#it's just personally not to my tastes I think

[lomlsatoru]

TOO GOOD FOR ME ★ CLARK KENT

꩜ pairing ━━ fem!childhood bsf!reader x clark kent

꩜ summary ━━ everytime you remember your life, clark is always there, and now after everything came crashing down, clark thinks he has loved you from the very start.

꩜ content ━━ 3.3k words | angst, fluff, confessions, reader is a bit oblivious, clark calls her 'honey', ma and pa call her 'peach', they grew up together in smallville, LOIS AND CLARK AREN'T DATING, lois kinda have feelings for clark but she didnt do anything with it, i just wanted to put an extra pov!

꩜ a/n ━━ HI!!! introducing my fav trope, i loved writing this so much i hope yall like it as much as i do <33

as always comments are very deeply appreciated ♡

masterlist | navi | buy me kofi <3

You and Clark are really close. 

No one really asks how close but even from a distance you can tell. 

Growing up together is Smallville with a superhero as a best friend was not been the easiest, but, oh, you would not change it for the world. 

Because it’s Clark. 

The first person who stood up for you in front of bullies, who shares his lunch because ‘sharing makes the food taste better', who was your first ever best friend, who picked you up with his parents’ truck after you got shitfaced at a party, who entertains your weird ideas on how he can use his superpowers. Clark, who shows up.  

Okay, maybe you are thinking twice right now considering that you almost got stuck in a portal to a pocket universe. 

Your heart is beating out of your chest, as you stared at the portal in horror. You could hear groaning from the other side, seeing Clark laying on the floor, heaving.

“Clark,” you rushed to him, hands softly placing itself on his cheek. His skin feels sweaty and he looks pale, there’s black veins emerging from his neck, “Kryptonite.” you whispered, hands cradling the sides of his face as his tired eyes try to stay on you. 

A lazy smile stretched on his lips, “Hi.” dazed eyes trailing over your face, “You here to rescue me?” 

Scoffing, you lightly shove his chest back, grin threatening to be released, “You’re lucky I like you, Kent.”

He smiles. Your heart calms down a bit.

Suddenly he springs up, body still weak as you try to keep him upright, “There’s more people being held prisoner in there.” he breathes out, “We need to go get them.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

“Hey, hey,” your hands grabbing his bicep and torso, “Are you insane? You can’t even stand up.” you scold, holding him up from falling flat on his face. 

“Get him some place safe.” Mr Terrific turns to you and Lois, “Take the T-Craft.”

Nodding, Lois grabs the other side of Clark to help, the three of you walking towards the vehicle. “Krypto!” you call out, “Come on boy.”

Lois looks at you, surprised, “You know the dog?” 

You scrunched your nose, “Kinda.” looking to see if the fur baby is following, “He’s a menace tho, so be warned.”

The three of you enter the ship, dropping Clark onto the seat, “You know how to drive this thing?” you asked Lois, leaning forward to assess the countless buttons and levers. 

“Should be fine,” she looks up at you from the driver seat, “Right?” 

You give her a pat on the back, “I trust you.” 

A shaky smile was given, “Okay, let’s do this.”

.

.

.

The ride was shaky but everyone is still in one piece so that’s something.

You turned to the side and looked at Clark.

He looks awful. 

You don’t mean it in that way but he truly does.

His skin is all wrinkly and pale with black veins decorating the sides, his eyes tired and his body weak. The sight of him makes your stomach twist in all the wrong ways. Not the usual way it does with Clark.

Lois was still driving, every bump and swerve of the vehicle made you more nervous than before.

“I’m gonna be fine.” the man beside you croak out. 

Your heart stutters, “I know.” sighing deeply. Voice betraying any sort of confidence you have.

Clark coughs loudly, body shaking in his seat. You jump up, unbuckling yourself, “What’s wrong? You okay? Do you need water? I’m gonna get you water.” your nervous rambling trails off, moving with shaky legs as rummaged through your bag.

The sick man grunts, “Sit down.” he gruffly said, droopy eyes trying to stay on you as his hand reaches out, but the kryptonite poison is still very strong and the absence of the yellow sun made it worse in every way imaginable. 

His tiredness took over as his eyes shut and arm flailed down.

You sigh, listening to his movements, your own hand reaching out to hold him. He immediately intertwined your fingers together as try to find a water bottle. You gave his hand a squeeze, his fingers weak and loose around your own, “Gimme a sec, yeah?”

He grunts. You take that as a yes. 

You unclasp your fingers, continuing to look through your very full bag and maybe this is your mind playing tricks but you could hear him let out a small whine with the absence of your hand. 

You didn’t even realise the curious look Lois sent to you both. 

“Found it.” you try to stand up but the ship swerves aggressively making you latch onto Clark’s seat to stabilise yourself. 

“Sorry.” Lois said from the driver seat, guilty for being distracted by the interaction between you both. 

“It’s okay!” turning around, you open the bottle of water, hand on Clark’s jaw to help tilt his head up, “Drink.” you softly said, bring the water to his chapped lips. His tired eyes flickered open slightly, and even from far away you could see how it softened at the sight of you. 

Obvious to everyone, but you, apparently.

The man ended up finishing the whole bottle, gulping it down so fast that he chokes.

You chuckle, “Slow down, Clark.” bringing the bottle away, and putting it in your bag. You wipe off the stray drops of water that fell on his chin and neck, “Knew you were thirsty.” and shook your head, hands resting on his jaw, feeling his hot skin under your touch. Your heart sinks.

“’m gonna be fine.” he coughs out, weak hands still trying to latch onto you. As if he craves the contact, the feeling of you right here in front of him. Warm, soft, real. It brings comfort to him. You bring comfort to him. 

“Still worried.” you say, sitting back down on your seat and buckling in. Worry never leaving your face. 

“Hand.” he quietly requests.

Your stomach flutters but goes with his request, your hand reaches out to hold onto his. He’s still weak, his grip not strong but you can feel how hard he’s trying to reciprocate your grip. 

You would give him your hand as many times as he wants. 

.

.

.

The ride wasn't long but it felt like days when you finally reached Kansas. Accompanied by Clark’s shaky breaths, it didn’t make you less at ease. 

The sight of the small town from the air tugs on your heart strings, memories of growing up flashing in your head. And every single one of them, Clark never fails to be there. 

Him, and his shy smile, dazzling dimples and his big heart. 

You didn’t even know what would’ve happened to you if he wasn't there.

The aircraft finally lands, you rushing to help Clark stand up, “Ma! Pa!” you frantically yell out, just as the door opens. You support one half of Clark as Lois helped with the other side, feet a bit wobbly with his weight, he was not light in the slightest bit and you can’t even remember the last time Clark was this weak.

You miss the way Lois turned to you, eyebrows scrunching, deep in thought. Ma and Pa? Really how close are you with Clark?

“Peach?” Martha comes rushing out, John following behind. 

“It’s Clark, he’s sick.” you beg tiredly, eye bags illuminating your worry. Tears gather in the corner of your eyes as everything comes crashing down. Kryptonite is not something to underestimate. 

Martha's eyes widened, as she nodded her head, “Okay, honey. He’s gonna be okay.” she softly said, guiding you both back to the house. 

The smell of the house reminded you of your childhood, good memories that you don't have time to dwell on. The four of you slowly lay Clark down on his bed, his hand immediately reaching out for yours, as he started to babble. 

“Ma, they sent me here to rule over. They sent me here to kill people.” he says with shaking breaths. 

The sight shatters you. 

You look away and turn to John, “I’m gonna get some towels and water. Is it still in the same place?” 

He nods, “Yea, Peach.” 

You quickly walk to the kitchen grabbing the stuff as the parents crowded over their son in worry. 

Lois’ eyes survey all over Clark’s room, his childhood room. Posters, trophies, awards, pictures all filling in the space. Her eyes zeros on the Mighty Crabjoys posters, noticing the small frame picture on the shelf at the side. 

It was a undoubtedly a picture of the two of you. Younger versions. You're on Clark's back posing in the famous Superman pose with one arm out like you’re flying, as the boy smiled so brightly she could see his missing teeth as he carried you with pride.

“I got it.” you come back to the room with warm water in a bucket, towels already submerged and a cup of water in the other hand. You got to work, making sure Clark is comfortable as he absentmindedly nuzzles closer to you, head already lolling out of consciousness. 

Lois stares from the side, eyes softening when she realises how much stress you are in. She underestimated how close you were with Clark because this type of care must've taken years to build, to strengthen. 

Her eyes stray away to Clark’s bedside table, 2 picture frames neatly placed. One is his Ma and Pa and the other one is undeniably you. Just you. 

You look a bit older in this one, maybe 2? 3? years younger than you are now. Smiling like you won the lottery, you’re wearing an apron and the background looks like the kitchen she saw when walking in, your hand messy and so is your hair, there’s flour residue on your nose and you look…happy. That’s the only way that she could describe it as. 

So so happy. 

She now understands why Clark is so protective of you sometimes. 

.

.

.

The morning sun feels nice on your skin. 

It had been a rough night, the constant worry if Clark will wake up healthy claws in your chest, planting seeds of anxiety. You had slept on the couch, waking up at random hours of the night to make sure his chest was still raising up and down.

When Clark woke up he felt like he had been reborn. He feels stronger, lighter, his vision is clearer and he’s breathing better. His eyes immediately met with the furball that laid comfortably on his chest. 

He sighs softly, hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear, “Hey bud.” after a few seconds of staring up at the ceiling, he slowly stood up, walking to the living room only to be met with the sight that made his chest ache. Your sleeping figure illuminates under the sunlight, creating a halo that makes you look like an angel. And maybe that’s what you are to Clark. 

His guardian angel.

Feet pattered against the floorboard, he crouches down to be eye level with your head, fingers grazing along your cheek with such light touch you thought it was just in your dreams. 

“Thank you for looking after me.” Clark quietly whispers, staring at your features for a long second, eyes taking in everything. You look peaceful, he thought. Good. You deserve it.

He kisses your forehead, adjusts the blanket layered on top of you. He recognises it immediately, it’s your blanket. The one in his house that’s stored and bought specifically for you when you would have a sleepover at the Kents. 

You’re intertwined in his life in so many ways. 

Now, Clark has changed into more comfortable clothes, a bowl of cereal in hand as he sits on the bench outside soon accompanied by his Pa. 

“That– that Luanne, she seems nice.” 

“Lois.” Clark corrected, “Her name’s Lois. Yeah, she’s- she’s nice.”

John nods, head turning to look at his son before a fond smile makes its way to his face, “You worried Peach to death you know?” 

Clark freezes, guilt gnawing at his ribs, “Yeah.” he pauses, “Sometimes I wonder how easy her life would’ve been if she didn't meet me.” his voice is low and scratchy. 

The older man furrows his eyebrows, “Oh, don’ be like that Clark. You guys are attached to the hip. Quite impossible to separate you two.”

Clark doesn’t meet his eyes, “I don’t deserve her, Pa. She’s too good for me.” hands nervously fidgeting as he thinks about everything he put you through. 

The silence stretches, and now John understands what Clark was putting down, “You’re a good man, Clark.” he starts, “I saw you both grew up together. Trust me son, no one in this world deserves her more than you do.”

Biting the inside of his cheeks, Clark sniffles, “I don’t know what happened, she’s my best friend and then I woke up suddenly and saw her, and I wanna be more for her.”

John chuckles, “What’re you talkin’ ‘bout? Everyone knows you have a crush on ‘er.” 

His cheeks went warm, “No, you guys don’t.” 

The door creaked open, “Clark!” you exclaim, running towards him. He whips his head around at the sound of your voice and stands up immediately, bowl forgotten as he wraps his arms around you, face nuzzling into your neck. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” you sigh, arms tightening around his neck. 

His arms reciprocated, lightly lifting you up from the ground, “I’m okay.”

For a moment you two stayed like that before the little bubble was popped by Martha’s news, “Clark there’s something on the box that you might wanna see.”

Clark furrows his eyebrows, looking at Martha and turning to you. He detach you from his grip and walk back into the house with your hand in his. 

John stare at you both and roll his eyes, “Sure we don’t, Clark.” a soft smile on his face. 

.

.

.

You’re beyond exhausted. 

This whole week has been nothing short of stressful and the near-death experience on top of that made you want to curl up in your bed –that was lucky enough to survive the portal rip– and sleep for days.

You’re freshly out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, skin smelling like strawberry body wash and you’re drying your hair, towel in hand when the doorbell rings. You check your phone for any current messages, nothing new popped up making you confused. You pause the movie that was playing and look through the peephole.

Clark on the other side was sweating bricks, flowers tuck behind him as he stare down at your door. 

“Clark?” your voice laced with confusion, “What’re you doing here?” opening the door for him. 

The man coughs out his nerves, glasses perched up on the bridge of his nose, his hair looking soft and bouncy and he’s dressed in a sweater that makes him look huggable and warm. Your heart flutters. 

“Hey.” he mumbles, soft eyes casted downwards to you, “Sorry I didn’t tell you I was gonna show up but,” he brought his hands up, “I bought your favourite.” 

Your eyes lit up, only now recognising the familiar smell of chicken and pasta. Your stomach grumbles, “Oh, why didn’t you lead with that then.” snatching the paper bag from his hand and opening the door bigger.

The man chuckles, moving into your space as you make your way into the kitchen. Now he has the time to fully take you in. You're humming in joy, pajamas making you look soft, eyes pretty in the kitchen light. Clark could feel how at ease you are, and that makes him feel at ease too, “You look happy.” he teases. 

You giggle, unboxing all of the meal and letting out a happy shriek as the smell invaded your nostrils, “How can I not? My favourite person brought my favourite food!” your grin stretched out so big it hurt your cheeks. 

Clark swallows nervously. The flower that he’s been hiding behind him suddenly feels heavier. 

“I actually have something to tell you.” he walks closer to you, standing behind as he waits for you to turn around. 

“Hm?” you looked up to meet his eyes. Backing away slightly when you realise how close he was, “You okay?” the rustle of the paper the flowers were wrapped in took your attention away, “What’s that?” your smile teasing, “Is that for Lois?”

Clark groaned inwardly. For the smartest person he knows, you sure are pretty dense. 

He shakes his head, “No, these are for you. Why would it be for Lois?”

You tilt your head in confusion, “Why would you get flowers for me?”

If you weren't looking up at him so pretty right now he would’ve lost it. But you smell sweet, your eyes are shining and your cheeks are round and pink. He couldn't even be mad at you if he tried. 

“Honey–” his fingers press against his temples, “Just take the flowers.” 

You nod dumbly, “Oh– okay.” you take it from his grasp, a small smile on your face, staring at them in awe, “They’re lilies. My–” 

“Favourite.” Clark finishes your sentence, eyes softening at the sight of you. 

“What’s really going on Clark?” you questioned, putting the flowers on the side. 

The tall man stopped fidgeting and let out a deep sigh, “You have been the most constant factor in my life,” he starts, “from when we were kids, teens and now adults. You have always been there. You believed with me when no one else will, you stayed by my side and I can’t imagine my life without you.” a pause, “And I love you.”

You melt, “I love you too, Clark.”

He groans, “No– I mean, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Goddamn it. I am in love with you.” he pants out, frustrated, “I don't know when it changed but according to Pa, I have always had a big fat crush on you and apparently everyone knows.” he shrugs, “And you’re so beautiful, your kindness blows mine away and I want to be there for you, always. Will you let me be your boyfriend?”

His speech spills out in nervousness, the back of his neck is hot and there’s sweat prickling his hands. 

You stand frozen, taking in his whole confession. A part of you cannot believe this is even real, the Clark Kent wants you. The person you have been harboring feelings for God knows how long, likes– no loves you.

“Clark, I– uhm,”

His heart drops, “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I completely understand and respect that.”

“No! No, Clark, it’s just–

“I’m not trying to push or force anything on you or–” 

“I’m just new at this!” you explode, panicked eyes looking up at him, “I don’t really know how to do this, no one has ever really liked me let alone confessed.” mouth opening and closing as you try to find the words to say, “What if I’m bad at this? What if I make you hate me and you don’t wanna be friends anymore? I can’t live that life!”

Clark’s warm hands rests on your jaw, bringing your head up closer to him and he leans down, voice serious, “You’re gonna be great at it. You wanna know why?”

“Why?” your voice muffles as he squishes your cheeks together. 

He kisses your nose, “Because I love you and you’re great at everything you do. Especially being my girlfriend.” 

Giggling, you place your hands on top of his that are on the sides of your face, “So you made the decision for me, huh?”

He stutters, “No! I– I mean, do you– you want to? Be my girlfriend?” 

“Mhm.” you nod.

“Mhm?”

“Mhm!”

Clark laughs, gorgeous dimples making an appearance, “Kiss?” 

Your stomach fills up with butterflies, “Yes, please.” 

“My angel.” he whispers into your awaiting mouth, groaning as your lips connects, “Wanna grow old with you. Wanna do everything with you.” 

You whimper as he carries you up to the counter, situating himself in between your thighs, "Want that too."

Smiling lips press against each other, Clark can't help himself from feeling giddy as his big hands grip your thighs, "Can't believe I can have you all to myself. Been thinking about this for so long." he backs away, taking you in, your lips now swollen and red, "You're so pretty. All mine."

reblog for a superman style kiss 😘

[whisperedmeg]

UNTOUCHED ⋆˚꩜｡ spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer’s never done this before, and you’re more than happy to teach him how — slowly, thoroughly, and with plenty of praise. he’s always been an eager learner, but you weren’t expecting him to enjoy it this much.

genre: smut | w/c: 2.3k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI!! virgin!spencer, experienced!reader, heavy praise, reader calls spencer good boy & other pet names, subtle sub!spencer vibes, making out, breast/nipple play, brief masturbation (f), fingering, finger sucking, oral (f receiving), reader talks him through it, spencer cums in his pants, glasses!s2!reid, no use of y/n

a/n: yeah so this is probably the filthiest thing I have ever written (but still somehow so soft??). nobody look at me idk what came over me. it just happened, ok? lmao enjoy BYE. tbh not my most eloquently written fic but I haddd to get this out of my system

Your relationship with Spencer, although wonderful, is still very new. There’s been a few slow, tentative makeouts on this very couch, but nothing more. It always stops before things escalate too far — he pulls back, or gets called into work, or a TV commercial ruins the moment, or some other force of the universe steps in to keep all the orgasms you know you could be having behind lock and key.

Tonight, you have plans to change that once & for all.

You’re not sure who leaned in first. It might’ve been you — let’s be honest, it usually is — but by the time you’re in Spencer’s lap, one knee on either side of his thighs and your fingers curled into the soft fabric of his shirt, it doesn’t really matter. His lips part against yours, pink and already a little swollen. His glasses are fogged at the edges, and his hands hover uselessly at your waist like he can’t decide what to do next.

So you make the decision for him.

You rock forward, slow and deliberate — just enough to drag your body against his — and his breath catches on a quiet sound he probably doesn’t even realize he making.

The cushions dip under your knees, and everything smells like him: old paper, bergamot soap, something faintly spicy underneath. He tastes like a heavenly mix of breath mints and the honey tea you made for him earlier.

Spencer always kisses like he’s studying you — memorizing pressure points, cataloging every hitch of breath, every soft sound. The drag of your bottom lip. The little touches that make your spine arch.

But there’s tension in him, too.

You feel it in the set of his shoulders, the stiffness in his hands, the twitch of his thighs when you shift your weight. Something’s holding him back.

You slow the kiss, draw away just enough to trace the line of his cheekbone with your nose, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

“Spence,” you murmur, breath warm against his skin. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He stills.

“I—” His voice falters, eyes wide behind his crooked glasses. “I haven’t really, um… done this before.”

You blink.

“You haven’t…” you echo, tilting your head.

His ears flush deep red as he shakes his head.

“I mean— some stuff, yeah,” he says quickly. “Kissing. A little touching. But… not much more than that.”

There’s something raw in his expression, like he’s waiting for you to flinch.

