#it gets worse with every passing idea

[luna-light-eclipse]

Hhhg ten hours after reading this and I’ve managed to assemble my brain into functional form.

Third times the charm refers to the fact that Wolf makes child number three! Once Rasputin stops denying that he’s basically in some sort of weird reverse adoption situation like Wolf is a cat he let into his house 1 time because he felt bad seeing them all sopping wet and muddy in the rain and then they Never Left. He’s also got like a running list of how not to mess up yet another child (don’t let them so far out of your sight they die and don’t hunt them down then lure them into a trap and kill them, easy stuff.) Poor Siddhartha and Felwinter tho am I right or am I right?

Omg yeah Ana really is just going pspsps at Wolf lmaooo

Banshee the second his brain starts making Clovis related connections : “Hmmm ~N O~”

-

Don’t have Oryx join the parental figure train? See now we gotta do it. You can’t just say things Orb, when will you realise that your words have consequences! The timeline would need to pivot prior to Crota’s death so Oryx doesn’t want to end Wolf from the get go- (add additional thinking sounds here) hmm something something Wolf following the sword logic? Darkness since first revival that they’re struggling to control? Maybe a holdover from Elsie’s previous timelines? Something about maybe some form of rejection from the Vanguard after they’ve dealt with the vex stuff because of the darkness they’ve always had? Ooh cool theme about rejection for things you had no control over being a part of you. Wolf still trying to stop the witness but this time to try and save the hive from their worm situation hmmmmmm,,,

Right so I think it’s doable, would have some interesting fallout with Eris too since she would probably go the route of the dark timeline without Wolf’s intervention.

-

Anyways yeah I totally get you on having your thoughts get stuck on particular subjects (the grave may be cool but my brain will never let go of it’s weird fixation on religious style traveller stuff and having Wolf interact with the Light and Dark differently to any other character.)

Wolf feeling like a good ending is a dream my beloved 😭 like they think ‘this will be good once it’s over but I won’t be here to enjoy it’ please Wolf get some self worth for the love of the Light.

Love you just going insane in the tags about every time you look at the gc.

Yes everything about third times the charm is hilarious to me. Zavala and Saladin are losing their minds together meanwhile snapshot over to Wolf and their napping on top of the cosmodrome Rasputin computer because it’s warm up there and he’s turned the music down because every moment Wolf is asleep is one they’re not terrorising him and his sanity.

Ana continuously seeing Wolf in the distance ‘????????’ Sees the Warmind sigils “Hmmm.” *puts music on* Wolf begins to approach. I just, can’t get it out my head. help me with pls. this entire family unit is full of genius dumbasses. Like. Banshee just squints and Wolf and is like ‘I think this one’s mine??’ And doesn’t know why. Shoves gun at Wolf so he doesn’t have to think about it.

^

The ramblings of someone clearly sane

-

ALSO YES! The ‘what do we do now?’ ‘Guardians make there own fate’ thing trapped me by the neck fr. I just thought It’d be a nice ending to the game and then my AU immediately snatched it. It’s character development bbyy yeahhh! Honestly FS-AU is beginning to flow better as a whole which I’m stocked about actually.

-

Anyways glad to see you alive, again.

and I'm glad to be alive again! That comma feels very mocking tho :(

I'm going to assume Third Time's The Charm is the Rasputin adopting Wolf one? which is absolutely hilarious. Is it referring to the fact we keep giving them different parental figures and have now thrown it at Red who's next?? Oryx??? actually. please don't. please? Is it referring to the fact that there's two other figures trying really hard to sway them away from Red? dont know!

And now putting on music is like making kissy noises at a cat... Also, Banshee shoving a gun at them so he doesn't have to think about it? Thaaat sounds very familiar.

ALSO GOD YEAH. character development!!! maybe i,,, would have more coherent stuff if my brain didn't orbit The Grave. uhm. (everything i think about, post-Destiny, always comes out to feeling like its them dreaming about something better, or joking with someone or even just themself. But mostly dreams.)

[jenny-dreadful]

.

[seaofreverie]

So busy with Sparkstember that I almost forgot that I go back to school on tuesday

[wizardnuke]

there's a ffic in my head. oouuuag. its Cookin

[ourceliumnetwork]

it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such

[mrbonsaibones]

also tilting your face generally downward helps. but only if you are standing upright for some reason. spicy foods help as well along with any sort of anti-swelling medication.

I know this because I get sick so fucking often its awful.

IM GOING TO PUNCH A HOLE IN SOMEONES CAR

[followmybadreligion]

thinking about getting a little too drunk w husband!simon…

he’s already a super possessive guy, but your drunken antics are only making it ten times worse.

sure, coming to the bar was his idea. it was only fair, after such a long week at work, that he got to have a nice dinner on the town and a few beers shortly after. even better that he got to do it with his pretty fucking wife, you know?

yeah, he watched you slip into the tightest, smallest dress you had, curl your hair into pretty little coils, and push and pull at everything else out of place. he saw the too tall black pumps you choose— the one’s he got you for your anniversary that make your legs look model-length long. he even saw the way your black lace bralette played peek-a-boo along your dress’s neckline.

all of it only made him more excited.

getting to show you off on the town? his sweet, sexy little woman all done-up and pretty, hanging off his arm like his little trophy? god, he was practically hard before you two could reach the front door.

the second that liquor hit your system, though, was the second all hell broke loose.

at this point in the night, you’re long past the idea of sitting pretty, eating your food, and posing for pictures. now, you’re feeling good. a little tipsy, or maybe even drunk. all the shyness or docile little feelings from the beginning of the night are gone.

now, you wanna dance. you wanna throw your arms up and sway with the other bar-goers, and why shouldn’t you be able to?

you didn’t mind the way your dress rode up your thighs, giving the wrong people an eyeful of your goods. you hadn’t noticed the men who’d run their hands over you, every so often passing by with their crotch just a little too close to your ass. all you were focused on was the music, how good you felt, and when your next shot was coming.

if only you had paid attention to the damn near menacing stare simon had you under. something that rivaled a madman’s with its intensity.

he’d held back for the first few songs, letting the angel on his shoulder telling him to ease up guide him. sure, he still stood around like an unamused body guard, sending glares to the gawking men and buying your drinks whenever you asked. maybe occasionally he’d get a cute picture or video of you too. that was just what came with the simon o’riley type though.

it wasn’t until you got to the flirty territory, grinding your ass into him with the music or kissing him with a little too much tongue, that he decided to pull the plug.

and god, did you always give him attitude for it.

“i’m not ready to leave, simon,” you’d whine, eyes glossed over and face screwed up in that cute little way you only do when you’re aggravated.

“i want another drink,” but you’re slurring and stumbling already.

“just keep kissing on me, baby,” you protest as he grabs your discarded shoes and purse and starts leading you towards the exit.

he’s sweet with you at first, given how drunk and cute you truly are. sure, you may have triggered his possessiveness early, but you’re batting your eyelashes up at him and clinging onto him for dear life. how could he not talk to you softly? how could he not kiss you back as he tugged your dress back down?

“it’s alright, lovie. let’s get home and i’ll take such good care of you.”

you start trying to fight him though and you’ll see how thin his patience truly is.

doing things out of spite? pulling his hands away from you while he’s trying to guide you down the street? arguing with him through your half-coherent sentences? cursing him under your breath just loud enough that he can hear it?

you’re getting yourself in trouble and you’re too drunk to know it.

he was prepared to let your little outbursts slide. wouldn’t hold it against you and still keep his plans straight for the night.

after all you’d done, he was still gonna get you home, slip off those stockings and undo those zippers. dedicate the rest of the night to making you feel all good like how you’d begging him too.

but you just can’t keep that pretty little mouth shut, can you?

“don’t make it worse for yourself.” he’d warn, grabbing your face from its resting place against his passenger-side window, “you’ve already fucked up enough as is, yeah?”

his voice is gruff and his jaw is set, but his eyes don’t leave yours for a second.

you’ll be making it up to him all night long, and he’s gonna be anything but nice now ;)

[classyrbf]

CLASSMATE GOJO PT 4! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...continuation of the classmate!gojo series which you can find here

INFO...classmate!gojo x fem!reader, choking, spit kink, sex in a (semi) public setting, almost getting caught, groping, name calling, creampie, dumbfication, riding, video recording, oral (m!receiving), fingering, rough sex, squirting, praise, degradation, just pure filth, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

series masterlist

The tension between you and Gojo have been extremely high since that moment in the hallway. Every time you think about it, your head starts pounding in your chest and you can’t help but get wet. He was so demanding and cocky, obsessed with you the way you were with him. Every time you saw him in class and on campus, your eyes always locked and no words were spoken, but it was still like you can read every single one of his thoughts.

You’ve both held off on messaging each other, anticipating the day when he would finally break and just fuck you already. You’ve both been waiting long enough, especially you. For months you’ve been obsessed with him, touching yourself to him, trying to convince yourself that your pretty pink dildo was better than the real thing. But it’s been days and days since you’ve spoken a word, it was getting harder not to just pull him into an empty lecture room and fuck him right there.

You know good and well he’s been teasing you too. Wearing those compression shirts that show off his muscles, or posting shirtless pics of him in the gym on his social media, sweat dripping down the valley of his abs, not to mention the video of him doing push ups with the sound on, the sounds every so slightly reminding you of what he sounds like when he’s jerking off to you, trying his hardest not to cum too quickly. He knows what he’s doing to you, but you can play that game right back.

You pull up to class wearing the shortest skirt possible, showing off your legs, the fabric barely covering your ass. Your shirts are tight and slightly see through, allowing damn near everyone to see what you’re wearing underneath. The most shocking part is the fact you haven’t been dress coded, but after all it is a university, they couldn’t care less. Besides the fact, gojo always steals glances at you, his eye twitching when he sees how much skin you’re showing because if they’re anything like him, they’re thinking about hiking up that sorry excuse of a skirt and fucking you to tears.

Both of you knew just how to drive each other right to brink before breaking and that’s exactly what happened. Gojo snapped, something inside of him switched. He’s rewarded himself for having such restraint, but with each passing moment he can’t the tent that forms in his pants when he thinks about you. It’s perverted, it’s sickening, it’s exciting. That was all Gojo was when it came to you, that’s all he ever felt. And you were just like him if not worse. Messaging him from a secret account because you had such a huge crush, unable to hold back your perverted thoughts and tendencies, sending him nudes just to feel closer to him without actually confessing your true feelings. It makes him smile.

One look at you and no one would expect a girl like you to do such nasty things. It was like something out of a porno, truly. The quiet and shy girl is actually a huge slut! Gojo would bet some good money if he posted that to any sight there’d be flocks of people wanting to watch. God, has gojo been blessed? He asks himself that every time he looks at you, just like he’s doing now. Watching you stand in the empty lecture room after school. You have no idea he’s here, just a few feet behind you.

He slowly opens the door, stepping inside to see you’re still busy doing whatever on your phone. You’re too distracted to hear his footsteps behind you, getting so close he could breathe right on your neck. “Hey, pretty girl,” he speaks. You jump, nearly dropping your phone when you see the man with snow white hair standing before you. “What’re you up to, hm?” He snatches your phone without second thought, an evil little smile on his face when he looks at it.

“Gojo, give it back!” You go to snatch it, but his lanky arms and quick movements just put it out of your reach. “Give it!”

“Is this a recent picture you took? Oh, wow look at this one!” He chuckles, swiping through your photos. He actively scrolling through your nudes, and even though you’ve sent him plenty, it’s different when he’s looking at them while standing inches away. Embarrassing. “And why haven’t you been sending these to me? I could’ve used these, you know?” He hands you your phone back, cornering you between the desk.

“Well, you said you were gonna make me wait,” you trail off, shoving your phone in your bag.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I did say that, didn’t I? Sorry to keep you waiting, baby. But, if you really wanted it,” he leaned closer to your ear, “you could’ve just asked nicely,” he whispered. You breath hitched, a shiver sent down your spine, goosebumps littering your skin. “So, are you gonna ask nicely?” His fingertips trailed over the bare skin of your thighs, just shy of going under your skirt.

You looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes searching his. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact your crush was asking you to ask him to fuck you. Never in a million years did you think you’d end up in this situation, yet here you are with your body pressed against his. You’re certain he could feel your heart beating against your chest right now.

“Come on, don’t make me beg.” He had a small pout on his face, a playful look in his eye. He enjoyed toying with you and you hated the fact that you enjoyed it. Your eyes kept flickering down to his lips, fighting the urge to break and kiss him right now. His fingers only went higher under your skirt, your body frozen in place when you felt him play with the lining of your panties, tugging at the fabric. You slightly jumped at the elastic snapping against your skin.

Underneath this facade, you were completely desperate, you’ve been desperate from the start, but you couldn’t let him have his way. It’s possible he can see right through you, reading every single one of your nasty thoughts, yet you were still open to taking your chances. You cleared your throat, sucking in a deep breath. “I really have to go, yeah? Studying and stuff.” You gripped your bag tighter, finding confidence to break away from his hold. Your shoulder brushed against his. Gojo cocked his head to the side, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips because who did you think you were fooling? With a swift movement, he pulled you back, your bag dropping to the floor when you felt his hand wrap around your throat and his warm lips on yours.

It took you about a millisecond to fold for him, immediately returning the kiss. He pushed you against the table, deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. The makeout was heated and messy, almost like he was impatient, hungry for you. You couldn’t even get a chance to breathe, having to pull away and catch your breath. He stared down at you, breathing heavily. Neither you spoke a word but somehow it felt like you were communicating. Just looking into his eyes, you could read him like an open book. He wasn’t going to wait for you to ask him, no, no, he was planning on fucking you either way, right here right now.

“You’ve been playing with my head for weeks, months even.” He gripped your throat tighter, his other hand ghosting up your thigh and to your panties. His fingers crossed over the cotton underwear, playing with your slit over the fabric. “You wanna get fucked so bad. Putting on this shy, innocent girl persona. Well good job cause you had me fucking fooled.” He pushes your panties to the side, his fingers dipping between your folds. “Oh,” he laughs, “you’re already wet. Thought you were just gonna leave here, go home and fuck yourself to pictures of me? Playing all the videos I sent you? All those voice notes?” He slowly plunged his fingers inside, a low hum emitting from his throat.

Your breath hitched, spreading your legs wider for him without even thinking. Your body was consumed with heat, your pussy throbbing and your mind filled with nothing but the filthiest thoughts that you’ve imagined of him. “I know you do the same too,” you spoke through your whimpers. “You’re just like me.” You smiled, a sick perverted smile. His fingers curled inside of you, slowly pumping them in out and out of your sopping cunt. Gojo stayed silent, narrowing his eyes at you. He hated how right you were, but he loved it as well. “You’re a pervert, Gojo Satoru,” you giggled. He was taken by surprise, feeling your hand rub against his raging bulge while you stared at him. “You wanna fuck me just as much as I wanna fuck you.” You bit down on your bottom lip.

“God, you’re fucking nasty.” With those words, his kisses your lips again, his fingers now moving at a faster pace than before. You moan into the kiss, feeling how his long and slender finger work against your walls, pressing against your g-spot skillfully. Your slick coated his fingers, your pussy squelching, growing wetter and wetter with each passing second. “You know…anyone could walk in right now and see you getting finger fucked. I bet that excites you even more, doesn’t it?” He whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss to your skin, your pussy clenching on his fingers.

“Y-your fingers feel so good—nnggh! Yes! Right there!” You squeal, brows furrowing in pleasure when he repeatedly works that one sweet spot. “Oh, fuck.” Your eyes roll back, your jaw dropping. Your skin tingles, and you feel like you’re high off pleasure just from this simple moment. You can’t imagine what it’s gonna be like when you finally fuck him. Just thinking about makes you want to cum on the spot.

“You got me so fucking hard,” he grunts. “Fuck!” Gojo quickly removed his fingers from your pussy. He literally couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He felt like an wild animal, a primal urge to just pin you down and fuck you stupid. All this pent up tension, all those nights he wished he was fucking you instead of his hand, he finally gets his wish. He was as patient as he could be. “Come on, into the office. I don’t need anyone interrupting.” He practically dragged you into the professors office located on side part of the classroom. Thankfully it was unlocked or else he would have to just take you right there in the lecture room.

He slammed the door shut, locking it within seconds. “Get these fucking clothes off.” He helped you lift your shirt off, tugging your skirt and panties down. While he undressed, you hurriedly took your shoes off, tossing them with the rest of your clothes before helping him as well. Your hands found his belt buckle, fumbling with it before you slipped it off and unbuckled his pants. His cock sprung up as you slowly removed his boxers. It was prettier in person. You were already mesmerized. Thick and long with a pretty pink tip that was dripping precum. Not to mention his heavy balls waiting to be drained. “Come here, baby, let me see you. Get up here.” Gojo helped you up from your knees, grabbing a handful of your ass. “Look at these pretty tits, fuck yes.” His hand groped your tits, squeezing and grabbing at them.

He pressed wet kisses to your throat, his hand roaming all over your body as his kisses moved further and further down. His tongue licked at your skin, stopping when he got to your tits. “Don’t tease, Satoru!” You whined, pushing his head further down, earning a chuckle from him. He mumbled a quick apology before taking your perky nipple in his warm mouth, the feeling of his tongue making you sigh in satisfaction.

His blue eyes kept flickering up to look at you, enjoying the way you whimpered and looked so desperate. Could you blame him for staring? His free hand traveled down to your cunt, feeling how you were now almost dripping, your poor cunt was begging to be stretched me filled. His fingers plunged in, a high pitched moan echoed through the office. His fingers went deep, your jaw falling slack at how he dragged them along your walls, pumping them in and out of you. Your body shudders in his touch, pleasure consuming your mind and body.

Gojo let go of your nipple with a ‘pop’, his lips coated in a thin sheen of saliva, a devilish smile on his face. “Come over here.” He walked you over to the small couch, sitting down on it while you stood in front of him. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He pulled you down for a kiss, messy and heated. His hand came down harsh on your ass, a small laugh erupting from both of you between kisses. Gojo was surprised when you pulled away from him, kissing down his jaw and neck, taking your time with him. Your soft hands, and your manicured nails lightly scratched at his skin, trailed down his muscular abdomen. “Now you’re teasing me, huh?” His head fell back and he could his dick jump each time you got closer.

“Shush.” You hummed, batting your eyelashes at him while you copies his movements and kisses down his chest, your tongue licking a stripe between his abs. His breath hitched, watching you with low eyes, imagining how good your throat would feel around his cock. His chuckled when your hands caressed his thighs, knowing you were giving him a taste of his own medicine. It was working pretty fucking well too because his dick was throbbing so hard it was hurting. Here you were on your knees in front of him, smiling because you’ve imagined and practiced this moment so many times before. His dick sat pretty, pre cum running down his shaft. You wrapped your hand around it, pressing a little kiss to his tip.

