#maybe that’s something I should have thought about
Text
Freak On The Cam! - C.K.
Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 6.5k
A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.
“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”
Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.
All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna.
In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.
Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.
“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”
“She’s also my classmate.”
“Kinky. Even better.”
No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too.
It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.
Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.
And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.
“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”
Ping!
And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You.
“Let’s make one ;)”
---
“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?” You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
Weird.
It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.
It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account?
You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.
So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?
Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.
But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got.
“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”
“Yes.”
It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”
You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off.
But so irresistible just the same.
“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”
Alas, Choso was not a strong man.
Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion.
Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor.
This was absolute torture.
And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…”
His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice.
And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.
“...all you gotta do is touch me.”
Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.
“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now.
But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”
And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips.
“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.
You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”
His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to admit - “-virgin.”
Oh.
Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.
With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”
And then it’s like something snapped.
You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not?
Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation.
No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.
You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted.
Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.
“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly.
And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.
You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice.
“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”
God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again.
“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”
You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.
“Cho, do you want me to-”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.
You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is.
“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”
“Oh?”
“Are y’gonna teach me how?”
Oh. Fuck.
You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.
Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other.
You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit.
“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”
You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”
“Like this?”
“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”
And by God, did you mean it.
“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?”
Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-
“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”
Ah, found it.
Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were.
“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”
You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.
Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-
“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”
And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy.
So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-
“Faster.”
He goes faster.
“H-harder.”
He goes harder.
Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.
“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”
You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.
And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.
He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices.
“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”
Oh. Shit, what have you done?
---
That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.
A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you.
So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm.
But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.
In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.
Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more.
For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?
Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet.
“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed.
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-
“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”
“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”
Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-
Intensity setting 2.
“You’re so mean, too.”
“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”
God, he was addictive.
Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both?
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-
“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”
“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.
Intensity setting 3.
“That so?”
And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection.
“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door.
“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”
Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone.
Intensity setting 4.
As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.
“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-
“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”
Cocky bastard.
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-
“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”
God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.
“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”
Intensity setting 5.
That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.
Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.
“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”
Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.
“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”
And with that, it’s like the magic is over.
Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing.
Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”
Close. You were so close.
A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.
---
“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”
You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-
But that wasn’t important right now.
What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”
Shit. Sukuna.
Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.
“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”
You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word.
“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you. Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”
A beat of silence passes. One. Two.
And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world.
“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”
“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”
“Just content?”
“Just content.”
“And you like that fool?”
Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”
This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”
“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”
Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”
Oh. Is that so?
And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”
---
You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully.
You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)
Cho <3: :0
And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?
Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all.
He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles.
Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead.
Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy.
Until now, that is.
slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.
uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter?????
itsgenslut: idfc just fuck
“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”
You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack.
“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”
“Mhm?”
And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.
Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”
It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”
And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.
The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy.
It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already.
“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”
“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”
uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??
roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh
“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”
Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game.
“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”
A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum.
He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?
“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.
You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”
“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”
Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over.
“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”
You felt too good. Too perfect around him.
“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.
Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”
Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you.
“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”
Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will.
Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”
“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”
Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there.
Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time
22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.
DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser
Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter.
“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-
“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”
The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.
You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-
“Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.”
And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body.
slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.
DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.
Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him.
Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.
Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but.
So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you?
Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit.
“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”
“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”
You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again.
“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”
Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you.
Loved it in fact- the way he loved you.
Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.
Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-
“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”
His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs. So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all.
Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.
“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”
And he knows he’s won.
urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.
uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls
DaStrongest: invite me next time <3
“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”
Oh?
“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera.
“Mhm?”
“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”
---
Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.
You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.
Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies??
You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.
Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.
Haha
Right?
You: *girlfriend
Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?
You: Girlfriend.
Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??
A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#choso x reader#choso smut#choso x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#choso#tonywrites#choso kamo#gojo x reader
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ZERO-SUM GAME
It’s different with Aventurine. You like being his luxury hand watch. You like being his elegant knife, his liar’s dice, his pretty poker chip. You want to be his object—the object of his affections, something he can parade around just like his expensive suits and his beautiful jewellery and his ostentatious furs. Look at me, he uses them to say. Look at what I own. Look at what I own despite this code on my neck. Look at what I've won despite my eyes and my blood.
(Or: Aventurine wins you in a game of poker. He decides to cash out his prize right then and there—to enjoy you on the card table, laid out among all the chips and cards.)
8.6k words of psychological issues, explicit smut, and deranged characterization. aventurine tops, reader bottoms. public sex, voyeurism from strangers, piv, oral (reader receiving), fingering with gloves on, creampie. mild dubcon but the reader is ultimately into it. afab gn reader, they are playing a fem-coded role for an espionage assignment (dress, heels, makeup). themes of objectification. discussion of slavery and sa during slavery (not explicit). dead dove do not eat, mdni.
You are in the grandest casino of Kinyoshi Moon Colony, and Aventurine is running your latest husband into life-ruining debt.
You aren’t cut up about it. If your marriage (or concubinage, rather) were genuine, you'd maybe be annoyed about the loss of capital. But as it is, this relationship is an assignment from the IPC—one of the longest and most excruciatingly boring yet. Fortunately for you, Aventurine’s presence tonight means that you've finally gathered enough intel for Diamond’s needs. It is time for the IPC to terminate your latest contract, and Aventurine is here to collect you.
Which is a little funny, given your relationship. It is strange sitting across from your boyfriend, draped over another man and thoroughly ignoring him. You’re entirely focused on fawning over your husband instead—laughing into his ear, lighting his pipe and filling his whiskey glass, and oh, Mister Li, you're so funny, you're so clever, I think you should go all in!—but Aventurine doesn't react. He only smiles at the two of you, like he isn't bothered by the sight.
This is, of course, an act: when you came home from your last marriage (assignment), he'd made sure to pleasure you so thoroughly that you forgot all about your ex-husband (mark). Aventurine did not openly admit to any kind of jealousy at the time, but you could tell he hadn't been keen on letting another man touch you. He usually isn't too keen about anyone touching any of his things, in fact. Despite appearances, he always abhors the thought of losing anything important.
But any fears he might have are concealed right now. They’re always concealed. Hidden by the expensive suit, the countless stacks of chips, the golden walls and high-vaulted ceilings of the Venetian Zhijin, Masked by his generous gifts, his easy laughter, his careless frivolity. You can see right through his gilded smile. The rest of the table cannot.
They are all intrigued when Aventurine asks, a playful lilt in his voice, “How about we make this game a little more interesting, gentleman?”
The other players at the table consider him. The other plus-ones—concubines, courtesans, gigolos, and so on—look at him with calculated expressions of cursory interest. You do so as well, but only for a moment. Your gaze quickly returns to Mister Li’s face—your husband is meant to be your true focus, after all, not the game. You are not a player at this table, but an accessory. Closer to an expensive watch than a human being.
Some business magnate from the Triangulum Galaxy leans back and raises a brow. “I'm listening,” he says. You watch a bead of sweat travel down your husband’s neck.
“How about we up the ante,” Aventurine says, his voice light, “but instead of betting more money this time, we bet our dates?”
You think, in other star systems, other worlds, such a suggestion would invite riot. But Kinyoshi Colony being what it is, and the Venetian being the establishment that it is, the other players at the table only laugh. Nearly half of them deal in the trade of human beings anyway—this is nothing novel for them.
“Well,” one of them says, “it’s not like winning more money’s gonna make a difference to any of us.” A round of chuckling. He turns to his date—some noblewoman from Jarilo-IV who seems greatly out of her depth—and says, “What do you think, love? How do you feel about being part of my wager?”
She doesn't like it. She clearly doesn't like it, and she also clearly doesn't know how to say it. Were you not on the clock, you might intervene. Maybe. As it is, though, all you can do is observe quietly. All the power in this gambit lies with Aventurine. Even when surrounded by men who manipulate the wealth of entire cities, planets, galaxies—he remains in full control.
“There’s never any shame in folding,” he says, magnanimous. Then he looks your husband in the eye, smiling conspiratorially. “But I know there are some of us who aren't afraid to take risks.”
Li laughs. “You’re right about that, Mister Aventurine.” He gives you a fond smile. And of course he does—you’re his last shot at winning back all his losses for the night. “I think you'd make a pretty little chip, don't you?”
Although Mister Li is clearly less distressed at the thought of betting you than he was at the thought of betting his company just last round, you notice, out of the corner of your eye, a muscle in Aventurine’s neck twitching. It’s very, very subtle, and he'd have never let himself do it if the table’s attention were on him, but he did it. Perhaps it was involuntary. Your mouth curls.
“Sure, darling.” You try not to sound too giddy. “I’ll be whatever you like.”
Ordinarily, you wouldn't be so happy about this farce. This is, put plainly, a stupid way to extract you from your mission. Were the cards in anyone else’s hands, your husband could win and you might be stuck with him for another several weeks, at least—assuming that you aren't discovered and killed first. Or you could go home with another man and be subjected to the kind of things that men do when they trade human beings, and you don't think the IPC would care too much if you were. You are an asset before you are a person, after all. At this table, you are closer to an expensive watch than a human being—and at the Company, you are an overpriced knife.
But to Aventurine, you're a chip in one of his games, and you don't mind that so much. Men who only know wealth will throw around their riches thoughtlessly, but men who have endured poverty will hold onto them tightly—desperately. Aventurine takes care of his luxury watches, his elegant knives, his liar’s dice. His capital. And he never loses anything. He always comes to collect. You trust him to collect you, even with this stupid plan, so you are calm as you watch the dealer shuffle the cards.
The table makes their bets. Most of the players go all-in. A couple fold, perhaps feeling some degree of concern for their partners, but it's more likely that they just have shit hands. A lot of the ones who continue playing have shit hands anyway. Your husband doesn't do too badly—a straight flush. He seems confident.
Then Aventurine lays out his cards. Ten. Joker. Queen. King. Ace.
All hearts.
You have to take a sip of your whiskey to stop yourself from laughing.
Aventurine, himself, has the grace not to look too smug about the outcome. Or maybe it's very unremarkable for him, all these winnings being pushed over to him—poker chips and human beings. Some of the other dates are clearly anxious as they move toward him (they are expected to be loyal to their husbands), and some are clearly excited (they are expected to be frivolous, hedonistic playthings). He humours them all, for a little while. Puts on the usual show as they crowd around him, charms them because it'll be good for business partnerships in case any of their husbands care even a little bit about them. You'd do the same in his shoes. But in your current ones (six-inch heels, black leather, red bottoms, luxury), all you can do is seat yourself on the card table and light up a cigarette. Waiting.
Aventurine eventually sends them all off. All I wanted was to get to know you, he says cheerfully, which is probably not a lie. After they leave, he asks the dealer to close the table and go on break. Turn a blind eye. You raise a brow when they obey him.
How interesting.
You're still enjoying your cigarette by the time he turns to you. You flash him a smile, one of the ones that you use for work. His expression doesn't change, but his thumb brushes against one of his many rings—switching off your synesthesia beacons for some privacy—and he leans back to study you. You know he's admiring you, but it could be mistaken for a leer.
“Well, well,” he says, “If it isn’t the esteemed concubine of Li Fengzhi.”
“The esteemed fifth concubine,” you correct. He hums, looking surprised.
“I thought you were the fourth. Did I misremember?”
“No, just misinformed. He took another concubine right before I arrived on Kinyoshi. He acquired a sixth just last week. Turns out he picks up paramours like they’re strays.”
“How inconvenient.”
“It made no difference to me,” you dismiss. “I’m his favourite anyway, but I’m sure you knew that already.”
“I’d have had to be blind not to notice it. You have the man wrapped around your finger.” Aventurine leans back, studying you as you smoke on your perch. “But before we continue—why don’t you come a little closer, esteemed Fifth Concubine?”
You make a face. “That title doesn’t sound as nearly as flattering in Avgin dialect as it does in Zhijinese,” you note, though you get off the table anyway. You don’t go very far, electing to seat yourself on his lap, your arms draping around his shoulders. The feathers of his jacket tickle at your bare shoulders; the satin of his gloves glide down the skin of your thighs before settling on your calves. “Since you’ve won my company for the night, though,” you sigh, “I suppose I can humour you, Mister Aventurine.”
“Lucky me.” He leans in, his breath sweeping the shell of your ear. His fragrance surrounds you, your body warming at the familiar scent of ambergris and vanilla. You realize, all of a sudden, how much you missed it. You have to stop yourself from pressing your face into his neck and melting—it would be a dead giveaway for your identity and also too revealing of your feelings. Aventurine might be endeared by it, but he might also find it disconcerting. He often needs to be tricked into intimacy.
He does enjoy being wanted though, and he can obviously tell that you want him. He pulls you closer, one of his hands giving your thigh a generous squeeze. It makes you throw your head back in a laugh, exposing the soft skin of your throat. You aren't surprised when he takes the opportunity to kiss it, his lips gentle against your pulse.
“You’re being very forward,” you tease him. “Did you miss me?”
“I’m just trying to be careful,” he defends himself between kisses, his breath warm on your skin. “We should try to conceal our mouths as much as possible. No one can intercept our synesthesia beacons, but someone could still read our lips.”
You give him a funny look. “We’re the only two speakers of Avgin in the known universe. Who could, other than ourselves, could read our—mmph…”
Aventurine has caught the rest of your sentence with his mouth. He’s hungry and wanting for you, the heat of his lips overwhelming. Your tongue is as practised as his, but you find yourself too distracted by your thrill to focus, your kiss wet and eager. Messy. Unprofessional.
You’ve never kissed any of your husbands like this. You’ve never kissed any of your other owners like this. You feel dazed when he pulls away.
You compose yourself. “So you did miss me.”
He smiles. “Guilty as charged.” A gloved hand rests on your face, satin tracing your lips. “How could I not? You’ve been away from the house for so long.”
Your eyes narrow. There’s no idiom for this in Avgin, so you flip briefly to Interastral Standard: “Pot, kettle, black. You leave home all the time.” You smack away the hand at your waist, petty. He looks amused. “And you almost always die.”
He switches out his smile for a pout. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last time.”
“You nearly got yourself blasted with atomics, so yes, I’m still mad at you.”
Now he’s frowning. “Am I going back to sleeping on the couch when you come back?”
“Yes,” you say. His deepening frown is meant to be read as a joke, but you know better. Deciding to throw him a bone, you lean in, whispering playfully into his ear: “You can still fuck me on it though.”
Aventurine hums, as if considering. His hands traverse your sides as he contemplates your suggestion. You move to straddle him, your thighs squeezed around his hips. When you grind against him, you can feel how much he wants you despite his composure, his control—his length straining in his pants, pressed against the silk covering your core.
“I don’t think I can wait long enough to fuck you on the couch,” he says, voice teasing.
“No?” You hum as his hands travel upward, feeling every inch of you. “The ship on the way home, then?”
“We don’t leave until tomorrow. Do you really think I can wait that long?”
You don't expect to feel the warmth of his hands on your chest. Your breath hitches when he starts palming your tits through your dress, neon eyes admiring the curve of them. One of his thumbs skims over the peak of your breast, and his mouth curls when your nipple hardens. “No bra? That's convenient.”
“I—” You squirm in his grip, whining. It just makes you grind against his lap more, your cunt moving against his slacks. A wave of heat runs through your lower half, and you clench around nothing. You can see people from a nearby table glancing at you, doing double takes. You can feel their lingering gazes on you, and you know Aventurine can too.
“I—are you going to”—your voice shakes as he pinches your nipple, as his other hand moves to squeeze your ass instead. Your dress is short—designed for easy access—and his fingertips easily skim the underside of its skirt. You wonder if he’s going to pull it up. You wonder if he's going to go even further than that.
But that would be an absurd thing to do in the middle of the busiest casino in the colony, which also happens to be the busiest trade hub in its star system. It would be absurd even for the two of you. Nevermind the reactions of the other players in the room—the staff here would immediately blacklist you, and so would every other gambling house in Kinyoshi.
You try to calm yourself. “Are you—ah—going to take me upstairs?”
He's fully kneading your breasts now. You can feel your clit throbbing, your body responding to his rough and unrepentant touch. “Hm… I don't think I want to.” Aventurine’s voice drops. His smile takes on a distinctly wicked quality. “I think I'll take you right here.”
“But we’ll get kicked out,” you whine. Even as you protest though, you're panting and moving your hips now. Grabbing at his arms, rutting against him like you're in heat. His fingers hook around the thin straps of your dress, pull them down your shoulders, already starting to indulge despite your reservations. You bend into his touch.
“Kicked out? By who? The staff?” He smiles, as always. “I own the place now. I don't think they'll be giving me trouble.”
“Y—you what?” For a moment, you're too shocked to keep up the wanton show. “You do? Since when?”
“Since last night.” He thumbs one of the straps that's fallen halfway down your arms. The rest of your dress threatens to come down with it. “Technically it's the IPC who acquired it—or, well, their shell company did—but I'm their designated representative here. I signed the contract.”
“The IPC isn’t going to be upset that you're fucking a concubine, who's not even your concubine, on their new property?”
Aventurine shrugs. “They know the kind of establishment the Venetian is. People gamble with humans here all the time, you know, so this has definitely happened before. The IPC definitely expects it to happen again. And besides”—he returns his attention to your dress, starting to slip the fabric down your shoulders—“I'm just cashing out my winnings. I'm sure they wouldn't deny a gambler his vices. That'd be bad business.”
You want to say more, but then he tugs, suddenly exposing you. You’re bare in front of him—in front of everyone. You can feel eyes on you. Heat curls in your gut as he grabs your tits again, his satin gloves smooth across your skin, and your nipples pebble beneath them. “Hm… much better.”
“But…” You bite your lip, glancing around. There are so many people watching now—so many voyeurs, who've forgotten about their games and their slots. Though there are a greater number of people who are continuing as usual, studying their hands, smoking their cigarettes, unperturbed. All regulars and VIPs, you know from your intelligence.
Aventurine pauses as you catalogue the room, raising a brow. Probably he's surprised at your sudden modesty; you usually have none when his touch is involved.
“Of course,” he adds, “if you'd rather enjoy the suite upstairs…”
“No—I don’t mind staying down here… it's just that I’ve never…”
Your voice trails off. Your eyes traverse the space again. There are people who’ve fully thrown their cards down, greedily drinking in the sight of you instead. Even some of the dealers are watching between hands, glancing at you instead of watching for cheaters. Like this is public entertainment, like you're a show.
Aventurine tilts his head.
“You've never had sex with an audience?” he guesses. He sounds surprised—perplexed. You don't know why. You know he knows it's a stupid question. You know he knows the answer.
You had sex in front of people all the time before you met him. You did it for the exact reasons that he’s almost certainly done the same. To this table of business magnates, you are closer to an expensive watch than a human being; to the IPC, you are more like an overpriced knife; to this gambling hall, you're an interesting sideshow.
To your captors who fucked you in public, you guess you were something like a toy.
The thought sitting in your mouth is this: you've never had sex with an audience and enjoyed it. It was painful—not painful for the heart or the mind or anything else sentimental, but painful like it felt you were a fish being gutted open by a knife. And even beyond that physical pain, you simply didn't enjoy being passed around. You didn't like being owned by those people. You didn't like being an object for their entertainment, a spectacle to be consumed.
But it's different with Aventurine. You like being his luxury hand watch. You like being his elegant knife, his liar’s dice, his pretty poker chip. You like being his plaything, spread for his viewing whenever he wants. You want to be his object—the object of his affections, something he can parade around just like his expensive suits and his beautiful jewellery and his ostentatious furs. Look at me, he uses them to say. Look at what I own. Look at what I own despite this commodity code on my neck. Look at what I've won despite my eyes and my blood.
You want him to own you too. You want him to show everyone that he won you, that he bought you, that you're his possession now. That he, and he alone, is free to treat you like a toy.
You're getting wetter just thinking about it.
“Nevermind,” you whisper. “Let's do it.”
His smile widens ever so slightly. Slyer than usual.
“Good,” he says. He guides you into standing. “Let’s get you settled then.”
You're seated back on the card table. The cigarette is forgotten in the ashtray next to you. Aventurine takes the time to straighten out your dress, lifting the straps back up and affording you some modesty—before he gently lays you out.
You look up at him as you're spread in front of him, laid out next to his royal flush and winnings. Like you're another chip in his stacks, the most expensive one. He puts a hand beneath your leg, drapes it over his shoulder. He takes the opportunity to kiss your calf, his lips delicate.
You glance at the tables around you. You watch the business owners and politicians as they watch Aventurine. You watch them as they watch your boyfriend pepper kisses up your leg, unless he's settling in between them. Your thighs spread easily for him, and you don't resist as he hikes up your skirt.
Then he frowns.
“I’ve never seen these panties before.”
“They’re new,” you relay.
“From your husband?”
“Yup.”
“I see.”
You can't see his face, but he sounds distinctly displeased. You expect him to complain, to say they're not expensive enough or not designer enough or just plain ugly.
You don't expect him to tear them right off.
“Aventurine?!”
You're so surprised you sit up, just in time to see him throw tatters of silk to the floor.
“What?” He looks up at you, expression unbothered, almost mild. “It wasn't your colour.”
Your mouth opens. “But it was still very nice!”
“I'll buy you nicer ones later. I’ll buy you a whole drawer of nicer ones later, when we’re done here.”
He looks down again, humming. Your cheeks flush as he spreads your legs again, baring your glistening sex to him—this time completely bare. Satin glides along the inside of your thighs, and your breath hitches when he reaches their apex. You feel the light touch of a finger along your opening, and you feel your body responding, tightening around nothing.
“Tell me,” he says, “What else did your husband do with you?”
His voice is casual, almost disinterested, but you know Aventurine is listening carefully.
“Not much,” you answer truthfully. “I haven't cum in months, you know.”
“Oh?” He sounds surprised. “You don't have sex with him?”
“No. He's fucked me a lot. It”—you whimper, pausing when you feel his fingers spreading you open, fluttering hole and swollen clit exposed to him—“it just wasn't very good.”
“Then”—you feel a thumb press against your clit, and you swallow—“he never touched you here?”
“N-no.”
“Stupid of him.” He’s drawing slow, lazy circles into the bud now, making you squirm on the table. You press yourself eagerly toward his familiar touch, having desperately missed it for months. Aventurine, perhaps sensing your neediness, asks, “And you didn't touch yourself?”
“He didn't let me,” you whine, and now he's frowning at you.
“I knew I should have gotten you out of there sooner,” he says, and you have to bite back a laugh. Aventurine’s mouth curls at the sound, and he leans in to place a kiss on your thigh. “But that’s fine. I'll make it up to you now.”
Aventurine kisses are soft and precise. They pepper a path up your thigh while his fingers continue to play lazily with your clit. You want—need—to feel something inside you, but he doesn't oblige. His fingers merely run along your entrance, teasing your dripping pussy with luxury satin, and that's all they do, even as your hips buck needily toward him.
He pauses for just a moment. When you look at him, you see him staring at you—at the brand on your inner thigh, the commodity code that your captors left on you, branding you as a product to be used and sold.
His voice is almost soft when he asks, “And what did your husband say when he saw this?”
“He never did,” you reply. “He always fucked me from behind. And he never went down on me.” You pause, thinking about the way he spoke of his business. Of his trade partners. Of what your captors had done to your home when you told him about it, feigning intimacy only to be matched in cruelty. You think about the way he fucked you, how it felt to be gutted open on his expensive, silk sheets.
None of it matters to you, really. This is behaviour that you’ve long accepted, that your body always anticipates. But you always like to offer Aventurine intimacy, whether real or feigned, whether he returns it equally or responds with undeserved cruelty: “I think it wouldn't have bothered him if he had noticed it.”
You can't see Aventurine’s eyes, but you can feel his reaction when he places a chaste kiss on your product code.
“I should have gotten you out of there sooner,” he repeats. Then he pauses. “Maybe I shouldn't have let you go at all.”
“I didn't mind,” you say. You aren't lying. “You gave me up for a reason.”
He stands. Cups your face with a palm, luxuriant fabric and gold rings pressed against your skin. Sometimes he's given up the aventurine stone temporarily for assignments, parting with it in elaborate gambles that he always manages to win. The way he’s touching you now reminds you of the way he holds the gem whenever it returns to his hand.
“Well,” he says, “I’m sorry it took so long to get you back.”
Aventurine tilts your chin up for a kiss. You meet it eagerly, and it's so tender in its familiarity that every memory of your husband fades. There's only Aventurine, and his gentle mouth, and the way his hands slide your dress down again, how he palms your breasts again. How he teases one nipple with his expensive rings until you're moaning into his mouth. How his other hand travels down until his gloved hand is cupping your heat. You drag your hips against his touch, desperately seeking some kind of friction, your wetness drenching the cloth. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your body aching to be filled by him, aching in a way that it does for no one else.
It’s one of the most addictive feelings you've ever known.
Aventurine only stops touching you so he can push away all the chips, clearing space on the table. He ignores the cacophony as countless stacks fall over, not sparing the plastic coins a single glance. Like you're the only prize that matters to him, even though the sum of his winnings come out to more than you ever were worth.
He lays you out on the table again, flat on your back, exposed, before kissing a path down your body—your neck, your breasts, your stomach, between your thighs. He deigns to give your product code one more kiss, his lips so gentle that it makes you tremble—and then he finally puts his mouth on you. He licks a hot stripe from your dripping pussy up to the crest of your sex, and your eyes close in bliss.
If you felt any uncertainty before this, it's completely gone now. Your hands ghost over your tits, playing with them as Aventurine’s tongue plays with you. He sucks on your neglected clit, fingers squeezing your thighs, keeping you spread open and still for him. He presses in, lets you drag your cunt over his greedy mouth and grind your clit against his face. Heat and pressure coil tight in your belly as he pleasures you, your body flushing with the kind of bliss only Aventurine can give you. You’re so lost in it that you almost don’t notice how quiet the rest of the hall has gotten, the cacophony of chatter and slot machines oddly subdued—almost missing. In their absence, the obscene noises that Aventurine is drawing from your mouth and body are louder than they should be.
The pleasure in your belly is just starting to swell when he pulls away. You give him a pleading look as he leans over you, but before you can start begging for more, you feel his fingers press against your heat. He watches you with keen eyes as he starts rubbing your pussy, maybe enjoying the desperate noises you make at his touch. You buck your hips, moaning as your clit and entrance grind against the fabric of his gloves, seeking friction. You’re empty, aching, desperate to be filled, but you think you can finish like this, just by rutting against his satin fingers—
Aventurine withdraws his hand, and you whine.
“No,” you beg, “please, please keep going, I was getting close—”
He raises a brow, feigning surprise. “Keep going?” He brings up his hand, shows you his gloves. The satin is soaked, shiny and stained with your slick. “I don't think I should. Look at what a mess you’ve made of my gloves.” Aventurine hums, frowning. “These are designer, you know. And limited—there are only 95 pairs of these in the whole universe. And you're ruining them.”
“I'm sorry,” you say, mind so fogged with lust that you can't even return his teasing. “I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, I'll do anything, just—just let me cum—”
“Anything?” His smile is sly.
“Anything.”
“Well. I suppose if you help me clean this up, I wouldn't mind rewarding you with more.”
You don't need to ask what he means by that. When he holds out his hand to you, runs a finger along your lips, you obediently open your mouth for him. Your tongue slides along the wet satin, only making his glove messier—but he seems not to mind. He merely watches intently as your tongue cleans his fingers, taking in the obscene image of you hungrily lapping your own slick off the expensive fabric.
He lets you ruin his glove thoroughly before finally drawing back, peeling it off.
“I'm not sure that did any good,” he says, frowning. “I’ll probably need to buy a new pair. But”—he pulls away, and you feel him settle between your legs again, his hands spreading them. “I'll still reward you for the effort.”
Aventurine is quick about getting his mouth back on you. His tongue is hot on your skin, expertly teasing your clit. You feel his fingers running along your entrance again, growing sticky with his need. He laughs when you press your hips toward his hand, desperate to be filled.
Then he's pressing his bare fingers into your heat, and your back is arching off the table.
The moan you let out is obscene. It only gets worse when his fingers curl, making the pressure in your belly even heavier. Utterly shameless, you beg for him as he fucks you with his fingers: Aventurine, please, please, I need more, please, I'm so close, I'm so close.
As if taking pity on you, his mouth finds your clit again, his fingers pressing into your sweet spot at the same time. And he doesn't let up, pushing into it even when you think you can't take anymore—tongue swirling against your overstimulated bud, fingers making you gush uncontrollably. You practically sob when you cum, a noise of desperation that echoes in the gambling hall.
His smile looks a little fonder than usual—or maybe just entertained—as he stands again and leans over you. You taste your own release in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, and he strokes your face when he pulls away.
“So good for me,” he praises. “Are you going to let me do more?”
You nod eagerly. “Whatever you like,” you say, all sense of shame gone from your body, “and however you want.”
Aventurine’s mouth curls. “Your husband fucked you from behind, right? Why don't you bend over for me, then? Let's show him how he should have been doing it.”
You see the diamond pupils of Aventurine’s eyes glance off to the side, where, sure enough, your husband is spectating with some of his business partners. You force yourself to turn away before you can smile, hiding your expression from the other men. You’re not meant to derive any real pleasure from any of this, let alone pleasure of the vindictive kind. Your relationship with Aventurine is supposedly nothing but a gambler and his newly won, human plaything. It would be suspicious if you appeared to be anything else.
You slink off the table in a distinctly performative way, and Aventurine plays equally into the show—probably an act as familiar to him as it is to you. He guides you into turning around, your eyes falling on the scattered cards on the tabletop, the casino’s eyes falling on you. His hands waste no time in pulling down your dress and reaching around to knead your breasts, in full view of the rest of the gambling hall. You're only vaguely aware of your audience now, registering the interested, hungry stares, but not really caring. You're too focused on the way that Aventurine is tugging and twisting at your nipples, at how he’s pressed up against your ass, his cock straining through his pants. You grind needily against him, whining.
Aventurine kisses your shoulder. “Poor thing. You've been neglected for so long, haven't you?” His hands retreat, and you hear the sound of a zipper being undone. Then your skirt’s being pushed up and you're being bent over, your dripping pussy fully presented to him. When you feel the press of his cockhead against your entrance, you desperately try to push yourself back onto him. But he doesn't allow you to—only running the tip along your wet folds, still sticky from your release, while he stills you with a gentle touch on your hip.
You make a pathetic, desperate noise. Aventurine chuckles, though there’s now a breathy quality to his voice.
“Be patient,” he chides. “I'll take care of you.”
You know he will. He always takes care of you, in a way that no one else ever has. Even when he gambles your life for some mission, even when he can barely afford you the barest hints of intimacy, even when he displays your body to an audience of slave traders and murderers—he always takes care of you. Even if you are only a knife or a wristwatch or a chip in one of his games, he still treats you like you're worth holding onto.
Aventurine finally moves. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his cock sliding into you. Usually he needs to be careful after your long missions away from him, knowing you'll be tense. He understands that your body always anticipates being in pain after being touched by other people. But he has you so worked up right now—still dripping from your release, still pliant from his fingers, still eager to please him before the crowd—that your cunt easily swallows his length. The stretch is pure bliss, pleasure unfurling in your body as you're filled up properly for the first time in months. He's just as affected as you, breath shaking as he bottoms out.
“Fuck,” he breathes—laughs. “Nearly forgot how good this feels.” He pauses, his breathing slowing—almost stopping each time you squeeze around him. You turn back, throwing him a pleading glance, and he meets it with an endeared smile. “Eager today, aren't you?” He hums, a hand sliding along your waist. “You really do need to be properly fucked.”
He's stalling. Trying to give you a moment to adjust, but you don't need it. “Yes,” you encourage him. Aching for the press of his cock against your walls, you grind against him, and you hear a strangled groan as you force him to move inside you. “Please, Aventurine—please, please fuck me, I need it so badly—”
He hums, both hands grabbing your hips, his fingers sinking into you. “Well. Since you asked so nicely.”
The first thrust has your eyes going wide, your hands reaching for the card table as you’re forced to bend over. You spread our palms next to the mess of heart cards and shiny tokens, bracing yourself for the way your body’s about to be used. He doesn't give you time to breathe after, each stroke filling you deep and fast. The rest of the gambling hall grows very, very quiet as Aventurine fucks you, and suddenly all you can hear is the appreciative murmur of the crowd, clink of ice cubes in aged whiskey, the noisy flick of lighters as more patrons opt to pause their games and enjoy the show. You hear the shattering of all the stacks beside you, hundreds of thousands of dollars in chips fall over beside you, tokens clinking as they roll across the tabletop. But all of that is soon drowned out by the wet noise of your pussy being fucked open, the squelch of your slick around his cock. You moan each time he bottoms out, eager to be filled.
