats passed between you.

"The thing is, Hiromi...you've already lost the fight when you think the result is the most important thing. Being willing to put yourself forward to defend people, going through that fight for them...that's the really noble thing. Any idiot can win a fight. It takes guts to stand up and decide to fight in the first place."

Reaching past Hiromi to press the 'open doors' button, the lift flooded with daylight, muted by the external veil. Hiromi's arm dropped, beaten. As you moved to step past him, his fingers gently tangled in yours, your hands ghosting together between your bodies.

"Can I...can I buy you a drink? To thank you." You swallowed, throat thick with conflicting emotion. You hesitated, then nodded. Hiromi smiled down at you, something unreadably tender in his eyes.

He leaned slowly down, and pressed a soft-lipped kiss to your forehead; "thank you."

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You didn't get to go out for that drink. After giving the higher-ups your approval for Higuruma to be released, he was thrown headlong into mission after mission.

You sent him occasional texts, and he messaged back, usually dry witty commentaries on the jobs he'd been given. You found yourself missing him, feeling little golden bubbles of joy when your phone pinged, his name on the screen.

It had been a week since your disastrous argument in the lift. You still felt guilty for having abandoned him, still not feeling he was ready, but knowing he had to find his own footing at this point.

Late one evening, you dried your hair with a towel, padding around your apartment in just your underwear as you got ready for bed. You jumped and squeaked with alarm as someone hammered on your door. Grabbing an oversized t-shirt from a pile of laundry, you pulled it on over your head. Approaching the door, cautious, you were alarmed to feel--

"...Hiromi?"

Hiromi leaned against your doorframe, his head on his forearm, and he looked at you with feverish eyes, panting, apparently in pain. His dishevelled suit, and a blossoming bruise beneath his right eye placed him as a man fresh from a mission.

Without hesitation, you gripped Hiromi by the hand and pulled him into your apartment, closing and locking the door. Immediately your hands grasped his cheeks, looking deeply into his eyes, a look of such sweet concern on your face that he gulped, overwhelmed, desperate.

"What happened? Why are you here? You should get to Shoko--"

"I don't want Shoko," he spat, chest heaving as he turned away again, pressing his forehead to his fist against the door, "I want...I want you." You blushed, pleased he had come to you for help, but your medical knowledge was limited.

"What happened?" You asked again, hands cautiously ghosting over his abdomen, checking for injuries.

Hiromi groaned, low and slow, as he burned from the inside out. Your touch shot through him like a thousand arrows. His fingers seared his skin as he fumbled, trying to undo his own tie, and you took pity, reaching round him, your small hands cool against his neck as you removed his tie for him. You felt him tremble against you.

As his collar opened, you spotted a narrow, inch-long dart in his neck, like a cactus prickle. Curious, you plucked it out and dropped it onto the sideboard near the door. Is he poisoned? You questioned yourself in a panic, and you grasped him by the cheeks again, looking deeply into his eyes, terrified you'd watch the life ebb out of him, unable to do anything.

"What do you...what are you feeling?" You took him by the hand, guiding him to your sofa and forcing him to sit as you stood in front of him. His sloped eyes were narrow, taking in your barely-covered legs, the barely-concealed nubs of your nipples beneath the t-shirt fabric. Hiromi reached out with a shaking hand, grazing his fingers up your calf and your breath hitched.

"...Hiromi?" His hooded eyes flicked up to yours as his fingers stayed on your calf. Oh, you looked so uncertain, so concerned for him, and it was...delicious.

"It hurts," Hiromi croaked, "I need-- I-- I need--" His throat was tight, and you took him in, how desperate he looked, how needy, and the realisation clicked into place.

"You need...me?" Hiromi shuddered, recalling how he'd walked directly into an obvious trap while hunting down this godforsaken Curse, not taking in his surroundings, stubborn and certain in his ability to prevail--

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, cock throbbing, trapped against his thigh, his whole body burning from the inside out, "I was wrong."

"Oh, so you do know how to flirt," you teased and he huffed out a laugh, groaning again, in agony, and he begged, shameless, his head leant forward to press against your tummy as his hands crept up, eager to grasp your hips and pull you straight to his mouth.

"Please...please--" he whined, and you shivered feeling his hot breath on your belly through the fabric of your t-shirt, tangling your hands into his hair. Hiromi trembled, letting out a sandy growl against your clothes.

"Don't stop me, please," he urged, "I can't...I can't stop myself." He flipped your t-shirt up and you gasped, his strong hands sinking into the plush of your hips, holding you to his mouth, his tongue tasting you as he swiped open-mouthed kisses just above your underwear.