“Fuck. You are a tease.” His hips squirmed in the seat below him, his hand gripping the leather. His other hand rested on the back of your head, sticking your tongue out and slapping it on there, earning a low growl from him. “Oh, baby—mmm.” His eyes fluttered shut but soon popped back open when you took him in your mouth, going deeper than he expected. “Ah! Ah! Your mouth feels so good. Look at me while you suck it.” You bobbed your head up and down, while your hand simultaneously jerked his cock, your wrist moving in circular motions. “Yeah, yeah, just like that—shitttt!” He tossed his head back on the couch, his chest moving up and down rapidly with each breath he took.

You lifted your head to take a breath, spitting on his cock, using it to jerk him off. Your head moved lower, taking his balls in your mouth, sucking and licking on them. His hips stuttered at the feeling. He won’t lie, he’s never had his balls sucked before but goddamn was this a good first time to do it. Watching you, he could tell you were enjoying this. You’ve wanted this longer than he has and just that simple thing turns him on. You’re fucking crazy, but he doesn’t care. He needs it. He needs you.

You moved back to his cock again, taking him further down your throat until you gagged. Tears pricked your eyes as you came up for a breath only to go back down and test your limits. You nearly took him all the way, nose almost pressed against his pelvis before having to come back up again. You suck in a breath, saliva tricking down the corners of your mouth. Gojo honestly had no words, he just stared at you in awe. You’re messy, nasty, and everything else he desires. Both of your hands wrapped around his cock now, pumping him, wanting to milk him or every lost drop and see what his pretty face looks like when he cums. “Toru, cum for me, please. I want it,” you begged, kissing his throbbing tip again.

The nickname alone was about to make him bust all over you. “Goddamn, baby. You’re a little fucking slut aren’t you? You want me to cum? Fucking work for it,” he panted, pushing your head back down on his cock. Your throat squeezed around him, his hips bucking up in your mouth. You sucked his dick like your life depended on it and Gojo swore he could feel his soul leaving his body. Your mouth, your hands, your spit, your eyes, your sheer determination, he was so close. “Nnngh, you’re gonna make me cum. Keep going, yes, your throat feels so good,” he moaned, pushing your head down further. “Work for it, baby, fucking work—ah! Fuck! I’m cumming! Ohhh.” You watched his eyes roll back, his hips stuttering and his abs flexing before you felt his hot sticky cum hit the back of your throat.

You swallowed every drop with a smile on your face, lifting your head. His cock was glistening in your spit and you were sure the makeup your had on previously was running down your face, but it was all worth it to see him cum like that. Gojo pulled you into his lap, pulling you in for a kiss, a lazy smile on his face and a fucked out look in his eyes. “You did such a good job, baby,” He said in between kisses. “But don’t think I’m done with you.” He pushed you down on the couch, a small yelp followed by an excited giggle leaving your lips. He got up from the couch, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “Since you like to record yourself so much,” he looked towards you, “why not record something for both me and you to look back on?” He set the phone up on the desk. “Maybe even upload it, yeah? Shy girl is actually a secret slut.” He eyes you down like prey, his hand coming to wrap around your throat.

“Please, I need it. I need you to fuck me.” You blink up at him, spreading your legs for him. Gojo takes his cock, slapping it against your wet and swollen pussy, laughing at how much you react. You must really be needy for it right now. His heavy cock slaps against your neglected clit, running his tip up and down your slit, coating his cock with your slick. “Just put it in! Please! Make me cum, fuck me stupid. I need you.” You can’t take it anymore, your head is spinning and you feel dizzy. And just then, his cock pushes past your folds, and he smiles at the way your eyes light up, like switch had been flipped. “Yessss,” you squeal, eyes squeezing shut when he pushes his cock in further, the stretch felt so good.

Gojo pulled his hips back, allowing you to feel every inch of him sliding out before sliding back in just as slow, your breaths quickening. Your walls hugged him tightly, sucking him back in before he slowly pulled out again. You pouted, hands clinging to his biceps, nails digging in his skin because you couldn’t believe that this slow pace felt so good already. His hand gripped tighter on your throat, his eyes never leaving yours. “Open your mouth,” he whispered under his breath. You did so without question, sticking your tongue out before gojo let his spit drip into your mouth. “Good girl. Good fucking girl—nnngh!” He thrusted into you roughly, your body jolting upward. A small cry fell from your lips, his throbbing dick sitting inside you.

Without warning, Gojo began moving at an alarming pace, his hips snapping into yours, your nails digging into his skin harder, leaving marks. “Oh fuck!” You screamed. “Fuck! Fuck!” You were completely taken aback, his cock pumping in and out of you, fucking you like a wild animal. You cling onto him, trying to take the force of his thrusts without crying out.

“So damn wet,” he grunts, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. He relishes in your warmth and tightness, like it was a trance, pulling him in and never letting go. His hips tilted up just enough to graze against your g-spot, your eyes rolling back as you sat there and took every ruthless inch of his cock. Unintelligible mumbles and whimpers filled his ears, his heavy body pressing against yours in a way that made you feel so full of him. Your eyes were glazed over, completely drunk on his cock without a care in the world.

You’ve never been fucked like this, not even by yourself. The greediness in his thrusts, the filthiness of his words, the feeling of his cock, it was more than you imagined. That pink dildo of yours didn’t compare to this. Not even close. “Toru…I’m so closeeee,” you sobbed, not because you weren’t enjoying but because you were enjoying it too much. How was he already going to make you cum this quick? It messed with your head, it messed with your body. The familiar pressure began building, your lewd moans echoing in the small office. “I’m…I’m cummingggg—fuck! Oh my god!” You cried out, body shivering as your pussy gushed. You juices soaking your thighs and Gojo, an amused look on his face seeing your entire body lose control. He pulled out of you, more squirt dribbling from your drooling cunt.

“That’s it, make that pussy all messy for me. Give me every last drop.” He slapped his cock over your soaked lips, teasing your poor clit. It’s felt like your body was entirely sensitive, every little touch from him was enough to drive you crazy. “Atta fucking girl.” He reached down, rubbing your clit back and forth. With jolting hips, you tried to pull away from him, but he held you down in place. “I can tell you’re already addicted to my cock. You’re drooling for it,” he hummed, lolling his tongue out and licking the drool from the corner of your lips before kissing you, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you up onto his lap, lips still entwined. His hand gripped the plump flesh of your ass, squeezing it harshly and spreading it, the tip of his cock poking at your entrance. You pulled away from him, looking over your shoulder at the camera to see it was still recording. You had completely forgotten about it, lost in your sex hazed mind. A harsh slap on your ass snapped you out of your thoughts, gojo biting down on his plump limp while his eyes scanned your body. You couldn’t take his teasing anymore, leaving you no other choice but to ride his cock. Slowly sinking down on it, swallowing up every inch, you watch as his eyes roll back, his grip on your ass tightening.

A small giggle lets out as you watch him, your hands gripping his broad shoulders while you slowly bounce up and down on it. “Your cock feels so good,” you moan, letting your ass slam all the way down before going back up. “I fucking love it.” Your hips move in a circular motions, Gojo letting out a pleasured sigh, lifting his head and looking down at where you two meet. He watches his cock disappear and reappear like it was some sort of magic trick. “You like how I ride you, Toru?” You smile down at him, caressing his face in your hand.

“Fuck yes, I do.” A broken moan leaves his throat, his brows knitting together when he feels your pussy juices leaking down his shaft and to his balls. You were the best things he’s ever fucking felt. He sucked in a breath of air, shocked when you began moving faster, riding his cock harder, your aggression showing. He smacked your ass again, helping your rock your hips back and forth the way he liked it. “Ride it, baby. It’s yours. It’s fucking yours. Use me—ahh, yes just like that!” His mouth fell open, breathy whimpers were all that were heard.

Plap, plap, plap.

That sound was like heaven to Gojo. He couldn’t help but put on a lazy smile, focusing on how concentrated you were, how good you looked with sweat dripping between the valley of your tits while they were bouncing. “Mmmmph, fuck! Ohhh, I’m gonna cum again!” You cry out, bouncing harder and harder, so greedy to feel that immense amount of pleasure. It was like a drug. “Yes, yes, yes!” You cry out, clinging onto him once more, lifting your body as it shook, squirting all over his cock again, soaking the poor couch beneath you. “Oh my god!” You sob, trembling in his arms.

“Good fucking job, baby. Mmm, take your time.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, holding you in his arms until you stop shaking. Your mind was completely blank, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock again. “Aye, aye, slow down—ah! Shit!” You’re back to riding him like nothing ever happened, slamming your hips down as you chase another orgasm. “Goddamn, you’re a little slut for this dick, huh?” He chuckles, swatting your ass again. Without hesitation, you nod your head. “Squirt all over this dick again and show me just how much you want it.”

Both of you are moaning like bitches in heat, fucking each other like no tomorrow. Neither of you are worried about anything else right now. It’s just you and him in your own little world. “Shh, shh.” Out of nowhere Gojo quickly covers your mouth and stalls your movements. A confused look adorns your face, until you hear footsteps outside in the lecture room. Oh shit. Both of you had a wide eyed, panicked look on your face. Were you that in your head that you didn’t hear the person come in? “Keep going, just go slow, baby. Be quiet.” He silently laughs, pecking your lips.

It was crazy, but you did it anyway. With hips moving on their own, you rode him as slowly as you could, both of you watching the door to the office to make sure no tried to come in. The rustling of papers could be heard outside, an annoyed groan coming from whoever was out there. “Don’t worry, just keep going,” he whispered, running his hands down your waist, allowing to move a tiny bit faster. His tip rubbed up against your g-spot, a tiny moan escaping your lips. “Shhh, shhh, come here.” He slipped his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. “There you go. I know it feels good, baby, but we can’t get caught.”

The noises outside grew quieter until the footsteps grew closer to the office door. You and Gojo completely stopped, hearts beating rapidly against your chest. It felt like seconds turned into minutes before the footsteps began moving away, growing quieter and quieter until the door to the lecture room creaked open and then shut. “Holy shit!” You laughed. “Fuck, we almost got caught.”

“That was terrifying,” he laughed along with you. “I’m surprised they couldn’t smell the sex,” he joked. But you were also surprised too, cause you two have been going at so rough, you were sure the smell travelled beyond the small office. He pulled you in for a kiss, his lips moving against yours when he slipped his tongue into your mouth once more. His cock throbbed inside you, a reminder of what was happening before you two were rudely interrupted. His hips buck into you, catching you off guard. He props you up slightly, angling his cock just right to hit all your sweet spots.

“Ughh, yesss! It’s feels so fucking good!” You groan, baring your teeth, jaw clenching. His cock slips in and out, his balls slapping against your ass, and your pussy squelching along with it. It was evident he was close, his thrusts more sloppy and unplanned, grunting and moaning in your ear. “Shit! Shit! Yes! You’re gonna make me squirttt—ahhh!” You scream, your body convulsing your pussy clenching around his cock while your cover both of your in your juices for a third time. But Gojo doesn’t stop, he holds you down and forces you to take it this time, no matter how much you scream and cry. “It’s too much! Oh my god! It’s still going!” You pant, tears pricking your eyes. It feels so good but hurts at the same time. Your pussy was practically like a water fountain. How was he able to make you squirt so much?

“Take it! Fucking take it! I don’t care if you keep squirting on my cock,” he grunts, pushing every inch of his dick deep into you, his hips snapping at an unbelievable pace. “Oh, oh, I’m gonna cum! Get up!” He moans, still fucking into you to keep the tempo going.

“Cum inside me. Please, it’s what I’ve always wanted.” Just those words alone sent him over the edge, his hips press flush against yours, his head thrown back as throat groans fill your ears. His grip is bruising, his cock throbbing before you feel him spill his cum inside you, hot spurts coating your walls. He completely loses himself, hips stuttering, eyes in the back of his head. A small gasp emits from you, your first time feeling what’s like to be creampied, especially by Gojo Satoru. You lean down, pressing light kisses to his throat, smiling while doing so.

“Ah! Oh my god! I’m fucking lightheaded.” He gulps, lifting his head, trying to catch his breath. He locks onto you, staring at you and taking in every ounce of your beauty. With the smell of sex in the air, and your sweaty bodies pressed into one another, Gojo knows it can’t get any better than this. “Just stay there for a minute. I swear if you move, I might cum again,” he chuckles, tossing his arm over his head, still attempting to ground himself.

You peck his lips, lying on his chest. “Well, we need to leave soon before we actually get caught,” you say, trailing your fingertips over his skin. You look over your shoulder and once again forgot about his phone recording. “Oh, yeah,” you laugh.

“What?” He opens his eyes, looking in the direction you were. “Oh,” he laughs. “Shit, I forgot I did that.” He flashes a smile. “Let me get up.” He helps you off of him, sitting you down on the couch so his cum wouldn’t drip out of you. He reaches for his phone and ends the recording before walking over and grabbing both yours and his clothes off of the floor. “Damn, baby, you made a mess.” He looks at the floor below the couch, see a puddle of your juices.

“Sorry! There’s gotta be something in here to clean it, right?” You laugh, hoping that maybe the professor would have some paper towels or something in his office. He steps over to you, slipping your panties over your ankles first before helping you to your feet. “Thank you.” You kiss his cheek.

He slips on his clothes while you slip on the rest of yours. “I don’t think he has anything in here to clean this up,” he says, looking through the drawers and cabinets. “Fuck it. Janitor will get it.” He shrugs.

“Toru! We can’t just leave that there!” You whine, pulling at his hand.

“It’s not like they’ll know who did. Look, don’t worry about it, okay?” He kisses you, pulling you close to him. “I swear,” he reassures. “Let’s just go back to my place and get cleaned up cause we definitely smell like sweat and sex.”

Both of you walk out of the office, trying to act as normal as possible. The university was still quiet, a straight getaway from this point, both of you running hand in hand out of the lecture room, giggling like two little kids. “I can’t believe we actually did that,” you say, still shocked. “But it was so exciting. Made the sex better.”

“I agree. Wondered what would’ve happened if we did get caught,” he pondered, glancing at you.

“Let’s not go that far.” You playfully push him.

“Just jokes, baby.” He kisses the top of your hand.

taglist:

@sleepykittyenergy @ravenbc @yharnam-prophet @screechingbasementprincess @avaredava @mxrxlxy @lordchula-thagrandrula @akiyhara @palestrawberrycollection @bijuu-naginata @jeansblit @jabulile @aemyuo @springismss @fmlalexis @gradmacoco @phob1cc @kousweet @saoirses-things @ineedtofeedmycat @voidofryomen @bbyrugou @suguru-nugget @monkeyjjk @zxnxy @loserrrluvvverrr

[navydoves]

Mermaid!Rafayel and his strange habits while in heat.

❥ He has a lot of cycles… all of which you have to suffer through.

✎ᝰ a/n. alright, rafayel is our starter for this sister series! i hope people enjoy this series as much as they did the “affectionate habits” one. if you want to be tagged in the next updates for this series, pls lmk i will be happy to. the other lis are:

- bunny xavier, cat zayne, dragon sylus, and cyborg/puppy caleb (i have to choose for caleb)

enjoy!

affectionate habits ver.

࣪𖤐

❥ he hisses! no more chirps or chitters, rafayel cannot stop hissing at everything around him. it’s not even just other men or women, it’s also like… coral reefs and amoebas. the hissing is rather loud and a bit scary, but he never does it to you. no, rafayel’s hisses are a way to ward off others in order to protect you. even if those “others” are passing crabs.

the first time rafayel started doing this you thought he was mad at you and this was his way of expressing it. you would recoil at the sound and then try and comfort him so you could figure out what you did wrong. but as soon as rafayel notices you’re upset, he immediately brings you into an embrace and reassures you that it’s not you. it’s the seaweed next to you, babe.

although when it comes to actual people, rafayel will get even louder in his hisses. he genuinely hates the idea of others being with you when he needs the most attention now. he thinks everyone’s out to get a piece of you and his anger only tells you he would never hesitate to hurt or kill those who get too close.

❥ he pins you constantly. it’s no secret rafayel is concerningly strong, but his muscle mass and strength become more prominent during his heat. by no joke, he will pin you with an index finger and leave you helpless writhing. but that’s precisely why he likes doing it. he really enjoys seeing you submissive and struggling underneath him, even if he’s not gonna do anything.

but most of the time… he is gonna do something. the whole point of his pinning is so he can keep you still as he going ramming into you from every position. his thrusts are deep and strong, so you need to be kept still or else you’re gonna go flying out the sea. he’s rough when he’s in heat and he’s practically training you to take his force because… well who else is gonna help him? only you can, no matter how much smaller and weaker you are.

❥ he speaks in lemurian. about half of the time rafayel spends in his heat he spends speaking to you in tongues. his heat is so instinctual that he can’t help be speak his native tongue even if you can’t understand him. he’s pawing at you, growling and begging right up in your ear until the entire tone of his voice changes. suddenly you’re hearing words you can’t make out in low pitches that make you shudder.

knowing he needs you is hot enough. but not knowing what he’s gonna do to you is even hotter. all the dirty talk he’s probably saying in your ear as he bend you over a rock and presses his 12 foot form against you gets you going. overtime you’ve learned a few words here and there… kind of. you know the words he says when he’s satisfied and or about to come, but you don’t actually know what they mean. you know the words he uses when he’s threatens you (not actually, just sexually) to come help him.

he’ll switch back and forth between his two languages unconsciously, especially in the heat of the moment. but if you’re being honest… you kinda want him to swoon you in lemurian all the time.

❥ he cries a lot. i think it’s well known that rafayel can have major mood swings sometimes, and his heat makes this a lot worse. while he is rough and claiming a good decent amount of the time, he’s also super emotional when you’re not around. he’ll curl into seaweed beds or alcoves to sob and whimper because he doesn’t have his darling with him. he’ll especially throw a fit if his heat becomes painful and there’s no outlet for him to use.

it’s a very sad sight to see. pearls come floating out of his eyes because he feels so lonely. his biology is telling him to give his body to his beloved, but if she’s not here or can’t, then it physically pains him. he’s physically bonded with you and can’t even think about using anything or anyone else to help him with his heat. the best he can do is stimulate his two cocks in private to best simulate what you might feel like, but it’s never ever enough.

❥ his cocks are always out. usually there’s a slit on the forefront of his tail where they retract and hide away until necessary but during his heat… well they’re just kinda always there. and it’s not because rafayel can’t put them away, it’s just that he doesn’t want to. at first you though maybe it was just a biology thing. cocks always out? right makes sense, he needs them constantly. but you learned from him that no… he just likes having them out with you around.

it’s for convenience sake. any sudden surge of horny he gets, no time is wasted getting those things out. he’ll immediately have you on your back with his floater friends ready to penetrate. they’re never soft either… they’re always just kinda hard and slick. while the sight is maybe a little bit amusing, it’s also impractical. you can’t sleep next to him without having to make room for his long schlongs. you can’t graze against them accidentally unless you want to be spurted with strange lemurian liquid. you can’t look at them for too long without rafayel getting incredibly horny and wanting to fuck you.

at some point you asked him why he doesn’t just put them away until they’re needed, but he insists on having you admire impressive his assets.