When you feel his cock press into your sweet spot, your moans quickly turn into cries.
You hear something like a breathy laugh from Aventurine. Your body always reveals itself so easily to him, and you know he enjoys it. He hits that spot again and again, builds an agonizing tension in your body with every thrust of his hips. It has your pussy gushing around him, your thighs growing wet and sticky with your need.
Just when it feels like you can't take anymore, he reaches down and presses his fingers against your throbbing clit. Your knees buckle as he toys with you, chest heaving against the table as he sets a brutal pace. You're—overwhelmed, mind going hazy as you're fucked mercilessly. So far gone, you can hardly register the disgruntled expression of your husband, the hungry gazes of his companions, the way that other players are starting to shift in their seats, palming themselves at the sight of your pussy being split open. There's only the tight coil in your gut, the chips between your fingers as you grab uselessly for something to ground you, the cock that's filling you over and over and over—and oh fuck, you’re going to cum, you're really going to cum after being won in a game, from having your pussy used like a sleeve, from being watched by men who will never own you no matter how many times they trade you, no matter how many times they fuck you, no matter how many times they pass you around, because you'll only ever belong to Aventurine—
Your orgasm crashes through your body, and you sob.
It's a broken, blissed out noise. Your pussy is equally shameless, gushing as you pulse around Aventurine’s cock. You go limp as he fucks you through your orgasm, uncaring about the mess you're making. He only groans as you squirt all over him, hips stuttering as he reaches his own peak—spilling himself inside you, pumping you full. Aventurine’s body slumps over yours as rides out his high, his face pressing into your shoulder. You find the wherewithal to shift yourself, just enough to your lips against the tattoo on his neck. He looks at you for a fleeting moment, the blue ring of his eyes electric on you, before capture your mouth in a desperate, messy kiss.
The two of you stay there for a long moment, panting into each other. Then Aventurine collects himself, remembers how to talk: “Fuck.”
You piece yourself together just as easily. Maybe even faster. Smiling into his mouth, you ask, “Enjoy yourself?”
“Clearly.” Aventurine presses his lips into your neck, lingering only briefly. “Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
Aventurine takes his time with moving, as if basking in the afterglow—or bragging in it. But he does rise, eventually. Pulls out slowly, making you shudder. He helps you to your feet, lets you hold onto him for support. His spend drips down your thighs as you right yourself, messy and hot on your skin. You can feel it sliding down your legs as you walk, braced against Aventurine as he guides you in the long walk toward the elevator. It slips all the way down to your calves, to your expensive heels, even onto the marble floor.
You're fairly certain that it's not an accident when Aventurine flips up your skirt as you pass your ex-husband. At the very least, it isn't a mistake when you stumble in that same moment, bending over and giving him a good look at your well-used pussy, now overfilled with your boyfriend’s cum. You don't stop to look at him, but you know he must be red-faced, displeased—aware that he’s been humiliated. Beaten by a Stoneheart, concubine stolen by Sigonian, one of his favourite possessions claimed by a former slave. You'd laugh if you could.
You can't help but kiss Aventurine while the two of you wait for the elevator, a smile glowing into his lips.
It's absurd, but a staff member approaches the two of you as you indulge in one another. Aventurine pulls away as you’re approached, looking mildly annoyed as he switches on his synesthesia beacon.
“Sir,” the staff says, “you’ve left your other winnings at the table.”
Even in his post-orgasm bliss, Aventurine responds promptly. “I’ll cash it all,” he says. “Send the money to my room. I'm not coming back tomorrow.”
“Very well. And the terms of the… human resource exchange that just happened?”
Aventurine’s jaw clicks. It's quiet, but surprising. You watch him carefully.
“We didn't bet contracts,” he says. “This is a concubine, not a slave. But tell Mister Li I'll buy them anyway. I'll pay whatever price he wants, which I’d wager is the company that he gambled and lost to me. Maybe suggest that to him.”
“Of course,” the staff member replies, bowing. Despite the first-rate service, Aventurine looks like he can't get out of there sooner enough as he guides you into the elevator. You give him a curious look as the door closes.
“You're going to give up a multiplanetary corporation just for this?” you ask.
“Not entirely. The IPC was planning to acquire it anyway. It'll be ours again in a few months.” He stares at your reflections in the mirror, his strange eyes lingering on your dishevelled form. “We’ll put your intel to good use,” he adds, and although Jade or Diamond or any of your real bosses would say this with a smile and reward you with a bonus, Aventurine’s expression is unreadable.
“What's on your mind?” you ask, fingers brushing against his hand. “You’re worried about something.”
Aventurine blinks, and it takes him a moment to recover.
“Nothing. Just hoping we didn't give our relationship away just now.” He cups your face with a hand, guides you into looking at his smile. A deflection. “I might have gotten carried away.”
You lean into his touch, eyes playful: a performance. As if he's some stranger that you're servicing, a captor being entertained; as if you're a plaything about to be used. As if you expect to be treated like the disposable commodity that your husband just gambled away.
“I wouldn't worry,” you reassure him. “I'm sure after the show we put on, it'll be clear to anyone that you're only keeping me around for sex.”
It's very, very subtle, but a muscle in Aventurine's neck twitches. He'd never allow it in a game of cards, never before the IPC, never before the prying eyes of slavers and killers—but he allows it in front of you. He always unwittingly bares himself to you, even as he swallows his discomfort before adopting his usual, vulpine expression. You don't think anyone else would notice what lies beneath the gilded surface of his smile, his liar’s eyes. You don't think anyone else would notice his tells, his vulnerabilities, his quiet fear of loss.
After all, there is no one else in this universe who knows how to trick him into intimacy.
Winning has always come with a certain emptiness for Aventurine. Gambling is, after all, a zero sum game. He plays a royal flush and people lose their homes. Winner takes all. He survives the fighting pits, his blade dripping red with the lives of other slaves. Winner takes all. He runs from the stench of blood and burning flesh, praying for thunder and rain loud enough to drown the screams of his dying kin. Winner takes all.
He alone survives. He alone enjoys his riches. Ever since the Avgin died, he has always been by himself. There is no amount of coin nor credit that will ever change this.
Here is another unyielding fact that hollows any win: that no matter how many credits he collects, he will always be a chip himself. He will always be a plastic token worth sixty coppers. Gambling is a zero-sum game, and ever since the day he was chained, Aventurine has been the pool of riches divided among winners. He has always been the commodity being traded between hands. He has always been the prize to be cashed out and used. Even now, with all this money and power, it will never be him who comes to collect: it will always be the IPC. Winner takes all.
Such is his fate. Luck is always on his side, but he has always had the losing hand against destiny. No matter how many times he wins, there is nothing that will ever truly belong to him.
But then he met you.
Then he met you, and now his luck does not always feel like such a cruel or empty thing. Now the zero-sum game has meaning. He hedges his bets in the market and buys out a planet, and acquires you along with the shares. Winner takes all. He gambles his life against a nuclear power and comes out on top, and the IPC allows him to keep you by his side. Winner takes all. He plays a royal flush and wins at a table of slave traders, and he gets to fuck you until you can't think of any cock but his own. Winner takes all.
Gambling is a zero-sum game, and when you're the reward, Aventurine wouldn't have it any other way. He’ll never share you with anyone. He'll never sell you to anyone.
He’ll never lose you to anyone.
Sometimes it surprises him, this attachment he feels to you. He doesn't quite understand it, but he thinks it mostly just has to do with how good it feels to fuck you. Much like gambling, Aventurine has never enjoyed sex until you came along. Sex for him has always felt like a humiliation, like being gutted open as a captive animal, like being won and passed around in the grand hall of some gaudy casino.
Which is, in fact, another thing he never thought he'd enjoy: having sex in the Venetian Zhijin before an audience of revolting men. He'd resented having to do it as a slave, but he’d enjoyed doing it with you as a Stoneheart. He'd even do it again if he could—take you over and over again on that card table, fill you up with his cum. Spread your cunt in front of everyone, so they could see for themselves that you were now his. Winner takes all.
Winning doesn't feel empty when you're his reward. Sex doesn't either. Because Aventurine isn't a chip or an animal or a commodity when he fucks you—he's a player. Someone with a seat at the table, as just as wealthy and powerful as the slave traders around him. Someone who’s allowed to own something—really own something.
Really allowed to own you.
Aventurine owns you. When he fucks you, he is a player at the table, and you are the prize he gets to keep. And no matter how you feel about him and how you act toward him—this is all the two of you will ever be. He knows this. He knows that you know it too.
So sometimes he can't fathom it, the way he treats you in bed. The way he always kisses your commodity code when he sees it, the way he allows you to kiss his own. The way he always thinks about pleasuring you until you're drunk on his cock, so addicted to him that you’ll never want to be touched by anyone else. The way he always likes how your body feels when it's being shaped by his hands. How different it feels from being forced to touch other people.
How badly you make him want something that he's always hated.
And this is what he understands least of all: how he doesn't like to hear you say aloud the true nature of your relationship. How he doesn't like it when you accept this reality and say, you're only keeping me around for sex.
It hollows him out when he hears it. A bitter feeling swells in his throat, and he forces himself to swallow.
Aventurine keeps his face neutral as he enters the suite with you. As soon as the door is shut, you pull him close—close enough for him to see the blurred lines of your lipstick, smudged from his mouth; close enough to see the white diamond necklace on your neck, a collar for a concubine; close enough to see the finger-shaped discolorations on your throat, poorly hidden by your foundation.
Close enough to see all the things done to your body by others—all the things you didn't choose for yourself.
“How do you want to have me next?” Your fingertip traces his lips. “On the bed? In the shower?” Your eyes are playful. “Maybe against the window?”
Aventurine’s hand cups your cheek, gold rings pressed against your skin. His hold is delicate, more careful than with anything else he's ever handled—any of his watches, his furs, his jewellery. Even more than with the aventurine stone.
“I want to kiss you,” he says.
You blink.
“Kiss me?” Your brow ticks up, but then your face lights up in supposed understanding. “Okay. You can kiss me. And then?”
“And then I'll keep kissing you.”
You tilt your head, not understanding. “Really?”
“What? Is that off-limits now?” He leans in, expression playful. “Don't tell me I've got to go back downstairs and win back permission to kiss you from your husband.”
Before you can say anything else—ask anything else, perceive anything else—he presses his mouth to yours. Your eyes widen for only a moment before falling shut, your arms wrapping around his neck. Your lips part for him, and he delights in the noise you make as he deepens the kiss.
He did lie, in a way. The two of you do end up fucking again—this time in bed, your mouth gasping into his as you fall apart for him, wet and needy around his cock. You're so warm around him, so pliable beneath him, so desperate when possessed by him. He knows that he could keep going, that he could do anything to you, that you'd be eager to let him use you however he wants.
But all he does afterward is kiss you.
This is yet another act that he never thought he'd enjoy. Kissing has always felt like a chore or a power play or a manipulation. It has always come with a certain emptiness—just like gambling, just like sex. And then he met you, and now it no longer feels so hollow. Because when he wins bets for the IPC, he feels like a poker chip in one of their games, but when he’s fucking you, he feels like a player at the table. And sometimes, when he kisses you—when he holds you close, when you come down from your high and press your face into the crook of his neck and in the vulnerable haze of your bliss, tell him, I missed you—
—he finally feels like a human being.
end notes: christ alive I have never written anything so horny glddjsksjs. I apologize for both my mid smut writing and deranged characterization 💔
initially this was supposed to be brainless pwp about aventurine eating you out on a poker table but I kept asking myself “why the hell did aventurine gamble for human beings and why are these two insane enough to be fucking in a casino tho lol”, and thus a coherent narrative was born from my shameless lust for this guy! but please also don't take the story too seriously because this is a dumb smut piece first and foremost and I mostly wrote it with my clit 😔✌️
that being said, if you are curious about the subject matter that I covered – here's an afterword expanding on my intentions with the themes.
#aventurine x reader#aventurine smut#hsr smut#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#x reader#im so tired of editing this the quality of this piece is a lost cause sldkfjsldkfj#DIVIDER BY @/CAFEKITSUNE BTW it is so cute i thought it was perfect for this fic#anyway. sorry to everyone for character assassinating our favourite gambler#yueshuo.fics#dead dove#cw.slavery
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That Wasn't Fake (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.
Request: Can you write a Spencer fic where the reader is kind of quiet and shy when she begins working at the BAU, and Spencer has a crush on her, and then they have a case, and she has to like to seduce the unsub lowkey and everyone kind of like...how is she going to do this shes not very outgoing but when she does shes really good at it, and everyone is surprised and impressed.
Summary: You're shy and reserved. Spencer has a crush on you, and unbeknown to him, you have a crush on him. Maybe the cat can get out of the bag when you have to step aside of your comfort zone to catch an elusive unsub.
Word Count: 4.2k (no self control here)
Warnings: Words like 'fuck' and 'bitch'. A rant about self-doubt. Typical CM stuff: unsubs, killings, etc.
A/N: Another request I loved! It should have been a little shorter, but I'm having a hard time getting to the point these days. Please keep sending requests!
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Spencer knows it is inappropriate, but he can't help it. You're coworkers, and that itself sets a boundary, so he shouldn't be thinking of trespassing.
But the crush he has on you seems to grow every day.
He doesn't know if it is your beautiful smile, the kindness you show in everything you do, or the enthusiasm you put into every task you are committed to. Since the moment he saw you pass the bullpen glass doors, Spencer knew he was damned.
From that moment, Spencer knew he wanted to know you and learn everything about you. About what you liked, what you hated, and what your fears and dreams were. Everything.
But not much after that revelation in his mind, he understood it wasn't going to be easy to get to you.
You were extremely shy and reserved.
In fact, your first interaction - when Emily introduced you both - consisted of a wave of your hand and a timid 'nice to meet you.'
He thought as time went by, you would loosen and become less bashful and quiet. And in part, he was right. As the months passed, you began to feel more comfortable within the team. You laughed at Luke's jokes, you commented on Rossi's stories, and you could even - when the stars aligned - crack a joke yourself to Tara or Matt.
But beyond that, no one knew much about your life outside of the BAU, unlike JJ, who always talks about her kids and her husband, or Matt, who talks about his kids, too. Or Tara, who recounts her failed dates. Or the same Luke who always shows photos of Roxy.
You, on the other hand, seemed to be an enigma. But Spencer Reid loved decoding enigmas.
At first, he turned his interest in you out of mere scientific curiosity. However, internally, he knew it wasn't just that.
It started with small random questions about the times you worked together: Is this coffee okay? What was the last book you read? Do you think we should buy some donuts for the team?
If you were honest, it picked your interest why, from all people, Dr. Spencer Reid was so adamant in making conversation with you.
From what you knew and from what the team said, Spencer was not a person very interested in things other than work or books. But suddenly, out of nowhere, he asked you what the last movie you saw was or something like that.
You always answered his questions; however, you would have liked to be much more talkative and engage in longer conversations, but your nature stopped you.
'What if I don't have anything more interesting for him to say?'
'Does he just talk to me because he feels sorry for me?'
And that was the big issue: you have never had problems with the way you live your life. You're pretty satisfied with what you do in your job and out of it, too. But you have always thought you are too 'simple' to entertain people's interest.
And to be honest, being surrounded by people with so much experience and big things happening in their lives still intimidates you a bit. So, you usually refrain from talking too much about yourself or anything for that matter.
But with Spencer, things are a bit different. He's always checking on you but respects your boundaries. He has learned that sometimes you just don't want to talk, and he doesn't push.
Despite his interest beyond the professional, Spencer would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Being able to share time with you will have to be enough for him.
In a way, he has become your protector. He is your backup during interrogations or in situations where you can feel awkward, like the times when some police officers tried to flirt with you and got too close. Sure, you know how to turn them down, but sometimes guys don't get the memo and keep pushing. You're too shy to yell or be aggressive about it.
The team also understands the way you are, and they know it does not make you any less professional. However, they have always been careful not to take you too much out of your comfort zone.
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A whole two weeks and five murders later, the team is stuck trying to catch an unsub who has preferences for killing women after club nights. The profile says he is not interested in just any woman but in those between 25-30 years old who like to flirt with several men in the clubs. But it is not just any type of flirting; it is the type that is initiated and dominated by them. In short, he likes to kill women who are the opposite of submissive. He sees them as predators on a hunting ground.
Another finding in victimology is that the women he kills, in addition to having a specific age range, have very similar physical characteristics. And similar to you.
All his victims have your build, eye color, hair color, and height. It gets to be creepy to a certain point. And it's something difficult to ignore.
Bouncing information and possible strategies, the team agrees they need to be proactive to get him to show up before another killing happens.
"Okay, what options do we have?" Emily asks.
"The witnesses haven't gotten us anywhere," Luke complains.
"Although we've narrowed down his hunting grounds," Rossi shrugs.
"Yeah, we know the clubs where he likes to hunt," JJ backs Rossi.
"But although the profile, we have yet to learn about what to look for there. I mean, we know what the unsub wants, but not how he looks like." This time, it's Tara who speaks.
You've rarely seen Emily bite her tongue when she wants to say something, but it's clear that she has something on her mind, and she doesn't know how to put it, or maybe the problem is something else. You look at her out of the corner of your eye, and she looks back at you; what do those eyes say? They look like they're even apologetic.
It's a fraction of the time before she comes back to behave like herself.
"We need to lurk him. It's the only way," she says. And everyone's eyes - yours included - are on her immediately.
"Lurk him?" Matt repeats.
"Yes. And all we know who should be the one going undercover to do that," Emily adds, looking at you this time.
That's it—the elephant in the room.
Of course, you're the ideal candidate. Well, you're perfect in the physical aspect because if we talk about the victim's personality and yours...
There's silence in the room, and you can feel like the team's eyes are all on you.
Do they expect you to say no? To refuse? From your perspective, it's not a question; it's more like the option you all have to catch the guy.
"It's true (Y/N) would be the closest to the unsub type, but there are a lot of things to take into account," Matt says. And you know perfectly well what's behind his words, even if he doesn't say it directly.
And that's okay; it's perfectly plausible they have their doubts. It is not enough to look like the victims for the operation to work.
But if there is one thing you are sure of, it's that you will always give your all to your job, even if that means becoming a completely different person.
"I can do it," you mumbled so quietly that if the AC weren't in the lower setting, people wouldn't have heard you.
"But (Y/N), you know about this guy. It's dangerous," Matt points, a frown on his face.
"Not to mention he likes rough interactions," Luke adds.
"You don't have to do it if you feel uncomfortable." This time, it is JJ who voices her opinion. And you know, that's the closest reason to the team's main concern.
And the fact you can blow up the entire plan.
Spencer stays in silence. Internally he's freaking out thinking of you having to lurk on the unsub, but he knows you are a professional. And he feels a kind of deja vu.
When he was younger, the team would have said the same about him doing something like that. Spencer knows what it's like when people baby you, making you feel insecure. Sure, he hasn't had to worry about that anymore. Spencer is almost forty, and no one would dare to tell him he can't do something. Not after all the things he has been through.
"JJ is right, Bella. You don't have to do it. We can think of another way," Rossi backs JJ.
That's when Spencer notices the slight frown on your face. It's invisible to everyone but him. He knows it's there.
You stay collected, even when everyone on the team has something to say about how bad the idea of you going undercover to lurk the unsub is.
Emily is who stops everyone's rant.
"Guys, hey. If (Y/N) is telling us she can do it, we're going to do it. Of course, we'll be there to back up her and catch this unsub."
And this is how the discussion is settled.
Emily sends everyone out with a task to prepare for the night. Today is Friday, and the unsub will surely be stalking some new victim. The chances are high.
When it's just you and Spencer in the room, he still looks at you in silence.
"Do you also think I'll not be able to pull off this mission and I'm going to ruin everything?"
You downcast your gaze, exhaling deeply.
"No. I don't think that," Spencer clarifies, and you raise your gaze to meet his eyes. "You are more than capable, (Y/N). The team is worried because you'll be out of your comfort zone in a dangerous situation."
"The team? Not you?" You narrow your eyes to him.
You try not to sound accusatory, but if you're as scared as everyone, you also are fed up with the other's doubts.
Spencer closes the distance between you both but doesn't invade your personal space.
"Of course, I'm worried too! I don't want anything bad to happen to you. But I trust you and your judgment."
Your heart does flip-flops, and you're not sure if it's because Spencer is worried or because, despite that, he trusts you—or both.
"You do?" You ask, not so convinced.
Spencer nods and smiles at you.
"And we'll be there when you catch the guy."
If that is the reassurance you need, you don't mention it. Instead, you grin at Spencer as a promise you'll do your job just how you are supposed to.
---------------
You insist on getting ready in your hotel room. The only assistant you ask for is Emily. She was the one who trusted you first in this, so you'll take every piece of advice she can give you before this night starts.
Everyone has a role in the plan.
Rossi will be the chauffeur who will drive you to the club.
Luke and Spencer would be in the club, mingling with the patrons. JJ, Matt, and Emily would be in the van monitoring the whole situation with cameras and earpieces. Rossi would keep his facade as a driver so he could be at one of the entrances. Tara would be at the club, too, eyeing nothing suspicious going on in the bar because there is a chance the unsub is getting help from the bartender.
When you are in front of the mirror applying the last touch of makeup, Emily is looking at you with a stare you can't decipher.
"What?" you ask, and Emily chuckles.
"Please, don't take this in a bad way, but I never thought I would live the day of seeing you using clothing like this. And Jesus, you look so hot!"
Your cheeks redens.
"It's a little bit odd coming from my boss, don't you think?" you muse, smoothing the fabric of your dress.
"Point taken," Emily raises her hands in defense. "Although I know someone who is going to run out of breath after seeing you."
You let out a scoff. It's not a surprise for you. The BAU girls - boss included - have been trying to set you up with Spencer since forever. You don't entertain the idea only because you don't think it's possible and not because you don't like the concept.
"Come on, don't say that. You are not helping to my nerves."
"Sorry, I'll shut up. We should go, though," Emily says, checking her watch.
One of the SUVs drives you to the van parking point. You needed to review the operation details.
At the back of the van - or commander point - JJ, Luke, Tara, Rossi, Matt, and Spencer see you come up with Emily.
For the best US profilers, they're not doing a good job hiding that they are gawking at you. Surely, no one imagined seeing you in such a revealing outfit. Outfit that, without a doubt, suits you extremely well, highlighting all your body attributes.
Spencer feels like he died and was resurrected after seeing you.
"Okay, guys, we need to check the details again," Emily announces.
The plan is in motion, and everyone is in position.
As expected, you arrive with Rossi at the club, who opens the door for you and helps you descend from the car. Rossi gives you a reassuring smile before letting you go.
Like a switch, you are no longer the shy SSA (Y/L/N). Now you are the woman who is going to take what she wants and attract the unsub attention doing that.
Your walk is determined, and your eyes send out flames of confidence to those who look at you. The music is very loud, something that would usually bother you, but not now. This needs to feel like your environment. That's how you like it, you tell yourself.
Almost instantly, you start to attract the looks of men who are eager for a woman like you.
You exude determination, and you don't go unnoticed.
Walking into the club, you make brief eye contact with Luke, who is on the dance floor. You see Spencer perched in a booth, nursing a beer.
At the same time, Tara is stationed at the bar.
"Remember (Y/N); the unsub expects the woman to approach men. The flirt needs to come from you," Emily reminds you by the earpiece hidden in one of the earrings you're wearing.
"Show time," you mumble to yourself.
You walk seductively to the dance floor, where a young man is dancing with a blonde. You approach and whisper something in his ear. That makes the boy completely lose interest in the blonde and start dancing with you. You smile and cling to the man's body, who wastes no time and takes your hips as if they were his possessions.
That dance certainly has nothing innocent about it. You continue whispering things in the boy's ear, and he looks more and more excited. Once you consider it a reasonable amount of time to have attracted attention, you leave the boy alone and head to the bar. Just a few meters away from Tara, a suspicious man is staring at you. You see him out of the corner of your eye as you order a drink. When the bartender passes it to you, you make subtle eye contact with Tara, who nods, indicating that the drink is clean.
You look next to you and see another man not so subtly looking at you. You know the unsub's profile, and you can't be intimidated or dominated by another man. You are the one who calls the shots. Otherwise, this will not work.
Before the man makes his attempt to seduce you, you turn to him, and with a penetrating look and disdainful voice, you stop him.
"Sorry, honey. Don't waste your time. You're not my type," and with that, you leave to move to the opposite side of the club. The guy huffs, and you're almost sure hearing him call you 'bitch' under his breath.
JJ, who's following the cameras inside the club, sees someone who looks suspect.
"Hey, this guy has been peeking at (Y/N) the entire time, and look, he clenched his fists when (Y/N) turned down that guy at the bar."
Emily confirms JJ's observation before giving you the next instructions.
"(Y/N), you're doing great. We have a possible target. So we need to raise the bet."
You know exactly what Emily means. You both had talked about the strategy to follow, having more details about what you should do than the rest of the team.
Matt and JJ look confused at each other but say nothing.
Your next step is to find another dude to seduce before delivering the coup de grace.
Luke and Spencer keep an eye on you. And while Luke is pleasantly surprised by your audacity, Spencer can't help but feel his stomach tighten. He tells himself it's because he is afraid something bad could happen to you, but inside of him, it's that and the fact of seeing you flirt with other men.
Just like you did with the guy on the dance floor, you attract the attention of another man; this time, you take his hand and pull him to the dance floor.
JJ and Matt's jaws drop to the floor. If Tara, Luke, and Spencer could do the same without giving themselves away, they would have done it, too.
As if it were your second nature, you laugh and move to the music. The man seems to enjoy the moment so much that he takes a bold step by leaning in to kiss you. You let him get closer until his lips are almost on yours. But before touching each other, you pull back with a malicious smile.
"Naughty boy. I'm who says if you can kiss or no," you pout, faking disappointment. Dizzed, the guy cocks his head and sees you walk away.
Matt chirps now. "It's him. Look boss," he tells Prentiss, pointing to the same guy JJ saw before.
There is no longer any doubt that it is him. Now you just have to catch him red-handed.
"(Y/N), we got him. It's time for the last play," Emily tells you.
With Emily's instruction, you go to the bar for another drink before heading over to where Spencer is sitting.
He tries to play it off, but he has no idea why you're approaching him.
"Is this seat taken, handsome?" You ask, with your drink in hand.
"N- no. Please," Spencer gestures to the booth on his front, but you opt to perch to his side. Spencer thinks he never has been this close to you. He looks at your eyes, and it's like you are a totally different person. It's a little bit contradictory for him, to be honest. He already likes you just as you are, but this version of you? It's driving him insane.
Some resemblance of your true self looks with a kind of curiosity the nervousness on Spencer. You don't think much about it; you assume he's playing the nervous guy who is baffled by you.
The thing is, Spencer isn't playing. He's definitely baffled by you.
"Are you okay?" You ask him, masking your question with a seductive smile.
"Yeah. Are - are you?" Spencer stutters a bit—something that is perfect for the plan but embarrassing for him.
You get closer to him to speak in his ear.
"This was Emily's idea," you tell him before kissing his ear and gently biting his lobe.
Spencer's breath hitches in his throat, and he thinks he's going to pass out any second. You're not doing it better: your heart is also pumping hard from the adrenaline. Of course, you had imagined something like that with Spencer, but only in your erotic dreams. You wouldn't dare do this on any given day.
You keep teasing Spencer, who, despite the nervousness, tries to play along. If this is the closest he will ever have you, he wants to engrave this in his memory.
"Just a little push, (Y/N). We almost have him," Emily instructs by the earpiece.
You swallow as subtly as possible as you wrap your arm around Spencer's neck, pulling him closer to you.
It's only a second between that action and the fact that you're kissing Spencer like it's your last meal.
Spencer doesn't know how to respond, and you were counting on that; it was enough time for the unsub to notice that you were the one who chose her last prey.
When Spencer is about to reciprocate the kiss, you murmur a 'sorry' into his lips and quickly pull away, giving him a disdainful look—which you hope he understands is fake—before getting up and walking toward the back exit door.
As expected, the unsub follows you towards the back door, and while your back is turned, he believes he has the advantage to attack you. What he doesn't know is that Matt and Luke are ready to lunge at him the moment he tries to touch you.
Everything that happens after is too fast.
The unsub is detained and taken to a patrol car while the team gathers around you, congratulating you on the successful operation. They all apologize to you for their previous apprehensions. You tell them that you understand and that there is no need to apologize. And it's like the switch has been flipped again since you came out of the femme fatale role.
But something is wrong. Spencer is not in the group. You see him a little further away, near the exit door of the club. Emily notices the looks between you both, and she sends the team on different tasks to close the case, leaving you and Spencer there.
There's something in his eyes that you can't decipher. You think it's resentment for using him without warning him what you were going to do.
You shyly approach him.
"It's me again," you tell him, pulling a face. You don't know what to say to make the situation better. Spencer nods.
"Yeah. You did it great, by the way," he compliments you. But it doesn't feel good like Spencer's compliments usually do.
"Look, about the kiss back there-" you start. He needs an explanation as a bare minimum.
"I know. It was fake," Spencer cuts you off.
Those words shouldn't hurt you as they do now. But isn't that the most reasonable thing to believe? The you in the club weren't you, so all you did inside was pretend.
Everything except that kiss.
If it's true you couldn't enjoy it the way you would have liked, you will never forget his lips on yours.
A tense silence takes over the moment. This is not okay.
You can't afford to lie to one of the most important people in your life, even if telling the truth takes you out of your comfort zone.
What the hell! Tonight has already been a total of 180 from a usual day for you.
"It wasn't," you mumble, and you see his eyes flicking to yours in a second.
"What?" Spencer asks, narrowing his eyes at you.
"Everything was fake, but not the kiss," you say with a stadied voice this time.
Spencer's heart races again. If you say you didn't fake it, then what he felt on your part at that moment was real?
"It wasn't fake?" He asks for clarification. You nod.
A smirk forms on Spencer's lips, seeing your cheeks redden.
There you are. The girl he had fallen for in the past two years.
"Well, you know that I am a man of science, right?" he tells you, and you frown because you have no idea where this is going.
"I know," you say with some hesitation.
"And as a man of science, I need evidence of things, you know?"
Now, you are the one who smirks at him.
"Evidence, huh?"
"Yep," he says, emphasizing the 'p' and swaying his body on his feet. You hum.
"I believe I can provide the necessary evidence if you need them," you concede, and Spencer's eyes sparkle with excitement.
Now, he is the one who reaches out and cups your cheeks. Your breathing quickens, but that doesn't stop you from standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips with his.
This time, there is no unsub, no curious eyes are looking at you, there is no rush, there is no femme fatale role, and above all, this is not fake; it's as real as the fact that your heart beats for him, and his for you.
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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#aperrywilliams#amanda perry williams
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It’s finally here, I know I’ve been teasing with this story for weeks but life has been hectic and I wanted to do some requests, but here it is, the forest entity story. Hope y’all enjoy it!
The tree-hole debacle
Forest entity x fem!human || very light dub-con, tentacles (more like vines), bondage, squirting
Oh no. Oh, no, no, no... You kept chanting in your brain. You were trying to reach the fucking shiny thing you saw in the tree's hole and you got stuck. In the middle of the forest. All your torso inside a tree-hole and your legs kicking the air. You couldn't get out. You were stuck. You felt like you were living your own bad porno. Fuck.
You always knew your eagerness to pick stuff in the woods would bring you problems, but you never thought it would be in the shape of a tree. A fucking tree. You were just walking around the forest trying to find some good pieces to build some more fairy jewelry, who knew you could get stuck in a tree. And now you didn’t know what to do, how to get out. A spark of anxiety was creeping up your back. What if you died there? What if they found you dead in a tree-hole? They would think you are a weirdo. Well, in that they wouldn’t be wrong, but that would be so embarrassing. News would say something along the lines of “young girl found in a tree”, and that would be awful in so many levels. God damn it.
You tried crying for help, but you knew there wasn’t anyone coming, you never followed the path, confident you’d find your way back. And you always did, you have some kind of sixth sense about these woods, they called to you. And well, now you called whoever was listening to get you out of that damn tree-hole.
When you felt something creeping behind you, you started kicking your legs, trying to scare whatever animal was close. You didn’t want to be attacked by a random wolf or something. You didn’t even know what kind of animals could roam the forest, you were so careless in the way you explored the woods without thinking about it. You felt like a dummy now, a completely dumb woman who was now stuck in a fucking tree.
Something behind you let out a growl, you started to panic, moving your legs faster, making sounds to scare it away. A light caress to the back of your leg made you twitch, your whole body reacting with full on panic. But before you could scream, you were hanging out upside down, roots embracing your body. You were suspended in the middle of the woods, a weird creature made of leaves and some kind of mud in front of you. He slowly shook your body up and down, making you bounce in an uncomfortable way.
