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playingdxngerous · 1 year ago

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100% the best jake fic i’ve ever read hands down. this awakened something in me 😀

SOMETHING... | JTK

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 10.6K

Summary: When you have to say goodbye to your professor and mentor, a cocky young professor steps in, Jacob Kiskza. Literature used to be your safe place, but now you feel him getting involved in every corner; it doesn’t help that you’re his TA. You deny yourself every opportunity to fall for him until…

A/N: Hi guys :) I know it’s been forever since I’ve put something together and I apologize about that, but this is life. This one has been on my mind since the Grammy U interview and I finally had the idea to put it all together. I hope you enjoy :)

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*Also I'm so sorry I lost my tag list so if you want to be tagged here's a new form* Taglist

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Sexual content (of course), talks about death/grief, angst, swearing, Dom! Jake, restraints, possible orgasm denial, choking, alcohol use, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, ~some~ degrading, praise kink!, I’m sorry if I missed anything, but, etc, it’s filth.

The classroom was cold in the early months of the year. You had gotten in the habit of wearing your coat through the 3-hour seminar. You were lucky that this class only ran once a week, but you often had to stay longer than the students, working with the professor for a few hours afterward. He was always elusive. Always eager to get things done as fast as possible; efficient and snappy.

There was much to admire about him, but his personality often left you rolling your eyes. He always seemed a bit too sure about himself, always being the tough grader, pushing students further than they were willing to go. He cared a lot, especially about the subject matter. He still had that gusto in him to do things right, to be stern.

He was new to the program; and before this, only about a year into teaching. You studied under his predecessor. She was a kinder old woman who cared deeply for you, like your mother away from home. She taught you everything- and even got you to change majors during your sophomore year. She supplemented your reading supplies, nurtured your abilities, and was always willing to sit in deep conversation with you. Discussing the classics, introducing modern pieces, talking about life, talking about it all.

Professor Kiszka on the other hand…

When he took over for Professor Meelo, he took very little time to rip the bandaid off. When you had originally been promised a TA position in the literature department, you were expected to be under your mentor, not a cocky white man.

You spent weeks crying during winter break after first meeting him. The day you met him didn’t go exactly as you hoped. It was the week of finals when you found out Meelo was sick, and that she was stepping away from teaching. As if finals week wasn’t stressful enough, you had to come to terms with the fact that the woman who taught you everything was going to be leaving this world sooner than you would’ve thought. It was even more of a punch in the gut to walk into your introduction meeting to see… him.

3 Months Ago

The walk across campus felt heavier than usual. The winter had been harsher than it usually was in early December. The wind whipped across your bare rosy cheeks, causing freezing tears to slowly fall out of the corners of your eyes. Almost like a bad omen, the weather continued to get worse as you sludged your way across the quad.

The parking lot was nearly a mile away from campus, which was nice during the warmer months; the trees would sway across the crosswalk, blessing the sidewalk with fallen flowers and leaves. The grass was green and lively, a welcome mat onto a wonderful learning home. Between the cracks of the stone walkways, little dandelions would grow. You never understood the people who thought them to be unnecessary weeds. They were bright and yellow lively plants, and when the time of beauty passed, they passed their good wishes onto you. Blowing what once were vibrant petals into the wind. Who knew you’d miss the weeds on your walks?

Instead, now the stones were smeared with remnants of snowy footprints, broken earth that had been cracked through with the force of shovels, and the remnants of the dead earth.

Meelo called you just last week. You begged to go see her in the hospital, but she didn’t want you to worry too much. She agreed to call you every other day, just like your usual coffee arrangements. She loved them just as much as you did. She never had a husband or any children. Her students were her children, her soul was fed enough through changing lives that she didn’t want to take away that love from her students or prevent any child from feeling all of it. You were not the first to bear their soul in her office, but you might be one of the last.

Meelo begged you to go meet the new professor. You had tried to rescind your TA position, but she blocked you at every chance she got. Even while in hospice she still managed to look out for you…

“Please, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy. But he’s young, he’s smart, I think you’ll have a lot in common with him,” She pleaded through the phone.