❥ he’s really obsessed with baby-talk. give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s in heat. while regular, normal rafayel isn’t too keen on the idea of babies, lemurian, in heat rafayel loves them. he massages your tummy and imagines his little seedlings in there. he doesn’t let himself come anywhere else but inside you in hopes of getting you pregnant. he’s constantly playing with your breasts in hopes that you’ll magically start milking.

the biology won’t allow it and rafayel knows that, but his brain is too muddled with ideas of you becoming a mother to his children. while he is no doubt aggressive in his heat, the heat itself is a biological purpose used for only mating. and lemurians mate for life. there’s no one else. so be honored <3

࣪𖤐

[beetleskeleton]

augh my back

but i have a vent thing so here ig/lh

(if the wording doesn't make sense, it's basically a hopeful plea that said friend is there, with the provided context that I’ve already lost a family member and a multitude of furry and feathery friends, it would only stand as a somewhat reasonable hope that he is with them too.)

[yougavememyopia]

Here's the result from the poll! Sorry, it took long. I lost my progress and had to write it over T-T. Longer than usual to make it up to my lovely peeps. Anyway, here is the confident, popular yandere who becomes a desperate pathetic mess for you.

Popular yandere, who was never alone. Circled with adored gazes and loud chatters, people gathered around him like he was some kind of celebrity. His overstretched smile full of fake glee. Crinkled eyes masking a hollow emptiness. No one would care enough to truly look at him, all too busy talking nineteen to the dozen.

It was so easy to predict them. The mundane topics boring him to death. Nothing exciting ever happened. Gritting his teeth, he endured their ramblings. Endured their dullness. Their stupid problems.

Taps of his pencil slapped the wooden desk rapidly. A practiced, charming grin when he greeted you— his new project partner. The invisible loser at the background whose face he rather recognized.

"Hey there, guess we're partners, huh? What a total unplanned coincidence! Uhh, anyway, you can pick the topic. Nono, please, go ahead. I'll just follow your lead."

His crew strolled passed you in the fields. Always sinked down on the grass with your back against the concrete wall. Blue light reflected on your face, nose buried deep in your phone.

Your lack of a life amused him. Fascinated at how isolated you were, and yet you were beaming. Giggling at your screen while your posture got worse. Not seeming a bit sad about being alone or wasting your time playing on a machine.

Simple enquiring quickly led to obsessive stalking. Justified by stating how he was merely observing you. Interested in your name and your hobbies, what you ate for the day, where you walked when you had no school, how the interior of your home looked like. A bit of curiosity, that was all!

The school project was the key to getting closer to you. Instant refusal to every person coming his way, sweet talking them into grouping together by pointing out their strengths. No objections were made. His judgment very well-trusted. Now you had the idolized annoyance as your group member, exactly like he planned.

FINALLY, he could talk to the nobody persistently invading his mind. The endless thoughts of you giving him heartache. He couldn't get his beauty sleep at night, and when he did, the dreams were all about you. He wasn't normally the type to approach people, not like he had the time to. Every waking moment of his day was stuffed with zealous yet shallow admirers. Everyone loved him. Gawking at his good looks, adoring his style, praising his intelligence.

You didn't even bat an eye.

He was nonexistent to you. Eyes boring into indifference. Frustrated, at how you treated him like he was someone insignificant. People already began to question his strange, out of the blue behaviour. How he stared at the wall without blinking. You were getting the best of him— he couldn't keep his mask on, uncontrollably snapping at people, apologizing as if he was having a bad day. Every day was a bad day. A torturous wait for you to just look his way.

If you didn't notice him anytime soon, he was going to do something crazy.

Thanks to the project, you finally spoke to him. Irritated, sure. But you saw him, a dopey grin on his face when you repeated back his name. Even getting away with patting your shoulder. He greeted you in the hallways the day after, approached you during lunch the next week, and then started to text you like crazy the following month. No idea how clingy he was acting until you pointed it out. Falling more in love with your weirdness and hidden personality.

You acted uncertain towards him. Hesitant that this was a prank. Afraid that you'd become a laughing stock if this progressed any further. So you built a metaphorical wall between you.

Questions after questions overwhelmingly flooded his brain. Your behaviour much different than the way he was used to being treated. Sarcastic remarks and harsh dismissals hurt his poor, sad heart.

He started to crave even the slightest approval from those around him— what did they think of his carefully picked outfit? Or his light makeup and shiny hair? He needed you to drool over him like the rest of the school did, yet you still didn't trust him. Accusing him of being fake, when all he wanted was to befriend you.

"B-but I swear, I genuinely want to be your friend. Please, listen. I can be myself around you. I don't have to be perfect, y'know? I thought you'd understand..."

As you grew more doubtful of his intentions, he became more hopeless. Desperate to change your mind while fighting the insecurity that loomed over him.

You pushed him to completely give in to the urge to follow you home and watch over you from a distance. He'd ask his many connections to keep an idea on you when he couldn't, but since their questions and teasing and judgement would get on his nerves, he settled for a tracking device instead. The digital dot always beeping in the same, familiar spots on the map.

His mind jumbled into a chaotic mess. Your dislike for him beyond his comprehension. All he ever did was be nice, so why did you not give him the time of day? Gifts nor compliments, nothing was good enough for you. He had never did anything like this before. Chase after someone. Love, actually love someone.

For your attention, he was willing to do whatever.He longed to be useful to you. Be at your beck and call at any time like a loyal dog. Everything from your terrible posture to your poor diet to your sleep schedule, he could take care of it. He could take care of you.

In the end, he had no patience, he couldn't stand the wait— he had to ask you out. A spontaneous minute that he wished he could take back. Stutters left his lips while he tried to make the date sound super romantic. Roses, candle lit dinner, moonlight. A perfected plan delivered with anxious jitter. Red face burning hotter than glowing coals and big, round eyes awaited the response.

"Eh... no thanks."

His eyes twitched. You were a loser! A common known label that he hated to use. But how could you turn down the first guy who pursued you? Choosing fictional anime crushes over a live flawless boy pleading for a date. How long were you going to stay in your lonely shell as a kissless virgin?

His determination didn't waver. He was willing to do anything to win you over. Countless attempts turned down due to excuses. Weeks after weeks of him chasing after you. You were driving him insane. Like you were doing this on purpose. "No?!? W-Wha... Why not? You don't want to go outside, you don't want to come to my place, why... Why can't I come to yours? I-I don't care if it's messy or if it s-smells. I actually love it. Um, I just need a chance, please. I need to prove to you that my love is real."

How did he end up being the one begging at your feet? Fingers clenching around your calves, while he looked up with a shameful blush on his face. Embarrassing himself in front of everyone he knew. Their gasps and murmurs ringing through his ears. Humiliation turning his body weak. Hot unwanted tears flooding his vision. He didn't care— he couldn't take the rejection anymore.

"Please believe me, please. It hurts so bad. Ah, I can't breathe. I love you so much. Pleasepleaseplease don't push me away. Don't cast me aside. I want to be with you. I want to be with you..."

He could barely make out your face with the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His forehead rested on your knee, his head down as if waiting a death sentence. It was getting more awkward the longer he stayed on his knees. Yet he stayed glued to the harsh, cold floor. He'd never felt emotions to this level of intensity before you came. The hurt tightening his chest. A vice grip clamping down to crush his lungs.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you sighed. Feeling bad about the dishevelled flawed mess he turned into. Sweat worked up on your skin from the many eyes staring at the scene.

"You won't stop until I say yes, huh? I guess you proved you were telling the truth. So, fine. Let's get going now... You brought quite the audience here."

"..." His head remained stuck against your knees. Hands shaking against your legs while he exhaled. Not budging at all. The hushed whispers exchanged in the background making your blood boil. "What are you guys staring at? Scram! Go away! Leave him alone."

And they slowly faded one by one. You ran a hand through the soft, silky hair of the needy boy. More attentive to the mess on the floor to care about your surroundings anymore. Sitting on the floor beside him, you lazily wrapped his arms around your neck. A finger pressing his chin up so you could take a good look at him. He sniffed. Eyes all puffy and red. A deprived beg escaping his glossy lips.

"Please... I—"

You cut him off with a small smile. "You can hug me until you're satisfied. I'll be here."

Arms tangled tighter around you. Head tilted in, and you realized what this meant. A hint of anxiety bursted butterflies your stomach. But you went for it. Suppressing the flinch and moving in. Eyes half-lidded when velvety flesh met. Low hum buzzing from him. He pulled you closer and closer. Lips parted while you snaked your tongue into his mouth. A loud moan met your eardrums. Your little theory of him wanting you to take charge confirmed correct.

He melted like butter despite how you barely knew what you were doing. Uneven movements and unsure licks were just met with pathetic whimpers. Each stroke of saliva making him hot and dizzy. You had a way of making him unbelievably sensitive. No clue to why he felt like this was his first real kiss too. Never understanding the fuss about this pleasant feeling until now.

He pulled back for breathe much too soon, and panted against your face. "I'm so glad we found each other, darling. C-can I call you that? Since I'm your b-boyfriend now... Right?"

You didn't answer. He didn't give you a chance to. Another peck was placed on your lips. Desperate tongue reaching to wet your lips while you cupped his face. Hands grabbing your wrists to ensure you keep them there. Determination ran through him; He was going to plead and plead until you finally gave in.

[tinystarbites]

accidents | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops [5.5k]

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst mainly Spencer doubting himself aww :(, Spencer is PINING for you hard (haha get it), nudes, Spencer loves you so much, pls someone give him a hug, m!masturbation, talk about sex, proofread but prolly not perfect lol, like you aren't probably ready for the amount of longing in this, *slaps Spencer* this bad boy can fit so much pining and yearning

read pt.II here

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Spencer swears it was an accident.

You were all away on a case, somewhere in Florida. And of course, something like that can only happen in Florida, because as much as he dislikes connecting random events with random locations, non-sequitur fallacy and all that, he cannot not say that many of his most embarrassing moments aren’t attributable to the south-eastern state. (He will not elaborate on these moments, he very much likes to keep most of his dignity still intact, thank you very much.)

But his dignity isn’t really the only thing that had been shattered to pieces by… by the accident. Far from it really and it- well, it- God, this really won’t end well for him, will it? He’s well and truly, as Emily likes to say, fucked.

It happened on the fourth day he and the team were cooped up in a small, dingy police station, chasing down an unsub that liked to paint intricate body art on the victim’s corpses as part of his MO. Aside from, y’know, slitting their throats with what seemed to be an old, rusty saw. The paradoxical duality of these two aspects, of the interplay of carefulness and diligence put into the painting process and the absolute careless way the unsub ends his victims was fascinating really – but not as much as it is disturbing, still.

Thus, this case is a very photography-heavy one. Most of the cases they solve involve photographs of some kinds of course, but Spencer has never sat in front of quite as many pictures of art and gore in his life before. It was strange, to say the least, even to him. Strange and annoying, to be honest.

Because Spencer isn’t exactly fond of all things that come with some electrical inner life, i.e. smartphones, his old brick of a phone isn’t exactly helpful for this case. He still feels the need to roll his eyes at Garcia after she, for the umpteenth time, called him an old grandpa and his phone a potato trying to pass as a phone. And failing miserably, especially when looking at the pictures it takes and their quality. Well, Penelope would say “pictures”, because she would also say that a resolution of beneath 60 PPI should be considered a war crime against modern technology, but Spencer doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know what that even means, so. Jokes on her.

Well, actually, the joke is on him. And yes, he knows, the joke is almost always on him, he knows his pipe-cleaner physique and too big eyes and long hair and everything about him really, makes him the perfect target for the occasional bullying he gets still as an adult, but he’s used to that. It’s normal, part of his everyday life. He can deal with that (more or less).

What he so brilliantly cannot deal with however, is having you around him almost 24/7. Because Hotch had had the amazing idea of fixing you to his hip as his personal photographer to circumvent his technological potato-problem. Uh- not that you, that you take pictures of him, why would you ever do that, but more like, taking pictures for him. Of their victims. And the body art.

Spencer was actually waiting for your protest, because there seems to be nothing worse for you than to stay inside the office when you could be out there, on the fields, in midst of all the action. Where Spencer usually isn’t. But that’s fine of course. Completely, absolutely fine. Spencer doesn’t look up every time the door to the tiny room he’s set up his camp in opens to see if it’s you bringing him another coffee just the way he likes, if it’s your smile that will make him feel more energized than any overly sweet coffee ever could. If it’s your voice and smell and aura (Penelope is definitely getting into his head) that for the short while you are there, makes everything seem so much more manageable.

It’s an energy burst unlike any other and Spencer is aware of what that means, so aware his body burns with it sometimes… Often. Okay, fine, most of the time. He just prefers to ignore it and enjoy the precarious friendship he built with you for what it is because he just likes to have you around so very much and – this was so not the point he wanted to make. He’s hopeless, when it comes to you, and it really is kind of embarrassing.

So, this is why the joke is so entirely on him that it’s not even a joke anymore. It’s basically bullying, he feels bullied. Because you actually had beamed the prettiest smile he’s ever seen at him, said ‘Oh finally, I can unpack all the dark hidden talents from within me’ which was so cryptic but so you and then you also winked at him. And well, Spencer has to lie if he were to say that he was being totally normal about this. That you didn’t just upheave his insides like an earthquake of magnitude eight with a single wink. Oh, he’s in so much trouble.

The first two days the two of you work side by side proceed without any unforeseen occurrences. And Spencer is so glad about that he could cry. From the moment you had joined the team two years ago, from the moment he met you, it was an undeniable fact that you were nice. Not only that, but truly, selflessly kind in a way that has left him all too choked up to even speak on multiple occasions now. The team is nice to Spencer, of course they are, they’re his family. But nothing in the entire world could have adequately prepared him to the spring of kindness you so freely distribute to anyone willing to receive it. And god, Spencer is willing. Is it every time you listen to him ramble on and on, unable to really hold his tongue despite the embarrassment clouding his cheeks darker. Is it every time you ask him about the book he’s reading, every time you ask him how his mother is doing and just- all these tiny things that add up and completely smush his brain into a fuzzy mess of warmth that leaks down his body.

He literally could spend every minute of every day just sitting next to you and soak up your presence and he would be the happiest person alive. That’s why he cherishes your friendship to him so strongly, and that’s why it’s the worst thing that Spencer is, well, himself.

He knows that you would probably be too nice to outright state that something he does unsettles you. Changes the way you think about him. Still. There is the worry. Buried so deep in his mind it’s as if he was born with it. And that’s why he’s so relieved that he is keeping the worst of the ‘Reid effect’ at bay while working with you on this twisted painter case.

It all goes well, until it doesn’t. Of course. Good things never seem to last for Spencer.

It’s already later in the afternoon on the fourth day you are working the case, no end in sight, unfortunately. Spencer is bend over the table, hands entwined in front of his mouth as he’s staring down the printed pictures of the unsub’s latest victim from three days ago. The brushstrokes seem remarkably stable, the colours uncannily vibrant. Spencer does not know much about art, but he does recognise talent when he sees it. And this unsub seems to have it in abundance. It’s almost a shame he’s a deranged killer. But oh well.

He jumps in his seat when the door to his room abruptly bangs open and a dishevelled looking you is bustling into the room.

Your expression turns apologetic. “Oh Spencer, shit, sorry. I didn’t wanna startle you, but they just found another victim.”

And oh. Spencer feels his heart sink in his chest. Guilt tugging it further down into the abyss. Why wasn’t he faster with figuring out these paintings?

“Really? Where?”

You immediately launch into a rapid-fire list of details, all in the wrong order because you do tend to be a bit all over the place. Spencer doesn’t mind. Gives him a bit more of a challenge to order the information in his brain the way it works for him. You two work surprisingly well in that regard.

While talking, you round the desk that almost takes up all the little space available in the room. You sit in the chair next to him, so close he can feel the stressed warmth radiating from you and it takes a very good portion of his brain’s capacity to stop his hand from reaching out. Or do something else even stupider. More stupid? Oh hell. It’s a wonder he can talk in complete sentences with you.

He watches you pull out your phone, fingers typing in the passcode he guessed right after two weeks of knowing you. The indignant expression on your face had been adorable. That’s why he still guesses your new passwords weekly, just to mess with you a little bit. Because he’s apparently insane like that.

“Here”, you turn the display of your phone towards him, “Precinct’s out of ink. Do you mind looking at the pictures on my phone until I come back from the store?”

This is where Spencer should have said no. Declined politely, smile on his face. Tell you that sorry, I don’t really get the same detail on screen like on a printed version. Should’ve emigrated to Tristan da Cunha, change his name to Ferdinand. Whatever. Anything, except say, “Oh, of course. That’s no trouble.”

You smile that breathtaking smile of yours, fingers touching his slightly while giving him your phone. Spencer sucks his lower lip between his teeth to keep himself from making any kind of noise at the tingly feeling skittering down his back.

He can’t not smile back at you. It’s one of his many weaknesses. Jello, trying to out-solve himself every day with New York Times’ new crossword puzzles, dairy. Halloween themed socks. Old obscure movies no one has ever heard of. Reading the most difficult books in twenty minutes. You.

Once you left, Spencer starts diligently going through the photographs of their latest victim. Not yet identified white male. Average height, average weight. Short-buzzed sandy brown hair. Striking blue eyes that seem to stare at him accusingly even after death.

He works through approximately forty pictures taken off the intricate and detailed body art. This time, the unsub left many smaller paintings woven in a bigger, overall painting. There’s still one that Spencer hasn’t seen a close up of, that’s kind of hidden behind the victim’s ears. Maybe you saved it to a different folder. He clicks around your gallery for some time, opening and closing folders full of holiday pictures. Pictures of you, smiling, at the beach. A folder full of memes that he doesn’t get but is familiar with because you keep sending them to him anyways. Spencer is aware that he probably shouldn’t have just- perused your gallery like that. But he was in case-mode. Hyper-focused on finding the next clue, on detangling the next hint that would bring them further. That would finally be the key to end this case and bring justice to all the victims.

He isn’t really thinking, when he clicks on a folder titled ‘xxx lol’. Thinks it’s another one full of memes because of the abbreviation, but maybe you accidentally saved pictures of the case in there, wouldn’t be too out of character for you and-

Spencer sucks in a breath.

Drops your phone almost as an afterthought. The noise of it clattering to the table makes him flinch.

It lands display down. Small mercies and all that.

And Spencer is- he is-

… That was not-

Not -

There’s a weird buzzy feeling in his limbs, his chest and head. Like his blood turned into a swarm of bees. He feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice over his head and like he’s on fire simultaneously.

Okay. Okay.

That was not- pictures of the case.

Definitely not.

Oh Jesus Christ.