Instead, you kiss him. Soft and steady, nothing showy — just the kind of kiss that says I want you anyway.

When you pull back, his eyes are still closed.

“Spencer,” you whisper.

He opens them slowly.

“You being a virgin isn’t gonna scare me off.”

You thread your fingers into his hair, pushing it back gently from his forehead. His curls are soft, and he shivers when your thumb grazes his ear.

“I kind of like the idea of it, actually,” you murmur.

“You do?”

You smile. “I think I’d like being the first person to show you how good you can feel.”

He goes quiet again, clearly overthinking.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” you ask softly, brushing your nose against his.

He swallows. “No, no. I just… I don’t want to do something wrong. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Baby,” you whisper against his mouth. “You’re not going to mess anything up.”

You kiss him once more — slow, deep — and feel the hitch in his breath when your tongue brushes his.

“I’ll teach you,” you murmur with a smirk.

You shift to straddle him more fully, your skirt hiking higher around your hips as you settle across his lap. You can feel him under you, hard and twitching through his pants, and he gasps when your hips press down.

“You okay?” you ask, voice low.

He nods too fast.

You raise an eyebrow. “Use your words, Spencer.”

“Yes,” he breathes. “I-I’m okay.”

You smile and roll your hips again, dragging the lace between your legs over the firm outline of his cock. You kiss along his jaw, down the column of his throat, mouthing at a spot above his collarbone until he shivers.

“You like that, don’t you?” you murmur against his skin.

“Yes,” he chokes, hips jerking upward. “Fuck—yes.”

You laugh softly as your hands slip under the hem of your top, peeling it off slowly and tossing it aside.

Spencer stares like a baby deer caught in headlights.

Your black lace bra is sheer, nipples already peaked beneath the fabric. You reach behind you, unclasp it with one practiced motion, and let the straps fall from your shoulders.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink.

“Touch me,” you murmur.

His hands are shaking when they rise — gentle at first, tentative. He cups your breasts like he’s sure he might be dreaming. His thumbs brush over your nipples and you let out a soft moan, pressing forward into the touch.

“Harder, baby,” you whisper. “Don’t hold back.”

He obeys. His touch deepens, massaging one breast as he catches the nipple of the other between his thumb and forefinger, upping the pressure as he rolls and twists. His confidence grows.

And then his mouth replaces his hands.

His tongue is hesitant at first, then deliberate, then filthy. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and his teeth scrape, just barely, as you grind down against him in response.

“That mouth,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his hair. “God, Spencer. You’re doing so well already, sweet boy.”

He groans into your skin, and you feel every twitch of his hips beneath you, the desperation in every movement.

“So good for me,” you murmur, letting your thumb trace the flush on his cheek. “Such a fast learner.”

He whines — helpless and sweet — and you cradle his jaw, bringing his face back up to meet yours to kiss him again, messy and open-mouthed, before guiding his hand between your thighs. Your skirt slips higher, lace panties exposed, already damp.

You press his fingers down against the wet spot.

“Feel what you do to me,” you whisper. “I’ve been wet since the first time you kissed me tonight.”

You move his hand against the lace, helping him slide two fingers along your covered folds. He gasps when he feels how wet you are — not just damp, not just eager — soaked.

“Oh my god,” he breathes.

“Not God,” you murmur cheekily, smirking as you kiss the corner of his mouth. “Just me.”

You draw his fingers upward to circle your clit once — slow, precise — and then pull his hand away.

Spencer watches, dazed, as you slide off his lap and lay down against the couch cushions, hiking your skirt up higher and moving your panties to the side. His breath shudders out in a long, low exhale, his eyes fixed on your bare core.

Then you touch yourself for him — slow, deliberate strokes, dragging through your slick and back up again to circle your clit. Your eyes never leave his.

“This is how I want you to touch me,” you murmur. “Not too fast. Just enough pressure. Like this, okay?”

He nods, transfixed.

You slide two fingers inside yourself, moaning softly, then draw them out again. You hold them up to him with a smirk.

“Want a taste?” you ask, voice thick.

He nods greedily.

“Say please, baby.”

“Please,” he whimpers.

You press your fingers to his mouth, and he sucks them in without hesitation. His tongue curls, eyes fluttering shut as he moans, licking you clean like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

“Good boy,” you breathe, pulse skipping. “Taste how much I want you.”

He sucks harder. You see the way his hips shift — searching for something to rut into and failing. He’s panting now, tension coiled so tight you can feel it.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, slide your hand down, and curl your fingers around his wrist again.

“You try now,” you murmur.

You guide his hand back between your thighs and help him find your clit. His fingers are a little shaky, but you hold him there and let him feel the way your body responds beneath his touch.

“That’s it,” you whisper. “Just like I showed you. You can go slow.”

He moves carefully, eyes flicking between your face and your core, trying to memorize every twitch and sound.

You sigh, low and breathless. “Good job, baby. Feels s’good.”

Your praise lands like a spark — his shoulders straighten, his strokes grow bolder, more confident. He draws tight little circles over your clit, then dips down, gathering more slick before coming back up again, mirroring your earlier actions.

“Jesus,” he breathes, staring at you. “You’re so wet.”

“For you, Spence,” you pant, arching into his touch. “I’m like this because of you.”

He groans, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to keep his hips still, to stay focused on you instead of chasing the heat building in his own body.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “You’re gonna make me come like this if you keep going.”

“I want to,” he says eagerly. “I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you come. Please.”

God, does he sound desperate for it. You lean up just enough to kiss him messily before gently easing his hand away.

“And you will,” you murmur, shifting your legs open wider. “But not like this. Want you to do it with your mouth.”

His breath hitches. His pupils dilate. And within a few seconds, he’s nodding with excitement.

You smirk and hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties, peeling them down slowly and letting them fall to the floor.

He’s between your thighs in a heartbeat — laid out on his stomach, elbows braced on the couch, arms wrapped around your thighs, chin tilted up and eyes locked on your cunt.

You run your fingers through his hair and smile down at him softly as you guide him closer. His warm, shaky breath ghosts over your skin.

“Start slow,” you whisper. “Use your tongue and lips together. Don’t overthink it. Just feel.”

He nods, then leans in.

The first lick is cautious — a single drag of his tongue from bottom to top — and he pauses at the end, waiting. When you shiver, he breathes out like he’s been given permission.

“Good,” you murmur. “So good, baby. Keep going.”

He does.

The second lick is more confident. By the third, he’s circling your clit with shaky precision — steadier each time.

“That’s it,” you breathe. “Such a fast learner, aren’t you, Spence?”

He groans — low and hungry — the sound vibrating through your deepest parts as he nods against your core.

And then he devours you.

There’s nothing careful about it now. His tongue moves in messy circles, his lips parting, mouth opening wider. He sucks at your clit and moans like a man possessed.

Your thighs clamp around his shoulders and his rhythm falters — gets sloppier, wetter, better. He’s all-in now, relentless, eating you out like he’s starving, like this is what he was made for. Like he’s been waiting his whole life to make you fall apart. He’s taking cues from your reactions — repeating his movements when you moan, experimenting with his tongue as your hand tightens in his hair, reading every twitch of your hips as if it’s an answer key.

“Oh, fuck—Spencer, YES. Good boy. My good boy.”

The words land heavy, and he whimpers loudly in response. His hands grip your thighs hard, and that’s when you feel it — the tension in his body, the way he’s moving. Subtle at first, then more desperate. You glance down and catch the flex of his hips as they grind into the couch cushion beneath him.

“Don’t stop,” you pant. “Don’t you fucking stop, Spence. You’re doing so good for me. ‘M so close.”

He groans — guttural — as his lips close around your clit once more, and your orgasm rips through you like heat lightning. It hits all at once, spine arching, thighs locking tight around his head as you cry out his name, shuddering through it.

He doesn’t let up. His tongue keeps moving, soft but focused, even as you writhe under him. The aftershocks roll through you, deep and dizzying.

Somewhere in the haze you hear it — a quiet, choked sound. A sharp inhale. A low groan.

You don’t register what it means until you feel him go still. His arms lock. His mouth freezes.

When he finally lifts his head, his face is flushed and slick, lips swollen, and his eyes…

His eyes are wide. Embarrassed. Almost guilty.

“I—I didn’t mean to,” he stammers, voice wrecked. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t— I just—”

You blink, confused for a moment before it hits you:

Spencer Reid, your perfect, sweet boyfriend, just came in his pants, completely untouched.

Came. In. His. Pants.

Untouched.

Your heart stutters.

“Oh,” you whisper. “Spence.”

He flinches. “I’m so sorry—”

“Hey.” You sit up a bit, still breathless, and reach down to cradle his face between your palms. His skin is hot — not just blushing, but burning.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, voice low but sure. “Please look at me.”

He does, barely.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

He blinks. “What?”

You smile. “That mouth of yours just gave me an orgasm that made me see stars. And then you came in your pants just from eating me out? That’s so hot, Spence.”

He swallows, stunned. His gaze softens. The worry’s still there, but it’s quieter now. His eyes shine.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, straightening his glasses and smoothing his hair. “You’re more than okay.”

You guide him up, help him collapse against your chest, your fingers still threading through his hair as his breath slows. He’s quiet, pliant, curled into you like a lazy puppy.

Eventually he shifts, wincing a little at the sticky mess in his pants.

You giggle.

“C’mon,” you murmur, kissing his temple. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You tug him gently off the couch and take his hand, leading him toward the bathroom. He hesitates, glancing down at the wet stain on his slacks, embarrassment rising again, but you squeeze his fingers and smile.

“Don’t look so ashamed,” you whisper. “You made a mess because you were too turned on by me to stop. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, baby.”

You lean in, lips brushing his neck.

"It's incredibly sexy.”

He groans softly — part laugh, part surrender.

“We’re not done, you know,” you add as you push open the bathroom door. “That was just your first lesson.”

He swallows hard. “N-not done?”

You shake your head as you step closer, fingers unfastening his belt with ease, and press a wet kiss just below his ear.

Your lips curve.

“You’ve still got so much to learn.”

ᝰ.ᐟ

PSA: likes do very little for promoting posts on tumblr! if you'd like to support a fic, please reblog!

masterlist

[thefeverburningalive]

𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙬

spencer reid x fem! reader

summary: penelope accidentally brought the wrong brownies- and you have a sweet tooth

a/n: i’m baaaaack! it’s been so long since i’ve last written so i figured i’d ease my way back into routine by writing a short little something. i apologize if it’s not great! my phone was broken for quite a while so im a bit rusty. feel free to send any requests!! and please don’t read if you’re sensitive to topics of marijuana :)

genre: fluff (established relationship)

warnings: accidental marijuana consumption, being under the influence of marijuana.

◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠

sweetheart. that was the nickname you’d been given by spencer on your first date. it didn’t just come from your kind and caring personality, it also came from your extreme love for sweets. it could be 7am or 11pm- and you’d always be in the mood for sweets.

everyone around you also knew of your sweet tooth. penelope, being one of your closest friends, liked to bake things and bring them into her office knowing you’d always have some. she often experimented with new recipes and had you be her personal taste tester.

“good morning pen!” you gave a gentle knock on her door before entering, noting that she was already glued to her computer screens. “hello hello hello my love, as wonderful as it is to have your illuminating self in my office i am so extremely busy and have no time for chatter.” her response made you laugh, knowing she had to have been busy since she was turning down a good yap session. “no worries! i’ll see ya later.” before you left her office- you noticed a plate of brownies on her desk. you silently grabbed one, stuffed it into your mouth, and shut her office door with a gentle click.

since there wasn’t a call for a case today, you and the others spent the day glued to your desks. it was rare to have a day to catch up on some overdue paperwork. about a half hour after your visit to penelope, you started feeling a little off. your chest felt lighter, noises sounded louder, and lights looked brighter. it wasn’t like you to get sick out of nowhere, so your first thought was dehydration. you stood up from your desk to grab some water, not even realizing you were walking into chairs.

“yo pretty boy, is everything okay with your girl?” the sound of derek’s voice made spencer look up from his computer screen. “uhm i think so? why wouldn’t she be okay?” spencer then glanced over to your desk, now noticing how it remained empty. derek slid his chair closer to spencer and leaned closer. “she’s been playing with the coffee pods for like 10 minutes now.” spencer followed derek’s gaze to see you, doing exactly what derek said you were doing. spencer watched as you giggled to yourself, stacking the small pods into a pyramid. “i’ll be right back.” and with that- spencer got up to check on you.

just as you were about to place the final pod on top of your triangular masterpiece, a hand on your shoulder made you gasp with a jump- knocking the structure over. you sighed before turning to meet your eyes with spencer’s. “hi sweetheart. is everything okay?” spencer’s gentle voice made you melt, your mind now being clouded with his overwhelmingly warm cologne and even warmer smile. “spencie! hiii. i was just building a tower! but i kinda knocked it over.” you looked back the mess of pods with a frown.

spencer could tell something about you was off. your tone, your body language, even the way you spoke. it was unusual for you to call him any kind of nicknames in the office. he stood in silence while he watched you now line the pods in color order. once you had finished you turned back to spencer and smiled. “i love you so much. you’re so handsome.” you reached up and started to play with his hair. spencer was perplexed by your behavior. he brought his hand to your cheek and studied your face while you stayed distracted by his curly hair. it was at that moment he noticed the small red tint to your eyes- and how your pupils were ever so slightly enlarged. it suddenly clicked. you were high. spencer couldn’t even believe it, you’d never mention anything of the sort to him. not once had you ever expressed to him it was something you would be interested in.

as if like clockwork, suddenly penelope comes in with a slight panic. “spencer! i-i need you to help me find y/n! i think she ate one of the brownies i brought in- only they weren’t the ones that were meant for here- i brought them in instead of the regular ones and now i think she may be under the influence of miss mary jane right now.” spencer stayed silent after penelope’s confession, letting her see that you were here and not loose in the office making a fool of yourself. “oh thank god you found her already.” spencer sighed as he looked from penelope to you. “okay sweetheart. i think it’s time we go home and take a half a day.” you frowned once more and took a step back from your boyfriend. “nooooo there’s so much to do! hotch will kill me if i don’t finish this paper work.” you tried to make your way back to your desk but a strong hand took yours. “the work can wait sweetheart, it’s time to go home.” spencer kept his tone extremely gentle with you, he always did. your eyes met his once more and you became weak in the knees- literally. spencer placed his hands on your hips as you started to loose your balance.

“can i have a kiss first?” your question caught spencer off guard, especially since the two of you were standing in the middle of your shared work place. he could already feel the looks of his coworkers watching the both of you. “you can have all the kisses you want once we’re home sweetheart.” spencer tried to get you to move, but you stood your ground. “no! i want a kiss spence.” you pouted and stood your ground, giving spencer your best attempt at puppy dog eyes. a pink hue spread across spencer’s face, coming to the conclusion he would have to kiss you in the middle of the bullpen. he closed his eyes and sighed before stepping closer, pulling you in, and giving you the kiss you’d been begging for. you smiled into the kiss and even stood on your tippy toes to try and match his height. spencer was quick to break the kiss once he heart the whistling and clapping of his friends. “okay you got your kiss now let’s get going.” you laced your fingers with his and wrapped your other arm around his. “anything you say spencie.” he gives you a smile before leading you to the elevator, and making sure you get home to your shared apartment to sleep off penelope’s baking experiment. needless to say, you started to become more cautious when it came to eating sweet treats.

[doodlyyna]

RAW FEELINGS ― R. SUKUNA

♯ content. ― chef!sukuna, college!reader, fem!reader, small age gap (sukuna is 28, reader is 23), likely incorrect use of culinary terms and michelin stars again, ooc!sukuna me thinks, ooc! everyone actually. wc. 5.3k

✎ summary. — When Ryomen Sukuna announces a meet-and-greet event, you sign up, not thinking anything of it. That is, until you're on a flight to LA to attend a cooking class with a michelin chef. Only problem is.. you're a terrible cook.

⤷ note: soso sorry for the wait! the last week has been so busy </3 (credit to my discord kittens for the title, poetic geniuses🙂‍↕️)

The meeting room smells like coffee and pure exhaustion. The table is littered with empty cups, half opened laptops, and scattered papers filled with notes. A whiteboard sits at the front of the room, the ink of half finished thoughts smudged and erased. It's silent, aside from Uraume's exasperated sighs and Sukuna's fingers drumming on the edge of the table.

The past hour has gone something like this:

An idea is proposed. A signing event, a merch line, discounted meals, anything you could think of. Sukuna leans back, pretends to consider it, and then shakes his head. By the third suggestion, Uraume can sense an oncoming headache. Despite how badly they want to intervene as his manager, they can't force Sukuna to participate in an event. He simply won't show up.

His PR team's leader, Kenji, is worn thin. "Oh," he lifts his head, "we can sell his apron. Or one of his knives."

Sukuna scoffs. "Who the hell is buyin' that?"

Kenji takes a breath, doing his best to channel his inner patience. "I don't see you offering any ideas."

The man does nothing but shrug, leaning back in his seat. "That's your job. 'm not allowed to pitch ideas anymore, remember?"

At times like this, Uraume wonders how he made it this far.

Thinking back, they've been there to watch his entire career develop. He went from a broke college student posting gourmet instant noodle recipes to a michelin star chef with a successful restaurant. Uraume was the one who encouraged him to start posting in the first place. He never lacked passion. If anything, he just needed a small nudge in the right direction.

He started off as a line cook, quiet and dedicated to his craft. It wasn't often that he actually spoke to his coworkers outside of work. Back then, Sukuna didn't care where he was as long as he was cooking.

Uraume still remembers the night they met as if it was yesterday. It was late at night, in a small convenience store near their school. They were standing in front of the instant noodles when Sukuna walked beside them, nudging his chin towards the pack in their hand. "Don't get that one," he'd plucked the noodles from their hand, tossing it onto the shelf. "Get this. It's healthy but it still tastes good."

Looking at him, messy pink hair and tribal tattoos, Uraume only had one thought — he was weird. Especially after he went on a rant about the levels of MSG in instant foods as of late. Without a word, he took their bowl and made his way to the microwave. Uraume couldn't do anything but follow behind the stranger, watching in awe as he put such care into something so simple. In the end, curiosity won, and they tried the food. For convenience store noodles, it was the best thing they'd ever tasted.

In the past, he was just a college student with a brash personality Uraume could appreciate. Now, he's the main reason for the dull ache in Uraume's temple.

All things considered, Sukuna has never been easy to work with. Between his snarky comments and dry attitude, most people didn't like him. He wasn't one to express himself clearly, but he wasn't so bad if you bothered to look close enough.

He's weird that way. But people say some things presents itself in mysterious ways. It seems that Sukuna's way of showing he cares is by being insufferable and annoying his entire team.

Speak of the devil, his voice interrupts Uraume's thoughts. "I'm a chef. I cook."

Someone scoffs, "You have fans, Sukuna. That basically makes you a celebrity."

That's it. How could they forget? Ryomen Sukuna is a chef above all else.

He sucks his teeth. "The hell do you people take me fo—"

"Be quiet," Uraume interrupts. "How about a cooking class that doubles as a meet-and-greet?"

A beat passes. Slowly, everyone's attention turns to Sukuna.

He stays silent. Uraume takes it as their cue to continue. "We can keep it small, ten people at most. Sukuna gets to cook, and his fans get to meet him. Win-win."

The room watches him with bated breath. This is their best idea so far; if he rejects this, they're out of luck.

After what feels like hours, Sukuna finally turns to face Uraume. "I have full control of the menu." He pauses, then adds, "And I want to choose the winners."

The entire room seems to release a breath. Now that he finally agreed to an idea, the hard part is over. All that's left is to figure out details and announce the event.

From there on, the meeting room is the image of controlled chaos. With so many things to figure out and so little time, everyone is moving quickly. Even Sukuna is put to work, much to his dismay, assigned with deciding on a menu and the event type.