You felt sweet pleasure throb between your legs, all good sense thrown out of the window as you felt how deeply you had missed Hiromi, how ridiculously grateful you felt to be needed by him in this way, and you breathed to him, "You know I'd always help you."

Hiromi moaned his appreciation, his mouth now slipping down to the front of your underwear, and his tongue traced the shape of your pussy, groaning at the taste of you on the tip of his tongue. Your knees buckled, weak with the feeling of his mouth against you.

His lean arms hooked around the back of your knees, lifting them over his shoulders as he leaned you back against him. You cried out, when leaning forwards to grasp the back of the sofa, your clothed pussy pressed firmly against Hiromi's face.

You blushed as he breathed you in, his hips bucking instinctively upwards, aching to be inside you, cum heavy in his balls and desperate for release. His teeth grazed your pussy through your underwear, and he nuzzled into you, trying to part your folds with his nose through the fabric. Impatient, and feeling your hand sink into his hair again, he used two fingers to swipe your underwear aside, sinking his tongue instantly between your folds.

You whined so beautifully above him, and he undid his trousers, pulling his cock out of his trousers, gripping it tightly as he rubbed his nose and tongue urgently between your soft lips. Hiromi began to stroke himself furiously, squeezing hard at the tip, pre-cum dripping down his fist, shivering at the pleasure.

You allowed Hiromi to use you, your keening voice rising as he latched onto your clit, sinking two fingers into your pussy with no warning, thrusting them roughly into you. You bucked your hips against his face as he whimpered his approval. You blushed as you heard the frantic plaps of Hiromi pleasuring himself, your brain foggy with bliss.

Hiromi's fingers bullied into you, desperate to study you, imagining how deliciously his cock would stretch those plush walls. The constant pressure of his fingers against your cervix and his desperately nuzzling tongue and nose between your folds had you reeling, humping his face as you trembled and shook, Hiromi encouraging it as you approached your orgasm.

Your pleasure peaked, sharp and sweet, and Hiromi held you tightly to his face, still determined to taste you, drawing your orgasm out until you quivered, overstimulated, feeling your heart pulse between your legs. As Hiromi shook from his own orgasm, but not at all relieved and panting, cum dribbling down the front of his shirt, he dropped you into his lap.

You gripped the front of his shirt, his cum sticky against your belly. His hand tangled into your hair as he crushed his lips to yours with bruising force, forcing you to taste him. Nipping your bottom lip between his teeth, he whispered, begging again.

"Inside you...please, please..." You nodded again, and Hiromi threw your shirt off over your head, leaning back to drink you in; panting, trembling, straddling his lap, what the fuck was he playing at by fighting with you for so long--

Your hands worked nimbly at the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning and pressing it down his arms and you leaned forwards, almost as hungry as him as you took his nipple into your mouth. Hiromi hissed with delight, kicking off his trousers, shoes and socks and rocking your hips against him.

Hiromi grasped your hands, pressing one to his cheek, and one to his chest, forcing you to lean forwards as you shamelessly cast your eyes up and down his lean body, his muscles twitching with the electricity of your core on his aching cock. His teeth scraped against the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, your shivers like a sedative to him.

His eyes burned into yours, hot and pleading in the dark. His body was a furnace against yours, desperately craving a cure for the agony he was in. You lifted one leg off him, intending to stand to remove your underwear, but stopped as Hiromi all but sobbed against your wrist at the sudden loss of pressure on his cock, throbbing and sticky with cum against the neat, black hair on his belly. His fine-boned hands pressed you hard against him, before methodically tearing the sides of your underwear, flinging the scrap of fabric to the side.

When you grasped his aching cock, Hiromi was almost blinded by the anticipation, his hands flinging out sideways to grip the fabric of the sofa, and he panted, whimpering and pleading as you rubbed the angry red head of his cock between your folds, gathering wetness.

When you sank slowly down onto him, crying out as your walls fluttered around him like wet velvet, Hiromi came again with a shout, faint with bliss and temporary relief, feeling his own seed drip out of you and onto his thighs. He growled in frustration when, after his cock had stopped twitching inside you, he felt the need to cum again build up within his belly, overwhelming him with an almost violent urge to pursue it.

"...Hiromi? Do you...is this...?" You rode him slowly as he twisted in pleasure and anguish beneath you. Reaching up to grasp your breasts like stress-balls, Hiromi shook his head desperately at you, feeling pathetic and helpless. He was corseted by his intense need to not hurt you. You leaned into him, whispering reassurance and soft nothings in his ear.