Spencer was definitely not supposed to see. That. Not supposed to see you- like that. Ever.

His heart is totally beating itself into a frenzy. There are at least two litres of blood rushing to his head. The other four are gathering somewhere down down down and oh. Oh shit.

Spencer is actually fucked. More than that. He wants to get fucked and that’s. Just. Even worse.

He wants to scream.

He ends up biting his knuckles and letting out a frustrated noise against his fingers.

Did he really.

Did he really just see your nudes?

(And yes, he knows that word. Penelope is a bad influence on him.)

His head is kind of a- a mess. More than usual when you are around. And… what. What does he do now? He can’t just- can’t just leave your phone like that. You’d obviously see what he was looking at and that’s just- unacceptable.

But the other option appears just as preposterous. Because, because, he’d have to look at your phone again. At you, like that, again. To get out of ‘xxx lol’. Damn you. Why did you have to be so unserious and name your, uhm, very personal folder like that? And no password-block?

Spencer feels a different kind of warmth enveloping him because it’s just- so you, silly and funny and kind of unbelievable and Spencer is so deeply in love with you that he feels like he’s going crazy with it. Of course, you’d be like that about stuff like that as well. Spencer would give everything to just once experience what it’d feel like to kiss you. To feel your lips twisted in a silly smile against his, flicking a finger at his ear because you would. Do that. When kissing someone. And okay. Okay. Spencer needs to get his shit together, like, yesterday.

You could come back any second now, actually and fuck. He needs to close the gallery app on your phone, asap.

His hands are trembling as they retrieve your phone from the table.

He allows himself a deep breath. And then. With eyes squeezed almost close, he taps the return arrow. Well, tries to. He thinks he managed to escape your nudes-folder without any hiccups but well.

Spencer is freaking inept with technology.

So. He finds himself looking at another picture of you and god, it actually might kill him.

It’s inappropriate. So so so so inappropriate. You would kill him dead if you ever knew Spencer was ogling your pictures like that. Like a perverted stalker.

But. But.

There shouldn’t even be a ‘but’.

But.

You’re just. You’re just- You’re incredible. Not even in a sexual way, just-

You’re so beautiful it hurts.

And call Spencer selfish, a pervert, whatever. Because he knows, okay? But he also knows that he’d never, ever get to see you like that. And it hurts in a different way now, because Spencer just wants. Wants you so much. You and you, just you.

But…he’d never get to have you. Which is fine, of course. Having you as a friend is actually one of the best things that ever happened to him, and he’d never do anything to endanger that-

…Well. He’s not perfect. So, sue him, for only once, giving into his deepest darkest desires. He’s only human. And pathetically in love with you. And attracted to you. Oh, he wants to be with you so badly. Wants to- wants to get kissed and held by you. Wants to make love with you, which just. Sounds so dumb and cliche. But maybe he just is that for you.

Still. He shouldn’t think how absolutely breathtaking you look, sprawled across the white linen of presumably your bed. He knew you worked out regularly, but. Spencer feels hot all over when he thinks how easily you could just. Manhandle him around. To wherever you wanted him. And this is something he apparently likes. (He consciously stores that information away for later. Later.)

He shouldn’t think how you would tease him, how you would make him beg for you before he’d even taken off his clothes. He would. He would beg for you, go on his knees. Everything, everything.

He shouldn’t think how warm and safe you’d make him feel, even after knowing he’s inexperienced in everything. You’d take his face in your hands, smile at him so beautifully he’d cry. Tell that ugly internalized shame to go ‘fuck off to Jupiter’.

Oh, he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. He shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

But there’s always so much he shouldn’t do. Friends shouldn’t think of other friends like that. Friends don’t imagine how it would feel to be taken apart and put together again by their friend. Friends shouldn’t want to touch, touch, touch-

Maybe, for once, he just. Has enough of that. Maybe, he could just. Indulge. For a minute. To know what it’d be like. Just. A little.

To know what it’d be like if this picture was meant for him. What it’d be like- Be like to see you. And for you to see him. Like that. What it’d feel like to crawl into your lap, bury his face in your neck. Set his teeth on the gentle skin there and hear you gasp for him. How you’d bury your hands in his hair, and he’d make the most miserable noises until you pulled and-

Something in the corner of his eyes catches his attention and- shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

That’s you. Walking towards the door.

His hands are shaking so badly he has difficulties navigating your phone. But thankfully, this time, he manages to leave ‘xxx lol’ and find his way back to the evidence folder.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Did he actually- He actually-

The door springs open. Spencer startles kind of violently.

(Oh god.)

You have a big grin on your face. Some magenta ink smutched across your left cheek. And Spencer knows what you look like without-

“Heya, Spence, you won’t believe what just happened-“

(Oh god.)

“Uh… you okay there?”

His face feels like it’s on fire. His heartbeat is spiking and, well. He’s never been quite this turned on his entire life. He feels himself hard and aching against his trousers and Spencer wants you to push him down on the table and-

Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-

He needs to- leave. Right now.

“Fine”, he squeaks, voice all over the place and he cringes, “Just-“

He wags his hands around in a very confusing, general manner. Grabs some photographs.

“I need to- Need to. Bathroom”, is all he somehow manages, photographs surely placed in front of his, ahhhh, problem.

You look at him as if he lost his mind. He probably has.  “Oh-kay? Then… go?”

Spencer goes.

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

Spencer can’t stop thinking about those pictures.

He’d known it would come to this. Him, lying wide awake on the uncomfortable hotel bed.

Having an eidetic memory has never felt more like a curse to him as now.

He buries his head further into the pillow. Fingers digging into it. Pulling his legs closer to him and, ah. That. Probably wasn’t the greatest idea of his.

He’s still- turned on. Uncomfortably so.But just thinking of taking care of that. Well. He’s 100% sure that that’s not the way to go about forgetting these pictures.

Also, it’s bad enough already that he even saw them. It would be so much creepier to jerk himself off to them. To you. His best friend. But- ugh.

It’s always kind of uncomfy for him to be away on a case. He prefers his own four walls over anything else, kind of, except maybe the university library. And now, being sexually frustrated away on a case that requires even more focus than other cases do?

Oh, Spencer is so fucked.

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

You notice that something is off with him. It really would have been a miracle if not, because then Spencer would’ve had to question your profiling skills. But even then- he doesn’t think that you’d even need to have these skills to notice him acting off.

Because Spencer is so not the person to play incidents like that cool. He is painfully aware of that, thank you very much.

So, the next day, when you came to say hi to him (“Hey there, Mr. Doctor.”), after he basically ran off the day before, and you, as always, casually put your hand on his shoulder, Spencer, he-

He spit out his coffee.

He could feel you freeze through the hand on his shoulder. Your expression would’ve been comical if Spencer wasn’t dying.

“Uhh… Do you… Do you need a moment?”

Well, that was a freaking understatement. Spencer needs not a moment but all of them to try to get his act together.

…which he didn’t. Not for the rest of that day, and also not for the day after. And the day after. This case apparently will never end. Fucking Florida.

You, of course being the kind soul you are, tried talking to him.

(“Spencer, are you okay? You’ve been acting kinda-“

“What? What do you mean? I’m fine, completely.”

“Uhm… Sure. If you wanna talk about it, you got my number.”)

And well. Spencer feels like he is going insane.

It’s come down to him not being able to spend more than thirty minutes uninterrupted in your vicinity without getting semi-hard, because he knows. Without him almost doing something stupid and drop to his knees then and there and beg you to either forgive him or to please let him eat you out.

Ah, yes, because apart from being so frustrated he could scream, he’s also feeling so guilty it’s slowly killing him.

There you are, still being his absolute favourite person on the planet, unaware of what kind of person you are laughing with. Of what Spencer did. It was an accident yes, but- He should’ve said something. Maybe warned you so that it would not happen again. Ugh, but the more time passes the worse it gets. The more impossible it feels to just- go to you and say ‘ah, uhm, by the way, I saw your nudes and maybe you should put those behind a password block’.

Spencer is just- the worst friend. What friend doesn’t give their friend a heads-up about something like that? He’ so, hopeless, incompetent, and he gets it now why he didn’t have that many friends in school. 

It’s gotten so bad so quickly that the others started noticing too, obviously. It really is a curse working with profilers. Spencer should reconsider his move to Tristan da Cunha.

“What’s got pretty boy so worked up, huh?”, Morgan asked him on the day after the incident.

“Did something happen, Spence?”, JJ pulled him aside on the second day after.

“Are they cancelling Doctor Who?”, Emily, on the first day after.

“Kid, you need to eat something”, as Rossi pressed a protein bar into his hands.

Even Penelope texted him.

is it what i think it is? ;))))))

He did not dignify her with an answer.

When Hotch comes to him on the evening on the second day after, Spencer is a mess. He’s practically spent the entire day in some state of fluster. He noticed he’s trailing off when he’s info-dumping. That he’s just- staring off into space more often than he usually does. That he can’t talk to you properly without stuttering, that he avoids looking you in the eyes. So, it really was only a matter of time until their unit chief would scold him. Or whatever Hotch is here to do.

“Listen, Reid”, he says, tone of voice a little too similar to when he is talking to Jack when he did something mildly inconvenient, “whatever it is, and I don’t want to know unless it’s something bad, deal with it. We need you with a clear head here, okay?”

And well, that could’ve gone a lot worse.

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

He still thinks so once he falls into bed that evening. But now-

Deal with it.

How? How should he deal with that? It’s not like he can just press the ‘Delete’-button in his memories. Thanks for nothing, Hotch.

His eyes strain from staring at the ceiling in the dark. Closing them doesn’t really help because all he’d see is you. He’s such a mess.

A pining, pathetic loser mess and he’s so hard again he can’t properly think. It’s just- Spencer has had rather inappropriate thoughts about you before. Has actually spent way too many hours in his apartment just lazing around, thoughts occupied on all the countless ways he’d like you to make him lose his goddamn mind. It had been kind of an accident (isn’t that just the story of his life), the first time it happened.

Spencer had almost been finished with his report, he’d just needed an additional detail from you to finish up. He’d asked Morgan where you were, and this is how he found himself walking down the corridor to Penelope’s ‘Dungeon’. Which, he’d never say out loud because that’s just ridiculous, right?

He saw the door to her office was slightly ajar, a mix of yellowish-red light splitting the hallway in half where it spilled out of the open gap.

There’s a giggle coming from inside the room and Spencer smiles- can’t help it really, because your laugh is just so absolutely ridiculous, a kind of high-pitched screech that ends in airy laughter and he’s so obsessed with it he wants to engrave it on a CD to listen to it again and again.

“No way, gorgeous, I don’t believe that”, Penelope whisper-giggled.

Spencer didn’t realize his steps slowed down, too curious by what you two could be talking about. And also, kind of forgetting that you shouldn’t just listen to other people’s conversations like that.

“Oh yes”, your voice was low, and Spencer would be lying if he said it didn’t send a tingle along his spine, “He broke up with me, but he came crawling back to me not even two months later because I apparently ‘ruined him’ for anyone else.”

Ruined him? What did you mean?

Both Penelope and you were laughing now, louder than before.

“You really, really gotta teach me your devious ways, buttercup.”

You snicker. “I guess it all boils down to making them come so hard they cry and forget their own name, really.”

Spencer didn’t get the detail he needed from you that day.

He’d gotten something much worse and that was curious. From the limited sexual encounters he’s had in his life before (a rushed hand-job somewhen in university in a toilet cubicle by that one other student he was into back then) he couldn’t really imagine something like sexual gratification that made one cry. Sure, getting himself off felt good. Sure, that orgasm had been fine. But… it could feel better?

He kind of didn’t think of that before.

So, when flustered-he had returned to his apartment after that overheard conversation, he kind of… thought about what these things could be that you did, to make others feel so good they lose the basic functions of their memory.

And the rest is basically history.

Of course, he’d never touched himself while doing… research about your techniques. It just felt- wrong. You are his friend and despite of his crush on you, it didn’t feel right.

But now…

He really really shouldn’t. But, he’s just so- desperate. For you and for things to go back to how they were. Without him almost bursting at the seams each time you look at him because before, he never had any problems with categorizing his mind like he does now.

So maybe… Maybe he can just… Do it once? Real quick, to get it out of his system?

The longer Spencer turns the thought in his head, the more… it seems like a good idea. You’d never know. Spencer could forget about- about the accident and move on. Solve the case and finally leave cursed Florida behind. If he just does it this one time, it’s not that bad right?

The fuzzy pleasure that shoots up his spine when he finally, finally presses his hand against himself through his pyjama pants answers him. Yes, yes, it says and more more more-

Spencer has never been good in denying himself things that make him feel good, better than good, things that make him forget about any pain that has nestled inside of his body or mind. Right now, that thing is you. Oh, perfect beautiful lovely you. He can’t stop the way his lips twitch into a smile, almost shy, even though he’s alone. But something about you just- 

He gasps, back arching a little when he slides the palm of his hand along himself, still through two layers of fabric.

Something about you just- god, how can he put this into words- something about you just makes him feel- safe. Seen. Taken care of. And it’s just, so foreign to him. Strange. He’s always been looking after himself. After dad left and mom-

He’s kind of addicted to it. To the way you make him feel. Spencer can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough of you. Never never enough.

His fingers trail circles around the head of his cock, light and unhurried, enjoying the shivers of good good amazing it sends through his limbs, to his fingertips. Spencer can feel the tension leaking out of him, can feel his muscles relax and his mind become hazy. He should do this more often, god he always forgets how good it is, it feels.

He almost forgets why he decided to get off right now. It had something to do with you. You. Naked and there, here with Spencer. He whines a little because you aren’t here, why aren’t you here he wants that so badly-

But all he has is the crystal-clear mental snapshot of your nudes. Spencer doesn’t remember ever remembering something with such clarity before. He feels kind of embarrassed by that, how obviously desperate he is for you. How he would do everything for you, with you. But this feels so good that he doesn’t care about any kind of embarrassment or shame that might trigger his self-loathing.

He increases the pressure of his palm slightly, oh god oh oh, it’s so good already and Spencer hasn’t even touched yet, not properly at least, but oh. Oh, he wants moremoremore-

It’s so easy letting his thoughts tangle, mixing old and new. Fantasies and reality. The you from the pictures merges with the you from his daydreams and oh shit. Oh fuck.

Spencer moans, high and needy at the back of his throat and god how are you so beautiful?

Imagined-you has absolutely nothing on the real you. Spencer could have never himself come up with you because he just lacks the imaginative capabilities to conjure the absolute vision you are. The vision you portray on those freaking pictures that have branded themselves into his very neurons. He’s sure, absolutely sure, that he will never get over them. Over you. Doesn’t even really want to.

Because he is quite certain that the sight of you, your stomach your thighs your arms your tits your- oh he forgot where he was going with this.

By now, Spencer’s hand has dipped beneath his pyjamas and beneath his boxers and he moans again, his lips pulled between his teeth and eyes shut because the feeling of good good better more almost peaks when he grabs himself, finally.

His right hand starts an even, slow pace along his cock because if he is only ever doing this once, he is going to make most of it.

It doesn’t take long for him to get close, though. He’s been so wound up the last few days, it really is no surprise. It’s actually more surprising he hasn’t come all over himself already.

Soft, keening noises are continuously spilling from between his lips, hips moving together with his hand because he just can’t help himself. The heat in his abdomen is building and building and he whimpers because he wants it to be you so so badly, his thoughts are a mess, he is a mess and he wishes he could be your mess, yours, yours to make a mess of and oh god he’s going to-

A knock. On his door.

He freezes, blood rushing loud in his ears, heart pounding and his cock hot in his hand and begging him to not stop but-

“Spencer? It’s me, can you let me in?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

pt. II? 👀

[ellieputellas]

fine line | paige bueckers x reader

Your brother’s best friend Paige Bueckers has hated you for as long as you can remember but when a game of Truth or Dare stirs something neither of you could ignore, the fine line between loathing and lust begins to blur. — inspired by welcome to the party tags: smut (18+), brothersbestfriend!Paige, mean!Paige, Paige and reader grew up together / hating each other for no reason, enemies-to-??? + this is my first paige fanfic so pls be nice </3, didn’t proofread… contains: femme!reader, making out, slight teasing, fingering r!receiving, cunnilingus r!receiving, drunk sex, alcohol use, foul language, toxic portrayal, has a slightly longer lead up to the smut | 7.3k words

Paige couldn't tell why she hated your guts. She just knew she hated you from the moment she met you. 

When you met, you were eight and she was ten. She was your brother's best friend growing up. That meant she was always at your house — shooting hoops or playing video games with your brother. She loved hanging out with your brother and she loved bumming out in your house but she also never liked it whenever you were in the house too.

It wasn’t even like you were an annoying kid.  You were never too loud or annoying like other younger kids. You mostly kept to yourself, often reading novels or locked up in your room. You only interacted with Paige during dinners and on rare occasions, your brother would ask you to hang with them. But still, Paige hated you.

She hated the sickeningly sweet body spray you wore… the kind that reminded her of cheap scented erasers. She hated the little bows you clipped into your hair and the stack of kitschy bracelets you made jingling on your wrists. She hated the way you’d often hum to songs from Barbie movies. But most of all, she hated your laugh. It just seemed too melodic and rehearsed to her. It felt fake. 

Even as you grew up and ditched the bows and Barbie obsessions, Paige found new reasons to dislike you.  

She hated how you traded your frilly dresses for cropped tops and short skirts, how your outfits clung a little too well. Whenever you left the house in one of your skimpy outfits, Paige would glance at your brother and scoff, “You’re really letting her go out like that?” even if your brother couldn't care less.

She hated the stories she heard in high school too. You were always being pursued by loser douchebags. Every time someone mentioned your name, she'd roll her eyes and mercilessly insult whichever guy was interested in you. She found it irritating how you even bothered to entertain such losers.

But when she found out that girls were also growing interested in you and that you had expressed possibly being queer, the intensity of her hatred reached a new level. She didn’t know why, but the idea of it just frustrated her to no end. She reacted worse about her teammates liking you than she did about the ugly, loser guys you were entertaining. It pissed her off so much that she even wondered, just for a second, if she might be homophobic. (She wasn’t. She just hated you. At least, that’s what she told herself.)

Paige never bothered hiding her disdain. If you said anything, even something innocuous, she’d roll her eyes or glare at you like you’d just sprouted a second head. When you passed her in the hallways and offered her a polite smile, she responded with a scowl. Her favourite thing to pick apart though was your wardrobe. She often made snide comments about your “desperate” and “slutty” outfits, as if you were constantly fishing for attention, even when your clothes were perfectly normal.

Her animosity became so unbearable that you stopped trying to get along with her. Any attempt at civility was met with such blatant hostility that you decided avoiding her altogether was your best option. That was easier to do when Paige and your brother went to college. Your brother went to UCLA while Paige headed to UCONN, which meant that you didn't have to put up with the blonde menace anymore.