Your confusion, added to being upside down, made your head feel all kinds of dizzy. The roots around you seemed to come from everywhere, like he could control all the things around you. What was he? He answered you without having to verbalize your question: “I’m the spirit of these woods, and you, human, were asking for help. I came.” His voice sounded deep, like if he was talking from inside a cave, an echo of a real voice. Your body shivered.
“I- You- What?” Your confusion at everything happening was making your head spin. He turned you around, hanging you in an upright position this time, your feet still far away from the ground.
“You were screaming, the little creatures came to find me. And here I am,” he explained. His matter of fact statement made you think he was crazy. Maybe you were crazy. Maybe you did die inside that damn tree-hole and all of this was just an hallucination.
“Thanks?” You didn’t know if that was the correct answer, the vines and roots around your body wouldn’t stop twitching, touching, careful not to touch any of your most vulnerable parts. But hey were exploring everything else, caressing your hair, your cheeks, your legs… “Can you put me down?” You asked.
“No.” That instant denial should have scared you, but weirdly enough, you didn’t feel fear or panic anymore. Your body was calm, your mind completely quiet and relaxed. What kind of weird mojo was he doing to you? “You asked for the help of a forest spirit, you need to repay your debt now.” You looked at him expectantly, trying to convey you needed more explanation. He didn’t say anything.
“What the fuck does that mean?” You finally asked, a spark of anger rising inside your chest.
He nodded as if your question was answered like that and said: “I will take you now.” The vines around you started to pull at your clothes. You struggled against the hold, but they were so strong and tight that you could barely move some millimeters.
You struggled harder, screaming at him: “What? No!” You looked at him with all the fire inside of you. If looks could kill, he’d be killed right there, right now. But it wasn’t the case. He just looked amused at your struggles. But he stopped the vines from moving, some of them hovering over your tits and mouth, so close you could smell the petrichor smell they emanated. It was intoxicating.
“You have to pay, human. The balance must be restored.” That made no sense to you, he talked about restoring balance as if you had a debt with the forest or something. What?
“But I didn’t ask for your help.” He looked back at you skeptical, his dark eyes so expressive even though he didn’t have eyelids or brows. His face was so weird, but enthralling at the same time. “Okay, I did need help, but I don’t- I don’t want to have sex with you,” you lied through your teeth.
The truth was that you were aroused, the vines around your body were making you all kinds of horny. You always dreamed of being tied down, of being at the mercy of your partner as they took their fill off you. And without knowing it, he was restraining you, making all your fantasies come to the surface and making your pussy tingle. But you weren’t going to say that to him.
“What is sex, human?” The question caught you off guard, how could he not know what sex was?
“You… You said you’d take me.”
He was looking at you intently, like the answer to your unasked question was obvious and you were just dumb. Maybe you were. “I’ll give you pleasure so your juices can fertilize my forest,” he explained. You could what?
“You what? Fertilize? What?” And then it clicked. “You want to make me cum?” It seemed so random you couldn’t fully process what that meant.
“I believe that’s how humans call it, yes.”
You argued with the angel in your head, but the demon rapidly won the argument and before you could process it fully you were saying: “I- I- Okay.” Your voice was barely a whisper but he nodded and the vines around you closed more firmly against your body, making you shiver. It was weirdly comforting to be held so tightly.
You clothes were pushed away, thrown carelessly to the ground and you found yourself wrapped in vines and roots, suspended in the air. He opened your legs fully, exposing your holes to his eyes. He approached you then, his weird face close to your pussy, but not touching. The leaves around his head tickled the inside of your legs as he inspected you, his breath cold against your heated skin. You whimpered, being exposed to him so openly was embarrassing beyond belief, but the juices dripping off your cunt were even worse.
He reached around him and took some kind of leave, different to the ones covering his head. He squeezed it until a clear substance formed. He coated one of the vines with, the vine shifted into a wider form, cupping your whole pussy, coating it with the substance. At first, you felt nothing, but suddenly scolding heat ran through your body and you came. Just like that. You came faster than ever, he didn’t do anything, he didn’t touch your clit, your entrance… He just put some magical liquid over your cunt and made you cum. What the fuck?
You didn’t get to catch your breath before another vine was proving your entrance, making you moan loudly as it pushed inside. Two more vines appeared, framing your boobs and squeezing, some leaves playing with your nipples at the same time. The pleasure was maddening. The combined sensation of the vine entering you and the leaves was so overwhelming that you came again. This time your scream was cut short when another vine pushed against your asshole. Surprise and arousal made you arch your back, which was fruitless, the restrains on your body so tight you couldn’t move at all.
He was still close, observing the vines playing with your body, controlling everything but not touching you. You felt dehumanized, you were just a means to an end for him. And that made you hot. You could be anybody, everybody. He didn’t care. He just wanted your juices… And he was milking every drop off you.
The vine on your pussy pressed against your G-spot, the sensation too rough and raw. Some more juices gushed around it as you came again. He hit and probed and pushed and made your mind go blank as he transformed your body into a pleasure machine. You came, and came, and came. You were sure there was a river down your legs at that point. You were crying, tears running down your face as he assaulted all your sensitive areas at once. Your body felt like an exposed nerve.
When you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he pushed a new vine in your already overflowing pussy. You saw stars as the vines inside of you intertwined. You were so full, so sensitive, you couldn’t stop crying in pleasure, your voice long gone.
And then something inside of you broke completely and you were peeing. Peeing? No, squirting. He made you squirt. Your juices flowed over him, showering his leaves like summer rain. You ascended to another plane, the pleasure beyond human realm, the orgasm so good your brain broke a bit.
He stopped abruptly, his leaves shiny and his face contorted in some sort of a grin. “That would be all, human. You paid the debt to the forest.” You blushed deeply as he lowered your naked body to the ground, a bed of moss forming under you. “I’ll see you soon,” he muttered as he disappeared before your eyes. The earth literally swallowed him.
#forest entity#forest spirit#forest entity x human#forest entity x reader#monster#monster fucker#monster imagine#monster x human#teratophillia#monster x reader#terato
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First few weeks
Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto
Sukuna-
He hated the first few months, he had a baby which cried every time they woke up, but he had to give you props for giving birth, he wished he could just wake you up and have you deal with the kid but he knew that wouldn't be right. Who would've thought that the king of curses was actually considerate? "What do you want?" Peering over their crib as he examined his kid, maybe they were cold? Picking them up as he twirled them around. "You want milk or something?" Walking towards the kitchen to get some milk. Unwrapping the swaddle on the way there. Stuffing the bottle in their mouth, watching the supply slowly deplete.
Nanami-
He was already under immense stress, and the baby only added to the fuel. She was always crying whenever she was awake, it was like it was her only emotion, taking a longer paternity leave than wanted, he always took care of you, only waking you up from your slumber if it was about feeding your daughter or feeding you, letting you get the well deserved rest. "Please don't wake your mother up" glancing over at your sleeping body as she cried. Taking her out of the room. Stroking her hair as she stopped crying, holding her close to his body. "Aw, did you just want someone to cuddle?"
Geto-
He loves his baby girl, always volunteering to change her nappy or feed her whenever you were too tired. "Go to sleep Y/N, I can take care of her." Caressing your forehead as you tried to sleep. Laid out on the bed with his daughter resting on his bare chest, "You too" rubbing her back as she tried to sleep, she had just been fed so it was expected for her to head to sleep by now. Flipping her onto her back as he was instructed never to let her sleep on her front.
Gojo-
"You think he can say 'mama'?" Peeking his curiosity as he stared harder at his son, big blue eyes staring into his soul, tears dripping down his face, it was an eyesore to see the pale man's face Infront of his. Son laid out on the bed, cradled in a swaddle, unable to move around. Eyes searching desperately for your face, he wasn't even 2 weeks old yet he didn't like his father already, you couldn't blame him, Satoru has always been invasive and never respected people's personal space. "No, he's only 11 days old" dragging your husband back from your son, giving him some relief as he saw the man get further back. "Still, he's got two smart parents, so he should be able to say it, I said my first words when I was 8 months old" rambling on about something as he sat down next to you. "Did you actually?" you thought it was highly unlikely that he said his first words at 8 months old, but then again he was Satoru Gojo. "No" laughing at how well he deceived you.
Toji-
Toji was most definitely on guard the whole time she was a baby, refusing to touch her unless you begged as he was so scared of hurting his precious daughter. "Can you hold her whilst I get changed?" Slipping out of bed as you handed your baby girl to her father, resting her body on his chest, rising with each breath, heart beating faster as he felt her body. Hand wrapped gently on her back, making sure she didn't slip off. Rubbing her back with his fingers, trying to make her burp after being fed from you. His other hand trying to touch her hand, only for her hand to grip onto his finger. Maybe it was a reflex or some actual bonding.
#geto fluff#gojo fluff#toji fluff#sukuna fluff#nanami fluff#geto x reader#gojo x reader#nanami x reader#sukuna x reader#toji x reader#geto suguru#gojo satoru#toji fushiguro#sukuna ryomen#nanami kento#jjk drabbles#jjk x reader#jjk#𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎𝙺𝚞𝚗𝚊
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i have so many thoughts and feelings about this conversation. extra doodles and notes under cut
(ages are wrong btw lmao, i checked. sorry for the grungey look, these are basically sketchbook pics badly edited 🫰)
I just started a new playthru last weekend with a PHYS build and had the conversation with Cuno abt Cunoesse. It always guts me to be honest, but that was the first time I've ever seen this particular check. It hurts even more now 🫠
what always kills me (in a good way) is how many characters we interact with have such a rich history of their own, and you can only get a small glimpse of it in the context of your investigation and random conversations with people.
________________________________________
its so fucking frustrating (imo) in her case because we know these AWFUL, INTENSE but, like, totally out of context things about her past (from Cuno's perspective) with NO extra info to connect the dots.
I have so many questions; We know she's been in at least one snuff millieu, but is that all that happened? How did this happen? Did she ever have a happy childhood? Did she kill a kid? If she did, why? And did she ever do it again?
I'm going on and on, point is, we hear all this stuff out of order, out of context, and we never get to know the full story. we just see the aftermath of all of it, in this tiny bundle of rage and fear.
idk. you can argue everyone's in a really shitty spot, but i just really feel for her. something really horrible happened, and nobody seemed to care except for another kid like 2 yrs older than her (who, honestly, isnt much better off than she is, but cares enough to try to help. brb crying).
i miiight come back to this later to add some other thoughts or headcanons, or maybe i should just make a new post...
#IRL BESTIES!! i put red lines in the text below cut to indicate where it gets spoilery! AVERT YOUR GAZE!#disco elysium#de fanart#disco elysium fanart#fanart#my art#de#de cunoesse#cunoesse
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Chasing Cars | ch 3.5 (jjk)
☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?
☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)
☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff
☆warnings: mention of jungkook sleeping around, curse words? but that's pretty much it
☆word count: 1.1k
☆a/n: wrote this in like twenty minutes after being unable to write for a few weeks, let's go :))))) hope you guys enjoy <3
☆series masterpost
☆☆☆☆☆
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol
☆☆☆☆☆
The second Jungkook saw you crying at the door of your apartment, he knew he had to do something. It didn’t matter that he was supposed to meet with Shelly, didn’t matter that you are Taehyung’s little sister. The sight of tears on your cheeks nearly undid him, his heart clenching so hard in his chest he somehow thought it was going to burst.
Maybe that’s why he decided to cook for you. To offer you this fake Valentine’s Day date, but the more he’s been talking to you, the more the word fake has been losing its meaning, replaced by a yearning for you he’s been trying to forget since the day he met you.
It’s been resurfacing lately, and no matter the amount of reminding himself that your brother is Taehyung, the yearning has yet to go back into the deep slumber it had been in since early September. The fact that you got jealous about Shelly contributes to it all, rendering him practically speechless as he sits next to you.
Mindlessly, he sings along to the song - I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys - eyes lost in the flame atop the candle you’ve lit earlier. He feels your gaze on him the second you turn your head towards him, and his heart skips a beat in his chest.
He meets your gaze, letting out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?”
He meant for it to be teasing, but he rather sounds slightly breathless, and he can only hope you haven’t noticed.
“You have a beautiful voice.”
The compliment hits deep, right in his beating organ. Stabs it until all there is is you sitting next to him, and the room fades out of focus.
“Nah,” he lets out.
“No, I’m serious,” you insist, nodding your head. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”
He thinks he’s blushing. He knows he is - how can you make him such a mess?
He scrunches up his nose. “Stop it.”
You roll your eyes. “Just take the compliment,” you say, and you laugh as he pulls on his piercings.
His heart is beating loud, so loud he doesn’t think he hears the music anymore. There really is just you, like you’re the centerpiece to his universe, and he thinks he’s dumb. Dumb and stupid and all kinds of foolish, yet all he manages to do is whisper, “We should have hung out like this before.”
It’s like the world is holding its breath. Or maybe it’s him, his lungs filling with apprehension at the words he’s uttered aloud even though he shouldn’t have.
“Yeah?” you breathily reply.
Jungkook can’t breathe. Not when he feels you leaning in, and like a meteor, he can’t resist your gravity. Can’t resist leaning in too, meeting you halfway there. When your lips touch, he thinks, will he be the meteor, dust burned in your atmosphere, or will he crash down to you like a meteorite would?
The answer comes when you hesitantly pull away, eyes wide. He doesn’t move, can’t move, and then he’s pulling on your arm, because of course he's the meteorite. His eyes flutter shut the second your feather-soft lips touch his again, and you sigh like you’ve been waiting for this all night.
Much like he has, if he’s honest. But he’s been waiting for much longer, even if he pretended he wasn’t.
Even if he fucked around like he did before, trying not to think about you. Though he pushes that thought away the second that it’s formed in his mind - he doesn’t want to think about anything else when he’s kissing you.
He wants it to be just you, and it's as easy as breathing as he tilts his head to the side so that he can deepen the kiss. His hand trails up your arm, stopping on your shoulder for half a heartbeat before he moves it to the side of your neck, his thumb swiping at your jaw gently.
He sighs, the weight of the yearning finally lifting from his shoulders, and he can’t help but tease your bottom lip with his tongue. You’re quick to reciprocate, and your tongues meet in a languid dance that makes his mind spin, though he keeps the kiss slow, passionate.
He wants to enjoy every single second of this before time is up. He pulls you closer, hand finding the nape of your neck, his heart racing in his chest as you put your hand right above the beating organ. He reckons you notice, because your fist closes on a handful of his shirt, and you pull him closer too. Jungkook immediately reacts by shifting in his chair to allow you space so that you can straddle him.
The weight of you in his lap causes a physical response in him that he’s afraid you might notice, yet you don’t move, don’t say anything. Just keep on kissing him like time is stretching in an eternity for you and him, and he thinks it is.
He thinks the world might have truly stopped outside, and he’s not going to complain about it. No, instead he holds your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck. He keeps on kissing you, getting drunk to the taste of you, and when your hands move up to tug at his hair, arousal erupts in him so loud his tongue grows more insistent, startling you.
Startling him, too.
You pull away, though you remain close enough for him to imagine that this is real, to imagine that he can kiss you again. But then Taehyung invades his thoughts, and anxiety pumps in his blood until he finds himself regretting it. But he doesn’t say it yet though, needing this moment to stretch for a little longer still.
He wraps his arms around your waist in a tentative embrace, and you rest your head on his shoulder. Your warm breath tickles his neck, yet he remains immobile, appreciating your proximity. His grip on you loosens as he realizes a new song has started playing while you kissed, and he stiffens slightly when you peck his neck, sending shivers down his spine.
He’s dead. Jungkook is a dead man, and he pushes you away gently, until your gazes connect. Your eyes are shining, and you’re so beautiful, so angelic like this he thinks it doesn’t have to matter.
But it does. It does matter that you’re Taehyung’s sister, and though it kills him to say it, Jungkook murmurs, “Now you’ve had a fake Valentine Day kiss.”
Read chapter three here!
☆☆☆☆☆
Come scream with me please I can't he's so ashgfknglefg
All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.
#chasing cars ch 3.5#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jungkook#jjk smut#jjk fluff#jjk angst#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fic#jjk#jeon jungkook#chasing cars#chasing cars series#btswritersclub
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break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored
short lil summary: after that one night with harry, you can't stop thinking about him...but things don't exactly turn out like you'd hoped.
warnings: smut (multiple positions, multiple orgasms), angst, oral (f receiving), dirty talk - 18+ ONLY!!
word count: 8k+
a/n: this is part 2 of bad idea. read that first.
(obviously both are somewhat inspired by ariana grande songs)
You heard your phone ringing as you stepped out of the shower. Knowing better than to hurry and risk falling on the bathroom floor, you listened for another ring, but none came. Quickly drying off with a towel, you wondered if it was Harry.
The two of you had been texting for the last few days. While he’d continued with his audacious flirting, he hadn’t made another move to see you again until last night.
Wanna grab a coffee or something tomorrow? he’d texted.
Not wanting to sound too eager, you’d said you had tentative plans with a friend - which wasn’t a full lie since Deliah had texted you and asked to get together - so you should play it by ear.
Stepping into your bedroom, you grabbed your phone from your bed. Your lips twitched into a grin when you saw his name.
Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. Thoughts of him had been invading your mind since you’d left his apartment that morning. That morning after the most incredible sex you’d ever had. He’d ordered you an Uber, and offered you breakfast which you’d declined. While he’d been sweet, promising to text you, you’d made sure to keep things casual - especially after seeing that text from Melanie on his phone.
Maybe she was his girlfriend. He’d guessed correctly that you didn’t have a boyfriend, but he never divulged his own relationship status. And if he was anything like his brother, he may have a handful of women he was fucking. Not that you blamed him. He was a sexy guy, and despite falling under his spell for one drunken, sex-charged night, you were still his brother’s ex and knew it was best not to get too attached.
One thing you admitted to yourself at least, was that you enjoyed his flirty little texts and the way they made you giggle like a schoolgirl. But you would never say this to your friends. You hadn’t heard from Marcie at all since that night, and Deliah, ever the kind and gentle soul, merely asked if you got home okay and if you had a hangover, saying you two should make dinner plans. Obviously both of your friends knew you’d slept with your ex’s brother. But for now, it had yet to be a topic of conversation.
“Hey, it’s Harry,” he said in the voicemail he’d just left. “Was wondering if you were free. I was just about to head to the coffee shop. Let me know.”
Since you hadn’t heard decisive plans from Deliah about that dinner yet, you tapped the phone to call Harry back.
“Hi, which coffee shop?”
You could see him through the cafe window before you even made it to the door. He sat in a corner booth at the front, another cap backwards on his head. He smiled and waved when he saw you coming, and it immediately sent a warm feeling through your veins.
“Hi,” you said when you approached him, and he rose from the booth, surprising you with a kiss on the cheek.
“You look lovely,” he commented, his palm running down your back and lingering just above your waist. “I haven’t ordered yet. Thought I’d wait for you.”
“Oh, that’s sweet, but you didn’t have to.”
Harry shrugged. “I wanted to.”
With a grin, you walked with Harry to the counter to place your coffee order. When he told the barista it was together and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, you didn’t argue. Joining him at the table again, you asked Harry how his day had been.
“Pretty good,” he replied. “Had another interview this morning.”
“How did that go?”
“Went well, I think. It’s hard to tell sometimes.”
“I know,” you nodded. “Good luck, though.”
“Thanks.”
You both continued to make small talk for a bit until the barista called out his name. You watched Harry slide out of the booth to pick your coffees up at the counter. Selfishly, you stared at his back, his broad shoulders, hoping he was planning to stay in the states instead of returning to London. Shaking your head, you cursed yourself for having such thoughts. He was not yours to claim. Some good dick and a cup of coffee did not mean anything more.
Returning to the table, he set your cup in front of you. Then Harry’s smile spread across his face before he reached for his phone. “Found something today as well,” he said sheepishly.
“Oh?”
Tapping on his cell, Harry chuckled before turning it towards you. Your face fell when you recognized the image. It was your senior photo from high school.
“Is that you?” he asked.
With a sigh, you nodded, wanting to make yourself small and melt into the vinyl of the seat. “Yeah.”
“I told you I thought you looked familiar,” he smirked. “You went to my high school.”
“Where did you find that?” you asked him with a grimace.
“Your instagram.”
“Shit,” you muttered, throwing your hand over your face. You’d forgotten you had an account. You’d abandoned it after you and David had broken up.
Fuck! David!
“I hope you don’t mind that I looked you up,” Harry continued.
Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you shook your head, wanting to vomit. “I guess you know who I am, then.”
“From school, yeah. Oh, you mean that you dated my brother?”
“Yes,” you groaned, shielding your eyes from him as you looked down at your untouched coffee.
“Honestly? I don’t care much about that.”
Lifting your head, you stared at him in shock. “What?”
Harry shrugged. “David’s dated a lot of girls. I could barely keep track even before I left for London. I was bound to run into one of them sooner or later.”
Making a face, you sat back. “Not sure how I feel about that.”
Harry chuckled. “I didn’t mean to imply you’re just another chick, sweetheart. You’re anything but that, if I’m being honest. It just doesn’t matter to me that you dated my brother, that’s all. I like you. We had a good time, yeah?”
Color rose to your face as your body relaxed. “Yes.”
“Good.” Harry gazed back at the photo on his phone. “You were really cute, too. I would’ve asked you out if I hadn’t been a dorky freshman.”
A cackle escaped your lips as you looked away, turning back only to find a gorgeous, sexy grin on Harry’s face.
“You’re definitely not dorky now, Harry,” you commented.
“Well, that’s a relief.”
The moment was silent as you looked at him and blinked. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess I…was afraid it would spoil everything. I was enjoying spending time with you.”
“‘s alright. I enjoyed it too.”
Finally taking a sip of your latte, you looked up at him. “So where does that leave us?”
“Exactly where we were. I asked you here because I wanted to see you again.”
“And?” you tilted your head, hoping he had more to add.
“And…I was hoping we could get together again soon. Like this weekend.”
“Alright,” you said nonchalantly, lifting your cup to your lips.
Harry snickered. “Just alright? Did you have other plans?”
“Well, I might, Harry. It’s kind of late notice, and you don’t know me that well.”
He threw his head back laughing, and you couldn’t help but be pleased. You liked his laugh. A little too much. When he looked at you again, his eyes were dancing with glee. You took that as a good sign. Then he leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table.
“Tell you what, sweetheart. You let me know what time you’re free - either Friday or Saturday evening. And I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
Pursing your lips, you grabbed your own phone from your bag and pretended to be looking at a calendar.
“Hmm, you’re in luck, Harry. I happen to be free both evenings,” you teased.
“That is lucky,” he agreed. “Let’s not play it by ear this time though, hmm? I wanna set a date.”
“Oh. So it’s a real date this time?” you quipped.
“What do you think this is?” Harry raised a brow, acting offended.
You chuckled. “A coffee date.”
“Ah!” Harry lifted a finger in the air. “But it is a date.”
Pulling your lips to the side, you rolled your eyes. “More like a coffee…meet up.”
“Don’t change the terms now, love, that’s not fair.”
You laughed out loud, enjoying the banter. “Alright, Harry. You can pick the night. You’re so stubborn, and if you weren’t so fucking cute I’d tell you just forget it.”
Harry slapped his hand to his chest. “Honey, that hurt.”
“No it didn’t,” you jested, trying not to show how affected you were by him calling you honey. “Drink your coffee.”
His dimples deepened as he lifted his cup. “Friday, okay?” he winked before taking a sip.
“Okay. Where are we going?”
“I have a friend whose band is playing. Would you like to go?”
“Sure.” Though you’d just done the bar thing the weekend before, Harry was just out of college and was probably still part of that whole scene. And it was his friend, so you didn’t have the heart to say no.
“Great,” Harry beamed. “I’ll pick you up around eight.”
You nodded again, taking another sip of coffee.
The rest of the coffee date was more flirting and teasing, some idle chit chat. Before your goodbyes, Harry was sweet to walk you out to your car, giving you a gentle, yet sensual kiss. And though it had been on the edge of your mind all evening, you didn’t bring up the Melanie text. You told yourself it was none of your business, but in all honesty, you didn’t wanna know the truth.
“You’re seeing him again?” asked Deliah as she dug her fork into her salad. You’d finally managed to get together for dinner the next evening. And for the first time since Saturday night, Harry’s name was brought up when she asked about your weekend plans.
“Tomorrow. And I saw him yesterday for a coffee date.”
“So it’s getting serious already?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s not serious, Deliah. It’s just fun.”
“Oh. Do you like him?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t have slept with him if I didn’t.”
“You know what I mean…” Deliah tilted her head and eyed you.
Shrugging, you reached for your water glass. “If you’re asking about feelings, Deliah, it’s way too soon for that.”
“I don’t know. I fell for Shane on our first date.”
“That’s because you’re special,” you winked.
Your friend smiled as she set down her fork and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Marcie’s still mad at you, you know.”
“I figured as much,” you commented. “She hasn’t replied to any of my texts.”
“She thinks you’re just trying to get back at David.”
“Who gives a shit about David?” you exclaimed. “I’m so over him.”
“Well, she thinks you’re not, and she’s afraid you’ll fall for Harry because he looks like him.”
Sitting back in your chair, you scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “He doesn’t, actually. Sure, he resembles him a little because he’s his brother, but they are nothing alike.”
“I believe you, Y/N,” Deliah held up her hands. “I’m only repeating what Marcie told me.”
With a huff, you grabbed your water again and gulped it down. “I thought friends were supposed to support each other,” you added. “Not bring each other down.”
“I support you! I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are,” you sighed. Then giving a smile, you picked up your fork. “Besides, I’m not in love with the guy. He’s just really hot and good in bed. Like I said, I’m just having fun, okay?”
“Okay,” Deliah nodded.
“So what’ll it be tonight, love?” asked Harry as you took a seat at a high top table near the stage, his hand on the small of your back. “Tequila shots again?”
“Only if you want,” you grinned up at him.
“No problem.” He lowered his mouth to yours for a soft, tiny kiss before making his way to the bar.
Setting your clutch on the table in front of you, you smiled to yourself. Harry had already kissed you a handful of times tonight, starting with the big, wet one he’d laid on you as soon as you’d opened your door. He’d stood there hatless for the first time since you’d met, his usual fratboy attire absent, or at least most of it. He still wore jeans and a button down, but this one was soft and silky, black with a small stitching design. On his feet he wore black boots, and he smelled like heaven.
“Fuck me, you look amazing!” he’d exclaimed, taking the words out of your mouth.
And before you could respond, he’d slipped his hands around your waist and covered your lips with his. It had taken you a few seconds to come down from that kiss before you’d had a chance to return the compliment, only to have him press another one on your mouth next to his car.
The way he kept stealing glances at you during the drive to the bar also confirmed you’d made the right choice in your dress this evening, and you knew without a doubt that an encore of the weekend before was imminent.
The bar was crowded as you gazed around and saw Harry returning, balancing the shots in one hand and two beer necks in the other. You giggled as you rose from your seat.
“Here, let me help you,” you offered, reaching for the shots.
“No, you take these,” he insisted, dodging the people around him.
Grabbing the beers, you returned to the table.
“I’ll be right back, I forgot the limes,” explained Harry.
“Harry, it’s fine,” you chuckled, grasping his arm.
“You sure?”
“Yes. It’s too crowded over there. I don’t need them if you don’t.”
“Not really,” he smirked.
Patting the chair next to you, you urged him to sit. He obliged, lifting one of his shot glasses.
“To you, sweetheart,” he announced.
“Me?”
“Yeah. For looking so goddamn sexy; I may have to cut out of here early or take you right here on this table.”
“Shut up,” you cackled, playfully pinching his thigh.
“Shit, don’t do that either, love, c’mon,” he hissed, grabbing your wrist.
“Harry…”
“I’m serious, babe. You turn me on so much.”
“Well…” you sighed, lifting your tequila shot. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Harry stared at you as you brought your glass to your lips. Then he did the same, shooting it down in the same rhythm you did. When you reached for your second glass, Harry raised a brow.
“Not taking your time now?”
“No,” you replied. “Not tonight.”
When you swallowed back the warm liquid, feeling it pulse through your veins, Harry followed. But when he nearly slammed his glass down, he leaned over and kissed you, sucking on your tongue. You held onto him to keep from falling off the stool.
While the kiss and the heated moment itself had seemed to drown out the noise of the crowd, you both were reminded of where you were when the sound of a screeching guitar interrupted your little private soiree. Wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, Harry gave you a dimpled smirk before whispering in your ear.
“Will definitely continue this later.”
Licking your lips, you nodded. “Which one is your friend?” you asked as the band kicked into their first song.
“The lead guitarist, right there,” he gestured. “Lance. He went to our school too, but he was a grade below me.”
“Oh.”
You sat and watched the band play a song you weren’t familiar with, but sounded catchy. Then they went into a song you did know, a throwback from college. Harry smiled widely at you as you began to sing along, then he slipped his hand up your knee underneath the table. You grinned back, covering his hand with yours, still mouthing the words. Reaching for his beer, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig while you continued to enjoy the band, raising your other arm in a fist to shout the lyrics to the chorus.
“This a favorite song of yours?” Harry asked in your ear.
“It was,” you replied. “Just brings back memories. It was one of my first concerts. I got really drunk that night, but don’t tell anybody.”
You giggled as Harry tried to urge his hand up higher on your thigh. “Wish I’d known you then.”
The band switched into a more modern track, and you used the opportunity to drink some of your beer. Your other hand still on Harry’s, you gazed around the room, seeing just how it had filled up since the band had started to play.
“Do you think all these people know the band already, or are they just here ‘cause it’s a bar?”
“Probably a mix of both,” Harry chuckled. “Lance said they have a bit of a following, though.”
“Is this the first time you’ve seen them?”
“Since I’ve been back, yeah. But I’ve known Lance forever, and he’s always been in some kind of band since high school.”
Just then, the song ended and the singer spoke into the mic, introducing the band and its members before starting the next song which was an original.
“Do you want another beer, or a shot?” asked Harry.
“I’m good for now,” you smiled. “But I think I’ll make a trip to the ladies’.”
Rising from your stool, you finally released Harry’s hand with a squeeze, then gave him a peck on the lips before grabbing your clutch and turning for the bathrooms. On your way, you noticed a blonde sitting at the end of the bar, her gaze straight ahead, though it didn’t appear she was watching the band. It looked like she was staring at Harry.
If you hadn’t had to use the restroom so badly, you would have done something, though you weren’t sure what. Instead, you hurried in the ladies’ room - as quickly as you could despite the short line - and began to make your way back to your table.
You stopped in your tracks, however, when you noticed the blonde had taken your seat. She looked like she was arguing with Harry, pointing at him and gesturing with her hands. Harry did the same, opening his arms wide as he spoke to her, until he finally shrugged and the girl stepped off the stool and huffed as she strutted away.
Swallowing hard, you slowly continued your steps toward Harry. He had his head in his hand, his elbow resting on the table when you slipped into your chair.
“Who was that?” you asked hesitantly.
“Oh…” he lifted his head. “Shit. Sorry. Do you want another-”
“Who was that girl, Harry?” you said again, firmly.
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My ex-girlfriend.”
“Oh. She didn’t seem too pleased to see you.”
“She um…was looking for me, actually. Reckoned I’d be here.”
“She knows you’re friends with Lance,” you commented.
“Yeah.” Harry stared down at his beer bottle, peeling the edges of the label off with his fingernails. You could tell he was avoiding looking at you.
Exhaling through your nose, you placed your bag on the table in front of you. That must have been Melanie. Not really sure what else to say, you took a swig of your beer. The roaring sound of the crowd around you and the high decibels of the rock band seemed to be miles away as you stared at Harry, hoping he would say something. Finally, you spoke, for the silence between you was driving you crazy.
“Harry…” you leaned forward, placing your hand on his arm. He lifted his head to look at you, but his expression was not one you could easily read. “Do you wanna leave?” you asked.
Sitting up, Harry sighed, his shoulders dropping. Then he shook his head. “No. Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N.”
“Me too,” you mouthed, though you didn’t really say the words loud enough to hear. Then you took his hand and looked him in the eye. “Harry, I’m enjoying being with you. I really like you. But…I don’t wanna be…”
“Shh,” he silenced you, pulling you to him in an embrace. Then he softly said the things in your ear that you’d hoped he would. “You’re not, sweetheart. Don’t even think it. I’ll tell you more about her later, if you wanna know. But it’s been over for a while. Alright?”
Pulling back, Harry looked at you, studying your face. “I don’t wanna leave…at least not yet. I wanna be here…with you.”