Hiromi couldn't take it anymore. Standing up, holding himself inside you and locking your ankles behind his hips, he flipped you over, crushing your thighs to your chest. Grasping the back of the sofa, Hiromi snapped his hips against yours with determined precision, his shoulders tight and mouth slack as with every thrust he felt the urge to push harder, deeper, to empty himself inside you again and again, until you were putty in his hands, until he had cleansed himself of this unscratchable itch.

You clawed for purchase on anything as you were pounded into the sofa, drunk on the sensation of being so full, your insides feeling thrillingly bruised, the tenderness building, slow and intense. Reaching up, you plaited your fingers in Hiromi's at the top of the sofa, and he leaned down, nipping and kissing your knuckles in grateful affection.

The air was filled with the wet slaps of your joint bodies, and Hiromi's constant soft whimpers as you came again, this orgasm burning through your body as you hiccuped, tears streaming into your hair.

"Please please please...please, please," Hiromi begged as his next orgasm surged ruinously through him, dropping him to his knees on the edge of the sofa. Hiromi felt his senses return to him with each pulse of cum that left his body, relieved...for now.

Weak, exhausted, Hiromi flopped onto you, wrapping your arms and legs around him in a full-body embrace, suddenly feeling so touch-starved. Hiromi almost wept his thanks into your hair, and you stroked his hair in soft circles with your nails, all reassurance and acceptance.

By the time you had made it to your bedroom and slipped, sticky and spent, between the soft covers, Hiromi's eyes had returned to you, hungry and burning, his fingers stroking through your folds, fascinated by the drips of his seed still leaking out of you. He had flipped you over and pinned you prone to the mattress, sinking into you and moaning your praises as you had clenched, trembling with overstimulation, sucking his cock into your aching body.

Throughout the night, his relief had waned, with longer and longer gaps between him seeking out the warm acceptance of your body. You would wake to his body flush against yours, Hiromi lifting your leg over his hip as he sunk into you, mewling and panting in the night.

Finally, you had woken with sunlight streaming through the windows, Hiromi draped around you, looking soft and exhausted as he slept; Hiromi woke to the smell of coffee and you, very much ready to be cared for...and, occasionally, argued with.

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Ugh, yes. Debate me, lawyer daddy.

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xanasaurusrex · 5 months

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clarisse freaking out when you're sick clarisse la rue x sick!reader a/n: i'm gonna do a part 2 where she's taking care of reader (:

clarisse was freaking out.

a mere five minutes ago, someone from y/n's cabin had approached her, with a nervous look on their face.

clarisse had immediately demanded to know what was wrong, and was disturbed by the feeling in her gut that it had something to do with you.

"uh... it's y/n," the boy muttered. "she's... very sick, and showed up to sword practice. we're trying to get her to go back to the cabin, but she's not listening to any of us, so... we thought maybe you could help?"

that was all clarisse needed to hear to rush towards the sword practice area.

and of course, there she was, swaying on her feet, with a sword in hand.

it looked like she was arguing with another one of her siblings, who was desperately trying to get the sword out of her hand.

clarisse sped up as she crested the hill where sword practice was being held.

y/n flipped around angrily at the sound of footsteps, but the anger dissipated when she saw who it was. a wide smile broke out on her face, causing clarisse to smile despite the fact that she was a little bit upset at the moment.

y/n started walking towards clarisse, but she was unsteady, and tripped over a lumpy patch of grass. in seconds, she was careening towards clarisse, who caught her, thank gods.

"hey baby?" clarisse began gently, her arms wrapping around y/n's waist and pulling their bodies closer together. "are you okay?"

y/n gave clarisse a wide smile as she draped her arms around clarisse's shoulders. "i'm doing great!" her smile turned into a scowl quickly. "except nobody will let me do sword practice!" she rolled her eyes dramatically.

clarisse glanced over her shoulder to the collection of people in the sword fighting area looking at her hopelessly.

y/n laid her head on clarisse's shoulder as she slumped against her body slightly, and clarisse subconsciously leaned her head against hers, beginning to soothingly rub her hand up and down y/n's back. she wasn't sure what to do, not wanting y/n here in the sword fighting area, and just wanting to lay her down in a bed in her cabin.

y/n let out a loud yawn that she tried to muffle against clarisse's shoulder. a few seconds later, y/n started coughing violently, a hacking cough that rattled her whole body.

seeing y/n like that freaked clarisse out even more, and her urgency to get her girlfriend back to her cabin and tucked under some comfy blankets and asleep increased tenfold.

suddenly clarisse had an idea, something that y/n often used on her when she refused to go to bed.

clarisse gently pulled y/n away from where her head had been resting on her shoulder. she smiled softly at the way y/n reluctantly pulled herself away from the comfort of clarisse's shoulder with a small frown.