The setting sun shines through the windows, casting a warm light on the aftermath of today's work. Papers are still scattered across the table, now filled with notes and tasks. The sounds of pens scratching across paper and clicking keyboards have died down into relaxed jokes.

The room gradually gets empty, until it's just the two of them left. Sukuna leans back with his legs spread under the table. He seems to be lost in thought when Uraume looks up. After a moment, his head jerks up, his brows furrowed. "They're amateurs. Probably can't even hold a knife properly. How am I 'posed to teach a cooking class like that?"

Uraume doesn't even look up this time, still focused on the pile of papers in front of them. "We're choosing two students from a local culinary school." They glance up, commenting dryly, "Try not to suck the life out of them."

Sukuna hums, then grins. "Always a step ahead, huh? Smart cookie."

They don't respond, but Sukuna doesn't miss the faint smile pulling at their lips. Even after nine years, the two of them haven't changed.

When you see the announcement, you're sprawled out on the floor in your friend's dorm. While everyone else is scattered around the room, Shoko sits beside you with her feet on your lap, turning her phone every few minutes to show you another stupid post. Suddenly, she sits up, shoving her phone in your face. "Look! Isn't this that dude you're always drooling over?"

You sit up, confusion painted across your features. "What dude?"

9 Year Anniversary Event: Meet-and-greet cooking class with Michelin Chef Ryomen Sukuna!

The room falls silent. You stare at the screen for a few seconds too long, and Shoko stares at you as if you're malfunctioning. To be fair, you are.

Maki leans forward, peeking over Shoko's shoulder. "A meet and greet? That has to be a scam. I heard he's an asshole in person."

"Yeah," Utahime chimes in, "But he looks better in person. I think you should sign up!"

You glance between them, weighing your options. On one hand, it's a great opportunity. You've been watching Sukuna since your freshman year of high school. You remember binging his videos when you were supposed to be studying algebra. He was only nineteen then, still adventurous enough to try whatever weird combination fans recommended. His thumbnails were what caught your attention, always pictures of the food at weird angles. However, his blunt personality is what kept you watching for so long.

So, there's plenty of reasons to sign up — there's one thing that cancels everything else out. One tiny, irrelevant problem.

You can't cook. Not only that, you're terrible at it.

Shoko clicks on the post and scrolls. She hums contemplatively, then shrugs. "It looks fun. I don't see why not."

Nodding in agreement, Utahime moves to sit on your left. She snatches the pillow under your head, grinning when you swat at her. "You've liked him for a long time, right? As long as you don't faint in front of him, you'll be fine!"

After a moment, Maki speaks up. "Are you going to be upset if you don't win? There's probably thousands of people signing up." Maki cares about all of you, it's just.. subtle.

You purse your lips, mulling it over. She's not wrong; there's no telling how many people will sign up, so it's better to stay realistic.

"Okay," you murmur, glancing over the details. "Yolo, I guess." Mumbling a half-hearted prayer that you aren't selling your soul, you reach for the phone.

Shoko immediately gasps, slamming her phone down. "Yolo? Whenever I say it you act like it's a crime!"

Laughter fills the room. Maki snorts, "Only because you say it whenever that douchebag calls you."

She opens her mouth to speak, glancing around for a moment, then closes it. "It doesn't hurt to be curious. Maybe he wants to get back together."

"Curiousity killed the cat," you tease, plucking the phone from her hands. "I think you're out of lives, missy."

Shoko rolls her eyes, but she's already smirking. "It's nothing serious, okay? I'm just.. gathering information."

"Information about how pathetic he is," Utahime mumbles, peeking over your shoulder.

Maki tosses a pillow at her, sighing loudly. "Can we stop talking about exes? I'm getting a headache."

You chuckle, tossing Shoko's phone onto her lap. "Deal. No more reminiscing tonight."

The dorm settles into a low hum, AC rattling in the window like it's trying to escape. The form sits forgotten on Shoko's phone, confirmation email sitting in your inbox. As you lie there, surrounded by crumbs and laughter, you can't help but smile.

A week later, you get the email.

You're sitting in the library, laptop half open in front of you as you pretend to study. You nearly drop your phone and scream.

Congratulations! You've been selected to participate in Ryomen Sukuna's 9th Anniversary Meet-and-Greet!

You stare at the email for what feels like hours. Is this real? Thousands, maybe more signed up for this. What are the chances that you got picked?

Eventually you close the email and brush it off as a scam. They've gotten more and more realistic lately.

Deep down, you're a little disappointed. But you weren't expecting to win. It's enough to live through the few people that did win.

At least, that's what you thought — until your phone is displaying a call from an unsaved number. You usually don't answer calls like that, but something in your gut told you to answer.

"Hello?"

Uraume's voice comes through the speaker, soft and flat.

"Hi. This is Uraume, Chef Sukuna's manager. We sent an email yesterday and didn't get a response."

You blink, fumbling for words. "I— That was real?"

The line is quiet for a moment, then a soft huff of laughter. "Yes, that was real. You were selected as one of the winners."

"...Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," Uraume reassures. "Ryomen picked the winners himself."

Your heart nearly drops through the floor. Ryomen Sukuna himself picked.. you?

Uraume continues at your silence. "If you're unable to attend—"

"No, no, I can!" You blurt, scrambling to gather your things. "Um, I might need some time to figure out transportation and such."

"Everything is paid for. It's an all-inclusive trip."

"Oh."

The realization sinks like a brick. You're going to meet someone you've admired for nearly ten years. You're meeting Ryomen Sukuna.

And then it really hits you.

You're meeting Ryomen Sukuna.. at a cooking class.

And you're a terrible cook.

"Are you there?"

Uraume's voice brings you out of your thoughts. "I'm here. Um, is there anything else I need to do?"

"No. The rest of the details will be emailed to you. Have a nice day."

The call ends soon after, leaving you in a calm silence. It lasts for a total of ten seconds.

You're already frantically tapping at your screen, excitement bubbling in your chest as you all but sprint out of the library. You can't dial the numbers fast enough.

You call Shoko first. She gets less than ten words out before you're cutting her off. "Yes, my buzzy beautiful sunshine nug—"

"Sho, the email wasn't a scam! I actually won!"

"Won? What are you talking about?"

You falter mid step, staring ahead incredulously. "Sho.. the event I signed up for last week."

A beat of silence. Then: a gasp and squeal. "Seriously? Oh, don't forget me when you marry him and get super rich and famous."

You click your tongue and shake your head, smiling. "You're the first one I'm forgetting if that ever happens."

You call Utahime and Maki next. Utahime talks so fast that you have to remind her to breathe, and Maki sighs exasperatedly in the background.

The next two days are a cycle of rereading the email, packing, and questioning your sanity.

You and your friends gather in your dorm the day before you leave, huddled around your suitcase.

"It's a cooking class, not a trip to the Bahamas. Why would I pack a bathing suit?"

Shaking her head, Shoko shoves it into your bag anyway. "You're probably going to some snotty hotel. It's obviously going to have a pool, so you need a bathing suit."

Surprisingly, Maki nods in agreement. "Think of it as a vacation. It's not everyday that your whole trip is paid for." She ignores you even when you glare at her, turning to look at Utahime rummaging through your closet. "What are you looking for?"

She turns, holding out a dress. "An outfit for the event. This is a michelin chef we're talking about. My dear friend, you will turn heads."

When Utahime gets like this, it's best to let her be. Maki sighs, turning to find Shoko elbow deep in her chips. "I dunno. He's not all that— Maki!"

Shoko whines, clutching her arm where Maki pinched her. She pays the girl no mind, snatching the bag of chips. "Don't overthink it. You should worry about being comfortable."

"Don't listen to her," Utahime mumbles, pulling out another mini dress. "You'll get a chance to have fun at some point. Best to be prepared."

You wave her off and shrug. "I guess. Nothing too.. racy. I'm still going to be surrounded by strangers."

Staring down at your suitcase ― packed to the brim with clothes and everything unnecessary. It almost feels bittersweet. You won't be gone for long, but it's still going to fee weird not having your three closet friends around. You'll have to learn new faces and names, get acquainted all over again. It's a little daunting.

Maki, ever the observant one, pulls you from your thoughts. "We'll call every day for updates. Bring back some souvenirs, too."

Utahime pouts, wrapping her arms around you. "Text us when you land, okay?"

You nod, looking around at the mess you'd made in your dorm. "I'm going to miss you guys."

Shoko hums, batting her lashes at you. "You'll miss me the most, right?"

The rest of the night is filled with laughter and comments about your husband waiting for you. And even though you're nervous, afraid of what will greet you tomorrow, it feels a little less scary with them.

The next day goes by in a blur. Airport lines, irritated TSA staff, and overpriced coffee that tastes like dirt.

By the time you land, you're running on spite, two hours of sleep, and a lukewarm red bull.

When the shuttle finally pulls up to the hotel, marble floors and staff that get paid enough to be this nice, one thing is clear.

This is real. You're here, in California, meeting Ryomen Sukuna.

Staff dressed in sleek black and red uniforms greet you with practiced smiles, taking your bags before you can blink. You're escorted to a lounge area where you wait for the other participants.

"Hey," a voice calls out, startling you from your half-asleep state.

A man comes into view, long dark hair and a ridiculously handsome face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to introduce myself." He extends his hand, "Geto Suguru."

You sit up, extending your hand to shake his. It's warm, his fingertips slightly calloused from use. You offer your name, sitting a little straighter when he repeats it. "Nice to meet you. Hopefully, we'll run into each other outside of the event."

Before you can respond or ask what he meant, Uraume is stepping into the room behind the last two participants. Once everyone is seated, they introduce themselves. "Good morning. My name is Uraume, but you all probably know me as Sukuna's manager."

A staff member comes around to distribute keycards. "These cards will get you into your rooms. First, we'll let everyone get settled, and then go over details of the event. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask any of the staff members. Also, feel free to make use of all the amenities."

With that, Uraume steps out of the room, leaving the rest of you to converse amongst yourselves.

The man from earlier is nowhere to be found. But, there's plenty of time to figure out what he meant. In the meantime, you may as well get to know the rest of the participants.

A boy with salmon-colored hair approaches you, another with dark, spiky hair trailing behind him. "I'm Yuuji!"

His energy is somewhat startling, yet refreshing. You nod, blinking the sleep from your eyes as you introduce yourself. He suddenly turns, pushing the other boy forward. "This is Megumi! Don't mind him, he's just a bit grumpy from jet lag."

Megumi stares at you, offering a tired wave. It seems like that's the most you'll get from him tonight.

The rest of the participants introduce themselves: Satoru, Nobara, Todo, Inumaki, and Nanami. It's a diverse group, for sure.

With introductions out of the way, everyone splits up to find their rooms. When you arrive at your room, the hallway is still full of people gathering their things. Satoru is on your left, and Yuuji is across the hall. As if the two of them aren't lively enough, Todo is only a door down.

You glance around, the man from earlier is still nowhere to be found. But, the room beside yours has luggage sitting untouched outside the door. When you peek at the tag, you find a familiar name is scrawled across the paper.

Geto Suguru.

You keep the information in mind.

When you finally step into your room, it smells like citrus and clean linen. It's spacious, to say the least. Floor to ceiling windows, king-sized bed, and a bathroom that looks straight out of a movie. A welcome basket sits on the desk, stuffed with trinkets, snacks, and a schedule for the next few days. A handwritten note is attached with your name on it, stamped with Sukuna's logo.

You drops your bags by the closet door and sink into the plush mattress. The last few days are still catching up to you ― the email, the call from Uraume, the flight, this hotel ― it's exhausting. Everything here is the picture definition of quiet luxury.

Your mind drifts back to the stranger from before, Geto Suguru. You say his name on the luggage next door, but where did he go? And what did he mean by "see more of each other?"

For now, you decide to drop it. There's still plenty of time to play detective. The first thing on the schedule is right around the corner.

Standing from the bed with a heavy sigh, you reach to open your suitcase. Since it's only the first day, it's better to start with a simple outfit. Just as you're applying finishing touches to your outfit, there's a knock on your door. Satoru's sing-song voice sounds shortly after.

"Princess, it's time to go! They're calling us for the event debrief.. or whatever it's called."

You snort, walking to pull the door open. You find Satoru, Yuuji, and a less grumpy looking Megumi standing outside. "Oh, did you guys wait for me?"

Yuuji grins. "Yeah, we figured we could all walk down together."

You smile, touched by the gesture. "Thanks. Let's go before we're late."

The four of you make your way downstairs, quickly finding the meeting room. The energy in the room is a weird mix of nerves and excitement, everyone murmuring in anticipation. The table is decorated with small treats and drinks, as well as name tags for each person. When you sit down, you notice Geto's name tag across from you.

Uraume stands at the front of the room, stoic as ever. To your surprise, Suguru is standing beside them, along with Todo. They're both introduced as culinary students that are there for experience.

When you look up again, you catch Suguru watching you. His gaze lingers a moment too long to consider casual, then he looks away.

The debrief continues smoothly with a short presentation covering kitchen etiquette and safety rules.

The rest of the evening moves quickly. Dinner with the participants, a tour of the kitchen, and a reminder to get enough rest. Tomorrow, the real event begins.

When you make it to your room, it feels like you've been awake for days. You fall into the nest of blankets and pillows without bothering to unpack the rest of your suitcase. You can deal with that in the morning.

For now, you sleep.

The next morning moves fast. Breakfast, small talk, and outfit changes feel like a blur. Before you know it, the sun is high in the sky and you're being led into a kitchen that probably costs more than you can comprehend.

The room is decorated with sleek appliances, dark wood, and soft lighting. Stations are set with prepped ingredients and polished utensils, each marked with a name tag. Glancing up, you find Suguru standing in front of your station, a smile stretched across his lips. "Looks like we're station buddies."

You laugh, nodding. "I guess so."

Staff members float through the room, making final adjustments, but your attention is drawn to the banner hanging in the front.

Ryomen Sukuna's 9-year Anniversary

You're barely settled when the door swings open, and in walks the man himself. You imagined this moment over and over in you head, but none of it looked like this. If you thought he looked big on the screen, there's nothing to describe how he looks in person.

He stops at the front of the room, crossing his arms as he introduces himself. "I'm Ryomen Sukuna, owner of Malevolent Shrine. Thanks for comin', and.. uh, nice to meet you all."

There's something attractive about the casual confidence he exudes, like he owns the room without trying. And he does. All eyes are on him.

"Today's going to be simple," he starts, voice low and rough. "We're going to cook, eat, and you might learn somethin' if you're lucky."

A few chuckles sound throughout the room and Sukuna grins, almost sharp enough to feel dangerous.

He makes his way around the room, learning names and faces. When he reaches your station, he grins again. Only this time, it's slower. Flashing his canines, he extends his hand towards you. "'m sure you know my name by now. Mind telling me yours?"

You blink, slightly flustered from seeing him so close. You give him your name, watching as he tests it on his tongue. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."

You thank him, all smiles and pink cheeks. Sukuna only smiles, leaning against the counter. "You excited?"

"Of course! I mean, I've been watching you for years."

This time, Sukuna blinks. "Years?"

You nod, glancing away. "Oh.. well, yeah. I still remember your garbage ramen—"

He immediately straightens, his ears tinted pink. "The fuck? Why do you remember that? I was, what— nineteen?"

"It was what made me start watching you."

He looks back at you, tilting his head. Before he can respond, Uraume is getting his attention, gesturing for him to move on.

He sighs, pointing at you. "We're finishin' this later." Sukuna walks off, returning to his spot at the front of the room.

Suguru turns to look at you, grinning as he teases. "Someone got his attention."

At the front of the room, Sukuna speaks up, now to standing behind his station. He's already rolled up his sleeves, revealing the black ink curling along his forearms. "Alright, we're making two dishes today. Gyoza and donburi. It's simple enough, so try to make it look good, at least.

Sukuna gestures to the ingredients laid out in front of him. "We'll start with the dough and filling for the gyoza. Watch me first, then I'll come around and see how bad you're screwin' it up."

You glance up, peeking past Suguru to see him separating ingredients.

Leaning forward, you speak loudly enough for him to hear. "You've made this before?"

He shrugs. "Once or twice."

He falls into a rythym: chopping, mixing, portioning the filling and dough. The kitchen is full of motion and soft chatter, broken by the occasional comment from Sukuna.

"That's too thick," he calls across the room.

You're halfway through dicing your vegetables when Suguru turns, examining your work. "You're holding the knife wrong. You could cut your fingers."

He's quick to cover your hands with his own, correcting your grip on the knife. "Like this. And you cut them wrong."

Another voice cuts in, dry and amused. "Cut them wrong? It looks like a massacre," Megumi mumbles from two stations down, prompting Yuuji to laugh.

You frown, shielding your station from his view. "It's not wrong. I julienned it. I think."

Sukuna walks past your station, pausing as he eyes the state of your vegetables. He doesn't speak at first, simply nudges you to the side and cuts them for you. He's already walking away before you can thank him, kissing his teeth as he passes Nobara's station.

"Are you even trying? I could've done better with my feet."

Nobara scoffs, smacking the cutting board. "It doesn't matter if they look bad, I'm just going to eat yours!"

Sukuna scowls, walking back to his station. "Spoiled brat."

You mix the rest of the ingredients, dumping them into the bowl. After a few minutes, it starts to resemble dumpling filling.

Sukuna passes by your station again, fulling stopping in his tracks. "..The hell did you do?"

You glance up, only to find him staring at you. He nudges you aside again, plucking a spoon from your drawer. He scoops the filling, bringing it to his mouth.

"Wait, that's raw. Can't you get salmonella?"

Sukuna brushes you off, popping the spoon into his mouth. "It's extra protein, don't worry."

Not even a split second later, his whole face twists. Everything is off. It's crunchy, yet somehow slimy, too salty, and there's a weird aftertaste to it. He pauses for a moment, pressing his lips together. "...fuckin' hell."

You falter, embarrassed by the sudden attention. "I'm the only one that has to eat it, right?"

As if realizing what he said, he immediately backtracks. "It's not bad.. just a little salty."

You're not even looking at him, too embarrassed to comprehend what he's saying. He leans down, catching your gaze with furrowed brows. "Look, it's not bad, seriously. Didn't mean to hurt your feelings, sweetheart. You can use mine, it's not like I really need it."

You nod, glancing at him quickly. "Okay."

He switches your bowls out, then starts walking around the room. You don't realize he's passed your station so many times, so focused on trying to get the next part right. Filling the dumpling wrappers and folding the dough. He's lingering near your station longer than he really needs, practically supervising you.

You're struggling to fold the dough when a warm hand covers yours, guiding your fingers to pinch the gyoza closed. "There you go," Sukuna murmurs, his voice low. "Better than the other three attempts."

He straightens up, brushing past you to return to his station. "Gyoza goes on the trays for steaming. The staff will handle that," Sukuna says, motioning to the side. "Now, grab a clean pan. We're starting the donburi."

At the front, Sukuna tosses rice into his pan. The smell of garlic and soy sauce instantly fill the room. "This is more about taste than appearance. Don't burn it."

Just as you're oiling your pan, Sukuna is passing by your station again. "Let me help you, sweetheart."

He reaches around you, hand brushing your wrist as he tilts the pan just slightly. "Not too much oil. You want it hot, not drowning."

You nod, heart beating a little too fast as he tosses in garlic and diced onions. He doesn't leave right away, either. He lingers, nudging your hand when you start stirring too early.

"Let it sit. It'll burn if you mess with it too much," he murmurs, so close his lips are almost brushing your ear.

In front of you, Suguru clears his throat. "You giving everyone that much help, or just her?"

Sukuna looks up, meeting his gaze head on. "Funny coming from you, student. You shouldn't need my help for something like this."

Suguru smiles, holding his hands up in surrender. "Just making sure you remember the rest of us are here."

Sukuna snorts, finally stepping away from your station. "Step it up, then."

He walks away, but not before sparing you one last glance. He moves throughout the room, giving feedback and barking out orders.