You nodded eagerly, believing his words…wanting to believe them. Bringing his hands to your face, he cupped your cheeks and placed a tender kiss on your lips. Blinking your eyes, you decided to let it go for now. He’d said she was an ex. He obviously knew who your ex was now. Maybe you were even.
You enjoyed the rest of the band’s first set until they stopped to take a fifteen minute break. Lance recognized Harry when he set down his guitar, and walked off the stage to greet him. When Harry introduced him to you, Lance gave a smile and a thank you for coming. They chatted and reminisced for a bit, and you half-wondered if Melanie’s name would come up, but it didn’t.
After Lance left, Harry announced he was going to the bathroom and would return with more drinks. You people-watched while he was away, swinging your legs underneath the table to the beat of the music playing through the speakers. You laughed at a handful of frat boys playing darts at the far wall, and snuck a peak at a couple making out in the corner. Your own desire was still amped up, despite the ex-girlfriend thing, and you secretly hoped Harry would decide to take you home soon.
When he wasn’t back in ten minutes, however, you started to get antsy and a little worried. There was still a crowd at the bar, and you wondered if he was there and needed help carrying your drinks. Grabbing your purse, you walked in that direction, but stopped when you saw your date on the other side of the bar talking to the blonde again. Your stomach suddenly in knots, you strode over to them and tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned with a surprised look on his face.
“I’m gonna go,” you announced. “I’ll get an Uber.”
“Y/N, no!”
“Yeah…I am. You two obviously have some things to work out. And I’m not in the mood to wait for you to finish tonight.”
When you turned for the exit, Harry grabbed your arm. “Honey, please,” he said. “Don’t leave. I was just telling Melanie to leave, that I was here with you-”
“Melanie,” you repeated. “That’s her name?”
“Yeah, but-”
“Call me when this is over,” you said. “If that’s what you want. Otherwise, don’t call me…at all.”
You heard Harry call your name once more as you made your way to the door, scrambling to get your phone out of your bag. Once outside, you requested an Uber on the app, grateful there was a driver closeby.
You swore to yourself you weren’t going to cry because that would be foolish. You didn’t have any feelings for Harry. He was just some guy. Some really hot, sexy guy who’d made you come four times in one night.
Fuck it all!
You didn’t hear from Harry the rest of the night. Though you sort of wished you would get at least an apology text, asking if you were okay, you got nothing. You got nothing the next day either, nor the day after that. By Monday you’d given up, deciding he was indeed just some guy, and just like his brother, if not worse.
You felt ashamed. Ashamed that you’d insisted it was just sex and told your friends you were just looking to have fun. You couldn’t even call or text them. Marcie would probably say “I told you so,” and Deliah, while she wouldn’t say it, would be thinking it.
It wasn’t until Thursday that you finally got a text from Harry. By then you’d just about forgotten his number was still in your phone. Almost.
Hi.
One word. That was it. Like he was testing the waters, seeing if you would respond. Such a guy thing to do.
You simply replied with the same word. Two letters. No emotion.
I just wanted to say I’m sorry.
Of course he was. Rolling your eyes, you typed back.
What for?
He took a minute to respond. You figured he was trying out different ways to explain without stating the obvious.
For everything, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Melanie. We broke up a while ago, but since I’ve been back she’s been trying to get back together. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Ok. Short and sweet. No need to go further and spew any word vomit. Keep it simple.
I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really like you, and I’m very attracted to you.
Biting your lip to keep it from trembling, you texted quickly.
So you got back together? You just wanted him to tell you already. Nip it in the bud.
Yes. I’m sorry, Y/N. And I’m sorry I haven’t called.
Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly. Then you typed your final response.
Thanks for letting me know. Have a nice life.
Tossing your phone on the bed, you sat on the edge and let yourself cry. Just a little.
Three weeks later…
Summer was in full swing, the sun heating up the pavement as the tropical cocktails cooled your throat. You laid between Marcie and Deliah on the pool chairs, sunglasses on your face and a piña colada in your hand. This time the party was hosted by one of Marcie’s colleagues, Jennifer, whose husband was a doctor. Needless to say, the house was gorgeous, the enormous pool and outdoor bar only the icing on the cake.
You were glad to be hanging out with your girlfriends again. While you’d never gone into details about the Harry charade, you’d merely told them they were right, and that he was just wanting a piece of ass. You told them you were over it - in fact, had brushed it off your shoulders like it was nothing - when in truth, it had taken you a bit until the memory of Harry’s touch, his plump lips on yours, his cock deep inside of you had completely vanished.
Who were you kidding? He was still on your mind, every fucking day. But you weren’t about to tell them that.
Ian came up to Marcie and handed her another tequila sunrise, taking her empty glass from her. She thanked him with a term of endearment and you felt your stomach clench. Sipping on your cocktail, you watched the people in the pool throw a beach ball around. Suddenly, the music that was playing through the tiny, hidden speakers switched from the Sabrina Carpenter song you liked to a rock tune by Bon Jovi, immediately transporting you back to the last time you’d heard it.
You could still see him sitting there in Trevor’s loft, holding the glass of beer, a snapback backwards on his head as he stared at you. And as if he had known you were thinking about him, like magic he appeared.
He stood on the other side of the pool, wearing yellow swim trunks and a white t-shirt, sandals on his feet, and a fucking backwards cap on his head. Black shades covered his eyes, but you could swear he was looking right at you, despite the blonde in the blue bikini holding his hand right next to him.
Greg, Jennifer’s husband walked up to him then, and Harry shook hands with him. Then he turned towards the pool chairs behind him where he removed his cap and shirt and laid them down. The uneasy feeling in your stomach was too much to bear, so you shoved your drink at Deliah who glared at you in surprise.
“I don’t feel so well,” you muttered. “Going to the bathroom.”
Slipping into your sandals with haste, you rushed to the back door where Jennifer was just exiting.
“Oh, hey, I just put out more snacks on the kitchen island!” she announced. “Help yourself!”
“Thanks,” you said hurriedly, setting your sunglasses on your head before bolting for the stairs.
You figured a bathroom upstairs would be more private. With relief, you found one halfway down the hall and locked the door behind you.
You can do this! You breathed to yourself. Remember, he’s just a guy.
Taking several more breaths, you used the toilet and washed your hands before deciding you most definitely could do this. It wasn’t like it had been with David. You hadn’t been pining over Harry for twelve years.
Skipping down the stairs, you decided to stop in the kitchen to check out the snacks. You paused when you saw Harry inspecting the fruit and finger sandwiches, laying several on a paper plate. When he lifted his eyes and saw you, he looked surprised.
“Y/N. I…I didn’t know you were here.”
“Sure you did,” you quipped, grabbing a plate for yourself. “You saw me outside.”
“I promise, I didn’t,” he chuckled. “But…it’s good to see you.”
“Mmhmm,” you nodded, reaching for the dip.
“I mean it. You look…amazing.” You watched his eyes follow down your body in your two-piece bathing suit.
“Thanks,” you clipped as you diverted your gaze and started piling potato chips onto your plate.
Making your way around the island, you stopped in front of the watermelon, grabbing several chunks with your plastic fork. Harry hadn’t seemed to move since you walked in the room. But you heard him speak again when you reached for the sandwiches.
“Y/N…”
“Yes?”
“I really am sorry. I was hoping we could be friends.”
Finally looking at him again, you noticed a somber look on his face, one you hadn’t seen before. Regret? Maybe.
“Friends? Sure.”
“You mean it?”
With a nervous chuckle, you shrugged. “Whatever, Harry. But to be honest, I don’t usually become friends with a guy after I’ve slept with him.”
The back door opened again and Greg held it for one of the other guests.
“Oh, can you keep that open for me, please?” you called, carrying your plate of goodies. “Thank you!”
Stepping back out into the sun, you returned to your friends, leaving Harry alone on his island.
The hot afternoon had begun to cool down as the evening breeze blew in. Both Marcie and Deliah had been kind enough to let you know they’d noticed Harry had arrived but would be happy to leave with you if you wanted. You gave them both hugs, assuring them you were fine. Of course it was a lie, but one you were willing to tell for your own sanity.
You hadn’t been able to take your eyes off of him. He stayed on his side of the pool for the most part, and you figured it was mostly due to his girlfriend. Surely she knew you were there as well, and was avoiding any more uncomfortable situations. So other than getting in the pool for a bit yourself, you pretty much stayed in your chair or sat at an umbrella-covered table with your friends.
And of course, the alcohol helped. By four o’clock you’d had a pretty good buzz going and continued to keep it for the rest of the afternoon. It was much easier to have fun and not worry about the hot guy on the other side of the pool when you were tipsy.
By the time the sun was setting, Greg and some of his friends had grilled a delicious feast, everyone partaking with pleasure after the long, hot day. Afterwards, a few people started a game of volleyball in the pool, including Harry. When the other side needed another team member, you decided to join in.
“Y/N, are you crazy?” squealed Deliah.
“No, just drunk,” you laughed.
Taking a spot near the net, you watched Harry as he watched you through his shades. When he missed a serve, you snorted.
“How you gonna see the ball, frat boy?” you heckled. “It’s dark now.”
Slipping his sunglasses off his face, you caught the way he scowled at you. You also didn’t miss the way Melanie leaned over and whispered something in his ear.
The game continued, each team earning two points. But when Harry served, and the ball barely went over the net, you missed it.
“Tough break, princess,” Harry smirked, earning him a piercing look from Melanie.
“I shoulda gotten that one,” said the man standing next to you. “Not your fault.”
You smiled widely at him, knowing full well that Harry’s eyes were on you. This went on for a while. Though it wasn’t a tough game, you definitely got a glimpse of how competitive Harry could be. But you had to admit to yourself it was a turn-on. And though your team ended up losing, you were secretly happy that Harry got the win.
After the game, you grabbed your towel and headed for the house to change into your other clothes you had brought with you. You’d left your bag in a corner beside the sofa, and when you grabbed it and started up the stairs, you heard your name. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Harry coming up behind you.
“What are you doing?” you frowned.
“Just wanted to say that was fun,” he smiled his dimpled grin.
“The volleyball game?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you think so? You seemed to enjoy it.”
“I did,” you nodded, reaching the top of the stairs.
“So we can be friends,” he commented.
Stopping in front of the bathroom door, you turned around and looked at him. Really looked at him. His cap was back on his head, his eyes bloodshot from the chlorine. But he looked incredible. His skin was tan, as though he’d probably already been out in the sun many times that summer already. His swim trunks hung low on his hips, revealing his tattoos. And damn if those dimples didn’t make you want to swoon.
“Playing a game with you and your girlfriend does not make us friends,” you remarked.
“Why not?”
“Because…” you paused, gathering up just the right words and the courage to say them. “Because I didn’t wanna be the one who had to leave the bar that night.”
Harry’s face fell, his expression contrite. He looked like he was about to say something, but you weren’t sure you wanted to hear it. Instead, you turned for the bathroom, but before you could shut the door, Harry followed you in, locking it behind both of you.
“What are you doing?” you asked this time.
But Harry responded only with his mouth. Colliding with yours, he kissed you fervently, his tongue invading your mouth with purpose and determination. Your brain told you to resist, to push him back and out of the closed space, but your body was doing the opposite. Your hand released the towel it was holding, letting it fall to the floor. With a moan, you threw your arms around his neck. Harry’s hands found your waist, sliding down and inside your bikini bottoms. They felt so warm against your cool, damp skin. He pushed down the fabric, letting them pool at your feet. Then he lifted you up and onto the bathroom counter.
“Harry…” you breathed as you stared at his gorgeous face.
Reaching behind you, he pulled on the string that tied your top around your back, then the one around your neck. Your breasts exposed, he cupped them before licking his lips and lowering his head to suck. You threw your head back, holding onto his shoulders.
When he lifted his head again, he smirked. “How quiet can you be, sweetheart?”
“Wha-what about…your girlfriend?” you came to your senses before he leaned in for another kiss.
“What about her?” Harry asked with heavy-lidded eyes.
You chuckled incredulously. “She’s downstairs, Harry. Or did you forget?”
With a groan, he leaned forward and let his head fall on your shoulder. “Shit. I think I made a mistake, love.”
“What?”
“I shouldn’t’ve gotten back with her.” His words were muffled against your neck, but you heard him clearly.
“Oh. Okay…” You hadn’t expected him to say that.
“I can’t get you outta my head, Y/N,” he added, looking at you again. “You’re so fucking sexy…but I think…it’s more than that. We’ve just…we’ve grown apart, Melanie and me.”
“So…break up with her.” You let the words slip out before you realized. Before you even admitted that’s what you wanted.
Harry blinked a few times as he considered your request. When you got no response, you gently pushed on his chest.
“I gotta go,” you said, sliding off the counter and reaching for your bag. You pulled out your clothes and stepped into your underwear.
Harry was still silent as you finished dressing. When you yanked your bag onto your shoulder, you turned to look at him.
“Bye, Harry.” Reaching a hand out, you touched his face, then gave his lips a soft kiss.
As you opened the door, you heard him say. “I will.”
The knock startled you, waking you from your sleep. Throwing your hand out to your nightstand, you searched for your phone, lighting it up to check the time. It was half past midnight. A handful of texts with Harry’s name also displayed. Sitting up, you turned on the lamp, adjusting your vision.
Can I come over? I know it’s late.
I broke up with her.
Please, Y/N, I need to see you.
With a groan, you threw back the covers and crawled out of bed. The incessant knocking grew louder as you got closer to the front door.
“Okay, I’m coming, Jesus!” Swinging the door open, you were met with a familiar face, one you had just left a few hours ago. “Harry, what the fuck?”
“Sorry I woke you,” he said.
“No you’re not.”
Dropping his shoulders, Harry sighed. “No. I’m not.”
Pushing you backwards with his palms, he crossed the threshold, knocking the door closed with the heel of his boot. His arms wrapped around your waist before you could protest, his mouth covering yours.
You hated the way your lips fit together so perfectly. You hated the way your body reacted to his kiss. And more than anything, you hated the way you had wanted this to happen ever since you’d told him goodbye in that bathroom.
He guided you backwards toward your bedroom, or maybe you guided him. His lips didn’t leave yours until his hands tugged on your tank top, and you lifted your arms to help him remove it. Standing before him in just your panties, you stared at him, his fucking cozy flannel shirt, his ever present snapback.
“I broke up with her, Y/N,” he voiced softly, echoing his text.
“So you said.”
“It was a mistake to get back together with her. We just…wanted to try to make it work, you know? See if there was something still there between us-”
“Harry, shut up.”
“What?”
“I don’t wanna know about you and Melanie,” you chuckled, exasperated. “Why are you here?”
A smirk twitched on his lips as he stared at you incredulously. “What do you mean? I told you I needed to see you.”
“Yes, but are you gonna fuck me or not?”
His smirk widening into a full smile, Harry nodded, pulling you into another kiss. Removing his boots, he laid you down on the bed, his mouth trailing down your neck to nibble on your tits.
“Fuck, your skin is so soft. I’ve missed it so much,” he groaned, his hands sliding down your sides.
You grabbed hold of his hat, dropping it on the floor before running your fingers through his curls. Harry shimmied his body down between your legs while his mouth continued to leave a kiss on each part of your body down to your belly.
“This I’ve missed the most,” he whispered when his mouth stopped at your cloth-covered mound.
You whined softly as he slid his thumb up and down your slit, over your panties. You heard him chuckle low before your eyes met.
“Is this for me, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Yes. All yours, Harry.”
“All mine, hmm?” he breathed, reaching for the sides of your underwear.
You lifted your hips so he could pull them down, and he made sure his hands carefully but seductively traced your legs all the way until he reached your ankles. His body now on the floor, he knelt before you and pulled you closer so that your bottom was on the edge of the bed, your legs spread wide.
“Fuck, such a pretty pussy, sweetheart,” he growled. “And all mine.”
His ringed finger held your thighs open as his wet tongue slid up your slit, resting on the bundle of nerves. Your toes immediately curled, your fingers grasping the bedding underneath you. You moaned as he slowly began circling and tapping on your clit, a quickly heightened sensation that you’d forgotten you craved.
“Oh, fuck yes,” you whined.
You felt him moan against you which only accelerated your pleasure. Tugging on his hair, you urged him closer, needing to feel the friction and release. When his fingers joined in on the fun, you arched your back, crying out his name.
“Harry, oh god, make me come!”
“Yeah, baby, that’s the plan.”
You felt the tension in your core as his fingers hit the tender spot inside. Light-headed, you could feel yourself steadily reaching the precipice until the coil snapped and you cried out again, your legs trembling around his head.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Good girl,” Harry cooed as you came. “So fucking sexy.”
Your chest heaving, you moaned his name, over and over, as if you were finally spilling out all the times you thought about him, all the times you wished he was in your bed.
“Harry, Harry, Harry…”
With a chuckle, Harry slithered up your body. “I like that,” he said before kissing you. “Love to hear my name on your lips.”
“Mmm, I can’t help it, Harry. I needed you so bad.”
“Yeah? Been thinking about me, baby?”
You nodded, biting your bottom lip. You worried you’d confessed too much, but when Harry’s expression softened, and he whispered the words “me too”, you considered perhaps you hadn’t.
Sitting up, Harry removed his flannel and the t-shirt underneath. With a grin, you sat up too, on your knees, sliding your hands up his torso. He sighed when your lips met his chest and you kissed the ink that was displayed there.
“Mmm, that feels nice,” he said, his bedroom eyes on you when you gazed up at him.
Your fingers quickly found the button on his jeans, your hand slipping inside to cup his prominent bulge while your mouth continued to kiss his flesh, your tongue tracing the top of his butterfly tattoo.
“Fuck me, Y/N, you’re so hot.”
“So are you, Harry. I need to feel you.”
“Yeah? You want my cock, sweetheart?”
“Yes, please,” you nodded up at him with pouty lips.
Harry smirked as he leaned in for a kiss. “Oh you are so fucking sweet, aren’t you?”
You nodded, meeting his lips and sucking on his tongue. He moaned against you before crawling off the bed to remove his jeans and underwear. You reached into your bedside drawer to get a condom, happy to roll it on his incredible erection.
“C’mere, honey,” he growled as he stood at the foot of the bed. He pulled you to the edge again, aiming his hard cock at your entrance.
“Are you wet enough?” he asked.
“Very,” you exhaled, as he tested the waters for himself.
“Always so wet for me,” he grinned before entering you slowly. “Mmm yeah, so good.”
Holding on your waist, Harry fucked you slow and deep. Running your hands down your chest, watched him as he watched you, his green eyes dark in the lamp light. Your breaths quickened as he thrust faster, his hands sliding underneath you to lift you higher.
“Oh yeah, fuck me…” you cried. “Feels so good.”
“Yeah, you like that baby?”
“So much. Oh god!”
You watched his arm muscles flex, his stomach tighten as he fucked you harder. His jaw slack, his beautiful lips opened as he puffed out heavy breaths. He looked so sexy, you could barely stand it. When you cried out again, he slowed, lightly patting your behind.
“Turn over, babe,” he instructed.
Getting on your hands and knees, you scooted to the edge of the bed again where Harry eagerly grabbed your hips, guiding you to where he wanted you. You felt the pressure in your cunt as he slipped inside your walls, enveloping his cock and dripping down your leg.
“Fuck!” you exclaimed as he pressed his palm to your back.
“Fuck yeah, sweetheart, you feel amazing. Nice and deep.”
“Ohhh Harry!”
Harry’s moans got deeper and more guttural as he pounded into you. You grasped at your sheets, needing to scratch at something. When he slapped your ass, you almost came undone.
“Fuck baby, this is so good, but I wanna see your pretty face when you come,” Harry groaned. Pulling out, he urged you to turn around again. “Grab hold of me.”
You did as you were told, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulled you up as you wound your legs around him, his cock sliding back into place. You bounced on him, impressed by his strength as he held you up.
“Oh my god!” you cried out again.
“Oh fuck yeah!” Harry moaned, thrusting harder. “God, you drive me crazy, Y/N. Can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Mmm, me neither.”
He kissed you then, a deep, sensual kiss before lying you back down on the bed. As he hovered over you, the lamp reflected in his eyes, his gorgeous face full of desire. He resumed his thrusts, driving deeper and hitting the sweet spot, making you cry out all over again.
“Fuck me, baby!” you demanded. “Just like that, don’t stop. Make me come.”
“Yeah, you gonna come for me honey?”
“Yes!”
“Touch yourself. Touch your sweet clit while I fuck you.” He lifted your legs to his shoulders while you reached for your clit. It only took a couple thrusts before you were writhing underneath him, calling out his name.
“Good girl,” he cooed. “Y/N, you’re so fucking hot, oh my god.”
He kissed you tenderly then as you trembled in his arms. Your heart beating heavily in your chest, your breaths quickened, you held on tightly, urging him to continue.
“I’m so close already, love,” said Harry through his own heavy breaths. “You feel so fucking good.”
He slipped his arms underneath your back and cradled your neck in his hands. He stared at you as he sped up his thrusts, deep groans rising from his throat.
“Ahh fuck yeah…ohhhhh…” Harry buried his face in the crook of your neck as he emptied into the condom. When he lifted his head to look at you, you both chuckled.
“Wow,” he breathed.
“I know,” you smiled.
“That was so fucking good,” he commented before dropping his head again.
You ran your fingertips up and down his back soothingly, giving him a minute to come down. When he rolled off of you, he gave you an amazing smile, his eyes cute and squinty.
“Mind if I stay the night?” he asked.
“Definitely not,” you replied, reaching to touch his curls.
“Good. Because I’d like to do that again.”
taglist: @daphnesutton, @freedomfireflies, @cohnfusedarling, @heartateasee, @buckybarnessimpp, @behindmygreyeyes @carpiovanessa-blog @ottawaoutlander @fairytale07 @finelinepie @hisparentsgallerryy @mj-loves-rejjxxxx , @cherrymojitoo @fangirl7060 @kittenhere @ghoststyles @harryyloverrr @monicaalexandraaa @lovebittenbyevans @babegoalsreads @gurugirl @lillefroe @adorebeaa @daydreaming-laur @fkinavocado @nataylia13 @fruitmans @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @miraclealignertlsp369 @adoredeanna
i hope i didn't miss anyone! thank you all for reading, reblogging and commenting! it means the world to me!
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles angst#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x yn#harry styles x you#harry fanfiction#harry fan fiction#harry fanfic#harry fan fic#harry fic#harry one shot#harry blurb#harry imagine#harry x reader#harry smut#harry angst#harry x y/n#harry x yn#harry x you#harry styles au
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You and Eddie share a kiss but when you see him in the woods with Chrissy, talking and looking a little flirty you guess the kiss meant nothing.
I just wanted to write some angst 🤷♀️
❤️
It had finally happened. You and Eddie had kissed. It felt like you were on cloud nine and you couldn't get the image out of your head.
The feel of his lips on yours, the way he took you in his arms and every part of you felt like it was aflame. It was perfect.
It was the day after and you were anxious to see Eddie. What did the kiss mean? Would the two of you start dating? This felt like a long time coming and you had been crushing on Eddie for a while.
You swear you hear Eddie's voice and follow the sound, maybe he's doing a deal? When you spot him looking as gorgeous as ever.
To your utter amazement Chrissy Cunningham is with him, sitting on the other side of the bench as they talk.
She looks nervous so Eddie goofs around to make her laugh. Throwing himself to the ground and then She giggles and the conversation which was stilted at first takes a turn.
It feels borderline flirty, the thought makes your stomach sink. No you must be imagining things? But you don't imagine the shy smile on Eddie's face as he teases Chrissy.
You don't see Eddie until the next day as he's driving you home. He brings up the fact that Chrissy asked him for some weed and that she went to his trailer to pick it up.
Her giggles reverberate in your mind and you stumble away from the scene. Your heart aching and mind racing.
💌
This twists your stomach up in knots. Chrissy was pretty and so sweet, you imagine that she could have Eddie wrapped around her finger if that's what she wanted.
Eddie is staring at you confused and you sigh still feeling the sting of seeing him flirt with Chrissy.
If you hadn't seen Eddie be so flirty this isn't something you would worry about but now it was all you could think about.
"I think maybe we should talk about the other day? Our kiss, I mean unless you don't want to... He trails off at the look on your face.
"It's all I've thought about Eddie. It meant...everything and I thought maybe it meant the same to you too" he looks confused at the turn of the conversation.
"Maybe?" he questions and you shrug. Your feelings are all over the place, the high from the kiss fading quickly. Doubts and insecurities wouldn't leave you alone.
"I heard you talking in the woods yesterday and so I went to surprise you but then I saw you with Chrissy and you were super flirty,
"That wasn't... It was a business deal nothing else" he shakes his head adamantly, his eyes wide and you bite your lip and the next words out of your mouth twist the knot in your stomach even more.
"I know what I saw Eddie. You flirted with her like you do...with me and there was something there, a spark, I don't know"
"Sweetheart no..." The longer that you're speaking to him the worse your emotions feel so you offer him a small smile and notice the van is now parked at Family Video.
"I'll see you around Eddie" you get out of the van and hurry inside the store, furiously wipe your tears away as you enter the store. Extinguishing the high you felt from the kiss until it's all gone.
💞
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson
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So Hear My Voice Remind You Not to Bleed
Pairing: Daryl Dixon and Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)
Setting: Alexandria
Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Injuries; angst
Summary: You're injured and benched, unable to go with Daryl on runs. When someone else is brought in to take your place, it does not go well.
A/N: for @darylsgarden. I had mixed feelings about this and had a couple of wonderful friends ( thank you @shadowcitrine and @enlightndone!🩵) read it and help me out. I hope it's at least close to what you were looking for 🩵
“It doesn’t even hurt.”
“Uh huh.” Daryl stopped preparing his bag and stepped across the living room, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. “Then walk over here without limpin’.” You narrowed your eyes and pushed yourself up off the couch, setting your jaw.
You didn’t even make it a single step before falling forward with a choked off shout.
And, of course, he was there to catch you as you crumbled.
“Thought so.” He said with a hint of a smirk, depositing you back onto the couch. “Doc said ya gotta stay off’a it a couple’a weeks an’ that’s whatcha gonna do.” You whined and flopped around like a fish out of water. “Stop.” He chuckled, grabbing his bag. “Got paired up with someone who just got here ‘til ya get better.”
You stilled, brow creasing. “You got a new partner. Who said? Rick?”
Daryl continued to shoulder his bag, then his crossbow. “Deanna.” Why would Deanna step in? “Said she needs to see what the woman can do to help. She’s s’posed to be good with a bow but I dunno.”
Woman? Bow? You already didn’t like this suggestion. “Oh.” It was all you could think of to say. You didn’t want him to go before when you thought he was going out alone. Now that you knew he was going with a strange woman, you really didn’t want him to go. But why? Daryl was your best friend. You didn’t have any say in his comings and goings, and why should you?
A knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts, Daryl watching you with a flat expression.
“Guess that’s her. See ya.” He started toward the door, and you found yourself leaning nearly off the couch to see who was on the other side. When he opened it, your breath caught.
Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, a bow and quiver somehow anchored to her back. She was almost as tall as Daryl, lean and curvy in all the right places. Shit. She was gorgeous.
“Uh, bye.” You muttered. Daryl didn’t even regard you. Maybe he hadn’t heard. Or maybe he was too busy ogling the beautiful woman in front of him. You couldn’t tell from his position. What you could see was the woman giving your run partner an appreciative once over before smiling.
“Hey! You must be Daryl. I’m Angie.” She held out a hand, which the archer ignored with a grunt, pushing his way past her to walk to his bike. He was taking the bike? You sighed. You weren’t supposed to care. Daryl was your friend. Not your—he was your friend.
And you just kept telling yourself that.
Even a week later, when you were able to be up and about but not without difficulty, things felt—different. Daryl was always gone with Angie, like he was at that very moment. Now that you could actually move, you went about slowly cleaning up the house the two of you shared and started making something for dinner. You could leave Daryl’s in the oven for him to eat later.
You had just finished your own when you heard the roar of the bike, saw the headlights illuminate the walls inside the dining room window, sending the shadows scattering. You found yourself excited to see him, to show him you were mobile. Hobbling over to the window, you felt silly for the ridiculous smile splitting your face but you didn’t feel that way for long.
Angie was standing in front of Daryl at the bike, her bow in her hand at her side. He had already unlatched his crossbow from the back of the bike and had it across his back. She was smiling brightly with her perfect teeth and small creases next to her bright blue eyes, looking every bit like a model in the middle of the apocalypse. And Daryl—his lips were turned up on one side, a very Daryl smile that he gave when he was relaxed and in a good mood.
You had known the man since the quarry and it had taken months to earn that smile. Angie was getting it in less than a week?
You should have turned away. Spying on them wasn’t right. Daryl wouldn’t be pleased if he caught you, no matter what he was doing. He never liked feeling as though he was being watched too closely.
You should have turned away but you didn’t.
And then you wished you had.
Angie reached out as she spoke, her words muffled and distorted through the glass. Her long, slender fingers wrapped around his bicep and squeezed, her thumb stroking the skin there. Daryl glanced at her hand but that was it. He didn’t ask her to remove it, didn’t step back to increase the distance between them.
You didn’t want to admit that you were jealous. Even as your mind and heart both screamed only I can touch him that way—for two entirely different reasons—you refused to grant it a name.
You couldn’t take anymore, limped away from the window and climbed the stairs with more than a few whimpers of pain. Daryl would usually help you to your room at night and back down in the mornings. But you didn’t want to see him, felt an anger toward him that was just as confusing as it was unjustified. You felt the same anger toward Angie, a woman you knew nothing about beyond the things Daryl would tell you.
And he didn’t tell you a lot.
You still should have been happy that Daryl both wanted to share something with you and that he had found someone that seemed to make him happy enough to gab about them, limited as it was.
But you weren’t happy.
It hurt. You hurt. Your heart felt constricted, wrapped in a cord that would tighten with each breath, faster and faster with each moment you spent thinking of him just outside, smiling at her.
She didn’t deserve his smile.
She hadn’t been there when Merle was left behind in Atlanta. She hadn’t been there when Sophia went missing and Daryl ran himself ragged trying to find her. She wasn’t the one to care for him after he’d fallen and was shot. She hadn’t been the one whose arms he’d finally chosen to let hold him when Merle died. She hadn’t run to him and felt his relief at being reunited after Terminus. She hadn’t walked along with him and coaxed him to drink just enough water to stay alive on the road. And she damn sure hadn’t stood up and told everyone he needed his own place in Alexandria so he wouldn’t feel more trapped than the gates already made him feel.
That had been you. Always you.
The door opened and closed downstairs, your name being called. You could hear the concern, knew it would be there at not finding you downstairs. You shimmied out of your jeans and climbed into bed—your back to the door—and just listened. Daryl methodically looked around, his voice carrying from different rooms throughout his search. Your room would be last because it would be the last place he’d think of you being. Not without his help.
The oven door opened and closed, too quickly for him to grab the food. He was checking to make sure you had been there. Likely spotted your used dishes as well. You barely heard his boots on the stairs. Daryl, for all his height and muscle, moved like a spirit. Still, you knew his gait, what to listen for that signaled his approach.
You drew up the comforter just as the soft knock came and a quiet call of Y/N? that you decided to not answer. The light from downstairs was pale in your room, starting on the floor and soon bathing your bed and walls. He didn’t say anything, simply closed the door and descended the stairs just as quietly.
And somehow, that’s what made the tears come.
There were two days of tense air in the house before Daryl’s next run. Your ankle had improved but you were still unable to put weight on it. Denise advised you to stay off of it but you had waved her off with a yeah yeah, absolutely zero intention of heeding her advice.
When you arrived at your home, Angie was already leaning against Daryl’s bike like she belonged there. The sight infuriated you. Your attempt to pass her by was quickly foiled by the woman herself, her hand coming up to tap a finger on your shoulder.
“It’s Y/N, right?”
Sighing, you turned, sitting your bad foot up on the toe of your boot to keep the pressure from taking you down. “Yeah.”
“I’ve been dying to meet you. Daryl’s told me a lot about you.”
“Funny. He hasn’t told me much about you.” She didn’t seem fazed. I’m glad he’s so chatty with you. “Nice to meet you.” You said in place of your inner monologue. “Excuse me.” You started to turn when she stood straight.
“Hey, uh—I was just wondering. Are you and him a thing?” She flipped her hair—braided today—over her shoulder.
“A thing?” You knew exactly what she meant, but feigned ignorance. It was not a conversation you wanted to have.
“Yeah, you know—a couple.”
Closing your eyes, you inhaled through your nose and exhaled through your mouth. “No. Why?” You didn’t even realize you had clenched your fists until her eyes flitted down and back up, forcing you to relax lest she tell Daryl you were being hostile toward her.
“No reason. He’s a great guy, isn’t he? Handsome too.” Now she was just trying to push your buttons.