When it was your turn to choose a college, you stayed close to home in Minnesota, a decision that came with an unexpected side effect: witnessing Paige become a household name in your city. She wasn’t just your brother’s annoying best friend anymore; she was a bona fide hometown hero. Everyone knew her name, and they weren’t shy about their excitement when she came back to visit.

Before the holidays, your brother and his friend group decided to meet and hang out during the winter break. To make things even more interesting, your brother decided to host a party for their homecoming.

You didn’t mind. Your parents were off in Europe celebrating their anniversary, and the house felt too big and too quiet when it was just you. Besides, you got along well with your brother’s friends. They were friendly, funny, and easy to get along with.

Well, all of them except Paige.

“Bean, did you grow taller since the last time I saw you?” Luke teased, grinning as he used the childhood nickname he’d given you back when you were the smallest kid in your class. Before you could respond, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground slightly.

You laughed, swatting at his shoulder. “Luke, it’s been six months and no, I didn’t magically grow taller.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I missed you, though! Please tell me you brought some In-N-Out back for me?”

He snorted, setting you back down. “Seriously? You think I’m gonna shove greasy burgers into my suitcase?” He shook his head, amused. “I told you, Bean, you’ve gotta visit California. You’d love it. We’ll hit up In-N-Out, Disneyland, all that fun shit.”

You nodded with a soft smile. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… things have been crazy,” you admitted. “Sophomore year is no joke. I’m drowning in schoolwork. It’s such a hassle”

“I can’t believe my baby sister is in her sophomore year of university.” He pouted and pinched your cheek. You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away. “Look at you, all grown up and girl-bossing and shit.”

You snorted. “Please, I’m just trying to survive.” You responded. “Meanwhile, you seem to be living your best life in California. Is senior year treating you right?”

Luke and you exchanged college stories – his frat life, life in California, and your lack of a dating life contrasted by his seemingly unending roster. Even though you were both in college, some things stayed the same: he was still the social butterfly while you mostly still kept to yourself. 

“I’m so jealous,” you groaned as he launched into yet another story about a girl he dated. “I want to get into the dating scene so bad, but it’s just… frustrating. Like, why does nobody seem hot to me anymore? Am I turning asexual or something?”

Luke chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “No surprise there. Pretty sure you broke half my friend group’s hearts back in high school.” He smirked.  “Not that I ever minded… those dumbasses needed some humbling anyway.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Might suck seeing all the guys who crushed on you at the party later,” he commented. “Or… it might be pretty entertaining.”

You gave him a pointed look, but the corner of your mouth twitched. “That aside, I am excited to see your friends again,” you admitted, your smile faltering slightly. “Except… Paige.”

He laughed. “You might be the only one who isn’t excited to see Paige. Everyone’s geeking over seeing her again,” he responded, referencing Paige’s rise to fame. “I still don’t get why you two loathe each other.”

“Ask her that.” You groaned. “I guess I’ll just avoid her like I always used to do.”

You underestimated your ability to ignore Paige. The moment you spotted her, you couldn’t help but become hyper-aware of her presence. She still looked like she did before – the same tall, blonde menace you grew up with – but she looked more mature, more self-assured. Paige had never been awkward or insecure, but now she carried an undeniable confidence that felt almost magnetic.

You were already dressed for the party — a cute denim skirt, a cropped shirt, and sneakers. The outfit struck a balance between casual and flirty, one that usually earned you compliments. But not from Paige. When her eyes landed on you, she gave you that familiar annoyed look, the one that always seemed to come with judgment.

Paige was sitting with your brother, already helping with the table setup. When you passed her, she let out a snarky chuckle.

“Did your sister forget her manners or something?” she quipped, referring to you not bothering to greet her. Your brother sighed and shot you a look, clearly tired of the back-and-forth between the two of you.

You paused and turned to look at her. Paige was dressed in a casual hoodie and pants, exuding an effortlessness that somehow felt intimidating. Her tousled blonde hair framing her sharp features only added to her annoyingly attractive presence. Heat crept up your ears as you quickly averted your gaze and mumbled a small “hey”  before focusing on setting up the snack bowls.

Her gaze swept over your outfit, pausing at the sliver of skin revealed by your cropped shirt. She rolled her eyes, trying to seem unimpressed. “Is that a kid’s shirt? That thing’s way too small for you,” she commented. “Looks like you raided a Baby Gap.”

Luke elbowed Paige, giving her a look of disapproval. “Be nice, blondie.” He reprimanded. “You’d think college would have matured your ass enough to stop picking on my sister.”

Paige rolled her eyes, her annoyance barely concealed as she continued setting up the cups. But she was clearly distracted, her gaze flicking toward you more often than she liked. No matter how hard she tried, her gaze always seemed to find you. She couldn’t help it. You had changed so much since high school, and it was driving her crazy.

No matter how hard she tried to deny it, Paige had always known you were attractive; there was no point pretending otherwise, especially when all her friends had crushed on you at some point.

But now, it was different. You weren’t just pretty anymore; you were so fucking hot to her.

Your cheeks had lost their softness, replaced by sharper angles that gave your face a more mature, striking look. And your body… Paige cursed herself for letting her thoughts wander there. Your legs looked impossibly long, and your waist… she shook her head, refusing to dwell on it.

She clenched her jaw, trying to focus on the task at hand but to no avail. When you reached up to grab something from the counter, her eyes betrayed her. They darted back to you, tracing the small glimpse of skin revealed by your cropped shirt. Her throat went dry, and she gritted her teeth, frustrated at herself for looking.

God, why does she have to wear such tiny fucking shirts? She thought to herself. So fucking annoying.

Paige fumbled with the bottle in her hand, using it as an excuse to keep busy. But even that distraction didn’t hold for long. Every time your mini skirt lifted a bit whenever you’d reach something or you bit your lip whenever deep in thought, her resolve crumbled a little more. No matter how much she tried to act indifferent, her gaze kept drifting back to you.

It went on throughout the night. Paige would be catching up with old friends, playing drinking games, or basking in the praise for her performance at UCONN, but whenever you were nearby, she couldn’t focus. She’d watch you laughing — the same melodic, carefree laugh that she always hated — and it only frustrated her more. Her fingers tightened around her beer bottle, almost like she was trying to keep control of her temper. When you danced, she couldn’t help but make a snarky comment to her friends about how silly you looked, but no one paid her any attention. She was the only one hyper-fixated on every small movement you made.

There was no reason for her to hate you now – she never had one in the first place – but she still could not help but be consumed by the irritation you stirred in her.

While Paige was getting a drink, her high school friend Derek approached with a cheeky grin, obviously tipsy already. “Paige, you have to join Truth or Dare,” he chuckled. “We need you in on this.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Truth or Dare? We in fucking high school or something?” She chuckled, remembering all the times they played the game in high school with cheap liquor Derek’s older brother bought them.

“C’mon, we’re all here so might as well live like high schoolers again,” Derek said, ruffling his brown hair. “Don’t go all Hollywood on us, P. Just ‘cause you’re a basketball star doesn’t mean you can’t be one of us.”

Paige let out a small laugh, rolling her eyes. “Fine, fine. I’m in.” She sighed but couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she followed him into the living room. The house was packed, and they had to weave through the crowd. Paige found herself laughing, feeling nostalgic for all the times your brother held parties growing up. But that smile was quickly wiped off her face when she sat down on the carpeted floor of the living room and saw you sitting directly in front of her. She clenched her jaw.

You uncomfortably shifted in your seat, biting your lip as you tried to avert her gaze. Why can’t she act civil or normal for just a second?

The game started slow – drinking challenges, goofy tasks like smelling each other’s feet—but as the night wore on and the group got drunker, things got more playful. You were having fun, but it took a lot of effort to not acknowledge Paige’s piercing gaze every time she glanced your way.

Then suddenly, it was her turn.

The blonde chuckled, shaking her head. “Uh, truth, I guess.”

“Lame as fuck,” your brother commented with a slight slur in his speech. “Since when did Paige Bueckers chicken out of a dare?”

Paige rolled her eyes, leaning back. “I’m not sniffing anyone’s armpit, okay?” she laughed. “You guys can bully me all you want, but I’m sticking with truth.”

The room erupted with questions, eager to get the inside scoop on the UCONN star. Even the non-participants hanging around the edges of the living room jumped in with their questions. 

“Any celebrities slide into your DMs?” 

“Have you ever slept with a teammate?” 

“How much do you earn in a year?”

The questions kept coming with no sign of stopping soon; each question seemed more intriguing to the group than the last, making it harder for them to settle on one.. You gulped the last of your drink that had been swirling at the bottom of your cup, the horrible jungle juice mix burning as it slid down your throat. Your cheeks grew warm as you felt a surge of liquid courage.

You took one deep breath before you straightened up your posture and asked loudly, “Why do you hate me?”

A sudden silence fell over the room. The usual hum of chatter disappeared, leaving an eerie quiet. Then came the murmured “oohs” from the group, everyone fully aware of the tension between you two. They’d seen the subtle tension in the past, the way Paige’s eyes would narrow when you were around, but no one ever quite understood why. Your brother’s friends adored you with most of them even getting crushes on you. So, the question lingered: what was it about you that had Paige so irritated?

Paige’s smirk widened, but it looked more tongue-in-cheek. “I’m not answering that,” she shook her head firmly, looking away from you.

“Why?” you jeered, your confidence spiking. “Scared you’d have to admit you’ve been a bully all along?”

The crowd erupted in surprised laughter, clearly shocked by your sudden shift in attitude. You weren’t known for being confrontational, but the alcohol was making you bold. Your brother sighed, exasperated. “Alright, alright, no need to dig up old drama. Let’s just have some fun.”

But you weren’t letting it go. You locked eyes with your brother and shook your head at him, then turned back to Paige. “No, Luke. I need Paige to answer.”

Paige shot you an incredulous look. “You seriously want me to waste my turn on this? This is so dumb…” She tried to play it off but she was obviously getting riled up.

The crowd paused, muttering about what else to ask but you needed her to answer. “Why? What are you hiding, Paige?” You taunted, feeling your ears burn up. “Scared to admit that maybe you just hated me all along because you had a crush on me?”

Your words were meant to be playful, teasing, but something about them struck a nerve. Paige’s cheeks flushed, and her jaw tightened. The group took notice, sensing the tension. They started to tease her for it, but Paige was having none of it.

“Fine, I’ll answer,” she snapped, her voice biting. “I hate you because of how big-headed you are. You think everyone wants you — you even think I want you. You’re always sauntering around, being cute to everyone. It just pisses me off. You think you’re so hot but you just look like you’re making a fool out of yourself. Sorry to end your delusions right here but I don’t want you. I doubt anyone here actually does. Frankly, I wouldn’t touch you even if we were the last two people on earth. “

The room went silent for a moment before the sound of sharp exhales and hushed whispers filled the air. Your face flushed red, the embarrassment mixing with the sting of her words. You had expected a teasing response, not that.

Your brother hushed everyone and urged the game to move on, shooting you an apologetic look. “Alright, let’s keep it moving,” he said. 

The game went on but you were still pissed off and fixated on her answer. Several people had their turns but you were too distracted to focus on whatever anyone was doing. The alcohol didn’t help either; if anything, it just intensified your emotions.

Derek must have noticed your agitation because he slid over and handed you a fresh drink, then settled right back beside Paige. You chugged the drink, hoping the alcohol would numb whatever you were feeling.

“Bean, it’s your turn.” One of your brother’s friends nudged you, using the nickname they’d all called you growing up. You sighed and shrugged. You didn’t want to choose truth; honestly, you’d rather drink a shot out of someone’s dirty belly button than answer a question involving Paige.

“Dare,” you said flatly with a shrug.

Everyone seemed disappointed. It seemed like not all of your brother’s friends were over their crush on you like he had predicted; they all wanted to find out who you liked most between them, hoping they’d still have a chance at possibly rekindling a spark.

Derek cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “I dare you…” he grinned mischievously, “To kiss your brother’s hottest friend.”

Your brother groaned, visibly uncomfortable. “Ew, I don’t wanna see that.” 

“Then cover your eyes, fool,” someone chimed in, making everyone laugh.

You glanced around the circle, scanning the faces. Your brother’s friends were, without a doubt, attractive. After all, they were a popular group growing up. But none of them sparked any real interest in you.

You thoroughly looked at the circle of your brother’s friends. A lot of them were actually good-looking. Peter, with his striking blue eyes and dark hair, was the one everyone had a crush on growing up – especially during the era when everyone was obsessed with Logan Lerman – but he just didn’t seem like your type. Tanner was the typical heartthrob jock type but his muscles were too much for your taste. Bethany had also pursued you in high school. You always thought she was kinda cute but you were never actually interested.  Then you looked at Derek who always gave a cute puppy boy energy. You never really felt bad rejecting your brother’s friends – a lot of them needed serious humbling – except for Derek. He was always the nicest one among all of them. You bit your lip, scanning the circle once more.

But then, your eyes shifted to Paige.

She was sitting across from you, still wearing that scowl, the one that made her look like she was constantly annoyed by you. She took another swig of her beer, clearly uninterested in the game, but something about her caught your eye. Even though she drove you insane, there was no denying her looks.  

Whenever she was around the house growing up, you always felt yourself flush and grow hyperaware of your actions. When she made snarky comments about your slutty outfits, sometimes you couldn’t help but feel pride knowing she was riled up by seeing your body. Even looking at her now made your cheeks flush a bit. You thought maybe it was the annoyance you felt for her but something about her made your heart race in a different way, different from anger.

Then it hit you… is Paige my brother’s hottest friend?

Her eyes, which had been darting around the group, suddenly locked with yours. Her face froze, and you could see something shift behind her eyes. You gave her a small smile, subtle but playful enough for her to notice. She didn’t give anything back – not a scowl or a mutter or even an annoyed look. Paige just stared at you, startled by your fixated gaze.

You slid forward, crawling towards her slowly, the crowd howling in amusement at the unexpected twist. When you stopped right in front of Paige, kneeling in the space in front of her with a playful smirk, she didn’t move. She seemed frozen, the usual fire in her eyes replaced with something unreadable. You bit your lip, deciding to take it a step further.

With a sudden boldness, you reached up and grabbed the collar of her hoodie, pulling her closer to you. The audience’s teasing faded into the background as you closed the space between you. The air felt heavy as you inched closer to her, lips so close that you could feel her heavy breath graze your lips. Paige’s eyes fluttered as she fought to hold onto her usual defiance against you. Her mind screamed at her to push you away, to give you a disgusted look and say something demeaning and rude enough to kill your spirit but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

Your lips were practically grazing against each other. Paige’s eyes were slowly fluttering, almost closed. Just at the moment that Paige looked like she was about to give in, you pulled back abruptly, your voice low and teasing. 

“In your dreams, Buckets.”

Paige blinked, stunned, as she pulled back with a look of confusion flashing across her face. You gave her a mischievous grin, watching her process what just happened. Before she could react, you quickly turned toward Derek, who had been watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and surprise.

Without hesitation, you grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into a kiss right in front of Paige. Derek’s eyes widened in shock, too flustered to even respond as you kissed him. Your eyes stayed locked on Paige the entire time, a smirk playing on your lips as you pulled away from Derek.

The crowd howled, amused by what just unfolded in front of their eyes. You made your way back to your seat, playfully wiping your lips with your fingertips as you gave a small eyebrow raise and smirk to Paige who look flustered.

“Bro, look at how red Derek is,” Tanner commented, teasing his friend who was growing shy at the attention.

Your brother laughed. “Now, why does Paige look even redder than Derek?”

Everyone turned their attention to the blonde who looked positively pissed off but undeniably flushed. The group proceeded to tease Paige who had lost all her effortlessly chill demeanour and who couldn’t even make a quip back to all her friends teasing her. She just rolled her eyes and sipped more of her drink.

You got her back and you knew it. You won this time.

The game ended later on and everyone dispersed to play other games or drink some more. After the game, poor Derek had been trying to chat you up only for you to politely decline his advances again. You never really liked him. You just wanted to piss Paige off and he was the most convenient option.

After successfully shrugging off the boy, you decided that you had enough of that night, settling on having one last drink before turning in.

As tou made your way to the kitchen, you caught a glimpse of Paige, hanging around near the counter and chatting up a shorter girl you couldn’t recognize. Paige was smiling drunkenly at the girl as she used one hand to hold the girl’s waist. You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you passed by them, heading to the cooler to fish out a beer.

Paige’s ears rang when she heard you scoff. She turned around and furrowed her eyebrows together to look at you. “What’s your problem?”

You turned to look at her and frowned. “What? I can’t get a drink at my own home now?”

She chuckled dryly. “No, I’m talking about that little scoff when you passed me.” She stepped closer to you, almost forgetting about the girl she was chatting up. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous? I know you got a huge crush on me but —”

“Good night, Paige,” you dismissed her with a sharp tone, grabbing your beer. You shot her a dismissive look before brushing past her. It was almost three in the morning, and between the alcohol and exhaustion, you didn’t have the energy to keep bickering with her.

 You took a long swig of your drink as you headed upstairs, the weight of the day pulling you toward your bed. As much as you enjoyed seeing Paige pissed off, tonight wasn’t the night. Besides, you didn’t hate her… well, not enough to waste what little energy you had left.

Paige, however, wasn’t about to let it go. She was practically fuming as she watched you leave, sauntering across the crowd and up the stairs. Her jaw tightened. She hated how nonchalant you seemed, how you dismissed her so easily. She’d wanted you to fight back, to stay and argue with her, to match her energy. Instead, you left her hanging.

She took a sharp swig of her drink. “Hold this,” she muttered to the girl who had been chattering her ear off for the past hour, shoving her beer into her hands without waiting for a response. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but her feet carried her toward the stairs before she could stop herself. Navigating the house was second nature; it was all still so familiar. The creaky seventh step, the faint scuff marks on the wall, even the patched-up spot in the hallway from the time Luke drunkenly pushed his head through the plaster. So, even if she was plastered, making her way to you was easy. She was convinced she could even do it blindfolded.

When she finally reached your room, she hesitated for only a moment before turning the knob. Unlocked. Typical.

It was dim in your room. All you had on were the fairy lights you had set up in your room from your teenage years. When you heard the faint creak of the door, you quickly grabbed your discarded shirt to cover yourself.

“What the fuck?” you blurted, your voice sharp and unsteady. “Get out!”

You looked over your shoulder, expecting to see your brother or a random drunk. Instead, you saw Paige, standing by your door with a smirk on her face. She didn’t answer right away, instead closing the door behind her with a soft click. Her movements were slow, deliberate. You could tell by her gait and her demeanour that she was drunk. 

“Door unlocked, shirt off,” she commented as she continued to slowly walk to you. “Expecting Derek already?”

Your brows furrowed. “What?” you muttered, too tired and tipsy to process her words.

She took another step closer, and then another, her smirk widening. “You look disappointed to see me.” She mumbled. “Just thought you might be expecting someone else.”