The rest comes together easily enough: sauce, layering flavors, finishing touches. By the time you're plating, the room smells incredible.

You step back, admiring your hard work. Really, it was Sukuna's, but that's neither here nor there.

As everyone starts plating, the room shifts into a quieter chaos. Laughter mixes with the clinking of utensils, and a few stations over, Satoru proudly announces that his food is edible.

You glance over at Suguru, who's already finished arranging his donburi. "Want to trade?"

He smirks. "How big of a risk is it?"

You roll your eyes but pass him your bowl anyway. He takes a bite, brows lifting. "Wait, this is actually good."

You grin. "I told you."

He chuckles, nearly choking on his food. "You're awfully cocky for someone that barely touched anything the whole time."

You try his next, and it's annoyingly perfect. You make a face. "Showoff."

He only smiles, nudging your shoulder. "It's talent."

Eventually, people start to pack up, wiping down stations and thanking the staff. Sukuna claps, gathering everyone's attention. "That's it for today. Most of you did well. The rest of you, better luck next time."

The group leaves gradually. You gather your things, pulling your bag over your shoulder when Suguru falls into step beside you.

"I'll walk you back," he says. "Since we're basically neighbors and all."

Before you can answer, a voice halts you both in your tracks.

"Actually," Sukuna starts, eyes flitting to Suguru, "I need her for something."

Suguru pauses, then looks between you two. "You need her?"

"Mhm." Sukuna's expression remains the same, but there's something smug in the way he lifts his brow. "Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets back safe."

Suguru laughs, though there's barely any humor in it. "Alright. She's all yours."

Once he's gone, Sukuna turns to you, all teeth and lazy charm. "It's nothing serious. I just figured I owe you."

You blink, brows furrowing. "Owe me?"

"For being a fan for so long," he explains, leaning closer. "And for putting up with my ramen phase."

You giggle, cheeks warm. "I guess you're not wrong.."

He leans down, voice low. "I'll give you a one-on-one lesson. Just me and you. That is, if you're free tomorrow night."

Your heart nearly leaps from your chest, but you manage a wobbly smile. "I think I can make time. I'll have to check my schedule."

He grins. "Good."

✉ taglist ― @whosmarjj @audreytoru @feliaeae @okayiamkassandra @meowsannie @cassieeethingssss @bearchermer @sugurusfeet

⤿ afterword. ― sorry again for the wait!! :( the last couple days were actual hell 😭 also this won't be the last of chef!sukuna on my blog, i'll try to cook up some drabbles! (get it?) i've had some ideas collecting dust for a min.. be ready. in the meantime, lmk your thoughts on this!

[dewdewick]

could i request clark kent, hopelessly in love with his coworker at the daily planet, who he thinks hates him (he’s wrong. he’s so wrong.)??

Not friends

Pairing/s: David!Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Genre: 💕 Fluff

Warning/s: use of Y/N, Reader is AFAB, Reader has hair, reader likes coffee, Steve Kemp is a butthead

A/N: YEAHHHH I GET TO WRITE ABOUT MY BLORBO OF THE WEEK. The yearning is STRONG and this fic is short. Love y’all and I’m working on all of the other requests

Word count: 1.5k

Request rules!

Feel free to request! Just please read the rules first!

****************************************

Night and day, Sunshine and rain, that was Clark and Y/N. She wrote an advice column for the daily planet. A girl who had the quickest wit he’d ever seen on a person non metahuman. She was probably more suited for his job, daily news. She had a silver tongue meant to strike down empires and bring them to their knees. Not quite the temperament to be writing advice to Muriel 48 who just couldn’t seem to understand why she couldn’t get a date with her 39 year old coworker.

Y/N had a special way with people. She could say the most outlandish things with a joking undertone and get away with it. She had something that not only drew

Clark but most others to her despite her dry humor and general demeanor. She was special to say it in a word, and he couldn’t look away.

He didn’t mean to stare, but her desk was just by the window. How could he not look at the prettiest girl he knew bathed in sunshine as she nursed her morning coffee? He had a bad habit of supporting her caffeine addiction too. The way she smiled and said his name when he set the coffee cup from jitters on her desk though. He’d empty his bank account and start robbing Lex Luthor blind to keep experiencing that.

She’d catch him looking occasionally, giving a small wave and an awkward smile. Her nose scrunched up just the tiniest bit. He even loved that smile, the one that probably meant “why are you looking at me like that weirdo?” He always did his best to just wave back with a smile as well. There was always some excuse about seeing a funny bird or Superman out the window.

A girl like her was never meant to be with a guy like him in his mind. That didn’t stop the debilitating crush he had on her though. It didn’t stop the teasing comments from Jimmy and Lois or the urging for him to make a move from Cat. It didn’t stop the pangs in his chest when she mentioned a date she’d been on. Most of all it didn’t stop Steve from making a comment that would change everything.

He’d walked into the bullpen on one chilly fall morning. The sun was shining and he had a tray of coffee in his hand. Steve spotted him and began teasing like always. “Kent! What is it with you and Superman huh? I mean you know half the people only read because they want to know if he’s got a girlfriend yet!” The mustached journalist exclaimed as soon as he spotted Clark. “Good morning to you too Steve.” He replied, making a beeline to her desk as Steve followed.

“Coffee delivery.” He said with a smile as she looked up. He set a jitters cup in front of her keyboard and she gave him that small smile he savored every day. “You really don’t need to do this, Clark. I’m a big girl, I can get my own coffee.” She said, taking a sip and practically melting at the taste. In all truth she would’ve been a bit sad if he didn’t continue his sweet little routine; but he didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, this whole crush you’ve got is getting a little pathetic Kent.” Steve teased, attempting to sling and arm over Clark’s shoulder but failing due to height. “Steve, go away. You’ve got other places to be annoying.” She deadpanned when she saw Clark’s face drop just slightly. Steve just laughed, patting Clark’s back and moving on.

Clark just gave her a tight smile, his cheeks and the tips of his ears slightly red. “I’ll uh- I’ll let you get back to it. Have a good day.” He said, his voice cracking just a bit. It was cute, this big mountain of a man getting so bashful just from a stupid teasing comment. She watched as he made his way back to his desk. Handing Jimmy and Lois the coffee that he’d so thoughtfully gotten for them.

By the end of the day, she hadn’t caught his eye again. She looked over to see him hunched over his computer, illuminated by his yellow desk lamp. His curls falling over his face and his glasses low on his nose. He pushed them up and furrowed his brows as he typed on the keyboard. She sighed, standing up and walking over to his desk. She leaned on an empty space, tapping his shoulder.

He looked up at her with surprise on his face. “Hi” he murmured, like he was afraid he’d scare her away. “You haven’t been staring at me.” She accused, crossing her arms as she looked down at him. “There haven’t been any…weird birds?” He defended, his lie falling flat. “Uh huh, what other reason?” She asked.

He sighed, looking down at his desk. His large hand fiddling with the pencil in his grip. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He admitted quietly.

“What makes you think I’m uncomfortable? We’re friends right? Friends look at each other and stuff. I totally spaced out the other day and ended up staring at Lois like a freak.” She asked, trying to throw in some humor.

“That’s not really the reason I look at you. You have to know that.” He said, looking up at her with a puppy dog expression. “Then why do you look at me?” She asked, her head tilting just slightly.

“I look at you cause- you’re like the prettiest coolest person i know. You have so much personality and when you smile it gives me butterflies. I thought with what Steve said that the cat was kinda out of the bag already.” He said, turning towards her in his chair. His hand found her knee, absentmindedly stroking small circles with his thumb.

“Clark” She said with a huff of a laugh “why didn’t you just tell me?” She asked, her hand covering his “I don’t think that way, it’s not how I operate. I thought you were just being nice, trying to be my friend.”

“Honey I never just wanted to be your friend.” He said, his dimples creasing his cheeks as a small smile came to his face. “I want all of you, I want to take you out and buy you more than just coffee.”

She smiled again “I’m free tonight.”

[jujutsu-kaisen-after-dark]

JJK BOYS AS YOUR HUSBAND |

Includes: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Sukuna Ryoumen, Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Nanami Kento

All fluff, no brains

★ Gojo Satoru — The Over-the-Top Husband

• He goes way too hard for anniversaries. Like “rents out an entire restaurant just for you” kind of hard. Flowers, fireworks, a private playlist—he’s shamelessly dramatic.

• He’s obsessed with calling you “my wife” in every conversation, even when it’s not relevant. (*“My wife said I can’t eat seven cakes in a day—she’s wrong, though.”)

• He’s your personal chef and menace in the kitchen. Breakfast in bed is a Gojo specialty, even if half the food is borderline inedible.

• Loves house chores if it means he can distract you. He’ll be “helping” with laundry just to pull you into a make-out session on the washing machine.

• Gojo’s favorite thing? Slow dancing with you in the kitchen. Middle of the afternoon, no music, just because you’re there.

⸻

★ Geto Suguru — The “Husband of the Century” Soft King

• He wakes up before you to make coffee. Every single morning. He’s a quiet morning person—moves softly, tucks the blanket back over you.

• He wears his wedding band on a chain around his neck during missions, presses it to his lips before leaving. Superstitious and sentimental about it.

• He’s a “pack you a lunch and write you a little note” husband. You’ll find them hours later and it’ll just be “I love you. You’re my peace.”

• Geto is very particular about your shared home feeling like a sanctuary. He lights incense, soft music, clean spaces—it’s his way of protecting you.

• Domestic dad energy even without kids. He folds laundry like a pro, fixes leaky faucets, and will 100% scold you for not drinking enough water.

⸻

★ Sukuna — The “Reluctantly Perfect Husband” (but he’s obsessed with you)

• Hates when you call him “husband” in public—but secretly lives for it. You see it in the way his lips twitch when you say it.

• He’s aggressively domestic in private. Fixes shit around the house, makes sure the fridge is stocked, pays attention to the tiny things you like—but he’ll act like it’s no big deal.

• “Don’t touch it. I’ll do it.” Sukuna doesn’t let you carry groceries, change lightbulbs, or handle anything remotely inconvenient.

• His wedding band is simple, but he wears it always—touches it out of habit when he’s thinking of you.

• He’s a sucker for slow, lazy mornings. You half-asleep on his chest, his fingers lazily trailing your back, the world quiet—that’s his heaven.

⸻

★ Megumi Fushiguro — The Quiet, Dependable Husband

• He’s the quiet husband who just does things. Dishes are done, floors are vacuumed, bills are paid—you didn’t even see him do it.

• He acts like he doesn’t care about anniversaries, but every year he gets you a thoughtful gift that makes you wonder how deeply he watches you.

• He doesn’t say “I love you” a lot—but shows it constantly. A hand on your back in public, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, keeping his arm resting casually on the back of your chair.

• He’s the “you come home to a perfectly cooked meal” husband. Simple, homey food—but it tastes like love.

• Sundays are sacred Megumi time. Reading books together on the couch, quiet conversations, him absentmindedly braiding your hair while you watch shows.

⸻

★ Yuji Itadori — The Golden Retriever Husband of Your Dreams

• He’s the husband who calls you every time he’s at the store. “Do we need more snacks? Wait, I forgot, what’s your favorite ramen again?”

• He sends you the most unhinged selfies and memes throughout the day—just to make you smile.

• Movie nights are his favorite tradition. You build a fort on the couch, he makes popcorn, and you both pass out halfway through snuggled together.

• He’s always volunteering to carry everything—groceries, boxes, laundry baskets—because he insists you shouldn’t “strain yourself.” Also unironically calls himself “the laundry lord” bc he loves doing laundry and likes folding towels.

• Yuji wears his wedding ring like a badge of honor (my husband). He plays with it when he’s nervous, shows it off without realizing, and beams whenever someone calls you his wife. Grabs at any chance to say “my wife”.

⸻

★ Nanami Kento — The Devoted Husband Who Keeps You Grounded

• He’s the most reliable man alive. Your car is washed, the bills are handled, the house is pristine, and you never have to worry about anything.

• Nanami packs your lunch every morning with handwritten notes that are just as blunt as they are loving. (“Remember to rest. You are precious to me.”)

• He loves grocery shopping with you. It’s his version of a date—hand gently resting on your back, pushing the cart while you choose ingredients.

• He’s very serious about making your home a safe space. No work talk after dinner, soft jazz playing in the evenings, dim lighting, calm energy.

• He loves slow-dancing with you in the kitchen after a long day. Suits off, sleeves rolled up, hands on your waist, forehead kisses that melt every ounce of stress.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

got some major requests for fluff coming from tons of people—which I love. There’s way too much smut in the JJK community and I’m over it tbh.

I’m married (yes, I’m 22 and married. If y’all want a story on my life to get to know me, I’m happy to drop lore), so I thought I’d write some marriage content.

[eupheme]

— baby, it’s just you

clark kent x f!reader

rated e - 2k

tags: pure pwp, oral sex (m rec), cock worship, oral fixation, deep throating, cutie-pie clark, clark likes to watch, double-switches, masturbation, come swallowing, fingering.

“So,” You smile, ”Do you always let girls thank you when you save them? Or just me?”

Clark’s answer comes in a soft rush.

“Just you.”

(or - the suit stays on)

With the suit, he’s almost too big for your bed.

The red cape pools off the left-hand side. His calf dangles, as his thighs inch wider to make room for you.

After earlier, it’s almost funny to see him like this. The way he folds to slip in through your window like he’s done so many evenings before.

A kiss turning hungry in the golden cast of the setting sun, your fingers curling around the edge of the yellow belt as you reach on tiptoe. Body pressed flush, broad hands curving at your jaw, your hip. Tugging you closer, as if that were possible.

How he followed without question - letting you press his shoulders against the mattress, blue eyes bright as you clambered on after.

It’s easy to sink onto your knees for him - especially with how often he’s on his for you.

A hand tracing down his chest. Following the straight lines of his sigil - the stitching of the panels at his ribs, hitching with his breath.

Your mouth follows, his hands curling into fists when you press a kiss against the s. Another one, lower - feeling the flex of his thigh muscles beneath your palm. The smallest, upward shift of his hips betraying his impatience.

A hand slips up, until it’s cupping him. The curved weight pressing beneath the compression of the suit as you pluck at the belt.

His lips parted with his breath, as you tease at each layer. How familiar they are now - your movements more sure each time.

A molten heat already pools low in your stomach, at the thought of being the only other person who knows how.

Who has done this, with him.

His cock is silky-smooth as you ease him out - thick and heavy and half-hard already from the stolen kisses at the window, and the press of your palm.

“So,” You smile - eyes flicking up, ”Do you always let girls thank you like this when you save them? Or is just me?”

Clark’s answer comes in a soft rush - his length throbbing, when your hand wraps around. Squeezing and stroking.

“Just you.”

And just as your head tilts to taste him - to thank him properly - more slips free.

“But, it wasn’t-“ An inhaled breath, “I wouldn’t have let you-”

“I know.” It comes out low.

You don’t think you were in any real danger, not with how attuned Clark is.

How quick he can pick out your heartbeat in the crowd - resetting the wobbling building before the tremor even ceased. Before you could even call his name.

Your office had almost been a casualty, during a fight with a fledgling kaiju. But the adrenaline had long since slipped from your system - the high of swooping through the sky in his arms had had a much more lasting impression.

“I just don’t want you to think you have to.”

It’s hard to bite back the laugh, then. Eyes dragging down, to where the brush of your fingers has him swelling in your grip.

Only Clark could make you beg for this, without even meaning to.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Your teeth sink into your lower lip, “Even before-”

A wave of your hand, and you know he understands.

A shift, as he pushes himself up on a elbow - a hand lifting, fingers crooking, “Well, come here then.”

Your head shakes - he’s still not getting it. Too focused on you, like he always was. You’ll just have to paint a picture, and then maybe he’ll see it.

“I spent all morning thinking about sucking you off, Clark.”

A low noise in his throat, at the sound of his name. At your confession, the low purr of your voice.

“In any way I got to have you. Straight from the office, or like this-” The nails of your other hand scrape down the suit.

Especially like this, and he knows what it does to you.

“I want to make you come with my mouth.” Your head dips then, a kiss pressed against the curve of his shaft, “That okay with you?”

His tongue peeks out against his lips. Those blue eyes darkening, an incoming storm.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You laugh at that, too - the warm huff against exposed skin. Another kiss, and then another - achingly slow, as he grows beneath the press of your lips.

There’s the creak of fabric twisted between his fingers, a choked sound when you finally let him into your mouth.

You take him like he fucks you.

Slowly, one inch at a time.

Down, and then back up.

Letting spit pool on your tongue. Feeling the pulse when your fingers circle the base, with how full and heavy he is now.

Leaning back to stroke - hiding a grin at the sharp inhale when you kitten-lick the wet pearl that gleams at the tip.

He’s putty in your hands. Shaky breath as you take more, the hinge of your jaw already aching. Enjoying the weight of him on your tongue as your eyes flutter closed.

Leaning into the palm that lifts from the bed to cup your cheek. Feeling the imprint of his cock where it presses against the skin, the suction that follows and the bitten-back groan that rumbles in his chest.

It shoots straight through you. You were already wound-up. Thinking and imagining a moment just like this - your thighs pressing together to ease the day-long ache.

“You can have it.” Clark rumbles. Catching each and every movement. Every tell.

“I know you need it.”

It’s easy to fill in the gaps.

To let him take over. Wrap his arms around and bury his cock so deep you’re not sure where you end and he begins. Letting you tug on those dark curls, lick into his panting mouth - legs hitched around his waist as he drives into you, again and again -

Your head shakes, with another peek of your eyes.

“Then let me see you.”

His pupils are blown wide as you pull off him, caught on the shine of your lips and the spit stringing between.

You’re already stripped down. Nearly bare, except the cling of some lace - planned, with the tucked-away promise to return that he murmured against your lips.

It’s greedy, and his want sends another rush through you.

Slowly letting the straps of your bra slip off your shoulders. Exposing the soft curve of your breasts. The tight peaks that had strained against the fabric, now pooled around your waist.

You can hear the intake of breath, but it’s not quiet enough.

“All of you.”

It’s a command, and a plea.

The need pitching his voice low. Turning him demanding and drawing out edge to his voice that have the hairs on the back of your neck standing on edge.

A shift in the scales, but with Clark - they always tip in your favor.

You rid yourself of everything. The bra loosened and lost against the rug, your panties following. Letting him catch the slick gleam of fabric where it had nestled against your cunt, soaking in your own need for him.

The sigh that slips from him is everything. The heavy-lidded drag of his eyes as you let him look.

You’ve learned that about him, in the late-night hours. The way his eyes would dip, as you rode him. The tilt of his head when you were splayed out beneath him, watching the slick shine as his cock disappeared inside you.

The way his cock twitches in your hand. The “yes, baby-” that’s rumbled out, when the other drifts - the tips sliding along slick folds.

You can give him this, at least. Mock-altruism, with the way you burn for him.

Light, loose circles as you take him between your lips again. Losing yourself - mouth full, his hands finally loosening from the sheets to guide you. Muscles flexing when you take him deep, throat buzzing around him with your moan.

Pressing harder, faster, when he bucks into your mouth - that tight control slipping in his grip.

The scales tip, again. The lines blurred, as the tension winds tighter and tighter. Sparking into a blazing light with the babbled out praise, the circuit of his eyes and the way he leaks against your tongue.

Higher and higher, until you’re about to break. The rasp of his voice - that edge he takes when he’s lost, when Clark Kent has been forgotten, breaks through.

“Gonna look so perfect coming with my cock in your mouth.”

It’s hazy, as stars spark at the edge of your vision. A thumb presses under the hollow of your eye, smearing a tear that glimmers from when you took him too deep, too quickly.

Another murmur of encouragement.

“Come on, baby.”

It’s too much.

You come, moaning desperately around him.

Eyes rolling shut as you breathe through your nose, blissfully full. Hips canting into the press of your fingers, drawing out each shockwave that thunders through you.

Keeping up the bob of your head - the wet slide and twist of your fist. The ragged gasp when you inhale a breath, only to swallow around him and suck again.