“Yeah. The best, actually.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. “Don’t hurt him.” You said flatly—a clear warning—and limped your way up the steps and inside.
“Where ya been?” Daryl’s voice greeted you before the door had even closed. He was on the couch, lacing up his boots. You regarded him silently for a moment, allowing Angie’s words to sink in before setting your jaw and squaring your shoulders.
“I’m going with you today.”
His hands stilled, frozen for a moment before he sat back a little and placed his forearms over his knees. Piercing blue eyes scanned over you before settling on your bum ankle, the urge to place your foot flat on the floor too intense to disregard. “Nah. Y’ain’t ready.”
“You don’t get to make that call.” You snapped, more harshly than you had intended, but it got your point across. His eyes narrowed, his own jaw tightening.
“Maybe not, but I do get to say who goes with me an’ it ain’t you. Not today.” The archer went back to his boots while you gaped at him, lacing the right one up before getting to his feet and grabbing his things.
“Why not? Because suddenly Angie is better than me?”
Daryl scoffed. “Stop.” He went for the door, opening it a couple of inches before your palm landed flat against the surface and shoved it closed. “The hell ya doin’?!”
“I won't stop.” You mocked, drawing your lips back in a snarl. “You’ve been up her ass since you met her. Hardly ever here and when you are, you don’t even talk to me.”
“The fuck you on ‘bout? We go on runs, get the things people need. Ya forget food an’ meds ain’t just down at the convenience store anymore, Y/N?” He pulled the door open again, and again, you pushed it shut. “Let go.” His voice had dropped into that serious tone, the warning before the anger.
“No. I’m going with you. I’ll let you open this door when you agree to that.” You stood straighter, tucking your lip between your teeth to stave off the whimper when you dared place your weight on the healing ankle. Of course, Daryl and his hyper awareness caught it.
“Guess it ain’t openin’ cause y’ain’t goin’.” He tried once more with the same result, this time letting his burdens fall to the floor in order to face you, nearly nose to nose. “Alright, ya got my attention.” He growled. It had been so long since he had spoken to you with such enmity, you couldn’t suppress a jarring flinch.
Swallowing hard, you attempted to control the wobbling of your bottom lip. “Please, take me with you.”
“How many times I gotta say no?! Y’need to take your ass to that couch an’ let your damn ankle heal ‘fore I even think ‘bout lettin’ back out there.”
“Daryl.”
“No, Y/N.”
With a deep breath through your nose, you stepped backward, freeing up the space. “Fine. But maybe you should stay with Carol for a while when you get back.” Giving him your back, you didn’t bother to hide the limp.
“Y’don’t mean that.”
You needed to force yourself to keep walking when you heard the dejection in his tone. “I do.” You didn’t. “I don’t need you here.” You did.
“Y/N—”
“Angie’s waiting.” You detoured at the last second and veered into the kitchen, seeing him from the corner of your eye, his hand lowering as if he had been reaching for you. Your heart was beating in your ankle by the time you were leaning heavily against the countertop.
When the door closed, the floodgates opened.
Two days. Daryl and Angie had been gone for two days. It wasn’t anything new to be held up on a run, but there were always close calls involved and you couldn’t imagine Daryl battling his way through herds or humans without you at his side. The two of you predicted one another’s movements, flowing and fighting together like a well oiled machine, always ending up victorious and on your way home.
Did he have that with her now?
“You know it’s not like that with the two of them, right?” Carol looked up from beneath her lashes as she chopped up the herbs and available vegetables for the stew. You knew it was more of an admonishing statement and not entirely a question.
“I don’t know that and neither do you.” You replied bitterly before tipping your glass to your lips. Carol smiled, that suspicious grin like she knew something you didn’t.
“I know Daryl.” She picked up the cutting board and used the knife to scrape the occupying ingredients into the pot. “Why does it bother you so much anyway?”
“He’s my best friend.” The answer came out a little too quickly.
The other woman chuckled. “Is that all?”
“Yes.” You countered almost gibingly. She only spared you an arched brow before turning to place the pot on the stove. You decided to ignore the intensely foreign fluttering in your chest and began spinning the glass between your palms. “Do you think they’re okay?”
“I—”
The knock at the door was sudden and urgent, repeating after only a few heartbeats. Your questioning expression met Carol’s. Spinning on the island stool, you eyed the door until it was opened. Carol’s hand on the edge tightened until her knuckles were white, but you could only make out quiet words and someone’s heavy breaths. Hobbling from your perch, you grabbed the door and pulled it back further.
Angie was a mess, covered in dirt and blood and walker innards. “Y/N.” She panted.
Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. “Where’s Daryl?” You didn’t remember ducking beneath Carol’s arm or pushing past Angie. The pain in your ankle became a mere afterthought as you walked backwards toward the steps, awaiting information.
“He’s in the infirmary. He’s asking for you.”
You didn’t wait, running with only the slightest hitch in your step. Daryl was more important than any amount of discomfort. Your mind was running rampant with scenarios. What if he was bit? Dying? What if he died before you made it to him? The last thing you had said to him was that you didn’t need him.
And it was such a lie.
“Y/N, wait!”
You tried to ignore her, the infirmary within sight. You needed to get to him so that you could breathe again.
When her hand caught your shoulder, you reacted almost violently, throwing her away from you and almost to the dirt. “What?!” You bellowed. “What could possibly be more important than Daryl right now?!”
“Lana is!” She answered quickly. “My Lana!” Breathing heavily, you shook your head and threw out your arms, a silent but gestured question. “My wife.”
You felt like the wind had been punched right out of you. “Your—your wife?” Damn you, Carol!
“Yeah. I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”
“You’re telling me.” You muttered, looking toward the infirmary with an expression of remorseful longing.
“I asked those questions because—because that man is so obviously head over heels for you that it’s absurd he hasn’t made a move. I thought maybe—maybe I could push things along.” She rubbed at the back of her neck, her eyes brightening at something she saw just over your other shoulder. When you turned, a dark haired woman was making her way over, a toddler on her hip. “I just—he’s not much of a talker—until I mention you.” Another glance at the other woman. “I’m sorry.”
When she started to leave, you reached out a hand, the new information still pinballing around in your head. “I’m sorry.” You had treated her—thought of her—so unfairly, and still, she smiled at you.
“Go on. He’s waiting for you.” And then she was walking away to kiss her wife before converting to a motherly gentleness, her lips pressed to her son’s forehead.
God, you were an asshole.
To her.
To Daryl.
Your ankle only received a moment to remind you it was still weak before you continued your journey to the infirmary.
“M’fine! Quit proddin’ at me!”
The sound of his voice gave your heart permission to beat again. You stood at the door, listening to him argue with Denise until the woman finally gave up with a huff and a clang of metal. Opening the screen door, you limped inside with a hiss, the adrenaline draining out of you, no longer blanketing the pain. You would definitely be set back a week or so after this.
Daryl was on the exam table, filthy and cut up, shirt open and left foot propped up on a pillow. You could have laughed at the irony if you weren’t so relieved at seeing him there and breathing and whole. Alive.
His ranting came to an abrupt halt when he noticed you in the doorway, eyes softening. His entire body seemed to visibly relax with an audible exhale.
“Y/N.”
You didn’t even try to control your quivering lip this time and rushed to cross the distance even with Denise scolding you in the background.
Your arms wound around his neck and his around your back. “Daryl. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it—I didn’t—”
“S’fine. Know ya didn’t.” He whispered against your temple. Denise cleared her throat behind you and the weight of one of Daryl’s hands disappeared before returning with renewed pressure. The sound of the door opening and closing signaled that he had—in one way or another—told Denise to get lost. Neither of you spoke until you pressed your face into the side of his neck and began to sob. “Hey, m’okay. Just fell on my ass.”
“How?” You sniffled.
“Window was in my way.”
You laughed wetly, his shoulders bouncing with a breathy chuckle of his own.
“Idiot.” You chided, pulling away to wipe at your eyes. He watched you gather your bearings, blue eyes dancing between yours. “Are you really okay?”
“Yeah.” His hand was so gentle against your face, thumb sweeping over your cheek to wipe away the tears. “Need to talk to ya ‘bout Angie.”
You shook your head but placed your hand upon his so that he didn’t dare move it. “She beat you to it. I’m so sorry. I was being a jealous asshole.” He tilted his head and squinted.
“Jealous cause I was spendin’ so much time ‘round her?” It was like he knew the answer that you hadn’t quite accepted as truth yourself.
“Among other things.” You rubbed your lips together and ducked your head. Daryl hummed in question, his hand sliding down to your jaw, thumb absently stroking across your bottom lip. Your voice instantly decided to become lost in your throat, your mouth opening when his hand fell away. “Daryl, I—” You almost bolted, felt the insane urge to run begin to vibrate throughout your legs from a nervous twitch that started in your stomach and spread throughout your chest.
“That man is so obviously head over heels for you—”
Your lips were on his before your brain had even fully given the order for you to move, likely startling you just as much as it had him—if the sharp inhale through his nose was anything to go by. So, you stayed there, frozen with your mouth against his, neither of you moving until it was so awkward that you thought more than once of how great it would be for the earth to open up and swallow you. Humiliation coloring your cheeks, you began to pull away—and then his mouth moved over yours, his warm palm coming to rest on the side of your neck. Brilliant as you were, you pulled back in shock, wide eyes blinking at him. Cerulean pools were shimmering with horror and shame.
“That bad, huh?” He asked, dropping his hand and picking at a patch of dry skin on his palm. His eyes lowered to follow the movement.
“No!” You blurted. Daryl actually flinched and reeled back. “No, no. It wasn’t—there’s no way it could be—ah, fuck it.” Your hands cupped either side of his face, pulling him to meet you in the middle. There was no hesitance on either side, mouths moving, tongues dancing, a delicate exploration of new territory, both literally and figuratively. His hands settled on your ribs, fingers flexing, trying to pull you closer when there was already so little space between you.
When you parted, it wasn’t from a lack of oxygen, but from Daryl attempting to alter the angle, forgetting that you were no longer alone in the land of bum ankles.
“Ow, ow, ow!”
You pulled away and jumped back, hands in the air to ensure he knew that you were no longer touching him—as if he weren’t already missing it. “What? What happened?”
“Ankle.” He hissed, gingerly placing his foot back on the pillow. Once the pain had ebbed, he chuckled and beckoned you back over with a wave. “Looks like we’ll both be trapped at home, sunshine.”
“There are worse things.” You brushed a strand of hair away from his face. “We have to talk about this.” You knew you sounded scared, and you were. Everything had just changed in the blink of an eye, the man you knew as your best friend had just suddenly become more, and it was terrifyingly exciting.
“Yeah, I know. Couch ain’t big enough for both’a our lame asses.”
You giggled and shook your head. “Guess it’s off to Carol’s extra bedroom.” When he arched a dark brow, you etched the most serious expression you could summon onto your face. “Strictly for logical reasoning, Mr. Dixon. We can’t climb stairs. She has one bedroom on the first floor. Lecher.”
“First time I been called that.” He gave you that smile, the one that was so special, and seeing it then, you realized that he hadn’t given Angie that smile at all. It was yours and yours alone.
And you’d need to thank the gorgeous woman with the bow.
#murda writes#daryl dixon#the walking dead#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon twd#Spotify
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guilty as sin? | abby anderson
“these fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head”
warnings: masturbation, slight masochism, ruined orgasm, angst, perv!abby (a little), internalized homophobia (discussed in more detail below)
notes: no surprise my favourite ttpd song is the gayest one on the album, but guilty as sin? screams lesbian guilt i fear!!!! i’ve been writing this for over a month so i hope u guys like it 😭
cw: discussion of lesbian guilt & comphet - these are somewhat based on my own experiences with my sexuality and i absolutely!!! do not think a man can ‘cure’ a lesbian or anything similar to that. nor do i believe anyone should ever feel guilty for being gay. realising i’m a lesbian has been extremely freeing & dykes r the best x
wc: 1.8k
likes, comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated :)
the door slammed harshly behind abby as she stormed into her room. she pulled her jacket off desperately; her skin hot under its tight vice. she’d been in the gym, trying to work out her endless frustration of late, when you’d walked in.
you’d only said “hi" and smiled politely at her before setting your things down. but she felt her stomach churn, a black hole opening inside her. abby stood up, pulling the weights off the barbell and onto their rack. she grunted softly, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.
you’d started stretching, currently bent over as you touched your toes. her eyes drifted for an infinitesimal moment, locking onto the swell of your-. she looked away - wrongwrongwrong.
but then she looked back, her stare feasting on your body. she wondered whether you were doing this on purpose, trying to tempt her from across the room. she wondered if you knew her dirty little secret, abby picturing a smirk on your face as you mocked her for such indecent thoughts.
she didn’t want to feel this way. she didn’t want to feel the poison ivy swarming around her chest, getting tighter, tighter. the rash spread inside her; this invisible whip of lust lashing against her skin whenever your face appeared in her mind. well, had it been just your face maybe she wouldn’t feel like some depraved sinner.
now it wasn’t like abby believed in god, in a world where death and destruction infect every crevice you’d have to be mad to believe that any ‘god’ wanted its followers to suffer so greatly. but something inside her screamed every time she had these thoughts. these impure, twisted thoughts about you.
she didn’t know what made her feel like this. what made her resent you for simply existing; and what made her resent herself.
she recalled her teenage years, when manny had subtly suggested that owen liked her - so she was supposed to like him back, right? and she tried! she loved him even - but there was always that something, that feeling in her gut that told her that something was wrong, something about him that just would never sit right with her.
but all the other girls wanted a boyfriend too, and the jealousy was nice at first - she’d thought. after all, mel was the star student, a doctor in the making, her dad’s favourite; and nora was this freshly trained medical officer, and abby was- abby was just abby.
her dad began noticing her more too - previously too preoccupied with his firefly duties and his favourite student. now his little girl was slipping away from him, he finally began paying her the amount of attention she’d craved for so long.
before, their conversations had often drifted into talk of mel and her new achievements, or his hopes of a vaccine, or some animal he was tracking. never anything about his daughter’s life.
having a boyfriend made her interesting, it gave the other girls something to envy. which was a nice reversal, for a while. then her dad died, and she had become this object of pity. owen helped a bit, she supposed. he tried to distract her and keep her focused on their new role as soldiers, but she barely cared about him anymore. all she wanted was revenge, and with revenge, came you.
you were one of the gyms trainers, passionate about helping the members of the wlf stay fit and healthy! you’d helped her start lifting weights, squealed as she reached every milestone, and had remarked jokingly about just how much you loved her new physique.
it was innocent at first, the most being her brain going a little fuzzy when you’d bit your lip while spotting her; a slight blush when you’d hugged her a little too tight. then, once she and owen were finally broken up, these new pictures began hanging themselves on the walls of her mind. still, innocent, just slightly tainted with desire - the true nature of them still an avoidable matter for her back then.
when she could ignore the truth in her recent behaviour, abby loved spending time with you. after all, you were just really good friends! anyway, she’d had a boyfriend before so everyone knew she was normal, and absolutely not different, and she would never ever have to feel like an outsider.
yet it took a mere three months before she gave up on this foolish lie. she liked you, and as long as nobody ever found out, it wouldn’t matter.
but as her mind grew dark and twisted - joel a constant topic in her head as she obsessed over finally getting to enact revenge - her thoughts got worse in turn. she wanted you - filthily and desperately.
every gym session ended with another cold shower, a desperate plea for her body to stop and let her focus on the task at hand; a hopeless attempt to bury this ache into the ground; an endless endeavour to escape these urges for just one second.
but then she came back changed, every hair on her body endlessly erected with guilt. the way she’d killed him so mercilessly, the way it had done nothing to ease the pain, and the way you had tormented her mind ceaselessly throughout the entire trip.
maybe, had she never met you, she could’ve just killed him and been satisfied. maybe had you never offered to train her personally, she could’ve just stayed comfortable in that stuffy closet. maybe if she found the right man she’d stop feeling this way.
abby deemed such ideas unfathomable now.
owen made her feel nothing. being with him was like an eternal thursday, an endless wait for the week’s end and its pleasure to turn up at her door. every day she’d wait for some spark to arrive, the routine only becoming more and more tedious by the minute. but he helped her get people’s attention, which was enough when she was just abby.
but then she was abby anderson, top scar killer and isaac’s favourite. she got attention on her own, she was praised for her own accomplishments: people worshipped the fucking ground she walked on. but they didn’t know who she really was.
they didn’t know she liked girls the way she was supposed to like boys. she’d seen it in enough of those wlf movie nights - cruel jokes about anyone who even thought about being different. she’d heard the way people gossiped, “did you hear that they’re moving lesbians into the family unit? what a joke.”
they said it like it was something dirty, something egregious, something that she had to hate about herself. so she did.
but as long as she kept it secret, kept it locked away in her mind, maybe she’d be okay. after all, only your actions talk: it was the age old question really, if a tree falls in a forest and no one else hears it, does it make a sound?
abby fell back against her bed sheets, calloused hands pushing her cargos down to her ankles as she replayed the sight of you in her mind. bent over - she felt like you were trying to tempt her on purpose.
she felt like a heathen; staring, fantasizing, worshipping. her mind was bursting with the idea of every possible position she could put you in; head a chorus of every little noise she wanted to hear you make; eyes screwed shut as depravity filled her every sense.
she shoved her bralette up her chest roughly, fingertips dragging over her nipples with little mercy. she pinched them, the peach skin stinging underneath her touch.
she wanted it to hurt; wanted it to feel like some sort of punishment for her thoughts. but as her hips bucked into the air, a long whine dragging from her clenched jaw, she realised it needed to hurt more.
she imagined you, finding her like this. disgust burnt into your features - what the fuck was she doing? repeating your name like some subverted prayer, fingers harshly scratching along her stomach as she tried to make the pleasure feel more like pain, trying to induce some connection between the two.
if it hurt enough, would she stop? force herself to forget? could she torture this part of herself until it surrendered?
her hand slipped over the top of her boxers, a finger running tentatively over her clit through the now darkened fabric. she bit down on her lip, groaning against it as she pushed down harder and harder, attempting to break through the skin.
another finger pressed down, beginning to draw circles down on the throbbing bud. she jolted against her own touch, your head between her legs burning into her mind. your hands, trailing along her flesh - groping at her with little tenderness; tongue, swiping at her pussy with no intent of fulfillment: she wanted you to make her weep, smoke out her lungs with shame, deny her from gratification until all she could feel was regret.
she pulled away, only to cover her fingertips with her spit - diving under her boxers to continue with her corruption. abby let out a strangled sigh, hips grinding against her fingers as they toyed with her clit.
she moved a hand to her hair, knuckles stretching against her scalp as she began to pull her braid. she grunted, yanking even harder. she whispered your name: pained, hopeless.
she sped up her assault against her pussy, feeling that pit in the bottom of her stomach begin to grow. “pleasepleaseplease” her voice cracked as she begged, unsure what she was pleading for.
she wanted to stop, but she needed to try and make this feeling go away. she knew it would come back, it always did - but even five minutes free from your torment on her mind might save her.
her fingers kept going, drawing desperate circles against her weeping pussy relentlessly. the void was growing, almost consuming her entirely at this point. she thought of you laughing at her current state: a crying mess, pussy wet with perversion.
it was sick, really - how the idea of you hating her for this made her need even worse. you’d probably think it appalling: someone who was supposed to be your friend, now sat here burning at the thought of you.
a part of her wished that you shared this sickness. that you too let yourself be overwhelmed by the thought of sin. maybe you didn’t let the guilt swallow you whole - she hoped so.
but there was no point lingering in the what-ifs, they were far too fleeting.
her deft fingers quickened their pace, the ache all consuming. the climb began - a desperate jump towards oblivion. closer, closer. the flames scorched her bedsheets as her breathing hastened.
fuck, she hissed before reaching the apex with a scream of your name. a scream? a whisper? a thought? it didn’t make her actions any less deplorable.
her conscience grabbed pleasure by the throat as she ripped her fingers away, putting out the blaze on her hips like a cigarette crushed on the ground.
the desire imploded within the walls of her torso; scratching against her insides in the vengeance of her denial.
it was wrong; she had to stop it. yet still, the guilt poured into her lungs with no chance of resolve. she was a fool for thinking it would fix her. maybe next time it would work. maybe next time the exorcism would finally purify her.
until next time.
#abby anderson#tlou#the last of us#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson smut#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#the last of us 2#ellie tlou#ellie williams smut#abby anderson angst#abby anderson is a lesbian#abby anderson x fem reader#abby anderson fics#abby anderson fic
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I had a thought…
What if Bucky got a sleeve tattoo on his flesh arm. His bulging muscles and all of that ink glistening with sweat after a workout. Imagine his controlled panting breaths when the needle punctures his skin. The way he kind of likes the pain and his lids drop lower, his eyes heavily on you as the tattoo artist marks his skin. It’s definitely a turn-on for him.
You enjoy sitting on the couch with him and absentmindedly tracing your nails over all of the lines on the tattoos, until you get transfixed on the art and just stare at his arm all night, tracing shapes. And he just watches you – he’s always just watching you.
But you’ve been having a particularly tough week and Bucky, to surprise you, comes home with a little present. You bite back a smile when he hands it to you and spot the faintest blush on his freckled cheeks. He seems nervous to give you the present, a bit sheepish.
You peel off the wrapping paper, already enamoured that he thought to give you something on a bad day, and you reveal a set of tattoo gel pens. A giggle spurts out of you and you look up at him with amusement dancing in your eyes. Bucky scratches the back on his neck with uncertainty in his eyes.
“It’s for my tattoos,” he starts and decides he should elaborate when you raise your brows at him. “You always like touching them and maybe you’d like to colour them in…”
Another laugh makes it past your lips and Bucky is satisfied enough at the sound. “They have glitter in them,” you tell him like he isn’t aware of the fact.
He shrugs, “I know. It’s… prettier.”
Your heart swells about thousand times its original size and you throw your arms around his neck. He hugs you back tightly, one hand moving to stroke your hair. The excitement alone is enough to settle something inside of him – the part of him that just wants to make sure you’re alright.
Later that evening, you’re watching a movie and whip out the pens. Bucky watches you with amusement as you pick out your colours and settle on your knees next to him. All focused and content, you colour each and every piece of his tattoos with beautiful, glittery colours. It’s a therapeutic activity, tracing the lines and watching the glitter shimmer. Bucky enjoys the gentle touches and the light tickling of the pens on his skin.
Both your knees press into the couch cushions, settled on each side of his arm and Bucky notices just how convenient his hand placement is. He watches your face and can’t help but inch his hand up against your thigh. He notices a small twitch in your face at the touch and the briefest of pauses in your movements, and Bucky has to bite back his smirk when you continue what you’re doing like nothing’s going on at all.
His thumb strokes up your thigh and his fingers toy with the thin fabric of your pyjama shorts. He knows for a fact you aren’t wearing any underwear underneath and he slips past the fabric to brush his fingers over your pussy. He’s delighted to find you wet and excited and explores you luxuriously, stroking and teasing as you continue to decorate him. Your breaths turn heavier and your hips twitch at his teasing. Bucky notices the frown on your face, your neediness visibly growing.
He leans closer and nuzzles his nose up your neck, smiling at the soft breath you let out. “You’re wet, baby,” he murmurs and you let out a soft noise. “Is the glitter turning you on?” he teases.
Just as you try to scoff at his teasing, his thumb presses into your clit and you clutch onto his bicep for something to keep you from sinking yourself down onto his hand. You roll your hips and Bucky takes it as his sign to keep going, steadily rolling his thumb over your clit until your thighs tremble.
His middle finger glides over your core and you clench tightly, gel pens completely forgotten when his mouth attaches itself to the sensitive skin in your neck. You whine softly and his finger pushes into you.
Bucky groans needily at the feel of you and his metal arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer. You climb over him until you’re fully straddling his lap and Bucky’s metal hand slides up your spine, into your hair. He pulls you down onto his lips and slips another finger into you, swallowing your moans greedily.
“Bucky,” you breathe against his mouth and he hums reassuringly.
His fingers curl into your spot and you find it hard to keep kissing him. But he presses you closer, his tongue delving into your mouth as his flesh hand continues to pump into you, the friction as he glides in and out driving you crazy.
“Feels good, huh?” His voice sounds cocky and a bit breathless as he presses your forehead to his, eyes piercing into yours. You’re fighting to keep your eyes open, your lips parted in pleasure. “Now who would I be if I didn’t use my hand for good when you make it look so pretty?” He smirks and slows his hand, the action somehow driving you that much closer to the edge. “And what better use for me than to make you feel good… There’s no better feeling than your cunt around my fingers, you know that?” Your hips stutter their movement at his filthy words and you give him pleading eyes.
Your belly tightens and your moans grow more frequent. Bucky doesn’t give you any chance to look away from him, his fingers steadily tangled into your hair and his mouth occasionally nipping at your lips. His eyes are glazed with sex and it turns you on that much more. His low brows, his full mouth, his flexing muscles.
“You going to come for me?” he asks and you nod your head desperately. He laughs and presses a kiss to your mouth. “Come for me, baby. Give me what I want.”
And you do. And he eats it up.
And then, Bucky finds a lot of creative way to incorporate those glittery gel pens. Like marking every spot he likes to kiss you. Every spot he likes to be kissed. And licked. Every place on him that you can use as a seat.
The dork has enough pride to walk around with a glittery arm, too. He’ll take all of Sam’s relentless teasing, that view of you innocently decorating his arm with gel pens and the view of you not-so-innocently decorating his hand with your come steadily on his mind.
#god this was driving me nuts#i really hope you enjoy this mental picture as much as I did#lets hope this inspiration sticks around!!#lyguys#bucky barnes smut#writing#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes#drabble#drabbles
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✯𝐂𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐱 3✯
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐰𝐚𝐩𝐆𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛
IN WHICH… Matt and Chris Sturniolo are just two inexperienced losers.
𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞
WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD! mentions of camming, blowjobs, spit, little bit of sub!matt. that's all i think of let me know if i forgot something.
MPT1, GPT1, MPT2, GPT2,
"Can’t wait to see you again, maybe this time you won’t be as shy and you will actually look at me 💕"
Matt has been staring at those word for what seems like days, but in reality was really 30 minutes. He didn't know if he wanted to jump in excitement, or crawl into a hole and never come out.
He knew she caught a glimpse of his face in the diner, however, he didn't think she would recognize him and choose him as the winner. Part of him was hoping that she got too many submissions and would miss his, finding someone better than him.
There had to have been someone better than him. After all, he was nothing but a virgin who kept his head in books and the occasional video game. He wasn't experienced in her extracurricular activities.
So why did she pick hi-Mika.
Mika must have been with Y/n when going through the submissions and noticed Matt, thus being the reason he was picked.
Mika probably thinks he's some kind of freak for watching her best friend's streams. They were probably laughing at him right now, Mika going on to tell Y/n all about how they had to teach him how to take a picture of his dick.
He's mortified.
His phone ringing pulls him out of his thoughts, he glances over and his heart drops seeing the contact name.
Mika
Is she calling to make fun of him? To call him a perv for entering in a contest to win a date with a cam girl?
He shakily answers the call and places it on speaker, his voice cracking.
"H-hello?''
"Matt we need your help!"
We?
"With wh-So I'm at my friend's place and her camera is acting stupid! I know you are majoring in film so I was wondering if you could come over and help?"
He debates on helping, not really wanting to face Mika and the sheer embarrassment that she knows about the contest. "I-I don't know Mika I'm pre-Please Matt? I really need my camera fixed."
An all too familiar voice flows through the phone making Matt tense.
The voice was a bit higher pitched, the words whiny, but also sultry.
Y/n
He swallows harshly as he begins to sweat, he wasn't expecting to hear her voice at all. "Please Matt? I'll pay you."
Her words have an underlying tone that makes Matt all the more nervous.
"I- Ok...Yeah, I'll come help." He looks at himself in the mirror and grimaces at his outfit and hair. He had just gotten out of the shower not too long ago, his hair still partially wet and his pajamas on.
"Perfect! I'll have Mika send you the address! bye, pretty boy!"
Matt feels his face warm at the nickname, loving how it made him feel.
His phone lights up with text stating the address and his eyes widen.
They live in the same apartment building.
How did he never notice they lived in the same building? he's on the third floor and she's on the fourth, he should have noticed. How have they never run into each other?
He chooses not to dwell too much on it, and rushes out of his apartment, heading right towards the elevator.
He arrives at the door and shakily raises his hand, knocking on the wooden frame. Not even a second later it swings open, Mika standing in front of him.
He quickly notices the girl behind her, dressed in a pair of skimpy blue shorts and a matching tube top. It’s something about the brown girl in blue that does something to him.
Y/n catches him staring and smirks to herself, purposely crossing her arms so her boobs are pushed up. “Matt?” He snaps out of his trance and looks back to Mika
"S-sorry, what did you say?"
Mika rolls her eyes and pulls him inside, slamming the door in the process. "OK so I have to run and grab the food we ordered, I shouldn't be long. You two get the camera fixed." Mika quickly exits the apartment, leaving the two alone.
Y/n smirks as Matt refuses to look at her, his finger twitching as he becomes antsy. She takes a few steps until she's right in front of him, "You ok Matt? You look a bit sick."
'I-I'm fine-" He clears his throat and finally looks up, making brief eye contact before looking around the apartment. "-where's the camera?" He completely ignores her question, just wanting to fix the camera. the quicker he finishes his job, the quicker he can leave and be able to breathe properly.
She motions toward the hallway, a mischievous glint in her eye,
"my bedroom."
His mouth runs dry as she grabs his hand, guiding him to the bedroom he's seen multiple times through a screen. Y/n looks back at him and giggles, "What you've never been in a girl's bedroom before?'' Her question makes him blush, his hair falling in his face as he looks down. He quickly walks over to the bed, grabbing the camera. He looks over it, trying to see exactly what the problem is. He doesn't find anything so he averts his gaze to Y/n who's already looking at him.
"Um, what exactly is wrong with it?"
"It's not focusing and every time we take a picture, it doesn't save." Her words are whiny, a sense of urgency in her voice. He hums and looks back at the camera, turning it on and trying to see what she's talking about. He raises it up and focuses on a random doll on her nightstand. As she watches Matt get distracted by the camera, she takes the time to look him up and down.
She figures he just got out of the shower, seeing that his hair is wet and dripping onto his pink shirt. His sweatpants hang low on his waist, showing the band of his boxers.
He looks good.
“Are you going to accept the date.”
Her words make Matt fumble with the camera and drop it on the bed. She giggles and takes a step closer to him, her sweet perfume making its way through his nostrils and invading his senses.
“W-what?”
“The date Matt, are you going to accept?”
He swallows harshly, wiping his sweaty palms on his sweatpants. “I-I don’t know.”
She frowns at his answer, she was expecting him to say yes. Matt notices the look on her face and begins to panic, “n-not that I don’t want to! You’re great! I-I’m just n-nervous…”
“About what?”
“You..”
Y/n tilts her head to the side.
He’s nervous about her?
“Me? Why are you nervous about me?” She watches as he looks everywhere but at her, even going as far as taking a step back. She smiles and takes a step towards him, watching as he swallows harshly.
She delicately trails her hand over his tattooed arm, allowing her nails to gently scratch over the black ink. "Are you nervous right now?" She looks up at him, enjoying the anxious look on his face.
"Y-Y no..." He lies softly. The girl hums and cocks her head to the side, "You sure? You seem really nervous. Maybe I could help you with that." She gently pushes him down on the bed, immediately dropping to her knees. Matt quickly adjusts his glasses and looks down at her with wide eyes.
If it wasn't already, his heart was definitely pounding out of his chest. He feels his mouth run dry as she places her hands on his thighs, rubbing over his sweatpants slowly. She chuckles under her breath as she watches the tent rise in front of her, "Someone excited."
She slowly inches her hands toward the tent, pulling it away at the last minute. "You know, I really enjoyed your video Matt."
"Y-you did?" He curses as his voice cracks, the tension in the room making him shake slightly.
"Mhm, I loved the setup you had, I loved the way you pulled your sweats down and started to tease yourself slowly, building up your release. I loved the way you moaned and whimpered my name, begging your mommy, to let you cum. I didn't take you as a mommy kink person."
Matt is breathing harshly at this point, nothing but dirty thoughts that have his face turning red intruding his mind. He doesn't understand how Y/n manages to look so innocent when she's on her knees in front of him and talking about him masturbating.
" But you want to know what I really loved?"
He sucks in a sharp breath when she finally lays her hand on his tent, palming him gently.
"How big you were. You should have seen how wet I got when I saw it. I imagined how it felt in me, the way it would slip in so easily. The thoughts became so intense I ended up playing with myself." she admits without a care in the world. She was a sucker for dirty talk, the erotic words always going straight to her core as her brain managed to develop the images as if she was in a dark room with a Polaroid.