"hey baby?" clarisse began, catching y/n's attention. "i'm getting kinda tired. do you wanna come lay down with me?"

all the concerned faces surrounding the two immediately relaxed as they realized what clarisse was trying to get y/n to do. one of y/n's siblings began inching herself forward, hands reaching towards the sword still dangling from y/n's fingers.

"you are?" y/n asked, concern immediately taking over her features. "are you okay? you never get tired during the day?"

clarisse had to close her eyes to keep from laughing at the way y/n immediately became concerned about her when she was currently unable to stand.

"i'm fine, baby," clarisse said, making sure she was speaking in soothing tones, unaware of the fact that everybody around them was shocked at hearing clarisse sound so loving and gentle. "i just need a little power nap. do you wanna come lay down with me?" she repeated the question from earlier, with a bit more urgency this time, hoping that y/n would just come with her.

y/n seemed to think for a minute. "i mean... i guess, but... what about sword practice?" her words were practically slurring at this point.

"don't worry about sword practice," your sibling said from behind you. "we've got this all covered, right guys?" everyone immediately started nodding.

it was clear nobody was eager to have a loopy y/n running around swinging a sword, which was fair. clarisse certainly didn't want that either, the fear of y/n possibly hurting others or, gods forbid, herself was too great.

after the all-clear from everyone was given, clarisse turned back to her girlfriend. "see? everyone's gonna be okay for one day without you. it'll be hard, but they'll manage. can you come lay down with me please?"

clarisse engaged the puppy dog eyes she only ever used when trying to get y/n to do something, making sure to lay it on thick as she really just wanted y/n to lay down.

y/n looked at clarisse for a few seconds, clearly falling under the spell of the puppy dog eyes, and then threw her head back dramatically before saying, "alright, let's go you big baby,"

clarisse couldn't hold back the chuckle this time.

"alright, thank you baby," she said, letting go of y/n's waist in favor of holding her hand, hopefully to lead her back to her cabin as quickly as possible.

they ran into a problem rather quickly when y/n began stumbling, and would've hit the ground if it wasn't for clarisse's quick reflexes.

"baby, why are you falling? are you okay?" there was an urgency in clarisse's voice. they were a little bit away from the group of other demigods at this point, but everyone could hear the fear in clarisse's voice.

y/n yawned as she leaned against clarisse. "yeah... i just..." she yawned again. "i took some medicine before i left the cabin, and i thought it was dayquil but it was actually nyquil,"

clarisse closed her eyes for a second to process this information.

"so. you're telling me..." clarisse let out a small chuckle. "you took nyquil, a medicine that makes you fall asleep, and then you went to sword practice?"

y/n scoffed. "you make that sound like it's a bad thing. it's called dedication, actually,"

clarisse closed her eyes again so she could roll them. "okay baby, yeah," she said soothingly. "you're very dedicated, but i still need to lay down, remember? can i carry you?"

y/n rolled her eyes, or at least... it looked that way. clarisse figured it also could be her eyes rolling back into her head, it was becoming increasingly clear just how tired her girlfriend was, seeing as everytime she closed her eyes they stayed closed for a few extra seconds.

clarisse would be worried she was dying if she hadn't just been told that she had taken nyquil before going to sword practice.

y/n nodded eventually, and clarisse didn't hesitate to throw y/n's arm around her shoulder before tucking her arm under her knees and hoisting her up into her hold.

clarisse paused to give y/n a kiss on her hair before taking off for her cabin.

"we're gonna take a nice nap together, and then hopefully when we wake up we'll both feel better," she whispered into her ear.

"yeah," y/n yawned. "that sounds nice,"

everyone back at the sword fighting area looked on the situation with a feeling of curiosity and also confusion, because none of them had ever seen clarisse act this way before. clarisse was known for being brash and mean; they weren't accustomed to this softer side of clarisse, and it was a bit jarring.

it was definitely interesting to see, though.

taglist: @asvterias @lvrue

#percy jackson #clarisse larue #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse larue x reader #ares child #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #xanasaurusrex #xan's drabbles #drabble

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