“Paige,” you warned, clutching the shirt tighter against your chest. “What are you—”

Before you could finish, she was right in front of you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off her. When you tried to step back, your legs hit the edge of the bed, trapping you.

“God, look at you,” she murmured, her voice low and almost reverent, though her expression was anything but. “I fucking hate that face.”

Her eyes roamed over you, lingering on your collarbones, your bare shoulders. She tilted her head, studying you as if she was a predator ready to pounce on her prey. The smirk on her face grew. You gave her a confused look.

“Don’t look at me like you don’t want this,” she said, her voice dropping. “Like you didn’t want me to follow you up here.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the haze. “You’re drunk. Just… go back to the party, Paige.”

Paige didn’t budge. Instead, her hand slid to your waist, her touch firm but not rough, pulling you closer. “You’re drunk too, babe.” Paige cooed as she pushed her body against yours, closing the space between you two. “I saw the way you looked at me earlier. The way you grabbed me. You want this.”

You tried pushing her away but she stayed put. She was way stronger than you were. “Fuck off, Paige.”

“Now, I didn’t like that trick you played with Derek,” You shivered as she traced the contours of your back with her cold fingertips. “You had me thinking that you really wanted him…”

Paige leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on your neck, just underneath your ear. “But then I saw the look in your eyes when you were teasing me… and no one can feign lust like that.” She whispered before planting another kiss a little lower down your neck, closer to your collarbone. “You can’t deny it.”

You tried to push Paige feebly but her grip was tight on you. She chuckled at your lame attempt. “If you don’t want me, just say so and I’ll fuck off.” She moved away from your neck and flashed a serious look at you, tilting your head up so that you would be looking her in the eyes.

Her lips curled into a small smirk, waiting for you to say something. “But we both know you won’t say that.” 

“I know you want me to make you feel good.” She leaned forward, closer to your ear again. Her breath tickled your neck. “And I can make you feel good. I’m so fucking sure of that.”

Her closeness, the warmth of her breath against the crook of your ear, the intoxicating smell of her perfume – it was driving you insane. Paige looked at you, waiting for you to give in. She leaned in even closer causing you to gasp as your eyes fluttered. Yet, you said nothing still.

“Fucking knew it.”

And just like that, Paige was pulling you close, crashing your lips together. She grabbed your shirt from your hands and discarded it, freeing your hands so you could hold on to her as you kissed her with reciprocated hunger and desperation. Paige impatiently guided you to your bed, crawling on top of you, not allowing her lips to leave yours. 

You’ve kissed a few people before but no one kissed like Paige. She kissed like she was devouring you, desperate and needy. Her lips were constantly battling against yours as if wanting to assert her dominance over you.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, you gasped for air. Paige’s lips then took refuge from your lips to your delicate neck. You moaned as her lips wrapped around the edge of your collarbones, sucking and biting them with her warm mouth. There was no doubt that she left a mark.

Her hands made their way to your chest, cupping you with her long fingers. She hummed under her breath as she pulled away from you. She bit her lip as she looked at the soft flesh in between her hands, squeezing them slightly. Paige sighed. “Fuck, they’re prettier than I imagined.” 

She leaned forward, wrapping a mouth around your erect nipple. You moaned as soon as you felt the warmth of her mouth wrapped around you as she started sucking. She kept a hand on the other breast, using her fingers to alternate between rubbing and pinching them. It felt so good that you were unconsciously grinding your core against the knee she slotted in between your legs.

“F-fuck, Paige,” you breathed out at the feeling. “Feels so good…”

She chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by your reaction. You moaned again as soon as her tongue pressed against your nipple, drawing circles with the tip. 

Her free hand moved down and gripped your waist, holding you down as you squirmed with pleasure underneath her. Soon, her hand found its way under your skirt, pressing her fingers against your core. You could feel her mouth curl up into a smile against your chest. 

“Wet already? And for me?” She chuckled. “Thought you hated my guts.”

You moaned under your breath as she pressed two fingers firmly against your clothed wetness. “You’re so fucking annoying,” she mumbled before capturing your breast with her mouth again. “Makes me wanna fuck you even more.”

You whimpered as you felt two of her fingers rub circles against your clothed, throbbing cunt. You felt conflicted and confused. Paige always disliked you; she was always rude and crass towards you.

Yet, here she was, just a thin fabric away from taking you completely.

“You want more, babe?” She moved her mouth nearer to your ear, planting kisses on your jawline. “Tell me you want me… as much as I want you.”

Before you could even respond, she pressed harder against you, causing you to moan out loud. You furrowed your eyebrows together, overwhelmed by the sensation. You nodded your head as you bit your lower lip.

“Use your words, baby.” Her breath warm against your ear.

“Paige, I w-want — fuck!” Her fingers pressed harder against your clit, sending a small wave of pleasure, enough to distract you.

“Come on, you can do it…” She teased. “Beg for me.”

“Paige, please… I want you. Please.” You begged immediately, whimpering under your breath. You fluttered your eyes and bit your lower lip as you stared up at the blonde girl with her half-lidded eyes and eager lips. “I want you, Paige.”

She smiled, pleased by your reaction. Seeing you that desperate for her and hearing you say those words… it felt a thousand times better than the time she made you cry when she pulled on your pigtails. A million times better than seeing you get riled up when she made snarky comments. Infinitely better than fucking any other girl ever. 

“Please, Paige… please, baby. I need you.” Your voice came out so soft and needy that it practically trembled. The sweetness of it made Paige freeze for a moment, her jaw tightening. Normally, she’d crack a joke or tease you for acting so cutesy, but now? Now it just drove her feral.

She leaned in, brushing her lips against your jaw in a fleeting kiss before sliding your soaked underwear down in one swift motion. A shiver ran through you as the cool air met your bare skin, quickly replaced by the overwhelming heat of her touch. You silently thanked the loud music thumping and the sound of the drunken chatter downstairs, masking the sound that escaped your lips when Paige slipped two of her fingers inside you.

Her fingers were much longer than yours, reaching way deeper than you ever could with your own fingers. The sensation of her digits burying deep inside and the feeling of her weight on top of you — it had you grabbing onto her wide shoulders, burying your face in the crook of her neck as she relentlessly pounded into you. You wrapped your legs around her, holding on tightly as if she was a lifeline

"God, you're so fucking wet," Paige growled, her voice low and rough. She bit her lip, watching the way your hips bucked against her hand without any restraint. "Look at you. Grinding on me like this. Fucking desperate, aren't you?"

You felt your cheeks burn as she said it. The feeling of humiliation and arousal swirled in your body, leaving you breathless. You tightened your hold around her neck, moaning into her skin. 

“Fuck, you really must be a slut,” Paige said through gritted teeth, her tone teasing but sharp. “This fucking wet and submissive for someone you don’t even like? I make you feel that good, huh?”

You ignored her, continuing to savor the feeling of her fingers curling in with every thrust. ButPaige grew frustrated as you failed to answer her questions.

“Fucking answer me.” She said through gritted teeth as she began to fuck you even deeper, slamming her fingers from the knuckles to the tips with every thrust.

Her words pushed you off the edge, groaning as she said it. It wasn’t just arousal; it was frustration. You were enjoying having her touch you like that but Paige always had to be Paige. She always knew how to fuck up a perfectly good moment with her big mouth.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you spat out shakily, trying to catch your breath as her fingers plowed you. “S-so fucking obnoxious.”

Paige's lips curved into a wicked smirk, her fingers not slowing down for a second. "Yeah? Keep running that mouth, baby," she taunted, her voice dripping with arrogance. "I fucking dare you.”

Just as your lips parted again, Paige pressed harder against you, now pressing her thumb on your clit as she continued to curl her fingers inside you. Her lips found their way back to your neck, wrapping her mouth around the tender flesh before eagerly sucking. You let out a loud moan as you felt her teeth slowly sink into your flesh. Not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to leave a nasty bruise.

“Paige!” Her name slipped out of your mouth loudly before you could even think about it. “Fuck!”

Her chest grew warm at the sound of her name coming out of your mouth. She inched away from you again, looking at you vulnerable under her touch. She bit her lip as her eyes looked at your face. That fucking pretty face. 

“Say my name again,” She ordered in a quiet, low tone. “I want to hear you say it.”

Your eyes fluttered open, slightly glazed. Your lips curled in between your teeth as you saw the hunger in Paige’s eyes. 

“C’mon, baby.” She whispered, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll make you feel even better if you do.”

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you furrowed your eyebrows together once more, still overwhelmed by the sensation of her touch. Growing impatient, she pulled out her fingers before roughly inserting them back inside of you, curling them inward to press against your most sensitive spot.

You moaned out, arching your hips causing her fingers to bury themselves deeper into your g-spot. “Paige!”

“Good girl.” She smirked before swiftly moving down you, slotting her head in between your legs. She wasted no time, sticking her tongue inside your wet folds.

The slick and warm sensation caused you to arch your back, pressing yourself against her. You cursed out loud as you felt her move her tongue inside you. Your hands gripped her head, pushing her closer to your warmth.

“God yes, keep fucking me with your tongue, please.” You gyrated your hips against her mouth, practically riding her face.

Paige slowly moved up, taking her tongue out from inside of you before wrapping her mouth around your clit. Her mouth was impatient, sucking and flicking her tongue against you with a relentless hunger. She hummed against your core, obviously pleased with your reaction.

You barely had time to completely adjust to the new sensation of her mouth on you. Paige was already teasing your entrance with her fingertips again, getting them wet with your slick. She hummed in delight as she felt more of your nectar drip from your core as she continued to use her tongue to draw shapes against your clit. 

A whispered chain of incoherent curse words and please’s escaped your lips as you felt her finger enter you at an excruciatingly slow pace. You reached your hands down, trying to grab her own to shove it back in you already but Paige refused to let you get what you wanted that easily.

You whimpered as soon as Paige inserted two of her fingers inside you again. The joint sensation of her digits filling you and her warm mouth pleasuring your clit was enough to drive you absolutely insane. The blonde girl moved with such precision and skill; it felt like she already memorized how to make you feel good without having done so before.

Paige practically moaned feeling your walls clench around her and her face get even more soaked with your slick. It didn’t help that such sweet moans and whimpers filled the room, causing her to feel even more aroused. She pushed against the hood of your clit with her mouth, allowing her tongue better access to lick the most sensitive parts of your clit.

It didn’t take long until you were feeling the pleasure inside you build up, working towards the peak. It felt like every muscle in your body was contracting and tense as Paige picked up the pace with both her fingers and her tongue.

“Fuck!” You moaned out as the sensation grew more and more intense. “Paige, I’m going to — I’m gonna —”

Before you could even finish your sentence, you stiffened up before melting into your bed as the waves of pleasure rippled through your body. Your brain felt empty, devoid and incapable of thought as you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling. You were already drunk a while ago but now, you felt completely and utterly intoxicated with pleasure.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t even move. You felt frozen until Paige collapsed onto the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under her weight. Her chest rose and fell in rhythm with yours, both of you still catching your breath. For a moment, the room was quiet except for the muffled music from downstairs and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

You turned your head to look at her. The soft glow of the lights traced her profile, highlighting the sharp lines of her jaw and the curve of her lips. The way the warm light caressed her pale skin made your chest tighten. You swallowed hard, trying to make sense of what just happened, of how everything between you had unravelled so quickly.

“Paige, why did—”

“No,” she interrupted, dismissing your question before you even had the chance to answer it. The words hung heavy in the air as she stared straight ahead at the ceiling. Her lips parted like she wanted to say more, but instead, she let out a shaky breath. 

Finally, she turned her head, her eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

You blinked, confused. “Oh…”

Paige closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply. You could see it — how the realization of what just happened was crashing down on her, the same way it was on you. The heat, the urgency, the way you’d both given in so completely to something unspoken—it was all so raw, so real. It was as if you both were sobering up.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she repeated, but it sounded more like she was convincing herself than you. Her voice cracked slightly. “This never happened.”

Her words hit you like a slap in the face. You stared at her, searching her face for any sign of hesitation, for something that might soften the blow. But she didn’t waver.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice barely audible. You nodded, more to yourself than to her. “It never happened.”

The silence between you was deafening. You both stayed like that, lying side by side, staring at each other without speaking. You tried to study her face, her microexpressions… but there was nothing you could decipher. It seemed like she set her walls back up as soon as she could. 

Eventually, Paige sat up, her movements slow and deliberate. She reached for her phone which she accidentally dropped on the floor earlier, the faint glow from the screen lighting her face for a moment. She didn’t look back as she stood up and made her way to the door.

The door clicked shut behind her, and you let out a long, unsteady breath. You stared at the ceiling, feeling an unfamiliar, icky feeling settle into your chest. The horrible sensation started to spread and fester inside of you like a parasite or a disease.

You knew you fucked up, allowing all of that to happen. But what could you do about it now? It was done and no amount of regret could undo it. There was a line you two never seemed to cross but now… you just erased that line altogether.

You took a deep breath and sighed. “Fuck.”

a/n: i’m back from my long break! still having a major writer’s block so no futfem or alexia fanfics yet. idk why but writing this paige fic is surely helping me get back into writing in general. this is my first time writing for a non-football player and mostly a result of me getting a crush on her after my other friends started making me watch her play lmao. idk if i will write more for her soon since i’m not really an avid basketball fan but who knows?

not sure if there'll be a part 2 but just in case, i'll add it to the masterlist!

[spookysanta]

Keep Your Eyes Open. (MBJ)

Summary: When she talks slick, she has to pay the price.

Pairing; Michael B. Jordan x reader

Warnings: porn without plot, basically. rough sex - hair pulling, choking, spit, whole nine. unhinged michael.

a late idea i had. you're welcome.

MINORS DNI

It started with her mouth.

It always did.

She’d been talking slick since the moment she woke up. Half-whispers while brushing her teeth, playful digs over coffee, brushing up against him as she passed by just to smirk and keep walking. It wasn’t even full-blown teasing. It was worse. Constant. Casual. That quiet, confident tone she used when she thought she had the upper hand.

Michael let it ride. He didn’t say a word.

All day long he’d just watched her. Tracked every word she said, every swing of her hips when she turned a corner, every stretch of her thighs beneath one of his old T-shirts. No bra. No panties. Just the shirt and her mouth.

It had been building for hours.

When she walked through the bedroom that night, barefoot and freshly showered, humming to herself like she hadn’t been a menace all damn day, he barely looked up from his phone. But when she paused in front of the mirror, caught a glimpse of herself, and turned just slightly to admire the curve of her ass in his shirt, she did it.

She smirked. Right at her own reflection.

And that was it.

Michael set his phone down and stood.

She didn’t hear him at first. Not until he was behind her. Not until his hands were at her waist and his mouth was at her ear. “Stay right there. In front of the mirror.”

Her breath hitched. She looked up. Saw his eyes in the reflection — low, dark, unreadable.

He pushed her forward gently until her palms were on the dresser and her face was nearly pressed to the glass. Her shirt rode up with the motion, exposing the curve of her hips and the soft dip of her lower back. He stepped back just enough to look at her. Really look at her.

The mirror showed everything. Every inch of her skin. Every shift of her weight. Every nervous flutter of her eyelashes. “Michael—”

His hand slid up her spine, slow and firm, until it reached the back of her neck. He held her there, thumb brushing the hairline behind her ear. “You wanted attention,” he said, his voice low and calm. “So now you’re gonna watch what it looks like when you get it.”

He didn’t give her time to respond. One hand held her steady, and the other gripped her hip, guiding her back onto him in one hard, hungry thrust.

She gasped, eyes went going in the mirror, lips parting in a silent scream. Her knees almost buckled.

“Look at you,” he muttered, drawing back just far enough to slam into her again. “Watch your face when I fuck the attitude out of you.”

She tried to. Tried to stay focused. But it was impossible to hold her own gaze when the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the room and her body shook with every thrust.

Michael’s grip was unforgiving. One hand anchored on her waist, pulling her back to meet every stroke, the other sliding between her legs, fingers slick with the evidence of how much she loved this. His fingertips circled her clit, slow and brutal, until her moans got louder, sloppier, higher-pitched. “You feel that?” he said, breath hot against her ear. “You feel how soaked you are for me?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering.

“Say it.”

“I feel it,” she moaned. “Fuck, Michael—I feel everything.”

He growled deep in his chest. Fucked into her harder. Her thighs slapped against the dresser edge, hips arching, tits bouncing beneath the shirt that clung to her sweat-damp skin.

Then he stilled.

Pulled out.

She whimpered from the loss, confused and dizzy.

He turned her around by her shoulders, pushed her down to her knees. “Open.”

She did, mouth wide, tongue out, eyes up.

He gripped the back of her head, slid into her mouth inch by inch, slow enough to savor it, deep enough to feel her swallow around him. Her lips were soft and warm and so eager. Spit coated his cock almost immediately. She was messy with it, drool dripping down her chin, her own arousal practically pouring between her thighs just from the act of pleasing him. “God, this mouth,” he breathed, hips starting to roll. “I could live in this fucking mouth.”

She moaned around him. That sound vibrated against him, sent a pulse of heat straight up his spine. 

“You love when I make a mess on your pretty face?”

She gagged as he thrust deeper. Then he pulled back, wiped the spit from her cheek with his thumb, and let it trail down to her neck.

“Say it.”

“I love it,” she panted. “Love when you make a mess of me. Love when you use my mouth. Love it—need it—”

“Good.”

He didn’t warn her.

He just came.

Hot and hard across her tongue, groaning as her eyes fluttered, as her lips stayed open and perfect to catch it all. He let it drip down her chin, smearing it with his thumb, then kissing her forehead like a prize.

She was still trembling when he lifted her again.

Still dizzy when he turned her back around and bent her over the dresser.

“You thought we were done?”

She shook her head, too gone to speak.

He buried himself inside her again, slower this time. No less intense. Her walls clenched tight around him and he moaned like it hurt. “You’re taking it so well,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder, nipping the back of her neck. “So fucking good for me.”

She tried to hold herself up. She really did. But her knees gave out with the first deep thrust.

Michael caught her and kept going.

One arm around her waist, one hand gripping her hair, pulling her head back until she could see her ruined reflection again.

Her mascara had smeared. Her lips were swollen. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow bursts.

The mirror fogged.

So did her brain.

“You feel dumb yet?”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I feel dumb,” she sobbed. “So—so fucking dumb for you.”

He reached around, thumb on her clit. “You gon’ tap out?”

She shook her head. “I can’t,” she cried.

He slowed.

Dragged his hips deep. “You’re mine, baby. You can take it.” He leaned in close. Mouth on her neck. Teeth scraping. “Look at you. Your head's empty, isn't it? You don’t think when I’m in you. You can’t.”

Grunting, swearing, hips jerking against her until she cried out from the sensitivity, from the ache, from the stretch and the heat and the absolute ruin of it all.

He didn’t let go right away. Just held her there, pressed against the mirror, his chest to her back, breath heavy in her ear.