She could tell the titillating words were getting to him as well, him now sitting there nonverbal and only breathing raggedly.
"Can I see?" She asks in faux innocence, her hand still moving against his tent at an agonizingly slow pace.
He wants to say yes so bad, he would be an absolute fucking dumbass not to, but he's worried about Mika walking through the door and catching them. Y/n notices the way his eyes frantically switch between her and the door, finding it amusing that he's worried about being caught.
"Don't worry about Mika. Let me help you relax," her hands go toward the knot on his sweats, taking her time untying them before pulling them down gently.
He's wearing a pair of blue boxers that happen to sheer against his growing bulge, a dark spot sitting where his tip lays from precum. She lays her head on his thigh, beginning to palm over him once again before circling the nail of her index finger against the covered tip. Matt bites his lip in trepidation, his skin getting hot as she teases him.
He whimpers as she plants feather-like kisses on his tip through the cotton material, her tongue darting out and licking a fat strip over the tent not long after.
She's going to be the death of him, he's sure of it.
Before he knows it, her fingers are hooked into the waistband of his boxers and they are being pulled down, his cock swinging up and hitting him in his abdomen.
Just like the other night, Y/n can feel her mouth watering and an ache forming in between her legs.
It's even more appealing in person.
She wraps her hand around the base and moves closer, planting a small kiss on his tip. She looks up at Matt and maintains eye-contact as she gathers a bunch of spit in her mouth, soon opening the orifice and sticking her tongue out.
Matt flinches as the warm saliva drips onto his tip, his fingers twitching at the sensation of it running down the side of his aching cock.
She uses the spit as a natural lube and begins to move her hand up and down, making sure to work him slowly so he won't cum fast. She plans on dragging this out as long as she could.
Matt's eyes flutter shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip harshly as he holds back a moan. This was a whole new experience for him, only having started masturbating a few months ago. He was used to his own hand, and setting his own pace, but this?
This was a feeling that he knew he would chase till the end of time.
Her hand feels completely different from his, the skin a bit softer as well as the touch. Her movements were fluid, yet staggered at the same time.
He wouldn't trade it for the world.
His eyes snap open feeling her lips suddenly engulf his tip. He lets a low groan escape his throat as her tongue swirls around the red mushroom top.
She hums, watching as the vibrations make him shiver. It's not long before she decides to take him fully in her mouth, hallowing out her cheeks. Matt lets out a choked gasp at the unfamiliar feeling.
"Oh fu-ck!" His hands have an iron grip on the pink duvet as she proceeds to bob her head up and down. He doesn't know what to focus on.
Does he focus on her mouth and hallowed out cheeks? Or does he focus on the way her tongue is gliding against the side of his dick?
He truly doesn't know considering his mind is all over the place, the only thing he can focus on being this newfound pleasure.
The lewd slurping sounds along with Matt's moans and whimpers bouncing off the walls drive Y/n even more. She keeps her eyes trained on Matt as she takes him all the way down her throat, watching him close his eyes and throw his head back. His moans go straight to her core, but she does nothing about it, her only goal as of right now is to give Matt the best head of his life.
And she's doing just that.
She speeds up her motion of bobbing, enjoying watching him crumble above her.
Matt feels like the soul is being sucked out of him, quite literally. His breathing speeds up and his knuckles remain a sickly white as his stomach begins to cave in on itself.
"Shit I'm close- Oh fuck please!" He begs, unintentionally bucking his hips further into her mouth.
She hums once again, making Matt damn near cry as the vibrations send him over the edge.
His head falls forward, his jaw dropping as his eyes close. Y/n keeps bobbing her head, moaning as she begins to taste the semi-salty liquid coating her taste buds.
Matt whimpers as she proceeds to suck him off, the overstimulation quickly becoming too much. His thighs begin to shake and he finally speaks, "s'too much!"
Y/n slowly stops bobbing her head and pulls away from him with a pop, a thin string of spit and cum attaching itself to his cock and her lips.
Matt swallows harshly and pants as he lifts his head, watching with hazy eyes as Y/n licks her lips.
"You look more relaxed now," she teases, a sly smile making its way on to her face as she manages to still look at him innocently.
Before either of them could say anything else, they hear the front door only a few feet away swing open.
"I'm back and I got Chinese food!"
Y/n quickly stands to her feet as Matt hastily grabs at his boxers and pants, the two trying to put themselves together quickly. Just as the two manage to look presentable, Mika walks into the room.
"Sorry it took me so long, they fucked up the original order and they had to remake it, but they let me keep the fucked up one so now we have double the food!" Y/n nods, trying to act completely normal.
"Matt why are you so red?" Mika asks looking at the boy who is in fact red in the face. "i-it's just hot..." He attempts to lie, hoping Mika will just drop it. Fortunately for him, the girl does in fact drop it, too hungry to care.
"Ok well lets eat. Matt you want to stay? We have more than enough food." Matt freezes at the offer.
He would like to stay, but he doesn't know if he physically could. He just got the blowjob of his life from the girl of his dreams, he doesn't know if he would be mentally able to sit and eat with her.
He would probably combust.
"yeah, Matt stay! " Y/n begs, that mischievous glint returning in her eyes.
"I-ok," he gives in easily, finding it hard to say no to the girl and her puppy dog eyes. She smiles and grabs his hand, leading him to the kitchen. They stop in front of her fridge and she swings the door open, bending over directly in front of him.
Matts eyes widen feeling her ass rub against him, "what do you want to drink?" She asks as if she's not teasing.
She's going to be the death of him.
alright, i finally gave yall pt 3😭 this was supposed to only be three parts but i feel bad for posting without @guccifrog so when pookie comes back imma give yall a pt 4💀 i hope yall enjoy
𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @hoesformatt @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d
special tags: @lovetriplets @summerssover @m0r94n @certifiednatelover @mattsturniololoverr @luvulots @nena1256
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo smut#smut#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris girl#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt girl#muwapgucci🍑🐸
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Smokey And Sweet
✧ pairing: neighbor! lee jeno x fem! reader
✦ genre: smut
✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), mentions of food and eating, mentions of death (no actual people die/have died), smoking from jeno & reader (cigarette), cursing, teasing, car sex, semi-public sex (oops), missionary, big d!ck jeno, fingering, protected sex, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praising, pet names, some drool & spit, kissing, shy reader when it comes to godly men like lee jeno, slightly bad-boy jeno but more so his aura, reader & jeno are in their early 20s
✦ word count: 11.6k words (i literally couldn’t stop)
✧ synopsis: new boy next door takes an interest in you and decides to take you as a warm welcome into town.
ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+
Winter had said its goodbye weeks ago, and now, it has fully transitioned into Spring.
With Spring having sprung, the environment has come back to life and everything is blooming once again.
You can now enjoy hearing the sweet songs from the birds chirping proudly every day. You can savor the sunshine and natural light for much longer now due to the time being pushed forward an hour. And, the weather isn’t bitterly cold anymore so you could actually go outside having your skin exposed without your body tingling, stinging, and shivering.
Though, there were still downsides to Spring that you loathed— such as torrential downpours, freshly awoken wasps and bumblebees, and random sneezing fits from pollen. But on days like today where the air felt so fresh outside and you frankly had nothing better else to do, the outdoors called to you.
You desired to spend your leisure time this evening outside. Maybe you’d even decide to buy a treat from the ice cream truck that drove past your neighborhood almost daily now that the weather was warmer. You relish in just the thought of enjoying your first ice cream this season from the cute truck. You’d definitely buy one.
With the weather just right, you chose to wear a simple oversized t-shirt and your pair of frilly-ruffled, black and white polka dot shorts, along with your go-to comfortable footwear. Perfect for lounging out in the breezy and warm weather.
Deciding to sit on the tailgate of your dad’s pickup truck while you wait, you scroll mindlessly through your phone with your wallet by your side.
Although your face was trained on your phone instead of enjoying the outdoors peacefully, at least you were outside instead of cooped up in indoors.
In the midst of the sounds of nature, from wind blowing the trees to birds singing, you hear the sound of your neighbors’s door swing open. Though, you refrain yourself from allowing your eyes to follow the sound, trying to ignore their presence even though curiosity fills you.
This past week, a new family had moved into the house next to yours. It had been vacant and up for sale for awhile, as the previous owners decided to relocate elsewhere.
You’ve seen the movers and had your fair share of brief glimpses towards the house, but you tried your best to ignore and avoid them.
Although your whole life your neighbors have been unproblematic and greet your parents every-so-often, you weren’t someone who enjoyed small talk and acted ‘neighborly.’ You lived in your own bubble, and were too shy in even sparing a greeting to your neighbors.
That may seem a bit bitchy, but you just felt awkward and never really knew what to say. It felt easier just minding your own business.
You probably should work on your social skills. Maybe then you’d actually have something to do instead of sitting alone outside like a loser waiting for some ice cream— at your grown age.
With your attention directed towards your phone, you don’t notice that it is a boy that comes out of the door.
Said boy walks out of his house and lets out a deep sigh with both hands on his hips as he stands on his porch.
Honestly, Jeno didn’t really know how to feel about the move. His parents had decided to move out of the big city he’s known and loved his entire life, and ditch it for this unknown-small town he has to call home now.
While he’s in his early twenties and fully capable of living on his own as an adult, he just graduated college and rent was fucking expensive these days. For the time being, it was easier to move and live with his parents until he found a job and could start saving for his own place.
There was nothing wrong with adults living with their parents, anyways. There were upsides and downsides to it— as there were with practically anything. But it’s what will work for now.
It just sucks that he had to leave everything he’s ever known behind and start over. But life’s all about growing and new adventures— at least, that’s what the older adults say. He just has to learn to adapt to his new environment and embrace change.
He’s been unpacking boxes and organizing his new room all day. It was now around 6pm, and he’d been in the house all day doing labor and cleaning. After being stuck indoors all day, he figured it was time for a break to go for a short drive or maybe get food someplace.
As he stepped out his front door and stood on the porch, he looked towards his left and noticed your figure.
A girl, he thought. He hadn’t really gotten a chance to even notice any of his neighbors or surroundings fully, as he was too immersed in helping his parents settle into their new home and couldn’t keep his attention on anything outside of moving in.
From his porch he could see your figure swaying your head faintly from side to side, legs swinging back and forth in the air over the cracked concrete of your driveway. You were in your own world, phone in hand and sat by your lonesome self.
How cute, he thinks. He probably looks like a freak just staring at your form, but he glances around the street fleetingly and it doesn’t seem like anyone else is out right now. You don’t seem to notice his presence watching you— or at least, maybe you’re pretending you don’t.
You peak his interest suddenly. He wonders what you’re like and from this distance, he can see that you’re definitely an adult like him. Maybe you’re around his age. He could use a friend or at least, know someone in this foreign town.
He gives himself an internal pep-talk of confidence to walk up to you. You’d start seeing each other almost daily now that you’re neighbors, and he doesn’t think he can stay unacquainted with you. So he strides his way towards your house to introduce himself like a gentleman.
While engrossed in whatever nonsense you’re watching on your phone, you begin to detect movement from your peripheral, as well as hear shoes scraping against the concrete.
Your eyes slightly widen at that, sensing a complete stranger coming towards your direction. It wasn’t everyday someone decided to approach you suddenly. Your body stilled and you found strength to raise your head, locking eyes with what seems to be a handsome man.
He brings a hand up and waves, continuing walking up to you until he’s like only 6 feet away.
“Hey— sorry to bother you, but I came to introduce myself. I’m Jeno. I just moved in next door.” he shoots you a smile.
“Oh— hey! Yeah, it’s nice to meet you.” you awkwardly get up to stand on your feet and extend an arm out.
“I’m Y/n. Welcome to the neighborhood!” you put on your best smile as he takes your hand to shake it firmly, practically blacking out mentally as you cannot believe this is a real scene playing out.
You’re left utterly dumbfounded once you took a good gander at this guy.
There was a contrast to him. His skin was pretty much bright and his beauty could light up darkness and draw irresistible attention to him, but he was also kind of shadowy in a way. Although he greeted you with a smile that reached his eyes, he seemed to have this intimidating presence to him.
Maybe you’re just saying that because anyone who’s attractive to you intimidates the fuck out of you. But he seems to ooze natural confidence and appeal. His features were sharp, and he just had this indescribable aura to him that made you weak. You couldn’t pin point what it was.
It didn’t help that he was cool enough to rock an undercut, seeing it peeking through slightly from his right side of face. Not to mention, you couldn’t help but shift your eyes down for a second to look at his almost-exposed chest, first few buttons of his dark flannel left undone.
His dark eyes, dark hair, and dark shirt contrast with his light blue baggy jeans and kind smile, making your skin heat up from his presence, even in the midst of a breeze passing through.
But anyways— your new neighbor is a hot man that decided to come over and greet you. If that’s not a moment in history, then you don’t know what is.
The smile on his face doesn’t falter one bit as you greet him back, feeling your smaller, slightly wobbly hand shaking his own, and sees the slight tint of pink coloring your cheeks. Was it from the weather or his abrupt approach? He’s not sure. And neither are you.
“Thanks. I— uh, actually noticed you were sitting out here alone. Figured I’d come introduce myself. Since I’m new to this town, I don’t know anyone.” he admits.
Your lips parted as you attentively listened to his every word, arms crossed. You let out a chuckle as he finishes, “To be honest with you, i’m not really familiar with anyone else in this neighborhood— and i’ve lived on this street my whole life.” you laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you look around at nothing in particular sheepishly.
Your words and quiet laugh only makes his smile bigger. “Yeah? Maybe I could be your first neighbor-friend.” Jeno smirks at you, his hands shifting around in the pockets of his jeans.
The dopamine releasing from your brain causes you to feel giddy and it feels like butterflies are fluttering inside your stomach from excitement and coyness. You’re gushing internally at the fact that God himself has sent you a cute neighbor— one who had the urge to come over and is showing interest in you.
You only know his name and your delusional-self is already mentally planning your future with him.
“I could definitely use a friend.” your smile is genuine as you tell him, showing courtesy to your new neighbor.
You see the smile reach to his eyes again, meeting your gaze before he looks down at his own feet while grinning, making you look away shyly.
God, you felt like a teenager again.
“Do you care if I sit out here with you? I don’t really have anything better to do.” Jeno speaks. He really wants to get to know you and waste no time. You seem very sweet, and like he said, he actually doesn’t have anything better to do. (He still had some unpacking left to do unfortunately, but he needed a damn break.)
You can feel your heart rate increase and a flash of heat hits you at his words, feeling flustered that your peaceful evening has unexpectedly taken a turn.
“Of course! I could use someone to keep me company.” you say, still feeling flushed.
You pushed your rear back onto the truck’s tailgate and Jeno follows suit. He takes a seat next to you, making you hold back a giggle at how the truck lowered for a moment due to the extra weight now added.
“So… you were just out here chilling alone?” he queries with both arms outstretched behind him, leaning back a bit and making himself comfortable.
“I actually came out ‘cause I wanted some ice cream. Now that it’s warmer out again, a truck usually passes by everyday.” you begin to swing your legs like you were earlier as you continued. “I’m grown as hell waiting for the ice cream man by myself. Can you believe that?” you laugh.
Jeno finds your demeanor endearing. How you’re just out here innocently waiting for some ice cream. And the way that you seem like a ball of sunshine. You’re unintentionally stirring his emotions with sudden fondness and attraction towards you.
“Hey, that’s cute. And, now you have company to wait alongside you.” he states, his eyes stuck on you as he spoke.
Your cheeks must’ve been permanently stained pink since he’s made himself known. His natural charm and solely being in the presence of an attractive male has your palms sweaty and senses tingling.
“So why’d you move here?” you attempt to make conversation, trying to push pass the fact that he basically called you cute and is sitting directly next to you.
He inhales some air and huffs it out deeply before speaking. “Parents wanted to settle in a smaller town now that they’re getting older. We lived in the city my whole life, but my parents wanted a change. Plus, my dad runs an auto repair shop, and he had the grand idea of extending his business here, so… yeah.”
“I just graduated college a while ago, too. You’d think that I would have my own place and not be packed up alongside my parents, but i’m trying to figure out what I wanna do. Rent’s too expensive in the city, anyways. I have friends I could’ve moved in with to split rent, but since we all graduated, we all are doing our own things and they have their partners and stuff.” he continued.
“S’ry for rambling. I’m just dumping all this shit on you.” Jeno shakes his head, scoffing at his own rant. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s looking for pity and seem lame.
“Nooo— it’s okay. I asked you a question and you answered it. Sounds like there’s so much change in your life recently. It would only be natural to feel sour or uncertain about your current life. I know it’s probably not ideal, but I hope you adjust well here.” you offer him an empathetic smile, trying to assure him that his feelings are valid.
Jeno looks at you, intrigued and taken aback by your words. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with something that suddenly made his heart stir.
He isn’t one to get sappy or ever seeks for people to comfort him. He wasn’t even asking for sympathy. You were just kind enough to offer him some touching and uplifting words.
The ends of his lips curl at your tenderness. “Wow… do you always say such nice things to people you barely know?” he decides to tease you.
Your face grows hot, laughing nervously as you speak, “What? I’m just telling you what I think.” you pause for a couple seconds before continuing, “Moving can be mentally and physically taxing. Change is never easy. Especially as a young adult, we’re still trying to figure everything out. So I feel for you.”
“There you go again.” Jeno can’t help but smirk, eyes falling to his own lap, hands clasped together.
“You majored in psychology or something? Your words are naturally comforting.” he chuckles.
You scoff at that. “I’m actually in community college— and undecided.”
He hums at your response, finally learning something about you.
“Well, i’m sure you’d be good in any career field. You sound very mature.”
You pursed your lips to the side, feeling flustered at all these small compliments he’s throwing your way. He’s probably just being nice, but he’s probably thinking the same about yourself towards him. Though, you were a very compassionate person. Your words were earnest.
And his own words carried much weight to your brain, especially because it was coming from a man. A very attractive one, at that.
“I dunno, I was just being real.” you brushed his comment off.
“Nah, you’re definitely a smart girl. Come on now.” Jeno tilts his head at you, staring at you attentively.
He’s wondering what goes on in that pretty little head of yours. He has the urge to figure you out. Jeno isn’t stupid and realizes the effect he has on girls merely from his looks. Call him cocky or whatever, but it’s not a secret that girls easily gravitate towards him.
Though, you’re currently bringing him a different vibe. He’s already gathered that you’re sweeter than a Pop-Tart. And a bit bashful.
Girls are usually so quick to be flirty towards him. Not that he doesn’t like that— he actually loves when girls are bold and quick to get things swinging. But you’re offering him something new, even within the couple of minutes you’ve known each other. He’s definitely interested in you.
You can sense his pair of eyes on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Your vision lies straight ahead, trying to remain composed after hearing him compliment you as you stare at the house across from yours. How is this man still talking to your ass? You wondered.
You can’t even come up with a response before your ears pick up on that familiar tune of the ice cream truck, sounding closer and closer every second.
“It’s coming,” you lift yourself off the tailgate, wallet in hand as you approach the end of your driveway towards the road.
Jeno follows your lead and trails behind you, joining you as the truck comes to a halt in seeing you both.
He watches as you greet the driver and look over the menu momentarily, eventually deciding on a regular-sized Italian ice— flavor of your choice.
You then turn to look at Jeno, smile taking over your features charmingly.
“Do you want anything?” you ask him.
Jeno secretly does have a big sweet tooth, so he refuses to pass up on a treat of his own. “Yeah, i’ll have the same as her.” he announces and smiles at the worker.
You fiddle with your wallet, scrambling to fish out a couple dollars while your treats are being prepared. Though, it seems like you’re beat to covering for the both of you, eyes looking up to the sight of Jeno handing the worker some cash.
“I got it.” he says like nothing to you, happily paying the man in the truck.
You’re left confounded, not expecting him to even have his wallet on him.
Your mouth is slightly parted at his sudden act, ponderously putting your money back in your wallet. You can’t even protest as the transaction was already made.
Jeno hands you your treat with a spoon and grabs his own, both of you thanking the driver and walking back to your dad’s tailgate as the ice cream truck drives away, music now growing distant.
“I was gonna pay for us, y’know?” you say as you sit back down, Jeno doing the same.
“It was only a couple bucks. Plus, i’d never let a girl pay.”
You look down at your Italian ice in hand, poking at it with your spoon in other hand.
“Yeah, but we just met. You’re the new neighbor, shouldn’t I be the one treating you?”
“Your company is more than enough.” he simply replies before bringing his spoon to his mouth, head turned in your direction.
His words make your heart begin to thud erratically in your chest, heat rising all-throughout your body, and you’re left tongue-tied.
You’re still twiddling with your semi-frozen treat, mind and body fuzzy. You’re focused on his comment, the fact that he paid, and the innocent moment of you two enjoying ice cream next to each other here— outside your house.
You feel like you’re squirming on the inside, not knowing what to do with Jeno’s kind presence. He’s your neighbor now. How are you supposed to live now that you have an incredibly beautiful and charming man living next door to you?
“You like playing with your food before you eat?”
“Huh? Oh— my bad.” Jeno rips you away from your ruffled thoughts about him, now feeling embarrassed at how your head is already spinning and going dumb from someone you just met.
A nervous chuckle leaves your throat, finally digging for your first bite while Jeno was on his nth spoonful. You pop the spoon filled with ice cream into your mouth, tastebuds absorbing the deliciously creamy and smooth consistency.
“How is it?” he asks, eyeing you as you enjoy your first taste.
“It’s so sweet. Really good.”
“Definitely.” Jeno says, nodding his head in agreement. Though, he’s not sure if he’s referring to the ice cream or you.
You guys finished up your treats and talked about various topics, slowly getting to know each other better. You even started to loosen up a bit more, feeling just a tiny bit more comfortable the more you two conversed.
“You know, I’m a real huge car guy.”
“Really? I’m honestly not surprised.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause it seems like every guy these days is a ‘car guy.’” you sneered.
He scoffs after listening to you. “Well, since my dad’s a mechanic, he’s taught me almost everything I need to know about cars. It’s practically in my veins.”
“Trust me, I am practically infatuated with cars. I used to dream of becoming a F1 driver.” he clicks his tongue.
“Woah, what?! So with cars, do you like the mechanics of it all, or do you really just like showing off how fast you can go?” you cock your head at him, asking curiously with a hint of tease in saying the latter.
“Both. I like working hands-on with cars and having the knowledge to perform car maintenance. It also feels personal cause’ since my dad’s a mechanic, he passed down his love for cars to me.”
“I also love the control I can have while driving. It can be exhilarating when you’re going hella fast. Especially when your car’s all nicely polished and sleek— it’s the best.”
“Damn. You really are passionate, huh? That’s actually really dope.”
“I am.” he smirks, amused that you’re interested in hearing about his interests. Like, you actually are having a conversation with him and are seriously listening to him.
Meanwhile, it’s such a breath of fresh air for you to listen to him speak about his passions and have personality to him. He wasn’t dry or giving you half-assed anything— and he was respectful, making you swoon and happy to have met someone like him.
The sun was beginning to set as you two got loss in conversation, the sky painted in a warm hue.
“Let me go throw these away.” you gather your now-empty foam cups and plastic spoons, grabbing them and getting up to throw them in your trash bin.
“Thanks.” Jeno gets up shortly after you do, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I should be the one thanking you— for the ice cream.” you now stand in front of him, arms crossed behind your back with a hand resting over your wrist.
“It was only a couple of bucks, no biggie like I said.” he assures you.
You smile, the apples of your cheeks more prominent as you can’t hold back in how wide it becomes due to his kindness. You stand meekly, figuring that this is the part where you bid one another goodbye and go inside your separate homes.
Although he literally lives next to you and you’d be seeing him frequently, you don’t want your time together to end just yet. He’s pulling you in like a magnet. You’ve felt lonely lately, and Jeno’s company was the best unexpected gift you could ever ask for.
And it seems like he’s thinking the same.
“Hey— I was thinking now would be a perfect time to drive around for a bit. I’ve been stuck at home all day and could go out for a bit. Would you like to come with?”
Your brows lift slightly, caught off guard by his invite. You didn’t expect to spend your evening with a man outside your house, and now, said man is asking you out for a drive.
“Only if you want to, of course. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to or—“
“No!— let’s do it.” you interrupt him, rather eagerly. You stare at him with a twinkle inside your eyes, mirroring Jeno’s own, eyes dreamy as he looks at your figure.
You might be some trouble for him, and you’re definitely feeling the same about him. The magnetism between you two is strong. Each of you look at one another in admiration and thoughts about anything else are practically nonexistent. It was purely curious attraction. Like a moth to a flame.
You’re honestly not sure if it’s the smartest idea to be getting in a vehicle with a guy you haven’t even known for 24 hours. You know your parents would literally be up your ass if they knew, and the anxious side of you is lowkey freaking out internally, already playing out multiple scenarios.
But you oddly trust Jeno. He seems to find solace in your presence. You each agreed that you were friends now. You hardly got out of the house anyways— you definitely needed this. And you’re an adult, so who cares?
“Alirghty then, are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, i’m good to go.”
With that, Jeno leads the way into his new property. His left hand digs into his left pocket and pulls out a pair of keys, walking to the driver’s side of what seems to be his car.
The sight of his car definitely confirms that he’s a serious car guy. You’re not too familiar yourself on the technical terms or remember model names, but his car is black, windows were tinted, and it’s glossy. It looked almost brand new, smooth and sexy— dare you say. It suits him well.
He unlocks his car and lets you know you’re able to get in, and so you open the passenger door and seat yourself inside.
A subtle musky fragrance fills your nostrils immediately as you settle in. The interior of his car smells clean and fresh, mellow undertones within the scent. Not strong, but pleasant and fitting.
Jeno also settles in his vehicle, starting up the engine as you each put on your seatbelts.
“Don’t worry. I know I said I like going fast, but I follow the law. It’ll be a nice drive.” Jeno suddenly says, looking over his shoulder as his right hand takes hold of the gear shift. He puts the car in reverse, using his left hand to steer the wheel.
You sit idly as he cranes his neck slightly to look behind, making sure the street is clear as he makes exit from his driveway. He smoothly reverses, and begins to drive down the street.
Your hands are folded in your lap, and you begin to play with them out of suspense from what is to come during this drive with Jeno.
You’re fortunate that your parents are out of town right now, so they don’t really have to question your whereabouts.
Though, you’re thinking about how you’re alone in the car with a guy you just met. It had been so long since you hung out with a male like this. You couldn’t help but already feel some type of way towards Jeno. Your senses heightened within his presence. Maybe it’s because you still don’t really know too much about him, but you also think it’s because his attractiveness daunts you.
Perhaps you’re already developing a crush.
“Got anywhere in particular you wanna go? I don’t really mind; I’ll let you take the reins.” he halts his car at a stop sign, then turns to smile at you.
“Honestly, there’s really not much to do in this town. People usually go goof around the grocery stores for entertainment. That’s how dry it is here.” you tittered.
“Though, there’s a school a few blocks away from our street that I walk to occasionally when I want to clear my mind, and I usually just roam leisurely around there. Since it’s practically right next to a nice neighborhood, lots of people go on walks or bike rides around, and kids play after school hours.” you internally facepalm yourself once you finish talking. He probably is gonna think you’re so lame and that you clearly don’t go out much. A school? Really?
“We can go there. Sounds chill to me, if that’s okay with you?”
“Yeah! I’m good with that.” you’re relieved to see that he seems on board with your idea. He seemed to be pretty laidback and easygoing, leaving you feeling safe.
You direct him to the location, and he notices that there’s no music currently playing.
“Wanna connect your phone to play some music?”
“Oh no, that’s okay. You can play whatever.” you kindly smile.
“I listen to the same songs practically everyday. It’s getting old. How about you put on something, I could use something new.”
You feel a bit shy in sharing your music taste, but you see that he won’t take no for an answer. You give in and he helps you in connecting to the Bluetooth. A R&B playlist is what you settle for, as most of the songs in your curated playlist were comforting, catchy, and relaxing.
As the music’s going, you feel flushed and can’t reject the smile that creeps on your face as a favorite song of yours comes on. You notice from your peripheral Jeno nodding his head to the beat of the track, making you fix your attention to simply staring out the window to avoid him seeing how blushed and smiley you are.
After just a few minutes, he pulls into the school grounds, parking in the lot and you two unbuckle your seatbelts. There seems to be hardly anyone here. There’s maybe one or two cars parked, but nobody’s inside. There also aren’t any children on the playground or playing basketball like there normally would be. It seems a bit ghostly out.
With you two now sitting in the car in the practically-empty lot, you begin to wonder maybe this really was a dumb idea of yours.
I mean, what are you guys actually going to do?
With you two in this setting, wouldn’t people expect you two to be doing something shady or sketchy? Especially as the sky’s only growing somber by the minute.
“Do you care if I smoke a cig?” Jeno’s question interrupts your overthinking, making you turn, facing him.
“Go ahead.” you give him the green light to do so. It was his car after all.
Internally, you grimaced at now knowing the fact that he’s a smoker. You weren’t a fan of tobacco or nicotine, but if someone wanted to smoke, who were you to stop them?
Jeno rolls the window down halfway and reaches his hand into his door pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. He puts the stick in between his mouth, allowing his lips to hold it as he brings the lighter to the end.
He flicks the lighter and the click hits your ears. Your eyes stay hooked on him once you hear it.
Jeno took a few quick breaths to ignite it, and it lit with ease. He sucked and held the smoke in his mouth for a moment, then removed the cigarette from his lips, letting the hot chemicals cool down before releasing a steady stream of smoke into the air towards his lowered window.
He immediately feels the buzz of pleasure from the nicotine rush to his brain. The warm air embraces his lungs like a comforting hug, allowing him to relax after a long day of unpacking.
Meanwhile, you weren’t in favor of cigarettes. You don’t understand the appeal in smoking something that in the end, is probably going to lead you closer to death by shortening your lifespan and bring trouble to your body. The aroma it left was harsh and acrid, and even eye-watering.
Though, even with how strongly you felt about smoking cigarettes, why was Jeno making it seem attractive?
Your attention is captivated on the erotic bittersweetness of the sight next to you. He made it seem so effortless, like it was second nature to him.
He seemed so carefree and rebellious in this moment. He obviously doesn’t give a shit about the consequences. The habit was hazardous, but the youthful, handsome man with strong features smoking in a dark car was glamorous in your perspective.
Jeno has to refrain from grinning as he notices your wonderment. He takes another drag before shooting you a question.
“Have you ever smoked before?”
“Not a cigarette, no.”
He suddenly moves his right hand with cigarette in hold in between you two, towards an empty tray you just now were made aware of. He taps the ash off the cigarette onto the ashtray, and to your surprise, gestures it towards you.
“Wanna try?” his voice husky.
Your mouth falls barely agape, caught off guard by his question.
You have to admit, even though you strayed away from cigarettes due to the long run danger they pose, you can’t help the burning curiosity fueling inside in trying it at least once.
Jeno made it look oddly satisfying, even in the midst of the now tarnished air and molten stench.
One puff wouldn’t kill you.
“Sure.” you reply, eyelids blinking at the stick in between his fingers.
Amusement is written all over Jeno’s face. He had a hunch before you even said anything that you’ve never smoked a cigarette before. You just seemed too sweet for that.
He found it mirthful that you want to try for yourself, and with him. There was something exciting in the fact that he’s about to watch you take your first ever drag. Knowing it was your first, there was a high chance you were going to be appalled by it. But it was going to be fun to watch, almost like he was corrupting your sweetness.
He brings the cigarette towards you and you carefully take it pinched between your thumb and forefinger.
The smoke envelops your nostrils, and you feel clammy all of a sudden with the cigarette in your hold and Jeno focused on you.
You were already overthinking the way you probably looked to him right now, so obviously amateur. And it was going to be humbling when you’re left coughing or can’t do it correctly.
Jeno can practically hear your worrisome thoughts turning, and is quick to kick them to the curb. “You don’t have to do it just because I am.”
“I actually want to try at least once in my life— for the plot, y’know?” you chuckled.
“Okay then. Just know I won’t tease you. Nobody’s first smoke is perfect.” he simply smiles, immediately bringing you support.
You don’t waste anymore time for the cigarette’s sake and wrap your lips around it, hollowing your cheeks as you take a shallow drag.
Your throat instantly feels irritated and on fire, feeling tight with the smoke you’ve just inhaled. All the toxic chemicals blaze your throat and lungs, leaving a bad taste to your mouth and it feels almost-suffocating.
A couple coughs rip from your throat, and you attempt to cover your mouth with your free hand and turn your form slightly towards the right, trying to shield yourself away Jeno from your embarrassing coughing fit.