Clark is following, as you still flutter around nothing. Right there with you, unwilling to hold on any longer.

“You’re so-“ He babbles, hips flexing into your fist, “Oh my gosh. You’re incredible, baby. I can’t-”

A groan, with the rush of his words. With the curl of your tongue against the flushed tip - the slick fingers that pull from between your thighs, smearing yourself along his shaft.

“Just like that. Gonna come in your mouth just like you wanted.”

You take him deeper. Eyes fixed on his now, letting him watch you tasting yourself on him. Chasing the bob of your head with the tight slide of your fist.

And it’s the way he looks back at you - the awe mixed with lust, as if you were something precious instead of him. Something tender written so openly across his expression that surprises you every time, even if your heart feels the same.

It has your pace quickening. His breath shortens, and with the next flick of your wrist -

You’re bringing him over the edge with you.

It’s messy, with the way his cock throbs against your lips, spilling against your chin. With the guttural, drawn-out groan and a broken gasp of your name that you tuck away - eager to revisit later.

Making him come undone just with your mouth. Just from watching you, his gaze like a brand against your skin.

And you take everything he gives you. The tight suction around his shaft as you swallow him down. The pad of your thumb running down the seam of his tight, too-full sack, the gentle squeeze that follows pulling another breathy moan from deep in your chest.

It’s everything you imagined, and more.

Another throb of want that tingles through you - a slow, warm drip down your spine, pooling low.

It leaves him boneless for the briefest of moments, but it’s a victory you’ll take. Blue eyes unfocused as they fix on your ceiling.

Snapping down, to catch the way your tongue licks against your lips. The swipe of your thumb at the corner, not letting a single drop go to waste.

His speed after is super-human. It’s too easy, with the way he flips you. Your thighs splaying wide - making room for him, now.

His hips dipping down, the sucked-clean tip of his cock nudging against your core just as his fingers follow.

The belated comeback rumbled out, as his thumb fits against your clit. The press of two fingers, as they slip inside - checking your work.

He’ll be ready again, by the time he works you open. Sooner even, if he tastes you.

“You always get this wet thanking people?” A kiss pressed against your throat, all the better to feel your pulse flutter, “Or just me?”

There already a twitch against your thigh - a hot groan against your skin as you clench around him, slick and warm.

And it’s your turn to sigh. To lift your hips into his touch - fingers threaded into scarlet.

“Just you.”

thanks for reading! would love to know what you thought 💖

[thewasandshouldbeking]

I'm not advocating for people being shitty in the comments on fic, but I've always thought this was the weirdest take.

I have tastebuds. I don't need to be able to MAKE food to know if it tastes horrible, much like I don't have to have written a novel of my own to know if the one I'm reading is poorly paced, has flat characters, or any number of other off putting flaws.

It's really odd to think people have to be able to DO something in order to have opinions on the end result, especially since this sentiment only pops up when the criticism is negative. No one cares if commenters are also writers if they're saying nice things. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Again, not saying people should post unsolicited negative criticism. I'm very much a "don't like the art, just keep scrolling" kind of person. But this is just flawed logic.

I find it real funny that people criticize fanfics but haven't written a damn thing in their life.

It's like criticizing a homemade cooked meal meanwhile you burn every kitchen you enter.

[lvenoir]

Jealous?｡⋆♡͏

✧ genre/au: manon bannerman x reader [she/her]. soft jealousy. misunderstandings. pining turned playful. domestic tension. ✧ word count: 1.4k+

summary: all it took was one brunch photo—pancakes in the foreground, a blurry girl in the background—and suddenly manon’s spiraling, texting too much and pretending she isn’t jealous. you? you were just hanging out with your sister. but when you show up later, she's peeling clementines like they wronged her, and you're the only one who can make her feel sane again.

━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━

The photo was innocent enough. A quick snap you fired off while balancing your fork in one hand and phone in the other. The brunch plate looked pretty, with syrup pooling under a stack of thick pancakes, strawberries off to the side like they were placed by a food stylist. The message read: "ate too fast but i regret nothing."

But Manon didn't see the pancakes first. Or the caption. Her eyes zeroed in on the girl sitting across from you—just a blur of wavy hair, a sweater sleeve, manicured nails resting next to a cup of black coffee. She wasn't in focus, but she didn't need to be. The implication punched her in the gut.

She didn't reply. Didn't double-tap. Just stared.

Manon was slouched on the  couch, one leg up, hoodie half-zipped. Her headphones were still dangling from her neck, half a demo spilling out of the earcups. Around her, Katseye buzzed with quiet activity. Sophia had claimed the other end of the couch with a pretzel bag, Megan was playing with her switch, Lara was filming something chaotic on her phone in front of the mirror. Daniela was reading a book she recently got into, and Yoonchae had long since dozed off with a blanket over her head.

Manon barely registered any of it.

Because her brain was now stuck on one (possibly gorgeous) girl whose sweater sleeve was getting way too much attention in a picture from you.

She stared a little longer.

She texted.

manz: that place looks cute manz: who were you with? manz: actually nvm manz: hope you had fun. manz: i'll leave you alone x

Then she tossed her phone face-down, and it bounced. Megan looked over with raised brows.

"You good?"

"I need air." Manon stood up, grabbed her hoodie tighter, and stalked off without waiting for anyone's reaction. —

You had no idea.

You and your sister were walking home, arms full of tote bags from a bookstore detour and plastic containers of brunch leftovers. She'd made a last-minute stop in town, the kind of sibling chaos that meant too much laughing, too many photos, and catching up on every tiny thing from childhood drama to your taste in people.

You hadn't checked your phone. It was still silenced from earlier when you tossed it into your purse.

So when you finally pulled it out and saw Manon's texts, you blinked.

"Okay," you said to your sister. "So Manon thinks I'm on a date."

Your sister glanced over your shoulder, squinted, and then snorted. "Oh my god, is she spiraling? That's adorable."

"She's definitely upset."

"I would rather eat glass than date you."

"Love you too." You shoved her.

—

That night, after Katseye wrapped rehearsals, you showed up.

Sophia opened the door like she was expecting you. "Kitchen. Go easy on her. She's been... tragic."

Manon was peeling a clementine like it personally wronged her. When she saw you, her hands froze mid-peel.

"Oh, look who finally decided to come over," she said, far too casual, voice dripping with pretend indifference.

You blinked. "Hi to you too."

"Had fun? Not that I was waiting or anything," she added, dumping the peel into the trash. "I was just, you know, casually existing in this place. Like a normal person. Totally chill. Totally not pacing back and forth in front of the window every five minutes."

You raised your eyebrows. "Totally chill?"

She nodded, firm. "Super chill. Ice cold. Arctic, even."

You leaned against the doorway. "Is that why you sent five texts in a row?"

She scoffed. "That's called being engaged. And communicative. Don't gaslight me."

You laughed, arms folded. "Meret."

"Sooo... how was your little outing?" she asked, her voice going fake-light. "Must've been nice, right? Spending the whole day together, laughing at her jokes, sharing cute little drinks. Wow. That's really great. Really, really great. Love that journey for you. For her. For the table. For brunch culture in general."

You squinted. "You okay?"

"Me?" she repeated, eyebrows rising. "I'm thriving. I went to rehearsals. Super not-thinking-about-you. Definitely not wondering what you were doing or who you were with or if she—I mean they—had pretty hands or a better sense of humor than me."

You walked closer, grinning. "Are you done?"

"I'm just making conversation," she said, arms crossed. "No jealousy. No resentment. No inner chaos. Just calm. Cucumber-level chill."

"You're so dramatic."

"Oh, shut up, I am not dramatic," she pouted.

You tilted your head. "That was my sister."

She froze. "What?"

"She surprised me. Came to town."

"...Oh."

"She's nice. And pretty. And also related to me."

"Ohhhhhh."

Manon dropped her head to the counter. "Why didn't you say that sooner? You let me spiral! You watched it happen!"

You bit your lip. "It was kinda fun."

"You knew!" she whined. "You knew and you said nothing. You just let me drown in the emotional abyss like some girl in a melodrama."

"I love when you get pouty."

"You're evil," she hissed.

"And you're cute."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Say something sweet and then smirk like you own the world."

You leaned in. "You are cute. Especially when you're spiraling."

"I hate you."

You kissed her.

"...Did you just kiss me to shut me up?" she mumbled against your mouth.

"Yup."

"...Rude."

"Do it again?"

She grinned, cheeks on fire. "Yeah. Okay. Do it again."

You barely gave her a second to recover from the second kiss before you were slipping your jacket on and nudging her toward the door.

"Let's go."

Manon blinked, eyes still wide, lips kiss-swollen and parted. "Go?"

"To my place," you said simply, already tugging her hoodie down over her head. "Before Sophia comes out here and starts her commentary."

Right on cue, Sophia's voice echoed from inside. "Too late! Don't do anything I wouldn't—"

"Bye, Sophia!" you called over your shoulder, shutting the door behind you.

Manon followed without complaint, hoodie cinched up tight, her hands stuffed into the sleeves. There was a slight bounce in her step—like the drama had been worth it.

━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━

Your apartment was warm and dimly lit, the kind of soft low glow that made everything feel a little more intimate. The faint thrum of a playlist pulsed through the air, subtle but grounding.

Manon stepped inside like she wasn't a regular visitor but like she knew exactly where everything was. She always did. She just liked pretending this wasn't familiar territory.

You tossed your keys in the bowl and turned to speak, only to find her already by the couch.

You opened your mouth.

She raised an eyebrow.

You blinked.

Then she grabbed your wrist.

Manon sat first, all quiet confidence, before tugging you down by your hips into her lap. "C'mere."

You laughed lightly, hands bracing on her shoulders. "I was literally about to tell you to sit."

"Too slow," she murmured, entirely too pleased with herself.

She looked up at you, lashes low, eyes tracing your face with the kind of softness that made your stomach flip. Her hands held steady at your waist, thumbs rubbing soft arcs into your skin just beneath your shirt.

"You're being cocky."

"I've earned it," she said simply, voice low and smug. "And I like it when you're close."

"You're enjoying this too much."

"I spiraled. Dramatically. Publicly. I think I'm owed a little prize."

You narrowed your eyes, shifting in her lap just to mess with her balance. "And this is your prize?"

"Yes, this is my prize."

You snorted, but the pink brushing her cheeks made your heart do that stupid thing where it squeezed a little too tight.

She pulled you in until your chest met hers, her arms curling around your waist. Her nose brushed your collarbone, and her breath fanned warm across your skin. Her fingers didn't stop moving—small patterns along your back, like muscle memory.

"You're a little shit," you whispered into her hair.

"And yet, you brought me home."

You melted into her a little more.

Manon shifted slightly under you, her hands dragging lower with a quiet kind of confidence. "Talk about being jealous," you muttered.

She huffed. "Can you blame me?" Her voice was muffled, pressed into your neck. "I didn't know if I was about to be heartbroken and replaced."

"By my sister?"

"She had pretty hands!"

You laughed. "Unreal."

"You let me spiral," she accused, lifting her head just enough to narrow her eyes at you.

"I let you jump to conclusions. You leapt, babe."

She pouted. "You didn't stop me."

"You were kind of cute."

"I was suffering."

"You were brooding like you were in a movie."

She smirked. "And you watched. Evil."

"Dramatic."

"I was emotionally compromised."

"And unreasonably cute."

She growled under her breath, "You're doing this on purpose."

"Doing what?"

"Teasing me. Looking at me like that."

You leaned closer. "You mean like this?"

"Exactly like that."

"You gonna do something about it?"

Her gaze flicked from your mouth to your eyes. Her grip on your hips tightened just enough to make your breath catch.

"You keep pushing," she warned.

"And if I do?"

She pulled you flush against her. "Then I might just show you who you belong to tonight."

"Threat or promise?"

"Both."

You didn't respond .

You kissed her.

Long. Slow. Deliberate.

When you pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, eyes dazed.

"Show me," you whispered.

━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━

[wonwunss]

pairing: dad!joshua x daughter (3 y/o)

genre: fluff, domestic softness, sleepy cuddles & pancakes

word count: 827

a/n: shua is soooo girl dad coded like he's so soft with them. i just know he'll be the type to spoil them and gently fluff their hair with that loving smile of his :(((

The house is still, quiet in the way all early mornings are.

Golden sunlight seeps through the curtains, casting soft stripes along the hallway floor. Joshua had woken not long ago, more out of habit than need, and now stands at the kitchen counter in his cozy sweatshirt and sleep-tousled hair, nursing a cup of warm tea. Everything is peaceful.

Until he hears the tiniest patter of feet.

He turns just in time to see her—his daughter, his heart in human form—emerge from the hallway, dragging her pink bunny blanket behind her, eyes still half-closed. Her cheeks are round and flushed from sleep, her hair a little messy in that way only toddlers can manage. She isn’t quite awake yet but she knows where to go.

Without a word, she shuffles across the living room and lifts her arms.

Joshua doesn’t hesitate.

He sets his mug down and crouches to scoop her into his arms, lifting her with ease as she melts against his chest like a baby koala. Her cheek rests right over his heart. She doesn’t speak—doesn’t need to. She’s where she belongs.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he whispers into her hair, rocking her gently side to side. “You’re up early.”

“Mmh,” she hums, still half-asleep. “You weren’t in bed.”

“I know,” he murmurs, kissing her temple. “I missed you too.”

She clutches her bunny tighter, little fingers curled around its ear, and nestles deeper into his chest. Joshua smiles, pressing another kiss into her curls. They stand there like that for a while, wrapped in that warm, still moment, as the world continues its slow stretch into the day.

Eventually, she lifts her head just a bit.

“…Pancakes?” she whispers, like it’s a secret password.

Joshua chuckles softly. “Yeah, baby. Let’s make pancakes.”

She’s still sleepy, so he sets her on the kitchen counter with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a sippy cup of warm milk in her hands. He turns on a playlist of soft jazz piano—just background noise—and gets to work, letting her watch as he pulls out ingredients.

“Can I help?” she asks, perkier now, her bunny watching from beside her.

“Of course you can,” he says with a grin, placing a little mixing bowl in front of her. “But only if you’re my official blueberry sprinkles boss.”

She beams, dimples and all. “Okay! I’m good at sprinkling!”

She is, in fact, very good at it. Even if about seven blueberries end up in her mouth instead of the batter.

Joshua pretends not to notice.

When it’s time to crack the eggs, she insists on doing one herself. It’s a disaster in slow motion—tiny fingers squeezing too hard, yolk everywhere—but Joshua just laughs, gently cleaning her hands and kissing her nose.

“You did perfect,” he tells her. “Egg cracking is a special skill. Takes practice.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

They talk while he flips the pancakes—well, mostly she talks. About how Mr. Bunny had a dream where he flew to space, about how she wants to bring pancakes to her teacher next week, about how she thinks clouds taste like marshmallows.

And Joshua listens to every word like it’s the most important thing in the universe.

Because to him, it is.

—

Breakfast is served at the dining table: little pancakes with smiley faces, extra blueberries on the side, and a small stack of buttered toast because “Mr. Bunny needs toast too.”

His daughter eats with both hands—one for her fork, one holding her bunny—and halfway through, she scoots her chair closer to him and holds out a piece of pancake.

“Daddy, try mine.”

Joshua leans in obediently and takes the bite, exaggerating a “Mmm!” as he chews.

Her eyes sparkle. “Is it good?”

“The best pancake I’ve ever had,” he says, completely serious.

She giggles, proud, and leans her cheek against his arm. “You’re my favorite person, Daddy.”

He stills.

It hits him like a soft ache in the chest—one of those moments where love is so big, so bright, it leaves him a little breathless. His baby, his tiny girl, saying it like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

Joshua wraps his arm around her gently, pressing his forehead to hers.

“You’re my favorite person too, sunshine.”

—

After breakfast, the two of them curl back up on the couch. Her belly’s full, her energy’s dipping again, and her fingers are tugging his sleeve as she fights sleep.

“Stay, Daddy.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, pulling her into his lap.

She curls up like a cat, cheek pressed to his chest, thumb in her mouth, bunny tucked against her belly. Joshua strokes her hair with slow, gentle fingers as she yawns once… twice… and finally sinks into sleep.

The house is quiet again.

Only now, it’s filled with warmth. With the soft sound of his daughter’s breathing, the weight of her trust in his arms, and the slow, golden glow of a morning that began in his favorite way:

With love.

[maho6any]

Whiskey Lullabye

Childhood Friend!Jeong Yunho x F!Reader

summary: your best friend invites you over for dinner again, part of your weekly routine. dinner, drinks, a movie and then you return home to your boyfriend as per usual. but something is wrong. your drink tastes funny tonight. and Yunho is acting weird.

warnings: DARK CONTENT, best friends to…., non-con to dub-con, drug use (he spikes your drink), yunho is a BAD PERSON, he constantly apologizes but is he really sorry?, oral(f!recieving), praise, fingering, cheating, pet names (angel, sweetheart etc.) yunho is obsessed, mentions of murder(towards your boyfriend), yunho is gentle to you, unprotected sex, drugged sex, prone bone, yunho is very manipulative, he coerces you to consent, mindfuck, angst, unresolved feelings

wc: 8.2k

notes: PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. This is purely fiction. I have no intention of representing Yunho as a person with the writing of this piece, neither do I encourage the behavior presented in my writing. Please take care of yourself, if you choose not read, I’ll see you at the next piece. And once again please read the warnings. You are responsible for the content you consume. Thank you.

tracklist: softcore, until i bleed out, oxytocin

ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ!

“Yeah, it's been sitting in the back counter for a few years now, it’s probably just extra aged. I can get you a newer bottle if it tastes too gross?”

“No, it's fine, I’m not gonna make you do all that just cause it tastes a little dusty.”

Your phone chimed, a sharp, startling noise.

Get home safe, honey. I love you. You smiled, and it almost felt forced, before you turned off your phone and slipped it into your purse. You turned to him and took another sip of your drink.

“So how about that chick you were seeing a couple of weeks ago. Is that turning out to be anything?”

Trust is something you earn over time. It's fragile. It can be broken easily, and it can be nearly impossible to rebuild. But time is all you need. To break and rebuild. Over time, you and Jeong Yunho become close, so close that you are nearly attached at the hip.

He was your neighbor across the street in your quaint little neighborhood. He was riding his bike one day when he had an accident in your driveway while you were in your front yard playing with your dolls. And of course, out of the pure kindness in your heart. You helped him. Grabbed a Band-Aid for the bloody scratch on his knee, poured him a cup of juice, and invited him to play with you. So eventually, that's how every day played out. Sharing juice, sharing toys, sharing time.

Yunho was so grateful to meet you; you were so kind. So soft. You were grateful to have met him. He was so funny, so gentle. You both stuck together throughout school, throughout your teenage years, and fully into adulthood. He was your other half. And you believed it with all your heart.

He believed you were his, too, but he didn’t think that YOU believed it. When college rolled around and you had found yourself a boyfriend at work. Your time started going to him, going out on dates, sleeping at his place. You had a weekly routine with Yunho. One night out of the week, preferably a Sunday, you would go to his place. Have a drink, watch a movie or play some games, or even just talk, and spend the night.

Those days started happening less and less the longer you were with your boyfriend, and since you two got together, you decided that spending the night was no longer an option.

Yunho understood, and he loathed the fact that he could understand. He wished he didn’t. He wished that he weren’t capable of logical thinking. This was completely reasonable, and it made sense. But he didn't want it to make sense. He wanted it to be wrong. He wanted you and your fucking boyfriend to be wrong.

The nights you would leave after the movie, the night outside was desolate and quiet. The house creaked as it settled. You’d give him a warm, beautiful hug, and then you would leave. The door would click shut, and Yunho was left alone at the kitchen table, palming a bottle of bourbon, and wished your boyfriend would drop dead. And he hated himself for thinking that way. He didn't do anything wrong. You fell in love with him, and he fell in love with you. No foul play, nothing to give Yunho a real reason to hate the guy.