Her legs gave out completely.

He caught her again. Lifted her, laid her gently onto the bed. Pulled the shirt off over her head, kissed the center of her chest, and brushed his fingers along the bruises he’d left.

She was silent. Mouth slightly open. Face still messy.

Michael looked at her like he’d just claimed a kingdom.

“You gonna talk shit tomorrow?” he asked, voice low and wrecked.

She smiled weakly. “If I can walk.”

He laughed, pressing one last kiss to her neck.

“Bet.”

—

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[heeluvv]

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY.ᐟ

pairingᝰ.ᐟ yang jungwon x 8th member! reader

warningsᝰ.ᐟ sub! jungwon, overstimulation, inexperienced! jungwon but has an idea, experienced! reader, oral (m n f), unprotected sex, etc. (wc 7.444k)

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

jungwon didn’t think that adding a girl to the group would make things difficult. not logistically, not professionally, not even socially. he thought maybe it’d take some adjusting—new dynamics, different energies—but nothing he couldn’t handle. and at first, he was right.

what he didn’t account for was the shift that started inside him.

he didn’t expect the strange, fluttery sensations that settled in his chest whenever you stood too close. didn’t expect the way his skin would tingle beneath your fingertips when you casually reached out to brush lint from his sleeve, or ruffle his hair like it was nothing, or—god—for some reason always let your hand linger just a second too long on his thigh when you sat beside him. it was innocent. it had to be. at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

years passed. the group grew closer, tighter, more like a family than a band. but if anything, the feelings only got worse. harder to ignore. he used to brush them off as fleeting, just part of getting used to someone new. but now? now he couldn’t hide it. not from himself.

his heart would beat faster the moment you walked into the room, thumping against his ribs like it was trying to escape. your laugh sent warmth down his spine, curling low in his belly. and when you touched him—so casually, so sweetly, never once noticing the way he stiffened under your fingers—it was like his body betrayed him completely. every soft graze, every playful shove, every gentle lean against his side during long car rides made him ache with a craving he didn’t know how to satisfy.

he should feel guilty for thinking about you like this.

you were his friend. his member. someone he saw nearly every day—hair a mess after practice, yawning over cereal in the morning, soft and sleepy in oversized hoodies during late-night movie marathons. he knew you. really knew you. so it felt wrong, so wrong, to look at you and want more.

he shouldn't be staring at your lips every time you talked to him, eyes flicking down without meaning to, locked on the way they moved—glossy, soft, always tinted some shade that made his throat go dry. he shouldn't be wondering what it tasted like, if it was sweet, if it would stick to his mouth if he kissed you long enough. he shouldn't be imagining the feeling of your lips brushing against his, slow and tentative, or maybe firm and needy—he couldn't decide which fantasy ruined him more.

he shouldn't crave your touch either. not the casual kind you always gave him so freely. not the way your hand would rest on his thigh during group photos, or the way your fingers would toy with his bangs when he was lying on the couch. you probably didn’t even realize you did it. but he noticed. he felt every brush like a spark under his skin, and he hated how badly he wanted more.

so he decided to do something about it.

he waited until the dorm was quiet—just the hum of the fridge, the occasional creak of the walls settling—and sat at his desk, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. he wasn’t even sure what to search. he hesitated. hovered over the keys, heart racing faster than it should’ve. but then he forced himself to type, vague, simple words. girl rides guy.

he clicked on one of the top results. something basic. nothing too aggressive. just… a start.

the screen lit up with movement—moaning, panting, skin slapping against skin. the woman was on top, knees spread on either side of the man’s hips, bouncing rhythmically. her hands roamed over his chest, his arms, tangling into his hair before dragging down his torso. the man’s hands clung to her ass, squeezing tight, fingers sinking into soft flesh as she rode him faster. her tits bounced with every movement, her expression one of pure pleasure.

jungwon blinked.

he felt the rush, sure. a faint ache stirring low in his stomach, a little throb in his pants that made him squirm in his chair. but it didn’t hit the way he thought it would. it wasn’t you.

his gaze drifted from their faces to their position—bodies tangled, rocking together. he tilted his head, brow furrowed slightly, lips parted in a quiet kind of confusion. it didn’t look natural. it didn’t feel real. something about the way they moved made him question if it was actually supposed to feel good.

he tried. he really tried.

even if it felt awkward, even if it wasn’t quite right, he thought maybe the video would help—maybe seeing it would be enough to guide him. to quiet the ache that had been building for weeks. months, even. anything to dull the heat pooling low in his stomach every time your skin brushed against his. anything to make his thoughts stop circling around you and your soft voice and your wandering hands and your smile that made his chest feel too tight.

his fingers moved clumsily to the waistband of his sweatpants, hesitating for just a second before pushing them down to his thighs. the cotton of his boxers followed next, peeled down slowly, the cool air hitting his half-hardened cock and making him suck in a shaky breath. it twitched a little against his abdomen, needy and unsure, like the rest of him. he wasn’t fully hard yet—just enough to feel the tension, the need for something more.

he clicked through a few more videos, heart racing, mouth dry. eventually, he settled on one. the woman on screen was confident, sensual, her hands wrapping around the man’s cock with practiced ease. she stroked him slowly at first, fingers curling tightly, her thumb pressing against the head, teasing his slit with wet circles. the man moaned. loudly. desperately.

jungwon swallowed hard and tried to mimic her.

his fingers wrapped around himself, cautious, testing. he gave a few slow pumps, thumb brushing over the tip like she had done. a groan slipped from his lips, soft and shaky—but the pleasure didn’t come. not really. it felt dull. disconnected. nothing like what the man in the video was experiencing. nothing like what he imagined you would feel like.

he paused, furrowing his brows. replayed the motion. watched her hand again, studied the grip, the speed, the way her wrist moved. he tried again.

still nothing.

frustration bloomed low in his chest. he shifted in the chair, readjusted his grip, sped up a little—but the tension only tightened in the worst way. like his body was bracing for something that wouldn’t come. like the spark had never caught. his jaw clenched as he scrolled to the comments out of desperation, hoping for something useful, anything that could explain why it wasn’t working. half the terminology made no sense, and the rest was filled with half-baked advice that only made him feel more lost.

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard through his nose. what the hell was wrong with him? was he broken? was he doing it wrong? why couldn’t he just—

the soft creak of his bedroom door stopped everything.

his whole body jolted, eyes snapping to the doorway as his hand scrambled to cover himself. panic shot through his veins, hot and sharp. and then he saw you.

standing there. eyes wide. lips parted. staring straight at him.

"fuck—i'm sorry, y/n—it's not wh—i didn't mean—" the words tumbled out of him in a breathless rush as he fumbled to tug his boxers back up, one hand diving for the laptop to slam it shut. the screen went dark. his cock, still half-hard and sticky at the tip, disappeared beneath fabric that did nothing to hide the fact that he’d been caught. fully.

you didn’t say anything.

not right away.

you just stared for a moment longer—so quiet, so unreadable—and then, to his utter horror, you let out a soft, amused little giggle.

"you should maybe wear headphones next time," you said, voice smooth as you stepped into the room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. "also, always lock your door. rookie mistake."

you moved to sit at the edge of his bed like it was nothing. like you hadn't just walked in on him trying to jerk off to porn he didn’t even understand.

jungwon coughed, voice caught in his throat, still too flustered to think straight.

“i-it’s okay…” he muttered, eyes darting anywhere but at you. “it won’t be happening again…”

but you just smiled.

like you knew something he didn’t.

your gaze roamed slowly, deliberately, up and down his body.

he looked like a mess. his chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths, puffed out in a mix of embarrassment and frustration. the low light of the room cast shadows over his skin, highlighting the soft sheen of sweat forming at his temples. his sweatpants were rumpled, the waistband haphazardly tugged back into place, doing little to hide the obvious outline of his half-hardened cock pressing against the thin fabric. his thighs shifted, restless, as if trying to hide the very thing giving him away.

but it wasn’t just his body—it was the way he looked at you.

like he was trying not to. like it took everything in him not to stare at your mouth, your hands, your eyes. the need in his expression was barely masked, lingering there behind his lashes every time he blinked. and you’d seen it before. you weren’t stupid.

you'd caught on months ago.

the way his breath would hitch when you got too close. the way he’d squeeze his thighs together subtly—so subtly it might’ve fooled anyone else—every time your hand casually settled on them during car rides or movie nights. how his face would flush when your fingers brushed his neck, or the shaky little gasps he'd let out when you leaned in too far, your lips near his ear. it was all so obvious. he just never thought you noticed.

he tried so hard to be composed, to be innocent, but his body gave him away every single time.

and tonight? tonight only confirmed it.

you’d walked past his room with no real intention of stopping—but the sound that spilled from the slightly ajar door made you freeze. a woman’s voice, high and breathy, fake and repetitive. porn. loud and clear. the moans were drawn out, forced, looping over themselves like a broken record. it was awful. but what really caught your attention was the soft, frustrated groan that followed. his voice.

so you peeked inside. just enough to see him fumbling beneath his desk, flushed and flustered and trying so hard to make something happen that clearly wasn’t working.

now, moments later, you sat at the edge of his bed, eyes locked on him as he tried to pull himself together in front of you. he wouldn’t meet your gaze. his lips were parted, breath unsteady, hands fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie like he didn’t know what to do with them.

you let the silence stretch for a second longer, before tilting your head and offering a soft, amused smile.

“you could’ve just asked, wonnie,” you said gently, your voice dipped in teasing warmth.

his entire body tensed. you didn’t miss the way a visible shiver ran down his spine at the nickname—wonnie—the one you only ever used when you wanted to see him squirm.

his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours, wide and unsure. “w-what are you talking about?” he asked, though his voice cracked halfway through the sentence, the words weak and unconvincing.

you didn’t answer right away.

instead, you stood slowly, walking toward him with deliberate steps. he backed up instinctively, and you guided him gently back into the chair behind him. he sat down with a gasp, shoulders tense, legs stiff.

your fingers trailed lightly along the edge of his jaw, tilting his face up to yours. “i could help you with your little problem,” you whispered, leaning in close enough for him to feel your breath against his lips.

his eyes fluttered shut for a second, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. he didn’t move. didn’t answer. just sat there, frozen under your touch, his cock twitching beneath the fabric of his sweats, aching for something—anything—you’d give him.

and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

you leaned in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear—not kissing, not whispering, just letting your breath hit the sensitive skin there, warm and soft. he froze beneath you, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a bowstring, waiting. anticipating. but you didn’t say a word. instead, you let your hands speak for you.

your fingers began at his arms, slow and deliberate as they dragged from the bend of his elbow up to the curve of his biceps. you took your time, feeling the quiet strength beneath your palms—the way his muscles twitched under your touch, already so reactive. he wasn’t overly built, not bulky, but toned in a way that was subtle and honest. real. you squeezed gently, just to see what kind of noise you could pull from him, and sure enough, he gasped—quiet, but shaky, his lips parting as his chest began to rise faster.

your hands continued their path, now sliding over his shoulders, across his chest, under the loose hem of his hoodie. you tugged it upward, slow and teasing, revealing more of his skin inch by inch. he helped you without a word, arms lifting just enough for you to pull it off completely, the fabric falling somewhere behind you. he was shirtless now, vulnerable in a way that made his breath stutter again, his eyes locked on yours like he didn’t know what to expect next—but needed all of it.

you took a step forward, guiding his legs apart with the gentlest pressure of your knees against his. he opened up for you instinctively, thighs parting just enough for you to slip between them. his cock strained visibly against the fabric of his sweats, twitching helplessly with every shift of his hips, the fabric doing little to hide the swollen shape of him now. his arousal was pulsing through him like a current, alive in his veins, making his skin flush and tingle.

you pressed your hands to his bare chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palms. he was so warm—too warm. and when your fingers flicked gently over his nipples, the reaction was immediate. his hips jerked up slightly from the chair, a startled little moan catching in his throat as his back arched just barely into your touch.

he’d never felt that before. not like this. not so raw, so exposed, so real.

his cock throbbed, painfully hard now, pressed up against the inside of his sweatpants in a way that made him bite his lip and squirm. the ache was unfamiliar. overwhelming. and somehow, it still wasn’t enough.

his hands gripped the armrests of the chair, knuckles white as he tried to hold himself still. to be good. to let you do whatever you wanted with him. and then—your lips.

your mouth met his skin without warning, and the moan that fell from his lips was soft and unguarded, full of shock and something like desperation. your kisses were light at first, just the ghost of your mouth trailing down his chest. his skin was hot beneath your lips, his breathing stuttering with every press.

you took your time, letting your lips move lower, kissing across his sternum, over the curve of his ribs. his stomach tightened beneath the attention, his body trembling as you slowly made your way back up—this time heading for his neck.

and that’s when your kisses changed.

open-mouthed. wetter. slower. your tongue flicked out, just slightly, tracing the edge of his pulse point before your lips closed over it. you sucked gently, and the sound he made was broken—something between a gasp and a whimper, his thighs tensing on either side of you.

“hmm—y/n…” he breathed out, the name barely forming as it slipped from his mouth. his eyes were squeezed shut, brows drawn together, and you could see the tremble in his chest, the way his whole body was fighting to hold itself together.

he was falling apart for you.

and you hadn’t even taken his pants off yet.

his breathing was ragged now, soft pants falling from his parted lips as you dragged your mouth up the column of his neck, your lips still warm and wet from the trail of kisses you left across his chest. he tilted his head instinctively to the side, giving you more room to work with, exposing the delicate skin along his throat like he wanted to offer himself up completely. his hands were still gripping the armrests of his chair like a lifeline, like if he let go, he’d melt into nothing right there beneath you.

you moved slowly, deliberately, letting yourself sink into his lap, the tension in his body instantly spiking as your thighs settled on either side of his hips. he froze beneath you, like he didn’t know where to look, what to do, how to breathe now that you were pressed so close. his hands hovered uselessly at his sides, like he didn’t trust himself to touch you. his eyes were wide, trained on your face like he was still trying to process the fact that this was real—you were real, and you were here, in his lap, looking at him like you already knew every single thought racing through his head.

you leaned in, arms sliding slowly around his neck as you brought his face closer to yours, your breath warm against his lips as you spoke.

“kiss me, wonnie…”

your voice was soft, coaxing, and the second it touched his ears, something in him gave out. his hands gripped the edge of the chair, and he surged forward—clumsy, eager, desperate—his lips pressing against yours with more need than experience. he didn’t know how to move, not really, but he kissed you like he meant it. like he’d dreamed about this a hundred times and never thought it’d actually happen.

he gasped when your hands threaded into his hair, your fingers curling gently as you tilted his head, guiding the kiss deeper. your mouth moved against his slowly at first, letting him feel it—your lips warm, soft, molding to his in a way that made him tremble. you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he was trying to hold back, to stay composed, even as his body betrayed him completely.

your tongue flicked across his bottom lip, teasing, tasting. he moaned quietly, lips parting just enough to let you in, and you didn’t waste the chance—you licked into his mouth, slow and confident, letting him feel every inch of it. your tongue brushed against his and he whimpered, the sound caught between surprise and pleasure, his thighs twitching beneath you as his hips shifted upward in a subtle, instinctive movement.

his cock strained against the fabric of his sweatpants, already hard and aching—so much more than he expected. he didn’t even know it could feel like this, didn’t know that a kiss could shoot heat straight to his core, that your mouth on his could make his stomach clench and his skin burn and his thoughts disappear all at once.

he let out another shaky moan, this one higher, softer, and you could feel his body tremble under yours. his hands finally lifted, unsure, then settled on your hips like he needed something to hold onto. he gripped you like you were his anchor, like he might float away if he didn’t keep his fingers pressed into your skin.

you shifted in his lap slightly—just a small grind of your hips, nothing intentional—but the pressure was too much for him. too new. too much heat. too much you.

he tore his mouth from yours with a gasp, his head falling back against the chair as a sharp, broken moan spilled out of him.

“ah—fuck, y/n—”

you froze, your breath catching as you pulled back just enough to look down at him.

his entire body was shaking.

his chest heaved with every breath, his brows pulled tight in shock as his cock throbbed beneath you—once, twice—before he came with a strangled sound, hips jerking weakly up into the air. there was no warning. no buildup. just raw, overwhelming pleasure that ripped through him like a wave, soaking straight through the front of his sweats.

his hands clutched at your waist like he didn’t know whether to hold on or push you away. his mouth was open, lips wet and red from kissing you, his cheeks flushed so dark it nearly reached his ears. he blinked up at you like he didn’t know what had just happened—like he’d just drowned and come back gasping for air.

you stayed quiet for a moment, watching the way his chest rose and fell, the way his eyes blinked slowly, still trying to recover. your gaze flicked down—his sweats were soaked at the front, the outline of his cock still twitching beneath the mess he’d made. all from kissing you.

you pulled back slowly, breath still warm against his flushed skin, before climbing off his lap with a smooth, fluid movement. jungwon let out a soft sound at the loss of contact—half whine, half exhale—as his trembling body sank deeper into the chair, still trying to recover from the kiss that shattered him.

but you weren’t finished with him. not even close.

your hands moved to the waistband of his sweatpants, and this time, he didn’t try to stop you. he watched, wide-eyed and dazed, as you tugged them down with practiced ease. his boxers followed in the same motion, peeled away in one fluid drag that left him completely bare in front of you for the first time.

his cock—still hard, coated in a messy mix of slick precum and the lingering aftermath of his first orgasm—twitched against the cool air, the head flushed a deep, aching red. he gasped softly, hips flinching at the sudden temperature shift, his thighs instinctively pressing together before relaxing again as you settled on your knees in front of him.

you should’ve taken your time. you could’ve teased him more—watched him squirm, dragged it out.

but the moment you got your first full look at him like this, flushed and breathless and so fucking beautiful, you knew you couldn’t wait.

you wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, the warmth of your hand pulling a ragged moan from his throat. your touch was firmer this time, surer, and he reacted instantly—hips jerking slightly, lips parting in another gasp. you didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath before you leaned in, your lips parting as you took him into your mouth in one slow, purposeful movement.

he cried out.

the sound was loud, broken, echoing in the room like he didn’t even realize it was coming from him. his fingers flew to the edge of the chair again, gripping the armrests so tight his knuckles turned white.

his cock pulsed against your tongue, and fuck, he tasted so good—salty, a little sweet, the mix of his arousal and cum coating your mouth as you let him slide deeper between your lips. you moaned softly around him, letting the vibration hum through his length, and his entire body shuddered from the feeling.

your hand stayed at the base, keeping him steady, while your other hand moved lower—gently cupping his balls, rolling them in your palm as your mouth worked his cock with wet, eager strokes. the mess didn’t bother you. your saliva was already sliding down his shaft, mixing with the cum still clinging to his skin, dripping down onto your fingers and smearing across your lips.

you didn’t care.

you only cared about him—about the way his breath hitched with every glide of your tongue, about the way he whispered your name like a prayer, about the way his thighs trembled as he tried to hold back and couldn’t.

his voice was a mess—gasps and whimpers and soft little please, please sounds that made your core tighten. he was falling apart so quickly, too quickly, but you didn’t slow down. you wanted to ruin him. you wanted to hear what he sounded like when he broke for you.

his face twisted in the most beautiful way, brows furrowed, jaw slack, lips parted around cries he couldn’t hold in. his fingers twitched like he didn’t know where to put them, like he needed to grab something—you, your hair, your shoulders—but was too overwhelmed to move.

he looked so fucked out already, even though this was only the beginning.