You each let out a different curse word due to your actions, making the both of you laugh— of which, lowkey makes your throat feel even worse. Jeno quickly reaches over and removes the cigarette from your hold, dumping the ash on the tray and he keeps it between his fingers as he rummages around his car for a possible drink he may have lying around.
Luckily, he finds an unopened water bottle in his backseat. It unfortunately is room temperature and he doesn’t know how long it’s been in his car, but he doesn’t hesitate in opening it and offering it to you, which you gladly take.
“God! I fucking hated that.” you huff out after taking a few sips, now feeling calm. The ashy taste still was lingering in your mouth, making you slightly frown. The scent of the smog was definitely going to cling to your clothes— thankfully, your parents weren’t going to be home tonight to be greeted by it.
“Everyone’s first cigarette is terrible.” he chuckles before taking another drag, looking graceful and natural in doing so.
You can’t help the ping you feel in your heart from how you two now practically shared an indirect kiss, him choosing to continue smoking the cigarette instead of putting it out. You’re starting to feel hazy.
“I don’t think i’ll be smoking that ever again.” you scoff, taking another sip of water before reaching for and screwing the cap back on, placing it on one of his cup holders.
“That’s good, it doesn’t really suit you.” he says before enveloping his lips around the stick again.
Your eyes squint barely as you feel slightly offended from his comment. After blowing out the smoke, he notices your expression, and adds on to his words.
“You’re too sweet for that.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“You’re a pretty girl with frilly polka dot shorts who waits outside for ice cream and has a sweet nature. You just seem like you don’t do bad stuff like that.”
Warmth climbs from your neck up to your cheeks, not being able to maintain eye contact once ‘pretty girl’ rang in your ears. Pretty girl? Fuck, why would he say that.
“Duality exists. People can have multiple sides to them.” you voiced, trying to dismiss his comment from before off your mind.
Jeno nods his head in agreement, “Can’t argue with that.”
“Smoking isn’t good for you, though. You should stay away from it.” he utters, about to take another hit from his cigarette.
An incredulous expression takes over your face. “Well look who’s talking.” you teased, shaking your head slightly.
He pauses at your words, not being able to help the breathy laugh that escapes his throat.
“Indulging in cigarettes is like a hobby to me. It’s too late for me. I’m locked in for life.” he twirls the cigarette around his fingers, then brings it to his lips once again.
“So then should I stay away from you?” you mindlessly say, making you clutch the bottom frills of your shorts for comfort as you await for his response.
Jeno blows out smoke towards the window and turns to you, your fingers playing with the fabric of your shorts. He can’t help how cute you look in his passenger seat. You look so delicate, even in the dark interior of his car, even in the thick of the secondhand smoke air.
He’s torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to tamper with you. He could get a cavity just by looking at you. You were delightful and so new and sweet to him. You can be timid but you’ve been so open to embracing your new neighbor. You were a ball of sunshine, and he was the kind of guy parents hated just based off his looks alone.
Like you had said, there can be multiple sides to everyone. Just because someone seems to appear one way on the outside, or you base their personality off one side they’ve shown you, doesn’t define their entire persona.
Jeno really wants you two to get close together. Call him desperate, but he can already feel growing chemistry between you two. You barely met, but Jeno can’t help how he’s already so drawn to you.
And he intends to get to know every part of you.
Your fingers continue to fidget with your shorts, thighs pressed together, suddenly feeling small and hyper aware of your own existence within his presence.
“I kinda don’t want you too.”
“I already like you too much, think I could use someone like you in my life.”
Your nervous system is a whirlwind currently, the opposite of calm. Blood rushes to your head in hearing his response, ears becoming warm. A tight-lipped grin stretches across your face while averting your eyes from Jeno.
You can’t help the nervous giggle that comes out of you, unable to contain your emotions. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and it’s not just due to the smoke floating around.
Fuck. You don’t even know what to say to that.
He grins at your figure, his words clearly stirring something inside you. You avoid his gaze, pupils suddenly finding your lap more interesting and easier to look at than to meet his own eyes as you feel bashful.
Your fingers run along the goosebumps that now decorate the bit of exposed skin from your thighs, coy and still unable to think of a response. He makes you feel so silly and dumb, falling for his charisma.
Jeno’s eyes fall into your lap, following your small movements. You were visibly fidgety. He couldn’t help in wanting to reach over and place a hand protectively over your thigh. He then wonders what it would be like to hold your hand, or to tuck a stand of your hair behind your ear, or to kiss your lips.
He wants to act on instinct. The attraction and desire he has for you is too much for him to bear with you next to him in his car— in an empty parking lot.
He abruptly rolls up his window and reaches for the water bottle you drank out of from the cup holder, opening it and using a tiny bit of water to carefully add it to the ashtray, to stub his cigarette out properly.
You finally look up towards him because of his movements, watching and locking eyes once he’s finished.
“Y/n…” Jeno begins, head cocked slightly to the side, swallowing before continuing. “Is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?” he practically whispers.
Your heartbeat feels like it pauses and sinks for a moment when you process his words.
Who would’ve guessed you’d be put in this position today?
Jeno’s eyes carry passion and intensity, awaiting for your permission or any answer. He’s craving for your attention, and he can’t deny the carnal desire within him to make each other feel good right now.
“I’d really love to kiss you.” he mumbles, eyes falling to your lips, head still tipped slightly, like a puppy concentrated on you.
The outside world and any miscellaneous thoughts are drowned out by the intention behind his eyes. The tense air and his admirable stare makes you feel a sense of vulnerability. Your own lips are trembling and heart flutters.
You’re lost from his eagerness and interest in you, caught off guard that he felt some attraction towards you while you’ve been trying to ignore how handsome this man was.
It’s been long since you’ve had any ounce of intimacy with another person. Loneliness has consumed you lately. With Jeno showing up in your life out of the blue, confessing that he wants to kiss you even from the little time you’ve known each other, it makes you feel validated and enchanted.
You peer down at the ashtray and center console, being a barrier between the two of you.
It would be slightly discomforting to kiss him over the compartment. But you really did want to kiss him.
Given the fact that you were parked in a parking lot during the late evening, you wondered in the back of your mind secretly of the possibility of him wanting to fuck you. Honestly, you wouldn’t be opposed to that idea in the slightest. A hot guy like Jeno wanting you was generating intense euphoria in your brain.
You were definitely nervous and timorous but fuck, you wanted him to feed your desires and take you heatedly.
“Would the backseat be more comfortable?” you finally manage to speak, viewing him with doe eyes. You knew what you were implying— a bold move for you but you now know that he wants it, too.
Patience never really was your thing.
Jeno’s lips curl upwards, sending you a knowing-look in response to your comment. He gestures with his head to the backseat, “You wanna?”
You merely swallow and nod your head, eventually letting out a faint ‘yes.’
Excitement charges him up in how fast things turned. He opens his own door first, with you following and opening yours a second after, making your way to the backseat on your respective sides.
Frisson is present within the pit of your stomach as you move to the back. Your body hairs are raised due to the tingling sensation rippling all throughout your skin.
You were excited but apprehensive. You were suddenly taking a leap into a new adventure, which was you about to get fucked by your new neighbor in the backseat— in a school parking lot. It was definitely indecent, but lust persisted.
Your pupils flickered around nervously as you each sat in the back, growing sweaty with every second that passes, wondering how this was going to play out.
Jeno takes note of your body language and immediately speaks up. “Are you okay with this? We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t comfortable.”
“I’m okay, just a bit awkward.” you sigh out with a slight laugh.
He smiles and looks down at the decent amount of empty space in between you two.
“C’mere.” he says, signaling towards his lap.
You take a breath as you slip out of your shoes and move closer to him. Jeno stretches his arms out, pulling your weight to seat you on his lap. Your legs wrap around his waist, and your body stills, in disbelief that you’ve found yourself in this foreign position.
Although patience wasn’t your thing, this situation was unfamiliar to you. About to get fucked by someone you barely met was crazy for you. You craved him, but you were also scared something was going to go wrong, whether it was from you or him.
Jeno’s left hand rests on the small of your back, drawing circles with his thumb over the fabric of your t-shirt. His other hand slowly reaches towards the apple of your cheek, rubbing it carefully with the pad of his thumb.
Your tummy flutters wildly from his small touches and the desire emanating from his eyes as he scans you.
“Relax for me, pretty.”
“Can you touch me, hm?”
You don’t verbally respond. You pupils go back and forth between his face and neck as you hook your arms around the thick skin. Your lips parted in being careful with your movements, still in disbelief of this current moment. He called you pretty again.
He smiles at the feeling of your arms around him, and lowers his thumb down your face until it reached your lips, playing with your bottom lip, eyes hooked to something so inviting.
Your own eyes seek his lips, watching the tip of his tongue slip out to give his own a lick, making you force to resist in shifting in his lap out of anticipation or letting out a whimper.
He’s the one to rip the tension by seizing a kiss from you. He gently pulls your face in, and as his lips meet yours, your only focus was on the heat that ignited within you.
The kiss was warm and smokey. It was intense with the way his lips moved jointly with yours.
While you didn’t care for nicotine, the taste of Jeno’s lips was a drug you could see yourself becoming addicted to.
As more seconds pass, the kissing becomes increasingly passionate. You’re practically melting, and it intensifies even more with his scintillating touches.
He protectively keeps a hand around your back, keeping you in place and subtly pushing you in closer towards him. HIs other hand holds your jaw, keeping your face slightly angled and steady.
You can’t help but rub down your clothed crotch against his own, surprising you when your movement draws a deep moan from Jeno, making you quietly gasp.
“Fuck.” he breathes out before he meshes his moist tongue into your hot mouth, making you produce a moan in feeling the wet muscle explore your sensitive erogenous zone.
Your eyes are clenched shut and fingers suddenly find themselves messily fiddling through Jeno’s locks, mind and body lost in the rush of how you’re locked by his lips.
There’s a growing hardness felt through the lightweight material of your shorts. It’s a signal that he wants more, each of your endorphins going nuts by merely making out.
He pulls away from your swollen lips, breathless, hushed gasps filling one another’s ears. Jeno then maneuvers a hand to cradle the back of your head, and brings his face towards your left ear, simultaneously beginning to play with the hem of your shirt.
“Let me take care of you.” his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, sending a chill down your spine.
His hands redirect to either side of your waist, feeling you up as he brings his face back and scans your face, awaiting for a verbal response.
“Please.” you whisper, warmth spreading across your skin.
“Please what?” he teases.
“Please undress me. Touch me— my body and pussy. Want you to.” you slip out, swallowing your pride. It was a bit embarrassing to say such things aloud in front of your new neighbor, but fuck it. He wanted you equally as bad.
Fully blushed and flushed out, your eyes fall down to stare blankly at his chest. Jeno is filled with amusement though, and hums in satisfaction at your words.
He smoothly reaches for your jaw and tilts it up so that you’re looking at him properly, bringing a buzz to your pussy from his dominance.
“You’re gonna be so good to me, sweet girl.” he says, caressing your face like you’re made of glass.
He brings you in for a couple more deep kisses, savoring how perfect your lips felt and tasted against his own.
He then confirms again with a nod if you’re okay to proceed further, to which you nod back, allowing him to remove your shirt. He also helps you shimmy out of those cutesy shorts of yours, tossing the clothes somewhere up front.
Although you still have your undergarments on and you agreed to do this, you feel so exposed and vulnerable now. Jeno was still fully clothed while he began to fiddle with your bra strap, which made this feel unfair.
“Let me take off your shirt.” you whined and batted your lashes at Jeno, causing him to halt his attempt in wanting to remove your bra next.
He can’t help but smile as you grab onto his flannel shirt, waiting for him to give you the signal to remove it. You were so fucking cute.
“My bad, pretty. I’m all yours.” he kissed your cheek before allowing you to do so, which made you burn inside with all kinds of sensual emotions.
He watched you in awe as you shakily started to undo all his buttons, entertained in seeing the curiosity behind your eyes of unveiling what lies beneath the fabric.
With his shirt now open, he fully removed it himself by pulling off the sleeves and threw it in the growing pile up front, leaving his entire torso bare.
Now uncovered, you can’t help the admiration beholding your eyes as you view his exposed skin.
It shouldn’t have been such a shocker that a handsome face like his had the perfect body to match: hard chest, sculpted abs, and lean waist that contrasted from his broad shoulders.
You really lucked out.
“Like what you see?” Jeno can’t help but snicker, aware that he had this effect on people. You just boosted his ego even more.
You can’t help but giggle at the cliche line, eyes timidly flying away from his torso. Unfortunately he doesn’t get a verbal response from you, but he knows how you feel inside.
“For the record… I definitely like what I see.” he traces the edges of your body, appreciating your skin and details.
Your eyes redirect to his face, watching him eye you hungrily, his fingers beginning to delicately feather over the lace detailing of your bra. Your breathing slows, air tense with you seated over him and his vision glued heartily on you.
His eyes find yours with his fingers still over your bra. You pump your chest out a bit, gesturing to him that you want things to proceed and to remove the rest of your garments.
He immediately leads his hands to your back, unhooking your lacy bra. Your mounds spill out as he removes it and tosses it to the side, the sight making his cock so pumped, full of blood.
“Beautiful girl.” he mumbles, then latches his mouth onto the underside of your ear, making you angle your face to give him better access.
The open-mouth kisses he leaves activates the nerves around your neck. It tickles for a second, but he hits that sweet spot of yours, making you melt.
You’d give into any demand of his with the way his warm lips suck and nibble over your delicate skin. You grind down into him, arms hooked around his neck, clutching for security or else you’d probably melt away.
Your sex only covered by thin panties rutting against his cock straining through his jeans has him groaning into your neck. He zealously continues to suck on your neck, adding gentle bites and hot licks in between, making you arch your neck to the front and moan out of pure bliss. You secretly hope he’d leave a mark or two, so you’d have a visual reminder of this heated night for a few days.
His kisses meander to your throat and chest, tongue sliding out to trace all around one of your areolas, lips then enfolding over the nipple.
Squeals of delight reign free from your throat at Jeno’s foreplay, continuing while he engulfs and sucks both your firm nipples.
“You sound so pretty for me, girly.” he rasps out, dragging his lips over your fleshy, supple breasts.
The nickname sends lightning straight to your core, making you whimper in neediness.
Jeno ends the fun with enjoying your tits to start the pleasure awaiting for him from your cunt.
His left hand holds you while his right hand travels down your tummy, until it reaches the bit of skin below your navel.
There’s a dark appetite visible in his orbs. He looks at you for any sign of uneasiness while his hand goes down. Your breath only hitches, pussy tingling with a quiet gasp from your mouth once his fingers rubbed down to your panty-covered cunt.
It’s so damp and warm down here, he thinks to himself.
“So horny, aren’t we now?”
The way he talks to you alone makes you ignite within.
He decides to pull your underwear to the side, his fingers now coming in full, bare contact with the outside of your pussy.
You’re practically holding your breath at this point, waiting for him to play with you, anticipating the feeling.
“Me too.” he utters, answering his own rhetorical question before he starts running his fingers slowly around your clit.
His touch on your swelling bud causes another hushed gasp to come from you. He’s beyond pleased by listening to all the noises your voice produces due to his sultry touches.
His finger tips slid over your clit and then inched down, feeling the outside of your sex and letting you grow accustomed to his touch.
He ends up sliding one finger up your hole, leaving your mouth ajar and body to quiver from him inserting it in.
Jeno’s tongue licks around his teeth while he fingers you, your walls so tight around his finger.
“Relax for me, hm?” he leans in to kiss you, easing your body to the feeling.
His lips continuously colliding with your own makes you lost for a moment, body fuzzy and loosened up until he decides to squeeze in another finger.
The jolt of pressure wrenched a moan out of you, making Jeno draw back to bite his lip and laugh quietly. It was such a turn on for him to listen and see the beautiful noises and faces you make— and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.
He was prepping your pussy for his own length, already salivating in thinking of you taking him whole.
His long, thick fingers curl into a ‘hook’ motion, causing your legs to shake in lust and a shiver runs inside your core that tingled.
“Mhmmm…” you mewled, starting to subconsciously grind and meet the movements of his fingers toying with your moist and velvety sex.
Watching your responses to his movements feels so good to Jeno. He can feel you start to clamp around his digits, making his own mouth open and turn into a smirk. His cock is painfully hard, begging to be free and feel that clamping sensation that his own fingers do. He really hates to rip you from nearing your climax, but he’d rather you both cum together, your body underneath his.
With that, he halts his movements and removes his fingers. A broken whine rips from your throat at the feeling of him leaving your needy cunt. You could practically cry. Desperation clouded over you.
Jeno quickly quiets you down with now inserting those sticky fingers of his inside your mouth, causing you to hum around his digits, eyes wide and then closed shut.
The fullness and heaviness from his fingers and your own essence weighing over your tongue has your pussy clenching over nothing. You eagerly suck your wetness from his fingers, not bothered that he was just in you. This was all so racy.
“Such a good girl for me— fuck.” he groans, watching you suck his fingers in, your teeth faintly raking over them, cock twitching at how dirty this sweet girl was.
“Gonna make you cum from my cock, don’t worry.”
He removes his fingers from your mouth, pulling you off his lap, motioning you to lay back down.
Your heart rate picks up as you carefully lie over his backseat. He traces the delicate curves of your hips and finds his way to the band of your underwear, you each sharing a nod of consent for him to remove them.
He tugs them down and off, tossing them and he gets you to pull your knees up, allowing more room for Jeno within this limited space.
He mentally whistles at the sight of your princess parts and the position you’re in, waiting for him to take you in the back of his car.
He doesn’t waste anymore time and hastily gets rid of his confining jeans and briefs, his cock immediately standing proudly once his underwear is pulled off.
The sight of his big and thick, towering manhood has your breath stuck in your throat.
While he moves and reaches over to dig for a condom in his glove compartment, your palms become sweaty in the thought of him squeezing his length inside you.
He looked absolute delicious, but you weren’t sure if you could handle someone as big as him.
Jeno finds a condom, ripping the plastic open with his teeth and flings the wrapper out of sight. He stretches the rubber over his length, precum already leaking from his tip.
As he inches towards you, you can’t help but voice your concern.
“Will it fit? you shakily breathed.
Jeno can’t help but tilt his head, staring at you intently. His lips can’t help but curl, offering you a reassuring smile.
His lips suddenly find themselves over your knees, pressing a gentle kiss over both of them, making your heart pump with fondness.
“We will make it fit.”
“Let me know if it hurts, okay? Don’t want you in pain, pretty.”
“Okay.” is all you say, still sweaty, but ready for him to enter you, core aching to be touched again.
He massages the inside of your thighs with care, trying to ease you up some more. He grabs his length and rubs it along your folds— especially dragging the tip past your clit, making you moan at the sensation.
He finally takes it upon him to prudently push his cock into your entrance, his mouth open while he starts to stretch you out.
Your legs immediately hook around him and rest on his lower back, meanwhile your arms decide to cling onto his beefy biceps for support. You cry out a moan from the pressure.
“It’s okay, girly, I got you.”
“You’re safe with me. Gonna take care of you.” Jeno’s breath fans over your face before he captures your lips with his. His hips slowly begin to roll as you kissed him back with enthusiasm, a burst of adrenaline racing through your bloodstream.
Your walls practically swallowed him, cock fitting so snug inside you. His left hand brushed into your hair, running his fingers loosely around your locks, making you relax from his touch.
“God! You— you’re so big.” you blatantly puffed out, starting to feel his thick cock brush past your walls.
“Yeah? You can take it, pretty— right?” the blood in Jeno’s body starts to boil due to the warmth encompassing his length, and from the sense of pride filling him from your reaction to his size.
He begins to start a steady pace with his hip movements, sliding his cock in and out— not all the way, but enough to stimulate your sensitive walls.
He falls into a natural pattern as your body accepts him well. Your vision darts upwards towards the roof of the car, beginning to lose yourself to his fat cock.
Though it quickly lowers again when his head dips into your right breast, tongue slipping out and starting to twist around your erect nipple.
A mewl jumps out of you, hands redirecting to his muscular back with your nails pressing tightly into his skin.
“C’mon, talk to me.” Jeno rasps, making brief eye contact with you for a second before he briskly attacks your entire right breast with his mouth. He ferociously makes out with your mound and marks you, painting you with reddish-purple splotches and leaving the flesh sheening in spit.
His hunger for attention and to get you both off is ardent. Every other thrust into you is rigid. He was pacing himself at first to start off, but now his rhythm increases to fuck you hard and his length travels into you deep. He has no intention in holding back his horniness.
Lack of words from you aside from the whimpers and moans has him moving a hand to touch and toy with your clit. His calloused fingers alternate between softly pinching and sliding his fingers in a back-and-forth motion along the puffy bud.
“Oh— God! Jeno!” the attentiveness he shows to your aching clit while ramming into you has you scream his name. It has you automatically canting your hips up to meet his thrusts into you.
Your reactions and hearing his name from your voice drives Jeno wild. Breathy grunts leave his mouth, hips continuing in chasing both of your highs.
The current setting and moment is electrifying. Fucking in the car in a school parking lot was obscene and limited compared to bed space, but it was still extremely mind-numbing and euphoric sex.
Your frame caged under Jeno’s ripped body is like a dream. You felt so helpless in this position, but couldn’t possible wish for him to stop. It was so hot seeing and feeling his figure fuck you into oblivion.
Your body rocking over the leather car seats only amplifies your feeling of sensitivity and arousal. God, how amazing it felt for Jeno to be pleasing you in this way was. You can’t even imagine how good it would be to fuck in other ways— in other places, with him.
His relentless efforts has your mouth stuck open. The arousement increases the amount of saliva within your mouth. Surprise catches you when some of it seeps out the corner of your mouth.
Your tongue lolls out in attempt to catch the drool before it fully falls, failing miserably as it rapidly trickles down from the corner, to your chin. Quickly, you wipe it off messily and then place your hand back over his skin, but it’s obvious that Jeno sees what just happened, as he’s right over you— much to your embarrassment.
Though, his cock surges in amusement, and so does his other head. You were literally drooling over his cock. How fucking sexy was that? Wonder how’d you look on your knees giving him the messiest head. Oh how he hopes to have that thought come to life one day.
“Mhm. So hot— fucking my cute, pretty neighbor. You like that too, hm? You like the feeling of your big neighbor on top and inside of you?” he teases you, watching your pretty figure being ruined beautifully by him. His filthy words mix with his dirty, animalistic movements.
“Feels so full and good, Jeno!” you choke out. You’re blissed out, feeling like the band in your core may snap soon.
There you go saying his name again, making Jeno groan repeatedly in ecstasy, dragging his cock deep into you, his weighty sack occasionally slapping against your bottom.
“Yeah? So full of me, pretty.”
“Taking me so well, like a good girl.”
Heat swells in your cheeks from his comments and the hot temperature and pressure felt as he fucks you. As much as you savor it, it’s becoming too much. The finish line is coming close to being ripped apart.
The thrill in the pit of your stomach has it churning. His long, deep strokes, each of your various moans bouncing off the tinted windows, his gruffly voice, and his finger-work over your sensitive bud— it’s all captivating you to feel an abundance of dopamine rush.
A shiver in your core tingles consistently. You’re beginning to lose control. It’s like you’re stoned and can’t focus on anything aside from the intensity of that tingly pressure present within you.
“Gonna cum, Jeno.” your voice cracked while your muscles tightened.
“Fuck,” he hisses at the tight grip of your walls swallowing him from the tip to base.
Your eyes rolled back behind your trembling lashes, and he watches with a keen stare and relishes in your smutty sounds. It all only encourages him to keep persisting to reach the peak.
And then, you finally break.
Your fluid expels from your pussy, lubricating your walls and leaving you a whimpering, wet mess.
Jeno pushes through your spasming, feeling the warmth spreading in your heated cunt through his condom. His own muscles can’t resist in clenching hard. He pushed you over the edge and possessed your mind and body with euphoria.
It’s practically heaven. His balls tighten and eyebrows push together with hips starting to slow down as strings of cum begin to fill his condom. It’s so relieving that a few guttural moans come out from his throat.
His hot seed falling into the condom is so fulfilling, sack emptied. All this activity has left him sweaty all over and mouth dry. His chest continues to heave and he carefully pulls out of you.
You shake and shiver now that the tension is dying down, and your muscles try to relax after the satisfying orgasm.
Jeno is quick to remove his used condom and tie it, abandoning it in a random spot in the car. He’ll of course, clean his car later.
He reaches towards the front of the car to search for his shirt, and then edges back to you.
“Hey, you were amazing, sweet girl. Let me help you.” Jeno spoke softly to you while the back of his fingers stroke one of your shaky thighs.
He began to use his shirt as a rag for any wetness seeping out and around the outside of your cunt.
You couldn’t help but flush at the aftercare he shows you, even while in a car and not hesitating to sacrifice his shirt to wipe your spills. Seems like chivalry isn’t dead after all.
“Thank you.” you say to him when he’s finished.
He just smiles at you, eyes crinkling as he sticks out a hand for you to grab, and helps you sit up next to him.
Still both fully naked, you still feel flushed and exposed now that the sex was over. Your breasts hanging out and his cock lying limp over his thigh was too hard to ignore. Jeno notices, and quickly gathers your t-shirt for you and his briefs for him, making you thank him once again.
You don’t know what to say now and he doesn’t know what to do. It’s obvious now that you two have an attraction to one another. But, where do you two go from here? Will this be a one time thing? Or maybe a friends-with-benefits type of deal? Guess you didn’t need a label right away, you barely know him. But you know you needed more of him, in any way— sexual or not.
In the midst of each of your silence, Jeno decides to reach for your hand, clasping his fingers with your own under his. He gently squeezes your hand, causing your own legs to squeeze together, beginning to feel a sense of giddiness inside.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks, thumb beginning to soothe you as he drags it back and forth the side of your hand.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” the words leap out of you, making you cringe as soon as they come out.
Mortification washes over you. Why the fuck would you ask that? What are you even implying?
Your sudden question makes him chuckle and grin, especially now that you already fucked. You guys are just now having this conversation.
“No Y/n, I don’t. I’m one-hundred percent single.” he smirks at you, thumb still tracing your skin.
His answer is pleasing to your ears. You try not to show how obviously happy you are with that. A faint smile is all you allow yourself to show.
“You don’t have a boyfriend now, do you?” he tilts his head at you, eyes playful.
“I don’t.” you spoke softly.
Just like you, Jeno finds himself content with your answer.
“Good girl.”
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Poison For Some
(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist
Description: Your deathly allergic to nuts and dinner in the prison leaves you running for medicine. Your abrupt departure confuses everyone, until your partner Daryl remembers of your allergies. Now it was 24 hours and you were no where to be found.
5.9k words
This runs personally in my life and will be based on my own allergies. It’s different for everyone but, this is mine. [Angst and Fluff]
Carol had made dinner like she did most nights. Winter approached and Rick was trying to put off using the canned goods for as long as he could. So, Carol decided to try and fill in some protein with almonds. She put it in the rice mixing it to whatever meat scraps we last had. Daryl was off in the shower at your demand. He had been hunting a lot more often trying to gather as much meat before winter. Coming back to the prison somehow dirtier than the last, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had rolled around in dirt for how much it cover him.
You sat at the table as Carol handed out portions. Glenn and Maggie were talking about a run they should make for Judith. Little thing needed more appropriate winter clothing. You told them you would go with, so you were just listening to their planning. The steamy bowl placed in front of you sent you happily smiling and thanking Carol for the food. Carol jokingly jabbed at you, “Swear the only way I could ever get a smile like that from you is food.” You scoff digging your spoon into the bowl and shoving it into your mouth. You talk with a mouth full,
“It’s the best way to my heart!”
You chew feeling a unique piece in your mouth. Thinking maybe the rice clumped together. Carol brought you from your thoughts, “That’s why you got yourself a hunter I see.” You chuckle at that, eyes moving to your bowl. You pushed it around spotting what you felt in your mouth, it was something pale. You swallowed the growing saliva in your mouth. Realization hit you like a truck, you sprung up from your seat in a panic. Almond peal off, something in the past you had learned the hard way had nuts in it.
You had never had to use an epiPen before, Benadryl was always what you had to chug before a epiPen was ever thought of. A mental clock started ticking. You didn’t have much time before this nut you just ate starts killing you. You didn’t know you were moving before you were already out the door. Nabbing a set of keys before sprinting to the gate. Other were surprised at the clear shock and outburst you had. You had gone out the door before they even stood to follow. When they got out the door you left the gate to the courtyard open and they saw you sprinting to the exit gate. That brought them into gear yelling and chasing after you. You didn’t have much time. Pill or preferably liquid Benadryl would only work in the early stages of your reaction. You would guess 30 minutes before it was a lost cause.
Considerably to others with the allergy you were lucky. While it was deadly you had more time and didn’t have to pull out a shot of adrenaline every time to fix it. You pulled both gates open not even attempting to close them before getting into one of the run cars. You peeled off before anyone could question you. They all yelled and waved their arms. They couldn’t believe you. The sounds of the tires screeching was emphasis to your haste. They stood at the open gate seeing the car zoom down the road. A few walkers emerged from the woods causing them to try and close the gate as fast as they could.
You white knuckle the steering wheel attempting to take slow breaths. You resisted the urge to scratch at your skin knowing you must have hives by now. A ball seemed to form in your throat. You have been attempting to locate a EpiPen and Benadryl for a while now. You had some before the farm fell and lost it to the herd. You even asked Glenn to keep an eye out for Benadryl on runs. You felt tears prick at your eyes but forced it away knowing crying would only make it harder to breathe. You were scared but you had to think fast in a last ditch effort of survival. If any pharmacy or store you have checked didn’t have it maybe a household was your best bet. You knew you wouldn’t be able to look through many houses so it was a risky gamble. You know of a neighborhood your group has yet to explore. So with a race against time, that’s where you’re headed.
You had mentioned in passing at the beginning of the quarry of your allergy. Only ever talking about it again with Daryl. He hated peanut butter and you said while you’ve never had it because you’ll die, the smell was gross and over powering. Getting a grunt and “Ain’t missing much.” from him. He also may have teased you about how ‘something as simple as a nut could take you down.’ You were always good about your allergies, hence not ever needing an EpiPen. Something your mother was grateful for not wanting to stab you with a shot. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. While it could sneak up on you it was always solved somewhat quickly. Maybe you should have made a bigger deal about it.
Daryl POV
He had just gotten a shirt on when he heard rushing and calling for his name. He peaked down from his and your cell to see a worried Beth. As soon as she saw him she was nervous and stammered out, “Y/n! Something… we were just sitting then- she’s gone! She booked it out the prison randomly!” Daryl felt his heart drop and he quickly made his way downstairs to where everyone was now piling back in from outside. Rick ran a hand in his hair as Daryl slid into the room worriedly, “The hells happening?! Where is she?!” He watch as everyone turned to the other not knowing the answer. Hershel tried to calmly tell Daryl, “We’re not to sure but she seemed pretty spooked…”
Daryl looked around about to go into a panic. He spotted a bowl spilt across a table. Maggie followed his eyes and started to explain what happened, “She was sitting there. Joking with Carol and she was fine! Then all the sudden she sprung up and ran for it.” His mind raced, he had to go after you but he couldn’t if he didn’t know where or why you were going in the first place. He turned to Carol a strained expression on his face, “What were you talking about?” Carol just shook her head worriedly and shrugged, “Just food. She was giddy as ever to eat is all.” Daryl looked back to the food sprawled out on the table, “What did you make?” Carol put her hands on her hips, the chatter from the others in the room seemingly felt dense with worry and confusion.
“Just the little bits of squirrel we had left with some rice with almonds.”
He felt the nerves in him burn. His ears flood with blood causing the noisy room to muffle. Understanding why you ran made him light headed. Others around him noticed him pale, and the shocked and panicked look you had before washed over his. He felt frozen, you went off to try and save yourself. Not taking a moment before running off to find Benadryl. Something he knows you, Glenn, and himself struggled to find. He felt like he was going to crash to the floor. He had no clue where you could have gone, and if you would ever come back. The edge of his vision darkened but he felt someone behind him steady him. It was Carl, but his father was the one to drag Daryl’s attention, “What’s happening Daryl? You know why she ran, where is she going?” He turned to look toward Carol,
“She’s allergic to nuts.”
Some gasps rang through the room, some questions flying up in the air. Carol nervously shook, words shakingly coming out of her mouth, “Oh my god, I killed her.” She sunk down to a chair a wave of nausea painted on her face. Hand covering her face as tears broke out, “I didn’t know- I remember peanuts maybe. It’s all m-my fault-t.” Glenn leaned over the table as he looked down, “Is that what Benadryl is for?” He seemed almost sick with himself that he hadn’t tried harder to look for it. The room had slowly grown quiet. A pained expression filled their faces as the gravity of the situation weighed on them.