But he stole you from him. He ripped you from his hands and took all the time he spent all these years collecting with you and shoved it down his greedy gullet. And you stayed with him for what? Mediocre dates? Soulless sex? That’s one thing Yunho truly didn't understand. Why HIM.

You complain about him all the time. How he fleetingly mentions how you should lose weight or grow out your hair. How you should stop being so awkward around his friends and stop being so clingy. Yunho was convinced your boyfriend hated you. But you insisted. You loved him. Blinded by love. Yunho wanted to open your eyes. He wanted you to see that your boyfriend was nothing. Nothing compared to him.

He might not have gone about it the best way, but he did it out of love. He swears. 

It started like a normal night with you. He opened the door, and there you were, as beautiful as ever. Casual comfy clothes, a bag that was always filled with snacks. And your bright smile. It's all he ever asked you to bring, that smile. But you couldn’t help but go the extra mile, with new board games and new foods to try.

“Hi Yu!” you smiled and stepped into his cozy apartment, setting your bags on the coffee table.

“C’mere.” Yunho grinned, and you turned and enveloped him in a hug, which he returned. His heart was full and warm at the prospect of you finally being here, after so many cancellations because you and your boyfriend had made other plans. He squeezed you tight before letting you go and sighing.

“Ugh, you have no idea how many hoops I had to jump through to make free time for tonight.” You sat on the couch, taking off your shoes and sliding them under the table.

Yunho smiled and began rummaging through the bags you brought, taking snacks out and setting them on the table. “Oh yeah? Like what?” Yunho knew the answer. Your-

“Boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes and rubbed out a knot in your shoulder. “He wanted to go out to this couple’s event at some museum, but I told him I just wanted a calm night in. Then he got all upset and started complaining about how I never make time for him, yada yada, so I just decided to come over tonight.”

Yunho’s eyes twitched. How ungrateful is he? Your boyfriend DOES get all your time. What does he mean you never give him any? Prick.

“Anyway. I’m glad you’re like me, Yu. Just enjoying quiet nights in.”

“Of course.” He replies, grabbing a bottle of bourbon from the countertop and a couple of glasses from the shelf. He brought it over to the coffee table and set it down before taking a seat next to you. “I missed you, y’know.” He sounded so sincere, almost sad.

You pouted, “Aww, you missed me, Yu?”

“I always miss you.” Without skipping a beat. His eyes locked with yours, and you swear you saw his jaw slightly clench, like he was holding back more things he wanted to say. 

You felt your heart twang, just for a second. You blinked, coughed, then reached forward, grabbing the bottle of whiskey by the neck. You popped it open and poured yourself a glass, and then poured some in Yunho’s in turn.

Yunho had always been sweet. Always loving and caring, never leaving your side, and always making sure you were doing the best you possibly could. You appreciated him more than you could put into words. You had considered asking him out a few times, but every time you worked up the gall to do it, you spotted him out with another girl, or he mentioned talking to someone in passing. So you never really told him.

Then, when you met your boyfriend, you decided this was the best way to sweep your feelings for him under the rug and start fresh. And it went well. Your boyfriend was a bit of a polar opposite of Yunho. He was more brash and preferred more exerting activities and more harsh ways of thinking, but he was never mean to you. Well, for the most part. You tried not to worry, Yunho, but sometimes complaints would slip out. You dropped your walls around Yunho, and it was hard to keep things from him.

“Well, I’m here now, no need to miss me anymore.” You smiled and took a sip of your drink. You made a funny face and smacked your lips before setting it back on the table, the glass clanging rather loudly.

Yunho’s hand twitched, then he leaned over to grab the remote.

“Alright,” he clapped his hands and smiled. “What movie are we watching tonight?” You pulled your legs up to rest on the couch, reaching forward and grabbing a box of cookies off the table.

“I was thinking about a horror movie tonight, maybe?” You peeled open the box, reaching in and grabbing a cookie. You waved it in front of his face, urging him to take it,

He leaned forward and ate the cookie out of your hand, his soft lips just gently brushing your fingertips.

“Um,” he started with a mouthful, “Okay, any specific ones you have in mind?”

“Nope, we can just browse until we find a good one. The movie doesn't even matter anyway, I'm just here to spend time.”

Yunho swallowed and smiled, his eyes crinkling and thumb running over the remote buttons languidly. God, he felt like shit. Like total absolute shit.

After a few minutes of scrolling and nursing your drink, he landed on a movie eventually, hitting play and switching all the lights off. The dark swallowed up the living room, the only light now coming from the television.

You were curled up at his side, one hand draped over your stomach while the other rested on Yunho’s thigh, where he softly played with your fingers. Tracing your nailbeds, caressing your knuckles, mapping out the swirls of your fingerprint. His other hand draped over the back of the couch, pulling loose strings from the cushion behind your head.

The AC whirred quietly in the background, the movie droning on, but neither of you was paying attention. Every now and then, one of you would comment on the acting or the special effects or whatnot. The atmosphere was light, and you felt comfortable. You felt safe.

Yunho’s eyes were glued to the television. His heart was pounding, and his head ached. So many thoughts were rushing through his mind as he continued to absentmindedly play with your soft hands. Small, in compassion to his own. Fragile. Easy to break. 

Your glass was nearly empty. His, still full.

He kept repeating the same words in his head, over and over and over, until he was sick of hearing himself think.

I love her. This is for the better. She will forgive you.

Your head hurts. You felt a little tipsy; you hadn’t even finished your glass. The movie seemed a little less clear now, more blurry. Your palms felt clammy, and your stomach ached a little. You took a deep breath in, pulling your hands away from Yunho and sitting up straight. You hunched over and placed your hands on your knees, keeping your eyes down on the floor. It felt like everything was slowly moving, warping, vibrating.

Yunho’s voice seemed far away, and you didn't even register he was talking to you until you felt his cold palm on your upper arm.

“Are you alright?” It sounded like you were being dragged underwater and then pulled out, your hearing muffled. You forced a smile and struggled to stand.

“I’m alright, just a little queasy, probably had too much to drink. I’m gonna go use the bathroom, don't wait up, I'll be back.” Your legs shook underneath you, and it seemed like the whole room was spinning. Yunho watched as you struggled to walk behind the couch, leaning your arms against the wall as you wobbled your way to the bathroom. When you were out of sight, he turned and glared at the TV.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He buried his hands in his hair and gripped at the roots, tugging. He bit his tongue, blood flooding his mouth. He cursed.

She will forgive you, she will forgive you, she will forgive you, she will forgive you.

 His chest ached, and his head throbbed. He stood, leaving the TV to drone in the darkness. He walked around the back of the couch, staring at the light illuminating underneath the bathroom door, your shadow only slightly moving.

He stood at the end of the dark hallway, frozen. He needed to move.

The bathroom light was too bright, your eyes hurt, and your ears buzzed. You leaned against the bathroom counter, your breathing slow and your heart slower.

What's going on with me? I had one glass.

And one glass is all it took. You felt weak, and your muscles felt like jelly. 

A knock. The door clicked. You saw Yunho in the mirror. His posture was rigid, guarded.

Yu… I don't feel good,” you spoke, your words slurring together, and they didn't make any sense in your head.

“I know.” He replied. Pity. He sounded like he was pitying you. You tried to turn and look at him, but he reached forward and steadied your body, his hands grabbing your arms and holding you upright. Your head was swimming, and all you could see was him. Feel his warm touch. His eyes, a look you couldn't pinpoint. But something was wrong.

He looked at you like you were an injured deer. Like one wrong move, and you would shatter into pieces in his hold. “Why don’t you come lie down?”

You nodded, beginning to walk with him as he held you and led you to… his room?

You paused. In the hallway, you looked back into the living room, your gaze falling back to the coffee table. The light from the TV flickered, and you stared at the drinks on the surface. 

Your glass, nearly empty, and Yunho’s glass, untouched. 

The headache started to subside, and now it was just a gentle, soft buzzing. It felt like your brain was submerged in a warm bath, your eyes were heavy-lidded, and your muscles gradually started to feel more relaxed.

“Yunho…” you mumbled, tripping over the words, as he gently pulled you away, forcing you to rip your eyes away from the coffee table as he led you further down the dark hallway.

“I’m here,” he answered, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know.” You couldn't think, the ringing in your ears was unbearable, and you were losing your ability to walk by the second. 

“I’m gonna take care of you.” Yunho squeezed your arm before leading you into his room. He left the light off, and he looked down at you. You were pitiful. Shaky and helpless. All you could do was cling to him; you trusted him. And what did he do with that trust? Grabbed it by the throat and did as he wished. He felt sick with himself, but something else, deep in his gut, made him wanna lie to you. Tie you up. Keep you all to himself in the dark of his bedroom. He wanted to touch you. He wanted to hold you. He wanted to prove to you that he was all he needed. Prove to you that you could only trust him. You could only love him. He wanted to brand his name onto your brain with a hot iron. But he would never hurt you, he told himself that all night. He would never hurt you. He would never do something you didn't want him to do.

You wouldn't run from him. You never had, so why would you now? “You’re safe with me, (Name.) I promise I won't hurt you.”

You blinked, and you were sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Yunho,” you mumbled, barely able to open your eyes. “Why are you talking like that? What does that mean?” You were having a hard time processing his words, your upper body gave out, and you lay back against the plush covers, limp and boneless. Hands, at your ankles, gently caressing and massaging right above the bones of your joints. Warm hands. Soft and large. Familiar.

“I’m sorry, angel, I can’t let you go back home to him. I know you understand.” No matter how much Yunho tried to talk himself out of it, the longer he had you to himself, the more his self-control began to slip and the more his morals began to bleed dry. His hand massaged up your calves, kneading the muscle soothingly.

“You know he's not good for you, he doesn't appreciate you the way I do…” He kissed your knee, soft lips against your heated skin. You were so woozy. You were still barely registering what was happening.

“You have to trust me…” he mumbled between chaste kisses up your legs. “Just like you always do. It's just me (Name). You know me.” 

It's Yunho. You know him. You’ve always known him. Is this him? Since when has he acted like this? 

“Yunho, please..”You didn’t know what you were asking for. You didn’t know what was going on. The room only seemed to spin faster, and your brain felt like it was melting. Nothing was familiar, except for his voice.

“You can barely speak, sweetheart.” Yunho stood up and sat next to you on the bed. He cocked his head to the side as he looked down at you, his deft fingers gently brushing strands of hair out of your eyes. When you saw him, you felt something weird. A sort of comfort. His face always brought a sort of comfort to you, but something else deep in the pit of your stomach told you to run.

To get away from him, to go home. To call for help.

“You trust me. Right?” His voice, soft and coaxing. That familiar pull in your chest that you remember feeling in your younger days. When you would see him in the library alone, reading a book quietly, or in the kitchen making sandwiches for you two. This strange longing for him. 

“I'm sorry I had to do it.” He whispered, tucking hair behind your ear, tracing the length of your jaw like you were made of glass. “If I hadn’t, he would hurt you, angel.”

“H-hurt me?” you stumbled out, eyes hazy. Yunho looked at you like you were precious. Plush lips and glassy eyes. Your hair is a mess, and your breath is coming slow and shallow. The way you tried to lift your hand to reach out to him.

Hurt you? Who would- oh. Your boyfriend. Thoughts swirled, a big, conjumbled mess in your brain. Ideas were crossing over one another and melting together like watercolor. Your boyfriend would hurt you? How? Why?

“Yunho, what.. What did you give meee..” You felt like you might be piecing things together, your brain fighting to make any sense of what was happening. But Yunho made sure to shut it down quickly.

“How long have you wanted me to love you (Name)? I know you do. How long, tell me?” Yunho cupped your jaw, lifting his body off the bed and over you. He caged you against the bed, his face just a few inches from yours. His eyes bore into yours, as his thumbs softly caressed your cheek, as he held your face like you might fall apart.

Now all you could see was him, and the room was no longer spinning. It was just him. Just Yunho.

His breathing was heavy, and his heart was racing. He was so excited. He was so happy. 

“Do you want me to touch you? Are you gonna let me make you mine?” Yunho whined, pressing soft kisses all over your face. His touch lingered, and his hands lowered to caress your waist. 

Make you his? Something clicked. Your eyes watered. What was Yunho doing? This couldn’t be him. This couldn’t be your Yunho.

You lifted your hand slowly and weakly pushed against his chest. “We can’t Yu… you can't…” Your eyelids fluttered as you were losing the battle against whatever drug he gave you. 

“No, but we can…” he hurriedly replied, burying his face in the crook of your neck, your attempt at pushing him away futile. “I promise we can, it's okay, it's all okay. I promise…” He inhaled your scent, his body shivering as he relished being so close to you.

Your gut twisted, and your heart clenched. He sounded so desperate, so wrecked. When has he ever been like this?

Yunho’s mind was racing. 

She's so pretty. Oh my god, I have her. She's mine. I love you, I love you, I love you. He doesn't deserve you. He can rot. You’re mine. Mine. Mine. So beautiful, so soft. 

He was hurting you. He was betraying your trust. Taking advantage of you. Abusing your lack of control. He wanted to make it stop. Make these feelings stop. Make this all stop. But god, were you so alluring. He’s waited so long. He deserved you. Right?

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” He breathed against your neck, peppering soft kisses along your shoulder. “You have to forgive me, you have to know I'm sorry.”

His voice tickled your ears, and your thoughts were only of him. Your boyfriend was forgotten. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t protecting you. He was at home. It was Yunho here with you. It was Yunho “taking care of you.” It was Yunho touching you. You trusted him. It felt wrong, but you couldn’t help but trust him. Was it the drugs? Was it the gentle way he spoke to you?

It was Yunho. He would never hurt you.

“Trust you…” You forced out, your words strained and slurred. You lifted a hand to stroke the back of his head, the soft locks of his brown hair tickling your skin. Familiar. Soft as it had always been, comforting.

Yunho lifted his head, gazing at you in near disbelief. He waited for you to speak again.

“I trust… you.” You mumbled, dropping your hand when the exertion became too much.

Yunho smiled. A sick, sweet smile.

“Yeah? You trust me, angel? You trust me to make you feel good?” His hands squeezed your waist as he nudged his nose against your cheek.

Did you say that? 

“I have to confess something, baby.” His hands, warm and calloused, slipped down the exposed skin of your body before slipping under the hem of your shirt, where he gently caressed your bare tummy.

“I think about killing him all the time.”

Huh.

“I think about breaking into his home, and dragging him out by his neck into the woods behind his house and putting a bullet between his eyes, all the fucking time.”

Despite the drugs in your veins that did everything in their power to keep you at bay and calm, those words unnerved you enough to want to start moving. Now.

“I did, it’s true. But I’d never do it in front of you. I’d never let you see something like that. It’d fuck your beautiful brain up, angel.”

His hand slid further up, and your skin shivered at his touch.

“Yu, something is wrong with you,” you slurred out. You tried to lift your body on your elbows to back away from him, but your muscles gave out.

“Nothing is wrong with me, lovely.” He smiled before slowly moving his body down to kneel at the edge of the bed, slipping his hand from under your shirt. Your skin felt cold in the absence of his touch.

“But something is wrong with you.” He continued. His hands splayed on either one of your thighs, gently prying your legs apart. “Something is seriously wrong with you for letting me do this to you.”

But were you letting him? The question raced through your mind once. Twice. Three times. You were. You were letting him. You weren’t fighting. You weren't begging him to stop. You were allowing him to touch you. You needed to at least try. You’d probably feel better about yourself if you did.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, his lips warm and soft against the sensitive skin. You pulled your leg up to try and escape the touch, but he grabbed both of your ankles and pulled, hauling your thighs over his shoulders. He let go once you were in the position he wanted, his large palms clamped on the outside of your thighs pressing them together around his head to keep you in place.

“No, don’t run from me. You already made up your mind, haven’t you? You want this. You want me. You want to stay, don’t you?” His eyes were shadowed, and his face was flushed; he looked like a wreck. His fingers kneaded the plush flesh of your thighs, and your skin felt like it was on fire. Your head was swimming, and you could only think of how different the night would have gone if you had just stayed home.

But a dark, sick, and secret part of you was whispering in the back of your skull, telling you that you should be enjoying this. And as much as you wanted to bang your head against the wall, you were enjoying it. Somehow.

“Yuhno, no…” Your body shivered as his nimble fingers hooked underneath the waistband.

“Yes, baby,” he groaned. “You’re gonna love it. You’re gonna love me…” He dragged your shorts down your soft legs, letting them slip off your feet and fall to the floor.

“It's wrong…” You whined; the only way you could defend yourself was with your words, but your voice was betraying you.

“‘S not wrong, sweetheart, what makes you think this is wrong? I’ve known you all my life, it's okay. I know how to take care of you.”

It's like he was completely missing the point, but frankly, you were too out of it to argue.

When Yunho’s eyes landed on your panties, he nearly lost it all. He traced the lacy outline, sucking in a sharp breath when your body jerked and a quiet gasp slipped past your lips.

“You’re wet,” he whispered to himself, like he couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe it either.

“Knew you wanted me,” he groaned, dragging a finger up your soaked slit through your underwear, biting his bottom lip as your thighs twitched under his touch. “Knew your useless fucking boyfriend wasn’t giving my baby what she needed.”

He was right, your boyfriend wasn't the most outstanding in bed, but that was the last thing Yunho needed to know right now. He softly kissed you through your panties, smiling against the fabric when you jumped slightly.

Your underwear was next to go, slipping it off your legs and leaving you bare to him. “Oh my God, you’re so pretty…” He pressed a ghost of a kiss against your clit, smiling when you whimpered.

“All you have to do is lie there and feel. Can you do that for me?” The illusion of choice. It's all you could do. 

He flattened his tongue and pressed it against you, sliding up and licking your slit, groaning when your taste hit his tongue. Your head was far beyond fuzzy, and you hated that it felt amazing. Your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, as he licked you up. Yunho wrapped his lips around your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue while he sucked.

One hand on your thigh slid off, and he gently prodded your entrance with his finger.

“That's it, baby,” he groaned around your swollen clit, his finger sliding up your slick cunt to gather your wetness to coat his finger, before slowly sliding it inside of you. Your back arched and your breath caught in your throat as he inched his surprisingly long finger inside of you, his fingertip pressing perfectly against that spot inside of you that your boyfriend always had such a hard time finding.

You were so unbelievably sensitive, and your moans came out tired and low. Yunho slurped at your pussy obscenely as he coaxed his finger inside of you, only sucking your clit harder every time you clenched around him.

“You’re so good (Name), better than anyone I’ve ever had. Better than anything I’ve ever tasted. You’re perfect, fucking perfect.” Yunho buried his face further into you, slipping another finger in you as he continued to work you open. Your head shook back and forth against the mattress, all you could hear was Yunhos’ moans, and how disgustingly wet you sounded within the swallowing darkness of his bedroom. 

And yet you couldn’t feel guilty. You couldn’t feel mad or disappointed, because all you could feel was pleasure. Mind-numbing, stomach-aching pleasure. He was making you feel so fucking good, just like he said he would.

He pressed the pads of his fingers against your G-spot, circling them and pulling off your clit with a wet pop. he pressed languid kisses along the insides of your thighs as he continued to finger fuck you into oblivion.

His eyes locked on your body, admiring how you shook and twitched for him, and he wished he could see your face. So without taking his fingers out of you, he stood and leaned over your limp body. He hovered his face over yours, while his free hand held the base of your throat, forcing you to keep your gaze on him. Your eyes were half-lidded and brimming with tears, your lips swollen as drool slipped down your chin. 

Yunho pouted, squeezing the base of your throat as he watched a tear slip down your cheek. He quickly licked from your jaw up your face, drinking up your tears and kissing the corner of your eye.

“So fucking cute when you cry, sweetheart.” His fingers slowed inside of you, pressing harder and making you feel every single bit of him. “I know you’ll hate me, but every time you cry, I’d have to go to the bathroom and take care of myself. I love seeing you cry, that pitiful look on your face fucks me up so good.”