“oh—god—y/n, i—I can’t—i think i’m gonna—” he gasped, voice cracking.

and you pulled back just slightly, enough to look up at him through your lashes, your lips still wrapped around the head of his cock as you gave him one more slow, teasing suck before letting him fall from your mouth with a pop.

“you’re gonna cum for me again, baby?” you whispered, your voice wrecked and low, breath brushing his sensitive skin. “already?”

his head dropped back with a shudder, and you didn’t wait—you took him back into your mouth, deeper this time, sucking harder, faster, as your hands worked his length and touched his balls in tandem.

he felt like he was in heaven.

no—beyond that.

like his body wasn’t his anymore. like he was floating, burning, unraveling all at once. every nerve lit up, every breath stolen from his lungs, his thoughts reduced to nothing but you—you and your mouth and your hands and your eyes, locked on his face like you never wanted to look away.

his vision blurred, a thin sheen of tears clinging to his lashes from how overwhelmed he felt, how good you made him feel. it was too much, and not enough. his entire body was trembling, overstimulated from his first orgasm, but still so desperate for more. because this? you? this was unlike anything he had ever known.

the videos had never helped. cold, flat, impersonal. watching strangers move with mechanical rhythm, forced moans and dead eyes. he never understood the hype. never understood the pleasure. his own hand barely brought him relief—awkward, uncertain touches that left him aching rather than satisfied.

but this?

having you take him into your mouth with that hunger, that confidence… it wrecked him. completely.

you were a mess—hair tousled, lips swollen, chin glistening with his release. the taste of him was still heavy on your tongue, the heat of his cum still coating your mouth from the first time. and even with your face marked by it, even with saliva and arousal smeared across your cheeks, your eyes never left his. not once. you looked at him like he was precious. like he was yours.

and it broke something in him.

his hips jerked suddenly, uncontrollably, as the pressure built too fast, too intense. you didn’t stop—you couldn’t. your hands tightened around him, mouth sucking hard around the flushed head of his cock, and that was all it took.

“y/n!” he cried out, louder this time, voice cracking on the syllable as his body convulsed under your touch.

his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave.

this one was so much more intense—stronger, messier, desperate. his entire body bucked into your mouth, his thighs shaking violently beneath your hands as thick, hot ropes of cum filled your mouth in fast, heavy pulses. you tried to swallow—god, you tried—but there was so much, and he wouldn’t stop cumming, and you couldn’t breathe fast enough.

it spilled out, leaking from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin and onto your hand, warm and sticky and so incredibly filthy. he was still gasping, body twitching with aftershocks as tears slipped down the corners of his eyes—his expression one of pure disbelief, lips parted, brows drawn together in an overwhelmed mix of pleasure and shame and awe.

you pulled off him slowly, letting his softening cock fall from your lips with a soft, wet sound. his cum coated your mouth and your skin, warm and slick as you wiped it from your chin with the back of your hand, licking your lips without a second thought.

you looked up at him.

and he looked wrecked.

his chest was heaving, hair sticking to his forehead, mouth still trembling from the sounds he couldn’t quite stop making. his arms had gone limp at his sides. and the second your eyes met his again, he whimpered—small and broken and so, so in love with the way you ruined him.

you wanted more.

god, you needed more.

seeing him like this—so soft, so fragile, completely wrecked and trembling in the aftermath of his second orgasm—only made your hunger spike. his skin was flushed, sweat-damp and glowing under the low light, and his cheeks were streaked with tears he hadn’t even realized he’d shed. his chest rose and fell in ragged, shallow breaths, lips parted, eyes wide and glassy as he looked up at you like you were some kind of dream.

and you were going to ruin him.

“you look pretty when you cry, wonnie,” you murmured, voice warm and unshaken as your fingers trailed up his jaw to brush away the wetness on his cheek. he shuddered under your touch, blinking up at you with a sound caught in his throat—like he didn’t know how to respond. like no one had ever said anything like that to him before.

you stood, hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, and peeled it off slowly. his breath hitched the moment the fabric cleared your chest, exposing the soft swell of your breasts, full and flushed and so fucking real. his eyes dropped immediately, devouring every inch of skin now on display. his lashes fluttered, lips trembling again as his gaze trailed lower—past the slope of your stomach, to the curve of your hips, and finally, between your thighs.

when he saw your bare pussy, slick with need, glistening in the soft light—he whimpered.

actually whimpered.

a broken, high-pitched sound that spilled from his lips before he could stop it, like his brain short-circuited just from the sight of you.

you smirked softly, stepping closer, watching the way his eyes never left your body. you climbed back into his lap, slowly this time, knees bracketing his hips, your hand wrapping gently around the base of his still-hard cock. he gasped at the contact—so sensitive, so spent, and yet still so desperate for you. your other hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing his lower lip as you guided him to look at you.

“you want me to take you, baby?” you asked, voice soft, low. “want to feel me for real?”

he nodded frantically, chest rising faster now, lips parting in a breathless plea. “please… i wanna feel you… need to feel all of you…”

you lined him up, dragging his tip through your folds slowly—once, twice—coating him in your arousal before you sank down onto him in one long, slow motion.

his head dropped back.

his mouth fell open.

a sob of a moan escaped him.

“f-fuck… y/n—oh my god—”

he was crying again. tears spilling fresh from his lashes as you took him in fully, the tight, wet heat of your pussy wrapping around him for the first time. he trembled under you, both hands flying to your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough. his fingers dug into your skin, not harshly, but with a kind of quiet desperation—needing to feel you, all of you, chest to chest, skin to skin.

you moaned softly as you settled into his lap, your walls pulsing around him from the stretch, your hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. his cock filled you perfectly, thick and flushed and twitching deep inside of you as his hips jerked slightly, instinctively.

he looked up at you through wet lashes, eyes wide with awe, with disbelief, with a trembling kind of gratitude that made your heart ache. his lip trembled as he whispered your name, like it was the only word he could remember.

you leaned in, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting your chest press against his as you cradled his face gently between your hands. his arms came around you instantly, pulling you in tighter, like he wanted to feel every inch of your bare body against his own. like he wanted to memorize how it felt to be this close.

you didn’t move at first.

you just let him sit there—your pussy wrapped around his cock, his arms locked around your waist, both of you pressed chest to chest. you could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, could feel the way his cock twitched deep inside you, overstimulated and desperate but craving more. his breath came in soft, stuttering pants, lips parted, eyes fluttering like he was trying to keep them open but couldn’t stay focused on anything except the way your warmth squeezed around him.

you leaned in, your nose brushing his, your lips ghosting over his mouth.

“look at me, wonnie,” you whispered, your voice sweet and gentle as you cupped his face. “don’t look away.”

his eyes opened, glazed with tears and pleasure, and locked onto yours. you kissed him softly—slow, with purpose—pressing your mouth to his like you had all the time in the world. he gasped into the kiss, and you swallowed the sound, deepening it with a roll of your hips that made both of you moan.

it wasn’t fast. it wasn’t rough.

you rocked into him slowly, deliberately, letting him feel every single inch of you as you moved your hips in smooth, grinding circles. he felt everything—the way your walls hugged him tight, the slick drag of your heat around his cock, the soft press of your tits against his chest, your lips moving against his like you wanted to breathe him in.

his mouth was messy on yours now—wet, open, sloppy kisses that had no rhythm, only hunger. your tongues tangled, your teeth scraped, your breath mingled in shaky exhales as you kept grinding down on him in that perfect, slow rhythm that made him sob into your mouth.

you pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, your eyes still locked on his.

“you feel so good inside me, baby,” you murmured, dragging your fingers through the sweat at the back of his neck. “so full. so deep. you’re perfect.”

he let out a broken moan at that, his head falling forward onto your shoulder. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer, like he needed to be as close to you as humanly possible.

“you’re doing so well for me, wonnie,” you whispered into his ear, your lips brushing against his skin. “taking me so well. look at you… crying again, just from the way i’m riding you.”

he whimpered—literally whimpered—against your shoulder, his hands roaming your back now, touching every inch of skin he could reach. he was trembling, his body trying to stay still while you moved so slowly, so carefully on top of him. each roll of your hips dragged another soft moan from his throat, his cock pulsing inside of you, so close to the edge but too scared to fall over it again.

you pulled back again, grabbing his chin gently to force him to look at you.

“keep your eyes on me, baby,” you said. “you’re not cumming without watching me fall apart with you.”

his lips parted like he wanted to say something—maybe a please, maybe your name—but you kissed him again before he could speak. this time deeper, wetter. your tongue pushed into his mouth, claiming him, making him shiver beneath you.

and as you rode him slowly, your lips never left his.

the kiss turned filthy fast—his moans muffled by your mouth, your spit mixing with his as you sucked on his tongue, dragging your nails softly down his back. his hips bucked up helplessly, chasing your movements even as he cried from how overwhelmed he was.

“so good for me,” you whispered when you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, your lips swollen and wet. “you’re being so good, wonnie. i’ve never felt anything like this. you’re making me feel so fucking good.”

he whined—loudly—and you knew he was close.

you picked up the pace just a little, grinding down harder, bouncing softly in his lap, your pussy fluttering around him as his cock throbbed with every movement.

“cum for me again, baby,” you whispered. “give it to me. give me everything.”

and the second your walls clenched around him, the second you moaned his name into his mouth—he shattered.

his mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back as his entire body locked up beneath you, another orgasm ripping through him with a strangled cry. hot cum spilled into you, thick and endless, his hips jerking erratically as you milked every last drop from him with slow, delicious rolls of your hips. he held onto you like he was drowning, sobbing into your shoulder as his cock twitched inside of you, so full, so sensitive, so wrecked.

he was still trembling in your arms, both of you bathed in the afterglow of his release. his body was a little limp beneath you, his chest rising and falling with soft, uneven breaths, but his eyes? they were still wide, still locked on you—still holding that quiet, desperate need that hadn’t yet been satisfied.

he kissed you again, gently, his lips brushing against yours with that same tender urgency as before. but this time, when he pulled away, there was something different in his gaze.

something new.

you saw the shift in his expression, the hesitation mixed with desire, as he glanced down at your body, at the way you were still so open, so warm, so inviting. his eyes flickered to your hips, to your thighs, then back to your face, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“y/n…” he whispered, his voice thick with a mix of uncertainty and something else—something deeper. “can I… can I…?”

he didn’t finish the sentence, but you saw what he was asking. he wanted to return the favor. he wanted to make you feel the same way you’d made him feel—completely undone, but this time, with his mouth.

a soft smile curled at the corner of your lips. “of course, wonnie,” you murmured, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “but if you’re nervous, we can take it slow.”

he shook his head, determination flickering in his eyes. “no, i want to… i need to.”

you let him guide you gently, your body moving as he shifted you into his arms, his hands running over your sides as he helped you onto the bed. you settled against the sheets, propped up on your elbows, watching as he climbed between your legs.

his gaze was hungry, but there was still that same uncertainty behind it, as if he wasn’t sure how to start, but was too eager to stop. you saw the way his breath hitched as he hovered over you, his eyes moving from your face to your core, and you couldn’t help but smile softly.

“just take your time, wonnie,” you whispered, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “you don’t have to rush.”

he stood with you in his arms and carried you the short distance to his bed.

he laid you down softly, his hands lingering on your waist, eyes scanning your body like he still couldn’t believe this was real. his lips brushed your inner thigh as he knelt between your legs, and you gasped softly at the warmth of his breath, the look of pure focus on his face as he stared at your pussy—wet, swollen, messy with his cum and your slick.

“you’re so pretty,” he whispered, mostly to himself, and you saw his tongue flick across his lips before he looked up at you again. “just… tell me if i’m doing anything wrong, okay?”

you gave him a small nod, encouraging him without a word, and that was all it took.

he kissed the sensitive skin of your thigh first, just a soft brush of his lips against you, before he moved closer, more eager now. his hands gripped your hips gently, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he pressed his face between your legs. when he finally made contact with your pussy, his tongue was a tentative, unsure swipe, not quite sure how to navigate the new territory but too lost in the taste of you to stop.

he moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your body, and it made you shiver in his grasp. he was messy, unsure at first—his tongue moving awkwardly, pressing against you too hard, then too soft, but you could feel his desperation. his eagerness to please you, to make you feel as good as you’d made him feel.

“it’s okay, baby,” you whispered, your hand running through his hair again. “just… relax. i’ll guide you.”

he nodded against you, his lips trembling as he pulled back just enough to look up at you. his eyes were wide, full of innocence and something else—need, desire. he wanted to learn, wanted to make you feel everything, even if he wasn’t perfect at it yet.

so you guided him. you showed him how to move, how to swipe your folds with his tongue, how to apply pressure just right, how to circle his tongue around your clit with slow, patient strokes. you could feel him getting more comfortable with each passing second, his movements becoming more confident, more certain. the moment his tongue flicked over your clit, soft and gentle, you couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth, your head falling back against the pillow.

he heard it, and it made him hum in satisfaction, the sound of his pleasure in the way he ate you out sending waves of heat through your body. he was still messy, his tongue dragging over you in uneven strokes, but it felt so good—so good. the warmth of his mouth on you, the way he moaned and gasped as he tasted you, filled you with a new kind of desire, one that had you writhing beneath him.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” you gasped, hips bucking against his mouth. “fuck—just like that. you’re making me feel so good…”

he made a sound against you, a muffled whimper, and you looked down to see him watching you through hooded eyes, completely lost in the way you responded to his touch. you smiled down at him, your chest heaving as your hand tangled in his hair again, guiding him with soft tugs as you moaned his name.

“that’s it, baby… just like that. you’re doing so good, wonnie…”

the praise sent a rush of heat through his body, and you could feel him pushing deeper, his tongue flicking faster, more sure of himself now, his movements eager and desperate. you could tell he was loving every sound you made, every tremor of your body beneath him, and it only made him work harder.

you could feel the pressure building in your stomach, the heat intensifying as your orgasm crept closer, but you didn’t want to rush it. you wanted him to feel every moment, every inch of you, just like you had for him.

“keep going, baby,” you gasped, your back arching slightly as you rode his mouth. “don’t stop.”

he didn’t. he kept going, and the way he made you feel—messy, overwhelmed, taken—was enough to send you spiraling. your orgasm hit you suddenly, crashing over you like a wave, and you couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped your lips as you came on his tongue, your body trembling beneath him as he worked you through it, his hands still gripping your hips to hold you against his mouth.

you panted heavily, chest rising and falling as he looked up at you, his face flushed, eyes wide and full of pride. he’d done it. he’d made you feel like that.

and even though he was still learning, still new, you knew he was the one who had given you the most real, unfiltered pleasure you’d felt in a long time.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ hoped y'all liked it !!

[cherryyluvs]

Third Wheel Trouble

Mark was supposed to have a romantic skating date with you. But thanks to Debbie, he now has an unexpected plus one, his very nosy little brother (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Mark had been looking forward to this date for days, just him and you finally. A nice, normal perfect night out where he can give you all his attention instead of you know, saving the world.

Just the two of you, holding hands, maybe even sneaking a few kisses in if he was lucky.

So when he walked into the living room all freshly showered, decently dressed for once and ready to head out.

Of course, Debbie had other plans.

“You're taking Oliver,” Debbie said, completely ignoring the way Mark choked on his own spit. “What!?” Nearly dropping his skates. “Mom, no. No way it's a date!”

“And Oliver's a child who wants to get out the house” She said while ruffling Oliver’s hair. “You'll be responsible. Right Mark?”

Mark’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. Turning around expecting Oliver to protest but nope! The kid was already smiling, shoes on and ready to go.

“But–”

Before another word, Debbie gave him that Mom look.

Mark groaned, pressing his fingers into his eyes before throwing his hands in defeat. “Fine”

It only got worse from there.

When Mark pulled up, you were expecting a cute night out with him. Instead, the first thing you noticed when you slid into the passenger seat was.. “Oliver?”

You looked between the two of them, the way Oliver was happily kicking his feet in the backseat while Mark looked like he wanted to crash into oncoming traffic.

“Oh my god” You beamed. “Your mom made you bring him. Didn't she?”

Mark scowled. “Don't ask.”

But it was too late, you were already giggling.

This was going to be fun.

At first it was just a few minor interruptions, every time Mark tried to subtly hold your hand. Oliver skated right between you two. Mark tries to whisper something cute? Oliver slurps his milkshake obnoxiously loud.

Mark dares to make flirty eye contact? “Why are you staring at her like that?

Mark was losing it, and you? You were loving it. Barely holding it together, biting your lips to keep yourself from laughing as Mark sat there, completely dead inside.

And then?

“Oh!” Oliver's eyes widened. “You're the girl Mark won't shut up about?” Mark choked.

“Oliver!”

“What?” Oliver blinked innocently. “You talk about her all the time”

Your smirk grew, turning to face Mark, resting your chin on your palm. “All the time?”

Mark, red faced and flustered, grabbed a fry and shoved it into Oliver’s mouth.

“Eat.”

“He's adorable” You giggled watching him munch on the fries.

After an hour of skating, Oliver finally gets distracted by the snake bar. Seizing the opportunity, Mark grabbed your hand and pulled you to the edge of the rink, away from the chaos.

“Finally” He muttered, pressing quick kisses to your knuckles.

You smiled. “Desperate, are we?”

Mark exhaled, leaning his forehead against yours. “You have no idea” Your breath hitched , caught up in the warmth of his body and the cool air of the rink. The distant hum of music surrounded you, the twinkling lights above casting a soft shadow over Mark’s face.

He looked at you, like you were the only person in the world. He was just about to lean when–

Thud.

A tray of nachos and cheese hit the ground.

“Aw, come on!” You and Mark turned your heads at the same time. Oliver stood there, arms crossed, and a big frown on his face.

Pointing an accusatory finger at mark.

“I leave for 2 minutes and you guys are already being gross?”

Mark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Oliver”

“What?” he huffed, walking up and standing between you two. “Mom said to make sure you weren't doing anything weird”

You blushed, laughter bubbling up before you could stop it. Mark, however, looked like he wanted to pass out from the secondhand embarrassment. “Dude, you're, like, the worst chaperone ever.”

Mark looked at you helplessly, but you smiled. Grabbing his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze,

“Guess you'll have to be sneakier next time” you teased, bumping his shoulder playfully.

Mark lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “Next time, I'm leaving him at home."