Rick spoke trying to do what he did best, lead. He needed to control the situation and make a plan. He stood straight with arms crossed, “We need to figure out where she ran off. Then try and find some medicine to save her.” He turned to Hershel, “You have everything if it goes south?” Hershel was mid thought thinking maybe a endotracheal tube they had could keep you breathing long enough for medication. Daryl grunted and shook his head, frustrated but heartbroken, “It’s no use, we been looking for anything for her since the farm. She would have never had a chance if she didn’t ran off like she did.” He was angry at the thought, he could do nothing but hope wherever you go you find anything.
Rick spoke calmly trying not to set him off, “Her best bet is with us-“ much to his attempt Daryl roared in anger, “By the time we even made it anywhere let alone getting it back to her she would have been dead!” He clenched his teeth, “We haven’t even the slightest clue where anything for this is.” He now huffed getting emotional, “She did what she had to, she made the right call.” He looked back to a sobbing Carol, “We just hope she comes back now…” He spun around back to the cell he came. His back turned to everyone, the stone lodged in his heart finally crushed him. Swiping the curtain to the cell he looked through blurred eyes at the place you both shared.
He sank to the bed. The lasts words exchanged between you and him running in his mind. ‘Go shower so I can kiss you.’ You pushed him away into the hall. He smuggled remarked a ‘Always can kiss me in the shower.’ Watching you become coy with him at the implication. Always easy to get blood rushed to your face. You had surprised him growing ever more comfortable around him in there growing relationship. Grabbing his dirty tan shirt and pulling him into a kiss. A smile plastered on your face at his surprised one, you whispered, ‘More for when you’re clean.’ He isn’t sure when the relationship happened.
It was slow to happen but there had been to many times your eyes caught on each other. Then you slept closer to him when you had yet to find the prison. You had kissed him on the cheek before a hunt giving him it for luck. When he came back with a deer good luck kisses happened more. An arm throw around you there and then. You holding onto him while on his bike. Wasn’t til the prison when you nervously suggested sharing the same bed that he caved. That first night on a bed he kissed you. More so devoured you but he would deny that. You had never cuddled before that night either, waking up tangled into each other on the small bed.
The small bed he now cried in over the all to real possibility he had lost you. He was laid back arm across his face. His teeth clenched together to stop any pained noise to release from him. Emotion circling in him, regret, anger, heartbreak, he hadn’t even the chance to tell you how much he loved you. The fear always stopped the word from tumbling from him. He could only wait.
Your POV
It had taken you 10 minutes to reach the neighborhood you sought after. Given that you were driving faster than you normally were ok with. You quickly jump out the car running into one of the near houses. Your hands shook while fumbling with the door. Adrenaline pumping in you mostly likely helping your survival. You pushed through making quick work of any spots you could think of. Kitchen cabinets, bathroom drawers, purses. The fabric of your clothes rubbed your irritated skin any time you moved. You abandon the house and moved to the next. Your quick pace making it harder to breathe. You cough and swallow trying to relieve some of the pressure in your closing throat.
You upturned and ran sacked the next house just as you did with the other. Throwing bottles of random medication behind you as you increasingly became more desperate. You left that house looking through every room but one with a walker in it. Your eyes scanned the line of houses. Your heart ached with fear thinking you were about to asphyxiate to death. You had one more house left in you to search. You picked one that had a small bike in the overgrown grass. You moved as fast as you could while heaving. You couldn’t break down the door with the strength you had so you went through a window. You paused momentarily for any movement, hearing a lack of any you started.
Cabinet, drawers, bathrooms, now you stumbled up the stairs. Tears streaming down your face with a sense of defeat. You looked in the master bedroom knocking things over again finding nothing. You slowly moved down the hall to a kids bedroom. Glow in the dark stars on the roof. Tubs of toys filled the walls. Stuff animals filled the bed. You had removed your shirt due to its unwanted friction on your skin. Looking to the pink painted chipped walls, you shakingly come to terms with defeat. Sinking down to the floor resting against the bed frame. You look to walls covered in kids drawings. Gasping for whatever air you could bring in was the only sound in the still house.
You thought of Daryl, not having been together for long but you felt in your heart he was your everything. You didn’t have much in the world but then you had him. He didn’t have much either and you tried to not lessen that anymore with losing you. You failed but you hope he knew you tried. He was a big factor to why you were fighting this so hard. You looked to the end of the bed spotting a backpack. The little girls room you’ve been in must belong to a 1st grader. Maybe you could find a pencil and paper to right a proper goodbye. You gasped air while fiddling with the zipper. You looked for paper and a pen while you thought of what to say. You were at least glad you had kissed him the last you saw him.
Struggling to look in the back you poured the contents out on the floor in front of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes. A zip lock bag with a bottle of red liquid you were all to familiar with. You rip the back open spotting an old epinephrine pen with it. The bottle was small but was filled all the way. You managed to get the cap off despite struggling with the child lock. The disgusting bronze liquid flowed into your mouth. You resisted the urge to cough it up, it slowly trickled its way down your closing throat. You had downed a good bit of the bottle. It felt as if it numb the pain in your throat. A sense of relief flowed over you. You sat there still stunned as you slowly regained some breath. You lean your head back to rest on the bed behind you. You took it in, you felt shame at almost dying so easily but you were ok.
You looked back to the EpiPen you held not feeling the need to use it. It’s intended users name plastered on it, ‘Penelope Thompson, allergen Bees.’ Your skin still burned to the touch but you managed to flop back onto the small bed. Stuff animals falling to the floor. You held still trying to fully regain air in your lungs. Waiting to see if you had stopped the reaction. You laid sprawled out staring at the ceiling. Resisting the urge to scratch everywhere. The growing itch in your scalp caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.
You don’t know how long you laid there before feeling like you could breathe easily. No lump felt like it blocked your throat. You had decided to get up before it got dark, knowing everyone at the prison was worried sick. When you got up right exhaustion hit you. Benadryl main side effect being drowsiness. Considering you had just consumed a large amount of it, it weighed on you. It wouldn’t be safe to travel if you fell asleep at the wheel. You didn’t need just surviving a near death experience and then crashing the car into another one. You were met on your almost dying quota for one night you think. Moving the door closed and shoving a bookcase slightly to it was the best you’d get. As soon as you lay back down it crashed back into you. Struggling to even keep your eyes open you fell asleep despite the itch of your skin.
Your eyes slowly open. You didn’t move an inch or dream in your sleep. Felt like you blinked and it was pitch black outside. You bounced up to remember what had happened. Your hives seemed to be at a minimum and you felt back to normal. Expect the grogginess. You slept like a rock in your bones and muscles protest at your movement. Even though it was dark you decided to make your way back to the prison. A few walkers could be seen in the darkness but getting back to the car you’d be fine. After getting in the driver seat you rubbed at your eyes. You felt like you had way too long of a nap. You had no clock in the car and you sighed leaning back in the seat.
“I wonder how long I slept?”
Daryl POV
Hour after hour went by. Tension was high in the prison. Darkness started to fall over the prison. Daryl sat in a watch tower looking off to the empty road. He chewed his lips til a copper taste slipped into his mouth. A few hours after no return from you felt like the end of the world. You could very well be dead by now. Maybe you had even turned and started walking aimlessly. He wallow in his bed for those first few hours. Deciding recently just stand watch. Waiting and waiting maybe wasn’t the best thing to do. All the terrible things he could think the only thing keeping him company. A few people attempted throughout the night to talk him down tell him to get some rest. Coming up with any excuses why you were not back yet.
When dawn broke everyone except Herschel, Beth and Judith, were grouped in an attempt to locate you. Looking into possible supermarkets or pharmacies you might have tried finding medication. Every empty building with no sight of you felt like a lost hope. While even in the building, they looked for possible Benadryl or an EpiPen. With no luck to even finding the smallest bit of that. The consensus of you being gone was weighing heavier than that you were still around. Likelihood of you surviving seem to crash. They hope that maybe if they went back to the prison, you would’ve found your way back. That also didn’t happen.
Daryl was in a world of anger and pain. Rick didn’t know how much he cared for you, but he did now. It was becoming dusk again as everybody stood in the courtyard. Another search party would be happening in the morning. Many stopping Daryl from doing anything in the dark. Their main point being that maybe he wouldn’t find something if it wasn’t in the daylight. He sulked in his cell. That's how Carol found him. Deep in thought but she spoke to him either way, “Daryl?” He slowly turned his attention to her. She swallowed her nerves and began again, “I’m so sorry… Her death is on me.” He felt anger rising in him. He knew Carol was remorseful but suggesting that you were already dead? That made him grit his teeth, “Not yer fault, shit happens and you didn’t mean to.” She felt relief until his voice grumbled in displeasure, “An she ain’t dead yet so watch it.” His eyes stare daggers into her, causing her to leave in shame.
He rested his eyes knowing he would sleep a few hour and then go back to the watch tower. Leaning into the side you normally took, he relished in the slightest smell of you in the sheets. He had doubts about having a relationship. Due to past experience and a lack of trust he held with people. When he started to care for you he found he was scared to, not wanting to lose you one day. But he couldn’t deny you after a while. You were to tempting and god did you not give him everything he ever wanted in a partner. He tried to stop his racing thoughts due to not wanting to work himself up.
He tried sleeping, more like sat there with his eyes closed but he got a few minutes in between just laying there. Eventually becoming too restless and going to the watch tower. He knew he should try sleeping more. He would need the energy for the next search but, he couldn’t bring himself to rest with you not beside him.
Your POV
You were driving at a moderate pace, not wanting a walker to step in the road and crash into it. However halfway back you felt it staling. When you saw the gas tank was running on empty you knew you would have to walk eventually. But privy to the luck you had with the medication it soon ran out. You saw a bunch of silhouettes farther into the road. Coming straight at you probably due to your headlights. Then the speed you had been maintaining stopped. You pulled the car over to the side as it sputtered to a stop. Locking the doors and turning the car off. Hopefully the herd you saw wasn’t to big and you could wait for it to pass. You moved to try and crawl into the back crashing to the floor.
You sat there trying to remain calm and quiet when the sound of hundreds of feet shuffled pass you. Some ran into the car making you jump. This horde was a big one but at least now it wasn’t on route to the prison. It felt like ages cramped down between the seats. Your stomach growling at you. What you would do to chug some water. You spaced out looking to the window seeing the occasional shadow pass by outside. Thoughts running through your mind. It suddenly felt like many you had slept a few more hours then you thought. You think it was maybe 3 but then you remembered Benadryl made you fall asleep for at least 12. So the question is, ‘Was I asleep a whole day?’
When the shuffling an smell of rotten meat had stopped. The silence is what brought you from thought. You would wait some more not wanting to run into strays or have the horde turn around because it heard you. You at least sat up in the back. Looking forward you could see a few slower walkers making their way with the crowd. Waiting and watching them until they were a fair distance you got out. Softly closing the door you walked the opposite to them back to the prison. You had wished the car had a working clock in it to tell you if it was close to dawn. But a hour into walking the sky changed the ever so slight difference of blue.
You were hungry and thirsty so the longer you walked the more exhausted you felt. You stepped into the trees close to the road. Electing to sit down and take a break. You watch the sunrise. The cold breeze seeming to warm a little. Maybe you should have found a coat before leaving that house. Granted you thought you’d be in the car. Staring out to the orange sky. Some emotions washed over you. Having a moment to stop and think finally put you back into having to think of what almost happened. This sunrise you sat watching you almost missed. Not only that but you thought about Daryl a little more. Your relationship was slow, almost like you both were afraid to miss step. You couldn’t care about any of that now. You sniffled standing back up. Deciding then and there.
You were going to just love him without restriction.
With such determination, you walked again. Only about 8 more miles left until you get there. The bottom of your feet hurt. You had a pinch in your side. It reminds you of all that ground you used to cover after the farm. Mostly it was driving but there were cases where it was back to walking. Like hunting with Daryl or finding gasoline. Stumbling along the sky was now just blue. Morning birds chirping in trees. You had only walked 3 out of the 8 miles so far. Taking notice that the herd must have cleared a good portion of the walkers because you had yet to see one. You sat down right on the road again. What you would do for some pasta right now. Thought of food making your stomach rumble. Sighing and getting back up again you walked a little slower than you first started. You had to keep going.
You look down to your feet as you walk. A hand pressing into the ache of your side. A distance rumble that wasn’t your stomach caught your ear. The closer it came you realize it was someone using the road! You spotted a car in the distance. The green jeep Glenn and Maggie often used. Sighing in relief, the thought of not having to walk another step was a blessing. You put your hands on your hips stopping in place waiting for them to get closer. But what caught your eye was Daryl’s bike behind them. A smile plastered on your face. You started laughing, it was a way to release some of the emotion bubbled into you. You give a small wave to the now closer jeep. You knew the moment they spotted you because the car seemed to jerk in surprise. The car rolled to a stop next to you. Daryl seemingly lost in thought only slowing seeing the jeep stopped.
By the time you saw him look up and lock eyes he didn’t even let his bike stop fully before jumping off and running to you. You were tired and disheveled looking but oddly so did Daryl. When he reached you he crashed into you lifting you off your feet into an embrace. The cold you had unknowingly gotten used to was replaced by Daryl’s warmth. He was breathing at a fast pace while you melted into him. Tears of relief were in your eyes about to fall when Daryl pulled back and kissed you with desperation. Never before have you been kissed in such a way. With so much… love. This was new to you both loving another like this. So you returned the kiss with just as much heart. Pulling back for air you both huffed staring at each other. The look in his eyes shock you. Never seeing him on the verge of tears made you actually break into your own. Sobbing and clinging to him in desperation with words flooded out of your mouth, “I love *hiccup* you- so much!” Your exhausted state delaying the flood of emotions. You were on survival mode and it wasn’t until feeling safe again that everything hit you.
You felt another hand on your back looking over Daryl’s shoulder to see Maggie with tears of her own with a smiling Glenn behind her. The shock and fear replaced by a laugh that unconditionally rolled out of you. Daryl had his head shoved into your neck, you could feel the dampness of his tears on your skin. You both still keeping a tight hold on the other. Glenn was the one to state in disbelief what mostly all of them had thought, “How the hell you manage to be alive right now is beyond me!” It is what made Daryl pull back to check you for injury’s. You watch as his face scans you. You pulled a hand away to grab the bottle and EpiPen you found with a smile. Looking down to the more then half gone bottle you gave a sheepish smile, “Luck or a refusal of death, I’m not to sure.”
A loud growl in your stomach pushed Daryl into gear, “We gotta get her back.” It’s the first words you’ve heard him say. He was obviously still in protector mode and will fall out of it when he knows you’re ok for real. But you couldn’t disagree with going back home, “How long have I been gone?” You were leaning into Daryl’s side, his arm around you while walking to his bike that had fallen over in his rush to see you. He looked down to you sadly moving away with a grunt to lift his bike up, “Almost two days…” He moved sitting on his bike and holding out his hand to help you on. Your eyes were wide with shock moving closer to him, “Well shit. So much for thinking it was about 12 hours.” You lifted yourself up behind him on the bike. You noticed he was confused at your words but that gave him even more reason to get you back and checked by Hershel.
You dozed off on the ride back. Clinging to Daryl you just couldn’t stop your eyes from wanting to close. You were unaware of how truly malnourished and dehydrated you were. Daryl’s hand would slide back and grab your thigh leading you to perk up from being slumped over him. When the prison came into view you sighed in relief leaning your head in between his shoulder blades. It was Carl who pulled open the gate. When Daryl pulled in you could hear Carl screaming your name as he rushed your way. Using Daryl’s shoulders to get off you waited for Carl to crash into you. He hadn’t show this much emotion since his mom died. You hugged him but eventually pulled back, knocking his hat back in place on his head.
A hand to your back was Daryl’s way of trying to pull you inside. Carl saying he needed to stay at the gate for the others. You didn’t realize everyone was out looking for you. Getting out of the bright light of outside made you realize just how bad of a headache you had, a sign of dehydration. First person you see is Herschel reading his Bible. His face immediately filling with a smile at the sight of you, you sheepishly returning it. His fusing over you getting the attention of Beth with Judith in arm to come rushing out of the cell block. More people fusing over you was becoming overwhelming. Your body seemingly running on whatever fumes it has left.
A bowl seemingly appearing in front of you snapping you back from space. You didn’t even realize you spaced out and you started catching up with Hershel speaking, “Yes, but after she eats she should sleep. She needs to eat again in 6 hours. With as many times we’ve struggled with food I’m worried for her internal organs.” You already started eating what was in front of you. It was filled with more meat than you’ve had since the farm! It was definitely hitting a spot but you struggled with eating it all. Apparently them looking for you always got them checking places that still hadn’t been picked through. You stood up and away from the bowl that was still half full. You grabbed the cup of water from the table and turning to Daryl who had a displeased face. You started walking to the cells,
“Come on grumpy I’m going to bed, if I eat anymore I’ll end up throwing it up.”
You could hear him quietly following you. It wasn’t until you rolled onto the bed with a sigh that you looked over at him. You were confused why you hadn’t felt the bed dip but his face had so much to say. The sheet that covered the door was pulled making the room a little darker. He just stood there seeming to not know what to do. “Daryl…” you were pressed up to the wall having your arms open trying to lure him to you. He lay on his side looking at you. He was tired you were sure. Sighing you scoot yourself closer to him. Running a hand up his arms got him to talk, “M’ sorry, just in my head.” He pulled an arm to wrap around your waist. He gulped looking at you with eyes that could stab a dagger through your heart.
His hand moving from your waist to your face and holding it there, “I didn’t know you were my everything.” You can only look at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly open in shock. Looking on to his glassy eyes while they roamed your being. Sleep was calling you yes… but he was basically screaming for you with his eyes. ‘Everything?’ You could only wonder how he felt thinking you were somewhere dead. His fingers move to bring the hair away from your face. Moving your hand to mirror his you looked him dead in the eyes, “I thought I was going to die, the only reason I didn’t was because of you.” His eyebrows furrowed so you continued,
“My last thoughts were of you. I was going to write you a letter and when I empty a school bag near me for something to write on the meds came falling out with it.”
You could feel him take in a big breath to try and steel himself but you inch closer with determination. ”The only reason I tried so hard was to come back to the one thing I had, you.” You give him a quick peck leaning back for him to come hold you closer to him in a tight grip. He mumbled out something while outstretched over you… “I love you so much it burns.” That's all it took to drift you into sleep with a smile.
When it comes to 'picking your poison.' Daryl will always go to choose you.
Feedback welcome and requests open! [Sorry for lack of posts schedule is back to every other day!]
#daryl dixon#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x female reader#daryl x reader#daryl imagines#norman reedus#twd daryl#angst#fluff
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Choso remembers you saying something about it. In fact, you had asked him incredulously, “Cho, you have never touched yourself?”
And you said it so confused and almost sad, like you were genuinely upset for him. “That’s why you’re so pent up all the time,” you added. “It’s not something you should feel bad about.”
The memory crowded his brain when he returned to his apartment one night, slightly angry and plagued by what he doesn’t yet recognize as overstimulation, just thinking maybe his ponytails are too tight and adding to his headache. His muscles were sore as well, which didn’t help.
So he leisurely showers and lays in bed, trying his best to fall asleep and end his emotional torture, but it’s to no avail. He lays there on his back with his eyes closed. Contemplating. He has a hard time going to bed with the whole curse thing anyway.
Thinking back, you implied that the action was some type of release of frustration or stress. Choso understands that his head is constantly wracking about familial stuff, staying alive, his rent; it never truly stops. But what if it could?
The thought is crude, like it should be forbidden to indulge in himself that way. But you said there was nothing to be ashamed of, and above all else, he trusts you the most.
You. It all started with you. You were always helping him out, being his best friend and patiently teaching him things that nobody else could bring themselves to say. You were there for him and he owes you the world.
In fact, sometimes he would ask questions or pretend to be uninformed just so you could explain random, usually unimportant, stuff. He couldn’t understand why, but your puffy lips as you speak and your pretty eyes glistening— on the verge of full laughter at his confusion— makes the air thick around him. He’s only half human, but it’s like he carries the desire equivalent to a full one. He has barely been able to control himself.
In the darkness of his room, under the covers, Choso doesn’t even notice his hand trailing down his abdomen and over the cloth of his loose pants. It was so natural how he began to lazily dig the heart of his palm through the fabric, gently at first.
You had shown him the different pleasures of the world around him, most of which you liked to do. Mall shopping, for example. He thought it only made sense to carry your bags while you hopped from store to store, and in return, he got some say on what you left the store with. You couldn’t care less about the male opinion on how short your skirt was, but Choso was different. You knew it would be unfeigned.
“How’s this one?”
You step out of the dressing room in a pair of high heels that laced up to your calf and twirl in the skin-tight dress. The color fell on your complexion perfectly, it cinched your waist in just right, and covered just enough of what it needed to. The fabric hugged your thighs and the intended sheerness of the dress left just a faint shadow of the red set you were wearing underneath. But there was no point in waiting for his answer; it was all over his face.
He was speechless. He sat with his mouth slightly agape, holding his gaze to you up and down. You clear your throat, finally drawing his eyes up to yours, and he somewhat comes to his senses.
“Y-you look great.” He mutters.
Of course it’s in your nature to tease him, rolling your eyes jokingly: “Just great? God, Cho, I see how much you hate me now.” But you didn’t expect the immediate response after.
“No, no— more than that. There’s not a word for it.”
Now you were speechless, staring at him with the astonishment he had on his face previously.
Choso’s large hand wasn’t as gentle now, driving deep into himself in search for friction. His breathing slightly picked up from the movements since the room was becoming hotter around him, stifling even, so he throws the covers off his wanting body. With a deep sigh and furrowed brows, he tries to relax back into his pillow, welcoming the small hums and the newfound rush of cool air against his open chest.
Every now and then he’d also think about the time you took him swimming. He already knew how as a survival instinct, but that wasn’t the point. You were showing him around. Popsicles, hot summer days, and glowy laughs.
After the both of you sat on your beach chairs while munching on your matching snowcones, you agreed to get in the water if he did. That’s how found yourselves at the steps of the pool, Choso trying his damndest to be respectful when you remove your cover up, but he somehow can’t peel his eyes away no matter how hard he tries. You’re too busy thinking if you should revoke your statement while glancing at your reflection. Unfortunately for you though, you hadn’t thought that he would have no reaction at all to the water temperature and step right in without hesitation.
“You are insane,” you declare, your eyes hopefully showing the fear through your shades. Choso chuckles and stands at his full height in the three feet, and instead of trying to figure out if you were staring at his dripping figure, he glides towards you in the water.
He reaches out for you, still stuck with only your feet in the pool.
“Here, give me your hand.”
Reluctantly, you do. He walks backwards into the water.
In an escape from the cold, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close, linking your ankles behind his hips. He tries his best to keep his breathing steady as you stay hooked to him. “I’m going to sink in, okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah okay,” you breathe.
Everywhere you connected was hot despite the coolness of the water nipping at you, and yet it didn’t make the journey down any easier. His hands hooked under your thighs as comfortably as possible, but the main burn in your heart stemmed from the words. It was truly an endeavor not to think about them out of context because surely he didn’t even notice the accidental innuendo.
Choso held his breath during the slow, controlled descent while you clung onto him. It isn’t until you get to the bottom that the real fight emerges.
“Oh, It’s not that bad!”
And even though he’s squatting, leaving both of you completely surrounded in the pool, when you pull away with a fat smile on your face and the shades pushed up, Choso could barely even think.
His hand finally pushes past the waistband. It wasn’t hard to find his length that was already standing up as far as it was allowed in his pants.
His eyes tighten when he feels the pressure of own his grip, and how relieving it was. Slowly, his hand moves up against the taut skin, only to be hit with a substance he feels blindly at the tip. He kicks his pants off with an easy motion in order to see himself.
He was flushed but too aroused to be embarrassed. Already gathering sweat and heart beating fast, he recognizes he has two options. Stop, or keep going without full knowledge of how to do it. Usually he’d ask you, but he’s smart, and some things he has to figure out on his own. Plus, he’s sure it all comes to the same outcome.
He swipes the substance from the top, and without a second thought, spreads it around so it eases the journey his hand slowly takes up and down his shaft.
When you looked at him that day, you glistened with a happiness he’d never seen before in his arms. Holding onto him even when you no longer needed to. He might as well have been looking at the fucking sun because he would do anything to see you like that again: staring at him like he was the only person in the world, your breasts close to spilling from your bikini top, hair tossing in your face from the wind, and only inches away from where he now recognized he wanted your lips most. His.
He could spot every freckle and dimple in your skin.
But that wasn’t even the best part. Your fingertips rested on his jaw and your palms on his neck, slowly caressing him while you dipped further on top of him underwater. You told him there shouldn’t be anything under his swim shorts. Of course he listened, but now he’s trying to determine if it’s a blessing or a curse. Intentional or not, every time you moved, the touch of your bare skin and the hold he had on where your thighs meet your ass was electrifying and downright addictive. He can still feel it to this day.
Choso’s heart rate was skyrocketing. He lacked some understanding, but he wasn’t stupid. He may not necessarily know what love should feel like, or reciprocated feelings, but he knows what he’s feeling now isn’t to be ignored. If it was, it wouldn’t be so goddamn suffocating.
His free hand brushes the hair over his forehead back at the epiphany. His other one is controlled, sliding up and down his cock continuously. There was so much precum leaking at his sensitivity, making his eyes flutter and his words unstable. At first it was just groans and soft moans falling from his lips. But now, he needs the words for what he’s about to do next.
Somehow he finds his hand hovering atop his bedside table, ripping his phone off the charger and dialing your number.
A few rings later, he hears your faint air conditioning in the background. “Cho?”
Instead of a response, a heavy, elongated sigh sounds on the line. Your voice was so refreshing to hear that it actually startled him. He thought he was ready to talk about whatever his feelings were, or ask about them, but maybe he got intentions of the choice to call you slightly wrong. His thumb slips just under his pink head, flinching his hips and ejecting whimper from his mouth.
He stares into the darkness, not even attempting to hide. “H-hello,” he mumbles.
“Are you okay? It’s pretty late.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good.”
Choso swallows, putting the phone beside his ear. He looks down at what he’s doing. Calves straining, cock throbbing, and muscles tensing. Had he always been this reactive? You both rest in silence, his as an occupied one, but a silence nonetheless before he interrupts it.
“I wanted to—” His grip became a little too hard and a low groan slips into the mic. He was trying to communicate without notifying you of what he’s doing, but you had brought it up so he doubts you would mind if it came to that. “—hear your voice.”
“Well, I’m here now. Hey, are you sure you’re completely fine?”
“I-I… fuck,” Choso curses, which is a rarity in all honesty, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
He hears you shuffle. He assumes you sat up, intrigued. “Oh yeah?”
It’s like you were put on this earth just for him—to guide him, to trouble him, but it’s all a side of the same coin. And he loves every second of it. Your voice was so fulfilling even with its mocking tone, and maybe it’s just the arousal coursing through him, but he recognizes it as what it is. Flirting. With this fact, the world slows, leaving the intensity of the moment and the growing feeling in his lower half. His speech is impaired by his own breathing.
“Yeah,” he replies. Breathless and hot.
Once again, there’s another moment of silence. A squelch sound bounces off his length as he increases speed, still shimmering with wetness in the dark, and he’s thinking maybe you fell asleep. His balls tighten every now and then and he thanks the universe for the signal because when he touches them, his eyes almost roll to the back of his head before closing.
The sound he releases is mostly air. It was frantic and choppy and loud, as well as completely received on your end.
“Where are your hands?”
He processes your voice, blinking his eyes open slowly. “Huh?”
“Where are your hands, Choso.”
He tips his chin down, glancing at the stickiness between his fingers and his dick standing tall, itching for more. It’s weird, he thinks, but he admires his work and how he doesn’t feel dirty or the least bit uncomfortable with it. He watches the clearish-white seep from the peak when his fingers clamp around his base and squeeze; he hums satisfactorily.
“Busy.”
Incredulously, you parrot, “Busy?” A smile inches onto your face and he only knows because he can hear it in your voice. “Are they stroking anything, by any chance?”
On that note, he begins undulating again, tipping his head back to the pillow. It was burning desire, for multiple things. He didn’t know what, but you’re for sure one of them.
He grins softly but cockily, “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Because I’m so ‘pent up’ all the time?” He turns his head to the phone as if it were you lying beside him.
You both laugh in a daze, the feeling surreal. It then goes quiet.
“I’m feeling a little pent up right now, actually,” you coo.
Choso copies, “Oh yeah?” And he understands what you mean, because his cock tightens and warms. His speed enhances once more, sloshing somewhere in the back of the call and making the “h” sounds of his words lengthy.
“Yeah,” you moan on the other line. It was light; lighter than his. But his are the very reason why.
On top of the pleasant surprise of him taking your advice, he called you to experience it, and his voice is deep with fatigue but serene with arousal. It didn’t take a genius to guess what you were doing in response. “How does it feel Choso?”
“Keep talking and I’ll see.”
That instant he twitches, his hips now thrusting up into his fist for some type of release. It was growing with every word you spoke. He bites his lip and keeps his eyes closed to relish in the moment because it is ten times more exhilarating in someone else’s presence. Yours.
“Are you close?” You question. Your breath was more contained than his, but he could hear the movement of the covers.
Another grunt, “Yes.” In fact, he was so close, there isn’t anything else that he’d want. It practically overtook him.
He could barely hear you, or understand you, rather. And if he did, it took him repeating your words over again.
“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?”
It was snappy but his voice gave it away. “I called, didn’t I?”
“I bet you’re imagining it’s my hand, right? Or when you come it’s my face you’re spilling on?”
He curses under his breath, jolting his hips up and gripping his cock harder. Rougher. No, he actually wasn’t imagining that, but now that you brought it to life there’s no going back.
What you said after was unfortunately heard loud and clear.
“Slow down for me.”
And it should have been embarrassing how instantly he took his hand away, because if he didn’t, cum would be painted on his chest by now. He groans strongly and hisses as if in pain at your denial, breaths thick and weighty. “H-Holy shit.”
Choso never got angry at really anything, but here he was, brows low in irritation. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him raise his voice over the calming way he spoke either, but that doesn’t matter now. Had he gone slow he still would have came.
He speaks as confidently as you laying on his back, dry hand flipped on his forehead while his breathing regulates. “Why won’t you let me come?”
You had your own reasons, one of which being you took it as the perfect opportunity to pleasure yourself. “Because I said so.”
Choso opens his eyes to his cock as possibly erect as it could get, bobbing with every time he moved. It was an angry red instead of its usual pink now. “I’m so close,” he placates himself a bit, “…just…let me.”
You don’t respond, just release small whimpers of your own— but he knows you’re still listening. He sighs deeply, “…Please.”
It was so breathless it might as well have been a moan in its own: “What’d you say?”
“What?”
“I didn’t hear you.” You heard him.
“…Please let me come.”
He was shaking, his hand already wandering closer to his dick in pure anticipation you would say yes. Thank God you did after a few quiet seconds that were anything but tranquil— he actually thought that he was about to pop.
It’s swift when he cups his hands and runs from the base to the tip, squeezes there, and uses a few of the fingers to drag over the wet skin of his balls. The sounds he made previously come back tenfold.
His hips jerk and his abdomen follows. His back lifts from the bed, causing him to rise onto an elbow as he strokes himself through his climax. His engorged cock throbs in his hand and he shudders. He shuts his eyes just as milky white cum flies out in spurts around his waist and stomach.
Meanwhile, your own peak was near, and when Choso huffs through his, yours hits like a train. His vision was black and spotty, but he could hear you cry his name somewhere in the distance. This only made it worse. You carry him even farther into his orgasm since he thinks about what they’ll sound like in person. His name rolls off your tongue so beautifully already; when you’re under him it’ll put him on his deathbed.
He blinks his eyes open to the mess that he can’t bring himself to care about in the moment. He flops backward onto his bed sheets while trying to keep his lungs in order.
It seems to be that for you as well because a few much needed-minutes pass.
“Cho?”
He hums back leisurely.
You ask, soft and sweet. “Can I come over?”
“See you in ten,” he sits up.
©️hxltic
#this was longer than intended#smut#jjkaisen#jjk#jjk smut imagine#jjk x you#god i want him so bad#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso kamo#jjk choso#choso my beloved#choso x reader#choso smut#choso x you#choso x female reader#choso jjk#choso jujutsu kaisen#choso kamo jjk#kamo choso#new jjk#choso drabbles#choso imagine#choso jjk imagine
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