Your cunt clenched, and your heart leaped, and you hated it. You hated the effect he was having on you. You hated that he could so easily break you down. You hated that you trusted him so much. You hated him.

“I hate you…’’ You slurred, eyes rolling as he grinned and swallowed up your soft noises with a filthy kiss, his tongue swirling around yours, open-mouthed and messy.

“I know, baby,” he moaned into your mouth, picking up the pace of his fingers. “You should hate me, it's okay. Hate me all you want, but I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget, don't worry. Won’t give you time to think about hating me. All you’ll be able to think about is how good I’m fucking you. I promise. I’m not gonna let you think, angel.”

That familiar warm feeling in your lower body, your thighs clenched around his hand as his fingers fucked you relentlessly against his sheets. Your soaked cunt echoed around the room as your slick dripped down his wrist onto the blankets.

The hand on your throat slid up as he slipped a thumb past your soft lips, pressing down on your tongue. He held your jaw open before spitting onto your tongue. He slipped his thumb out of your mouth and swallowed your lips in a bruising kiss. He pressed his forehead against yours, and pressed his entire body against yours, trapping you against the mattress.

“C’mon, baby. Cum. I know you want to.” He moaned into the kisses, barely giving you room to breathe, whispering into your mouth, his gentle voice making your stomach do flips. “Let go, let me feel you give yourself to me.”

You breathed heavily into his mouth, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes knitted closed as you felt your orgasm crawling.

“I’m sorry,” he whined, but the smile on his lips told a different story. “I’m so sorry, my baby. I’m sorry I’m doing this to you.”

He pressed the heel of his palm against your clit, and pulled away from your lips, pressing his kiss-swollen mouth against your ear.

“If you forgive me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, your body shivering. “Then cum for me. Now.”

Your brain shut off, and the buzzing in your blood was replaced with white hot pleasure. Your limbs tensed and your whole body shook as you came hard. You weren’t breathing through it, so once the height of it subsided, you were gasping for breath as Yunho pressed soft kisses against your neck, his fingers continuing to writhe inside of you as he helped you ride it out. Whispering soft praises against your skin.

“Good girl, that's it. I knew you’d forgive me. Breathe, baby, ride it out. My good fucking girl, just like that.”

If your limbs weren’t jelly before, they certainly were now. You lay limp against the mattress, and Yunho slipped his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean. Your stomach coiled, and all you could think was more. You wanted more.

Yunho’s hand slipped underneath your lower back, flipping your body over so you were lying flat on your stomach. You listened as he shuffled his clothes off behind you, and all you could do was sit and writhe in anticipation. Yunho curled over your body, pressing his chest to your back and letting his body sink into you against the mattress. He littered kisses along your shoulder blades, the abc of your neck, trailing pecks up your back until they landed by your ear.

“It's gonna feel so good for you this way, sweetheart,” he whispered, feeling his hard cock pressed against the plush of your ass. He rolled his hips a few times, groaning at your soft skin against him. The head of his cock was angry and leaking, and from what you could feel, he was big. “I’m gonna be so deep, pressed right against that spot you like. You’ll feel so full of me.”

You squirmed underneath him, the warmth of his body melting into yours, only making you needier for him.

“Do you want me inside of you?” He kissed your temple, continuing to slowly hump against you, putting all of his body weight onto you, pressing you deep into the mattress. “Are you giving in to it? Giving in to me?”

His hand snuck around and curled around the front of your throat, nudging your head up. He craned your neck as he wished, leaning your head back so he could look down into your eyes. He nubbled on his bottom lip as he gazed into your fucked out eyes, watery and hazy. Pliant and so fucking cute. He slowed his hips, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Say yes,” he whispered. His thumb gently caressed your jaw soothingly as he adjusted his hips to press his tip against your slick pussy. “Say you want this angel. Tell me you want me to fuck you so good, you’ll be my dumb baby. I’ll change your life. If you let me. Please…”

You bit your bottom lip. The effects of the drugs had begun to subside, and you were gaining enough control of your muscles that you could push him off if you wanted to. You could end it, because deep in your heart, you knew he’d listen. If you really wanted him to stop. 

You didn’t, though.

So you moved your hips, eyes flooded with pretty tears, and whispered. “Please. Fuck me, Yunho. I want it.” 

Yunho groaned, leaning down and kissing your swollen lips with heated fervor, swiping his tongue along your plump bottom lip before smiling against you. “Of course, baby. All you had to do was ask.”

Slowly, he pressed his hips further into you, and you whined, feeling his tip slip past your entrance, inch by tantalizing inch, and slid his thick cock inside of you.

He was right, having you prone against the bed made sure you felt everything. Every vein, every pulse, every inch of him as he pressed deeper into you, sitting heavy inside of your warm cunt. He was so big, Yunho pressed his lips to your temple, moaning softly as he let himself sink inside of you as deep as he could go.

Hips pressed flush against your ass, Yunho’s hand around your throat slipped away. He wrapped his arm around your neck, headlocking you while his other hand snaked between your body and the bed to press against your lower tummy.

“Yeah, you feel me in there, baby? I’m so fucking deep. Bet he could never be so far inside you like you deserve, huh?” Keeping his hand on your stomach, he slowly pulled his hips back, a breathless moan slipping from your lips as you felt the delicious drag of his cock inside of you as he moved back, before slamming back into you. His tip perfectly kissed your g-spot, and your eyes rolled, drool and tears falling onto his bicep around your pretty kiss-littered throat as he fucked you into his bed.

“There we go…” Yunho rolled his hips, fucking you so deep you couldn’t breathe. His hand rubbed your stomach, and his weight on top of your body only made it so much more intimate. You could feel him everywhere. Every slip of his cock inside of you sent your mind reeling and your body shivering underneath his weight.

“Yu..-hno.. Oh my god…” The arm around your throat tightened as he began to set a rhythm in his hips, every thrust kissing your belly so deeply your back arched against his chest, and you felt increasingly dizzy. Your moans were quiet but strained enough for him to know that you were feeling fucking amazing. 

The room was hot, and the rhythmic slapping of skin bounced off his walls in the dark. Your lack of sight heightened all your other senses, and you didn't think it was possible to feel this good. By now, you had forgotten the things he said. The things he had done. Just like he wanted. He wanted to fuck you so good you forget, and you could only think about him, and think about the pleasure he was giving you. Your body was so soft underneath him, and every time he slid in and out of your loud, soaked pussy, he groaned like it hurt. He’d bury his cock so deep in you, your breath would stagger, and you’d make no noise. Just a quiet whimper, a plea for mercy.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he praised in your ear, bullying his cock into you, your pussy trying to suck him in deeper every time he pulled back. “Fucking you so full, and you’re taking it like a good girl.” The hand on your stomach slid lower, and he pressed his fingertips against your aching clit. You let out a broken moan, the stimulation increasing tenfold, as your thighs shook underneath him.

“How's that, that better baby? Feeling good?” You nodded, broken, crying, and whimpers fell from your mouth as he drove you crazy on his cock.

“You’re so tight, so warm. Fuck… wanna keep you in a box. Locked away all for me, nobody could look at you. Nobody could fucking touch you. Just me. Just me, baby, fuck… and I know you’d love it. You like it when I’m greedy, huh, baby? Don’t you?”

You weren’t really listening, the brain-numbing pleasure and the soft, moaning tone of his voice making your cunt clench and your stomach light on fire. You felt way too good to really be processing the words he was saying to you, and it only spurred Yunho on further. He liked you all dumb for him. 

Your eyes rolled when he snapped his hips so hard that it jolted your whole body against the mattress, the headboard slamming against the wall. You whined loudly, and Yunho clicked his tongue like he was disappointed as he set a bruising pace.

“Aww, I’m sorry, honey, did you want me to be gentler?” He grunted with every mean thrust, angling his hips just right to repeatedly rut against your sweet spot. He pinched your clit, then rolled it between his calloused fingers, hips stuttering when you clenched around him.

“Ffuck.. I can’t get you to cum again unless I’m a little rougher with you. You want to cum again, don't you, pretty baby?” You babbled out incoherent yes’s and pleases, to which Yunho only softly laughed at how pathetic you sounded.

“I know you do. Don’t worry, keep lying there and keep taking, and you’ll get what you want.” Yunho’s voice floated around in your empty head, and you felt your second orgasm of the night building up in your stomach. Your head lolled forward, not even bothering to try and keep it up anymore, as you succumbed to the feeling, fully accepting what he was giving you.

“Fuck Yunho. So good, mmm so good,” you moaned, and Yunho groaned when his name escaped your lips, dripping in need for him.

“So good?” he mocked, kissing along the junction of your neck, sucking marks into your flushed skin. “Am I doing so good for you? Fucking you so good? Am I better than your boyfriend, baby? Tell me I’m better than him.”

You cried out when he thrusted inside of you sharply, knocking the wind from your lungs. “Yes! B-better than him… so much better…” your word trailed off into mindless babbles and moans, brain foggy, no longer from the drugs, but just him. Just Yunho.

He held you tighter to him, rubbing tight circles against your clit as he slowed his pace, grinding his hips into you slowly and heavily.

“That's right. He could never be me. I’m all you need. Only I can make you feel this way.” You felt guilty. Guilty that you let him do this to you. Guilty that your boyfriend was sitting at home by himself, waiting for you to walk through that door and greet him with all the love in the world.

He didn’t know you were face down in your best friend's mattress, taking his thick cock like a slut, moaning his name and begging for more, telling him that he is infinitely better than him. You hated Yunho for making you this way. He made you the bad guy, made you beg for his touch. But it felt too good, and the pleasure ultimately outweighed the guilt.

“Cry for me more, pretty.” Yunho cradles your neck upward again, kissing your temple and licking your tears up again. “So good for me, you wanna cum again?”

You moaned in response, unable to form words anymore.

“Yeah, you do.” But, instead, Yunho slowed his thrusts, groaning as he stilled his hips inside of you. You whined, deprived of your building orgasm, squirming underneath him.

“Why..” you complained, voice laced with disappointment, wobbly as tears spilled from your eyes.

Yunho pouted, kissing your tears away. “Why? I want you to beg, baby. I want you to beg me to let you cum. I want you to use that pretty, fucked up brain of yours to beg me to finish you off. You can do that, can’t you?”

He rolled his hips once, so slowly that your whole body seemed to feel it from head to toe. You wanted to cum. You wanted it so badly it hurt. But the more you succumbed to him, the more you began to hate yourself. But your brain was a mess, your body was on fire. 

You didn’t care, why should you care? You’ve gone so far already, why stop now? There was no coming back from this, and something sinister in your heart liked that thought. The thought of Yunho having you all to himself. Letting him have his way with you and bend and break you at his will. The thought of your boyfriend never knowing just how pliant Yunho had you underneath him.

So you begged.

“Fuck… please Yu.. let me cum! I earned it, please please please… wanna cum so bad, please…” Yunho’s eyes rolled at your sweet voice begging for him, and a new fire ignited in him. Without warning, he pulled his hips back, slipping his cock out of you completely, before slamming back into you so hard it nearly hurt. Your body jolted, and you yelped, Yunho’s hips relentless as he fucked himself into you without mercy, barely leaving you any room to breathe.

“Good girl,” he groaned between deep, hateful strokes. “Sounds so fucking pretty when you beg. You can go ahead and cum, baby. Give it to me, c’mon.”

Angling his hips to abuse your g-spot, your whole body pulled tight, Yunho gave your clit one last pinch before you were toppling over the edge, cumming so hard your vision blacked and all you could hear was your blood pumping in your ears.

“Fuck!” you cried out, shaking underneath him as he continued to fuck himself into you, hauling you through what must have been the most intense orgasm of your life.

“There we go, that's it. Cum all over me, make it all fucking messy. Let me fuck you up, listen to my voice and ride it out…”

You were sure you had passed out for a second, because it all went black for a second, then when you came to, you were flipped over on your back, Yunho had pulled out of you, stroking the length of his cock over your body, groaning before painting your pretty stomach with his cum.

He lolled his head back as he came all over your stomach, chest heaving, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, and his abs rising and falling with his heavy breaths. With one final, fucked out moan, he leaned over your spent body, pressing his lips to yours in a languid, devouring kiss. His hands rubbed up the sides of your waist, soothingly. Your head was coming back to you, and you realized that no matter how good it felt. No matter how badly that dark part in you wanted to continue to indulge in him. You needed to leave. Now.

You kissed him back, melting into his lips, before sliding from underneath him to stand up next to the bed.

“Aww, where are you going?” He asked, domestic and simple, like he didn’t just drug you and then fuck you so hard you passed out. Like what he just did wasn’t wrong. Like what you BOTH did wasn’t wrong.

“Yunho, you are fucking insane.” You bit out, eyebrows knit in frustration. “Why didn’t you just fucking ask me? Why did-”

“Would you have said yes?” He stated, playfulness in his voice gone, his tone clipped and dark. His eyes were shadowed, and his posture rigid as he stood from the bed, towering over you. You tend to forget how big he is, and you remember that he truly can throw you around like a ragdoll if he wishes.

Your voice caught in your throat, and the look in his eyes was dangerous. Threatening. Scary.

Y-yu…” you mumbled, you had said the wrong thing. Yunho noticed that he had startled you. Quickly, his face softened, and he walked over to you, arms open as he wrapped you in a hug. \

“Aww, baby, I’m sorry. Don’t worry.” His hands rubbed up and down your back gently, trying to coax the tension from your shoulders. You stiffened, then melted into his hold, burying your face in his shoulder. You were so conflicted. So fucking conflicted. You were hurt, hurt that he betrayed your trust, took advantage of you. But it was like your brain was trying to convince you that that's not what happened. You wanted this. You initiated this. This is Yunho. Your best friend would never hurt you. He loves you.

“C’mon, let's get you cleaned up, okay?” He leaned back, rubbing your shoulders as he gazed at your beautiful face, smiling at you like you were the light of his life. Like you were all he needed to breathe.

You nodded, reluctantly. As he led you away to the bathroom, afraid to piss him off again. You remember what he said when he was fucking you stupid. About what he wanted to do to your boyfriend, Yunho was violent. You needed to keep it at bay.

“What are you thinking about?” His soft voice cut through your train of thought. He was looking down at you, trying to read your expression.

You smiled. “Nothing, Yu.” Your tone was careful, balanced, and happy.

He seemed happy with your response. Bending down to turn on the bath water, you looked at yourself in the mirror as he prepared the bath. You were a mess. You looked destroyed. There was a closet behind you, and you noticed something gleaming in the reflection of the mirror. On the closet shelf, there was a black basket.

Handcuffs, bottles of pills, boxes of ammunition, chains, gloves, and more, you couldn't see behind the closet door. 

“Ready?” Yunho asked cheerily, turning to gesture towards the bathtub. You rip your eyes from the mirror and look at him, plastering a smile on your face.

“Yeah.” Simple, curt, neutral. 

You needed to stay on his good side. You could not piss him off. You wanted the Yunho you grew up with. The Yunho you knew.

Be compliant. Sit and look pretty. Don’t question him. Make time for him. Keep your boyfriend away from him.

Don’t make him mad.

[dollsahoy]

I've addressed this elsewhere, but, to keep it in one place:

Going through your stash and figuring out what you want to use, where your tastes have changed and you now know you won't ever want to use, and what you didn't get around to using before it became otherwise unusable, and then paying attention to and remembering these things, can help you keep the stash from growing so much in the future

Having your hobby stash be more focused can help you be more likely to use the things, because it's not as overwhelming

Actively using the things can help you see that, quite possibly, it doesn't take as much as you thought to make the things you want to make, and your existing stash--even after you've started using it, given a lot of the unwanted stuff away, and gotten rid of the ruined stuff--will already be able to provide materials for years' worth of projects

And it can help you be more selective when acquiring more--for example, I am now a lot better at recognizing that, yes, I might be able to see the potential in something, but, if it's not necessarily the potential for something I actually want to make, so I am more able to pass on it

It can also help you identify gaps--there might be something you've been making do with that works well enough, but is annoying or painful or otherwise unpleasant to use, so you are far more likely to just not do it at all, and there might be something that would solve that. This is not the same as the thinking that says "If I buy this next New Thing, then I'll really start the hobby!"—this is about already being engaged with the hobby and analyzing what could help with what you're already doing. (This applies to not only tools, but also things like taking the time to get a sewing pattern adjusted to fit the way you want, or re-arranging storage so it works better for you, or making a point of de-linting and oiling and changing the needle on your sewing machine on a regular basis)

Notice I used the auxiliary verb "can" in the paragraphs up there—nothing is universal, and I acknowledge that. What works for me will not necessarily work for you.

For me, personally, though: I gave away so much (I have crafty friends and access to a craft thrift store and that helps), threw away a lot (so much cardboard), used a large amount (including most of what I brought in after analyzing the things I let go), and my craft stash is still enormous.

It is so easy to lack perspective on our possessions, especially when all we do with them is put them in storage with Dreams of Someday, y'know?

back again encouraging people to start using the hobby stuff they've been acquiring for years

reasons to start can include:

the hobby industry wants only for us to keep buying and never use, so using the stuff pushes back

some hobby items do not survive long term storage

if there's some craft or hobby thing that you want to do but feel your skills aren't up to, consider that those skills won't improve if you don't practice on other things

using it allows it to move from the hobby hoard to the [whatever you made it into] hoard, where you may be more likely to enjoy it more often than just when you specifically look at the hobby hoard

making things is good for the brain

curious to see what other reasons people might add

[sammyslittledoll]

pairing : Sam Winchester x Reader. warnings : sexual content. wet dream, sub/dom dynamics, p in v, cowgirl, unprotected sex, mentions of multiple creampies, dacryphilia, orgasm denial/control. 18+ only !! a/n : okay, I remember this wasn't sent on anon when it was requested on my previous acc but I've forgotten who sent the request. I'll be dropping the ask down below in verbatim, please lemme know who sent it so I can tag you since I've received another ask from the same person ! And really, I'm so sorry. Also I think we all know which Clark Kent fic I drew some of the inspiration for this fic from <3

You're bouncing on his cock— slick with your juices and impossibly hard despite the en number of times he's already blown his load deep inside of you, too overstimulated and fucked-out to hold himself back— your hips slamming down harder with each thrust.

You sink down his entire length, rocking your hips back and forth while feeling him splitting you open on his massive dick. "F-feels so fucking good, doesn't it Sammy ?" you moan and he nods— earnest and desperate, his hips bucking upwards with shy little nudges that push him deeper inside your soaked pussy until you're stuffed impossibly full.

"F-fuck ! Oh-oh yeah, yeah baby, juust like that !" he moans— high-pitched and whiny, tears clinging all sweet and pathetic to his lashes— when you resume the purely selfish bounces of your hips, his cum overflowing from your thoroughly abused hole in an obscene amount, back around his cock where it pools down his trembling thighs.

You fuck him harder, your hands now braced on his chest for support as your moans take on a more desperate edge, mixing with his shameless cries of pleasure and the thick, wet sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. "Shi- m'gonna- gonna cum again." he rasps weakly, his eyes rolling back and you know he is because you can feel him thickening inside your clenching walls, ready to fill you up again.

You're so close you can taste it, your pace turning sloppy and erratic, your moans morphing into whines, his hips pumping into you from below just enough to push you over the ed—

_

Sam's eyes shoot wide open in disbelief the second he hears it. The small sleepy moan— all sweet and breathy— of his name spilling from your unconscious lips and shooting straight to his stiffening cock.

His head whips over to your bed so fast, he practically suffers from whiplash. And the second he watches your hips squirm, pushing back towards nothing in need, he groans, his hand coming down to squeeze the growing bulge in his jeans as a half-hearted effort to hold himself back...an effort that's inevitably bound to fail.

_

The words, " Bet I can make you moan much louder when I'm actually deep inside of you, baby." — delivered with a self confident smirk and just enough egoistical swagger— die almost instantly in his throat the second you sink down on his cock, his girth stretching you in ways you'd never thought possible.

And when you start bouncing on his length— stuffed to the hilt inside your dripping pussy— he becomes a mess, his lips pressed together in a desperate bid to stifle the pathetic little whimpers escaping him that do nothing to back up his self-assured bragging from mere minutes ago.

" S-so fucking big, Sam, fuck ! Was dreaming just about this, baby. Of using this big fucking cock the way it deserves. " you whine, slamming downwards faster every time you pull up till just the leaking head of his cock remains before sinking down on him until he's balls-deep inside you again, eliciting loud, pornographic moans from the much larger, gargantuan man pinned beneath you.

"Bet you love being my little toy, dont'cha Sammy ?" you tease, your voice dripping with provocation which makes his hips buck upwards with increasing urgency as he whimpers, " Yeah baby, love it so much. Need to- need t'cum. "

His voice is a slurred mess and you can tell he's barely holding back but you're not even close to done yet. "No. Not yet." you order sternly, resuming your punishing pace with selfish intent.

Sam's moans are loud and shameless, his jaw clenched tight from the effort of not blowing his load inside your pussy— tight, wet and perfect around his throbbing dick. Your hands are braced on him, his skin warm and sweat-slicked under your palms as he drives his cock into you from beneath, pounding you into a screaming mess even under his helpless state.

His hips still suddenly, stuttering under you as he shudders. "Please— ah fuck— please baby. Lemme cum I-I can't—" he babbles, tears streaming down his pretty, flushed face.

And you pout petulantly, your hips rolling against his in a slow, mean rhythm now, as you whine, "But I need more cock !"

Request : " saw you post abt needing more sam requests and giggled cuz real. Thick tension. Thin walls. You were dreaming of him and moaning his name. He knocks. Hard. “You moan like that in your sleep, sweetheart ? I want to hear it while I’m inside you instead.” a/n : if you'd like to be added to the taglist, please don't hesitate to let me know <3 taglist : @mostlymarvelgirl, @jayhalsteadfan-2417, @zenoxl, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing, @castielsonlyangel, @bea-tween-the-pages, @y0inked, @butterphiiss, @bowxs, @gvf23, @halsteadwichester, @ohangeleyes, @thatdezigirl, @doubledizzy22, @sunnyfuffly, @scrmqwn, @lunaleah.

[beau-rebloga-coisas]

First of all I should preface that I am a trans guy rn But I still prefer to spend time with women and I have spent a long time of my life in "women-only" spaces

But

A lot. And I mean a LOT of times the vile misogynistic stuff I've heard didn't come from men. They've come from women in my life. Teachers, mom, grandmothers, aunts, school people. Strangers. Coworkers. Yes, I've suffered bullying from boys but since I was a weirdo probably autistic, both boys and girls would partake in bullying me and girls literally used misogyny 101 to look down on me on how I wouldn't wear dresses and didn't want to partake in "normal girl interests" and mom and grandmothers implying I only had value as long as I beared children in the future while married in a heterosexual relationship and how I should starve myself to appease to men, female teachers and female school personnel justifying boys' aggression as "boys will be boys", implying our discomfort with them wasn't important enough to be addressed and we should stand it in silence, teachers loudly judging girls who defended themselves from boys even when they were provoked. Girls calling me sloppy behind my back cause I was too masculine for their tastes and repeated attacks to my appearance and effort. Mom spouting misogynistic pro-life, anti birth control content from time to time. Female coworkers telling little girls in the daycare all of the misogynistic crap you would expect and enforcing that literal babies who couldn't even talk made sure they knew their place in the world. The person who reprimanded me on daycare for asking the little boys to pee sitting down wasn't a man, but a very conservative woman who thought I was trying to feminize the boys. When I explained that they couldn't aim yet and would often pee all over the floor and on themselves, she told me it's not natural to have a boy to pee sitting down. It was female coworkers who told me my short hair and baggy clothing made me into an unlovable child to my mother and that I should be ashamed for ever thinking about not being a pretty daughter. It was my grandma, not my grandpa who cried when I "became a lesbian" therefore I wouldn't grant her great grandchildren as a woman was supposed to do.

Don't be fooled, I suffered under boys' and men's hands. I still do. But if you genuinely think women can't decide for themselves and them reinforcing patriarchy is just them being poor, confused ladies, you're also a misogynistic prick. Yes, women are definitely victims in their oppression. But you definitely can be a victim and still choose to also be an oppressor. Women can and do reinforce misogynistic values all the time not only because they're poor misguided women, but because they legitimately believe that's how things are made and they believe that the patriarchy is the natural order of things, because contrary to popular belief, women are also human beings who can take bad decisions and hold bad opinions and you don't get to make them into beings with absolutely no free will or whatever just to say that men are the real threat therefore if we separate the pure, victim gender from the violent phallus all oppression will be cured. That's not how it works and trying to do so like this will cause more pain than it'll help people

+that's gender essentialism+transphobic as fuck. Get well soon.

It really is dissapointing how many women these days hear "it's okay to be critical of men as a class and the ways in which society prioritizes them" and go "okay so that means I dont have treat any men including and especially marginalized ones and children like human beings" like bestie. Where the fuck did we lose you.

[lenneyswhore]

RODDSFRIDGEREVEAL.mp4 ☆ WILLNE.

wc: 1k+

content: 18+! dom!willne, being railed on the rodd’s fridge, cursing, p in v, unhinged will? i mean he does basically make a sex tape

a/n: based on a weird dream i had. also 1/5 ideas completed! #godbless 🙏

it was hard dating will sometimes. it felt like you hardly ever saw him. if he wasn’t cooped up away in the office filming videos with james or in a foreign country shooting a video for his main channel, you were away on your own business ventures, which meant you sometimes missed out on the small changes that happened in both of your lives.

this instance wasn't any different. you knew that your boyfriend had finally embarked on his business venture with rodd’s, partnering with james to make, in their words, ‘iced coffee in a bottle that tastes like iced coffee not in a bottle’, but other than that, it felt like you weren’t in the loop about anything else happening in the office.

will always had a knack for furnishing the office, however. that had become obvious with the numerous plants on the set for the second channel, so when he’d invested in a personalised fridge for rodd’s, he wanted to surprise everyone with the new investment for the rodd’s brand.

including yourself! hell, you were the first person he wanted to show. but god, did he want to savour the moment on camera — it was a moment to remember, after all.

after a long day of doing your own work, as well as knowing will had been cooped up on his own doing his own last minute edits and admin in the office, you decided to meet him there so you could go home together.

will, however, had other plans. instead, he'd asked you to pick up his jacket so he was ready to leave, before setting up a camera so he could film the moment you saw the fridge for the first time.

“darling? can you come over here for a second?” will called out from the studio, as you picked up his jacket from one of the office chairs. “i’ve got something i want to show you!” his voice was excited, yet you couldn’t see the smirk plastered across his face.

walking into the room with will’s jacket in hand, you froze as you saw your boyfriend's beaming expression. “ta-da!” he exclaimed, standing next to the fridge with a proud expression on his face. “it looks ace. don’t you think, pet?” he asked, accomplishment beaming on his face.

you melted. “oh will,” you laughed heartily. “only you could think about investing in something like this,” you said with a faux roll of your eyes, “but what can i say? it looks classy. one might say professional, too.”

walking over to him after placing his jacket on the desk temporarily, you looked at the stacked contents of the fridge. each flavour in copious amounts, before you asked, “may i?”, intrigued to try a coffee.

“be my guest,” will replied casually, stepping to the side to allow you to open up the fridge door, shoulder resting against it. his eyes glanced at the camera still rolling for a moment, before looking back at you.

your eyes scanned the contents of the fridge before you selected a bottle. you then shook it briefly before unscrewing the cap, taking a little sip just for safe measure.

pleased with the taste, you took another longer sip. nodding with approval, you said, “not too bad,” before going in for another sip.

but unfortunately for your luck, you missed your mouth. the brown liquid soon stained the white vest you were wearing, making will let out an amused snort as it happened, smirk flashing on his face.

“it’s not funny, will,” you sighed in annoyance. “fuck’s sake.” you cursed underneath your breath as you placed the bottle onto the white desk, grimacing at your now wrecked vest top. so much for washing it days before.

“hey, you don’t have any tissues around here, do you?” you asked more than innocently enough, as you stood up straight, meeting will’s eyes again.

instead of answering or even finding you a tissue for that matter, will’s lips soon found your neck. “i’ve got a better idea,” he murmured lowly into the skin, his tongue licked a long stripe down the side of your neck, causing a hot shiver to crawl up of your spine.

first, the kisses to your now flushed skin were feather-light. his hands finding your sides before they trailed up to your hair, his fingertips raking through the strands, tugging it enough to make your breath hitch.

you bit your lip suppressing the little whines that dared to escape your lips. tilting your neck back, will had better access to the sensitive parts only he could find, which almost instantly afterwards with a casual ease.

he kissed up to the base of your ear, before you breathed a sharp intake of breath. will’s teeth scraped the sensitive flesh, the hot saliva dragging from his tongue when he swiped over the marks he’d left in his wake.

you whined. eyes squeezing shut as will pushed you back onto the side of the fridge. your fingernails clawed into his clothed shoulders as you tried to keep your balance despite your knees wanting to betray you in any moment.

your back hit the side of the fridge with a little thud. you gasped, your lips soon finding will’s as hungry as they did before. will groaned, the vibrations rumbling in his chest as his hands cupped your cheeks with want, desperately pressing his lips harder— more deeper, more passionately against your own.

it soon became more teeth than tongue. wills teeth nibbled hungrily at your bottom lip, causing you to moan into his mouth. your hands raked into his mullet, fingertips combing through the brunette hair with ease.

your leg wrapped around his, pulling him closer to you. moans and heavy breaths spilled out of your now heaving, uncontrolled chests as you both kissed as if it was your last days on earth. one of wills hands dared to trail lower, though, dipping underneath the hem of your skirt, brushing over the wet heat that had collected there.

“god,” will panted, thumb grazing over your wet panties. your lips broke off as his hooded eyes looked down at you, his nose grazing your own. “you’re fucking soaking,” he breathed, hot breath fanning onto your bruised lips as his pupils were blown wide, chest heavy and voice thick and low.

“will,” his name fell off of your tongue like it was the only word you knew. “i need you,” you whispered, ever so prayer-like, eyes doey and pleading as both of your chests rose heavily.

one of wills hands cradled your cheek, thumb brushing against the flushed, crimson apple before he commanded lowly. “turn around,” he mumbled, his hands trailing down to your hips, calloused fingertips mapping out your curves as he did so.

flipping yourself onto your front, your chest pressed against the material of the fridge in front of you. will’s clothed erection pressed into your ass as he pressed a hand to the small of your back, causing it to arch whilst you let out a gasp as he did so.

you yelped a little as will’s fingers soon hooked underneath the elastic of your panties, pulling them down to your ankles with controlled want. his hands then trailed the curve of your ass before pushing your skirt up off your body.

you bit your lip as you heard the faint sound of a zipper being unzipped. will tugged his jeans down his legs desperately, the fabric pooling at his feet as he then went for his boxers which then followed down to his feet too.

his cock sprung free with life, bouncing off of his lower stomach, pre-cum already glistening the tip as he gave it a few sharp pumps, his other hand finding your hip — a small groan escaping his lips as he did so.

will lined up his length to your slick folds, nudging the red tip of his cock against your heat. you mewled at the tease, a breathy “please,” escaping your lips before he sunk himself into you, causing your hips to jolt forwards.

“easy, pet.” he warned lowly, large hands coming to grasp at your hips again whilst he thrusted slowly and deeply into you.

groans soon ripped out of his chest, as he confessed thickly, “god i missed how good you felt,” as you moaned breathlessly in response, thighs already trembling from the pleasure.

your hips soon found a rhythm, his cock sliding deeper into you with ease. one of will’s hands wrapped back into your hair as he made it into a makeshift pony, pulling your head back.

“god you look so pretty like this,” he panted, cock now buried deep inside of you. “please, will. i’m gonna come,” you moaned loudly again, eyes rolling back as the coil in your stomach tightened — your awaiting release teasing you.

pushing you even more into the fridge, will’s hand which was in your hair, trailed down to your front, his two fingers finding your clit again. he pinched it, causing you to cry out loud before the rough pad of his thumb rolled the sensitive bundle of nerves agonisingly slow.

“what was that, darling?” he asked lowly, “you gonna come?”

you whimpered, nodding. “please, will,” you begged, nearly in tears from the pleasure and overwhelming ecstasy brewing up inside of you, “i’m so close.”

“come for me, baby. wanna feel you milk me.” will groaned, his thrusts more erratic as the fridge began to shake from the impact of you both.

as he rammed deeply into your gummy walls for the last time, your orgasm crashed down on you like a wave. back arched as your walls fluttered, cunt milking his cock dry as he soon spilled into you afterwards, painting your insides white, causing him to gasp deeply as he clawed at your hips enough to bruise.

for a moment after your shared high, you both stayed still, breath heavy as will’s length softened inside of you. “you did so well for me, baby,” will whispered as he pressed a soft kiss against your sweaty skin, before pulling his member out of you.

will then reached for his boxers and jeans as you pulled your panties up from your ankles. coming back to a standing position, your eyes raked over the camera set up in the other corner of the room. your heart stopped for a moment, the adrenaline in your veins soon turning to horror.

“will!?” you exclaimed in panic as you looked back up at him. “did you know that there was a camera there this whole time?” your eyes wide as you glanced over at the tripod again.

will could sense you were panicking at that moment. your eyes blown wide as you looked up at him — expression desperate for some reassurance in this sudden revelation. it didn’t help that you probably felt dirty too, your body still trying to comprehend the high you just felt, your hormones on overdrive.

“hey,” he chuckled lightheartedly. “hey,” he spoke again, then placing a hand to your cheek, averting your gaze back to him for a moment. “it’s fine. it’s not on pet,” he lied through his teeth, “ieuan must’ve left it there after filming today. no big deal, keep your hair on, alright?”

will kissed you softly against your cheek as you nodded, eyes still fixed to the camera lens. pressing another chaste kiss to his lips, you agreed as will rubbed a comforting thumb on your shoulder when you both met eyes, “yeah. you must be right. silly me, eh?” you laughed dryly.

as will laughed along with you, he quickly ushered you out of the door, reassuring you that he would soon catch up. when you were finally out of sight, he went over to where the camera was and cut the feed, before taking it off of the tripod.

smiling to himself, inspecting the camera in his hands whilst he made his way back to you, he knew that what you’d both done was sure to become ‘lost footage’ he’d never show to anyone.

[r0-boat]

Slipping into your inbox to ask, since we got Macsturbating, mhm, mhm what about mutual Macsturbation? Like imagine getting caught in the act and Mac's like- "room for one more?"

Mutual Macsturbation

Trying something out with Mac!!

Mac has a dick(with top surgery scars) and reader a vag

(if you want Macsturbation with Macussy Go to my moots post @berriblossom)

Cw: NSFW, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, slight mentions of Poly??

Please note I am enable body person writing for a Ambulatory Wheelchair user, Mac can walk but only for a short periods with weakness and or pain. Which they need a wheelchair or crutches for longer walks or more exhausting use of their legs. However I will never know what it's like to have a disability and the amount of research I have done can never amount to a person who has lived with a mobile disability.

God, you've been so pent up... No matter how hard you've been trying to go about your day, you just couldn't stop thinking about a particular itch bugging you, a pulsing heat in your core that's been simmering all day.

Mac opens the car door, stepping into the driver's seat as you wheel their chair into the passenger side. You walk up and give them a kiss. "Have fun at Chance's place." Mac chuckles. They couldn't help but give you a kiss back. " Of course, my love, I'll tell them you said hi. You know they've been trying to get you to their D&D sessions for a while now. You should join sometime."

You shuddered. You did like the idea, but... Thinking about it. Being at a table with six of your ex-office objects (and Parker), who you dated and had sex with, who still look at you very fondly. It is not a good idea. And you certainly don't like that mischievous, hungry look Mac gave you. You don't want to taste whatever those schemers(/affectionate) are cooking.

"No Mac it's okay. I'm pretty sure you have enough people at your table as is."

Mac pouted but they didn't convince you any further they just smiled giving you another kiss

"All right baby I'll be back in 4 hours."

You wave seeing Mac back out of the driveway. As soon as you see the car disappear, your breath shakes. You couldn't hold it in anymore. Rushing upstairs, stripping off your clothes. You press your thighs together, and you shudder.

Fuck... It's been so long.

Your fingers press and slowly circle your clit before they slide down and tease your slit Your eyes squeezed shut as you imagine and remember when Mac slit their fingers inside you, their eyes half lit looking at you watching every movement you make.

You always loved how they looked like they were studying you, watching you with such concentration and hunger. Your fingers move in the same rhythmic emotions as your partner. The slow thrusts the way their fingers curl inside you, trying to find all the spots that made your toes curl. Occasionally slamming harder or going faster to see how you react.

"Not enough..." You whimper taking out your fingers you lean over the mattress your hand not coated in your juices slide underneath the bed.

A toy you've been hiding from Mac in a non-conspicuous case, you open it. A silicone toy that you saved just for yourself. It's not that Mac doesn't let you have toys, Mac just doesn't like when you only use your own toys.

It's not that you don't enjoy When Mac uses toys on you. It's just... Sometimes you want something to yourself.

You slide the silicone toy inside you and that's when you heard it.

"ngh! Fuck!" A muffled voice all too familiar your head shoots up. Your heart pounding in your chest as you see Mac leaning on one of their crutches and the wall hand around their leaking cock glasses threatening to slide off their face.

"Oh God... Why did you stop?" They huff. Abandoning their crutch having it lean against the wall before making their way to the bed They sit in front of you their hands still their cock.

You're about to slip the toy out of you before they grab the back of your hand, slowly applying pressure, pushing it back inside. Your legs shake, your eyes roll back, as you clench around the silicone shaft before they can move it anymore, your words stumble out of your mouth. "Mac, I thought you had a D&D session tonight?"

"Penelope was late, We can't do a boss fight without our healer. So we just. Mmh fuuuck... Canceled" Mac stated their eyes glued to the thick fake cock deep inside you.

"I don't recognize that toy? Naughty... Have you even hidden this from me?" They lick their lips before applying more pressure, making it slide in and out. They squeeze and tease their own cock.

"come on my love keep going... Let me watch you." Despite failing the embarrassment that you've been caught you still felt so horny and your partner was touching their cock in front of you. You continue moving for them.

"That's it... You looks so good. I always love watching you." They whisper their own hand beginning to move at the same pace.

You wanted Mac to get a little taste of their own medicine as you speed up. Slamming the toy inside of you. "Oh God!" Mac cries speeding up their hand as well. I've never wanted to be inside so bad but fuck they can't stop watching you.

Watching you moan your other hand pinching your nipples They do the same desperately discarding their shirt their hands sliding up their chest their fingers brushing over their scars before playing with their nipples.

When you begin to slow down Mac grit their teeth they're so close they're so fucking close. They move closer till they're on the side of you. Mac's hand urgently grabs the dildo pushing yours away in the process before slamming it into you fast and hard. Your back arches "fuck Mac! Oh my God I'm going to cum!" Lost in the haze They keep going their hand on their cock faltering. Wanting to return the favor You're shaky hand wraps around their cock their eyes roll back your soft hand pumping at the same speed they are.

Not able to hold it in any longer, they shoot all over your hand and arm while you squeeze the toy and cum.

They watch your squeezing walls slowly push the silicone out of your tight cunt. They put it on the nightstand before lying in bed next to you. You shuffle your sweaty, exhausted body until your head is buried in their chest. They lazily sling their arm around you, their hand rubbing up and down. A few minutes of pure afterglow and bliss pass before Mac says, "Really thought you could hide that toy from me?... I'll have to punish you for that later..." They hum in the light, already thinking about another round.