“But he’s not you. I just, I thought… I thought I’d have more time…” Your voice trailed off.

You tried to hold the phone away from your face, trying not to distress her more with the sounds of your whimpers and tears.

Her voice started again, “You never know what you will learn from him. You have more time with me, but there comes a time when a teacher must share her students for them to learn more. If we stayed in our echo chamber together my dear I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn everything you need to know. Jacob is going to be a great professor, and I know you will learn a lot from him. His research and analysis work is quite extensive. The school and I hired him for a reason. Please. Just give it a try. For me.”

“Just for you.”

And here you were trudging through, feeling every bone in your body telling you to turn around, to go home. But you were doing this not for you, you reminded yourself. For Meelo. She was right, you latched on to her from your early years in college and favored her over all of your other professors. They were kind and nice as well, but it didn’t matter to you in the end, if they weren’t Meelo, they were never going to compare.

The building seemed colder than usual. The large glass windows were covered by their shades; no one wanted to see the gross state of life outside of the classroom. That’s hardly motivating to any student, the fluorescents would give more life than the grey state of the weather.

You pull the door open, walk through the entryway, and follow your usual path down the hallway to Meelo’s room.

The thing about old colleges, everywhere you turn is a little piece of history. Each room has housed many professors and many students. The building had life, had ghosts of its own hidden in each brick, in each stone. You felt the comfort of this presence moving through the hallway.

You stop right before Meelo’s room, catching your breath before you enter. Trying to have an open mind. Kiszka could be something, or he could just be another man throwing words at you. Not that all men were the same, but a majority of the male professors here were lackluster, favoring the male students and the athletes who needed the better grades to stay in the school. And if they favored the women… You always felt a cold chill thinking about that. Thinking about why…

One last deep breath before you enter the classroom. You grab tight onto the handle of your tote bag and strut confidently into the room.

It was empty.

The beautiful artwork and posters that Meelo had filling the room were stripped. Revealing the natural state of the architecture. It was beautiful in its own way but didn’t feel like the educational home you once felt so blessed to be in. The desks were all shoved to one side of the classroom. The previous welcoming U-shape was demolished, instead providing a cluttered destruction of Meelo’s work.

You stood awestruck in the shape of the room. There was no time wasted between Meelo leaving and Kiszka starting to make his mark on the room. The bookshelves that used to be filled in the back of the room had been emptied and their contents sat on the floor in boxes.

You walk over to the boxes, kneeling to gently sift through the carelessly placed books. This was Meelo’s library that she had collected for the classroom. Take a book, leave a book, borrow a book, bring it back. You loved visiting this wall every week, seeing what books your peers were interested in, and which books made their way into the library. Some new, and some returning after long months away.

Sitting on top of the box was the classic “Brave New World”. Aldous Huxley. 1932. Not an original copy, but a new binding. It was like the universe was sending you signs. This would be a brave new world. A world where you might have to come to terms with the fact that Meelo would not be in your life forever. A world where you might have to figure out everything with a new mentor. A world where you thought you would have years to work on your pieces with a woman who understood you, but now you would turn over your heartfelt pieces to a man. One who may not understand you the same as someone else does.

“A favorite of yours?” A voice perks up from the doorway.

You turn to see him. Your eyes work your way up his figure. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, black thick linen pants, a white loose shirt with a black vest, and a dress coat over it. His chestnut hair lays over the shoulders of the coat, and his eyes are covered by circular gold-rimmed sunglasses. He oozes mystery. His arms crossed, surveying your crouched body by the boxes. You hate to admit it, but he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen.

You hold up the book towards him, displaying the cover.

“Not particularly. I don’t like thinking about the takeover of technology. It feels too real right now.” You respond.

He wanders over to you, taking his time, each step creating the most annoying echo in the emptied classroom. He reaches his hand out to yours, asking silently for the book. You hand it over to him and stand to match his level.

He passes the book between his hands, admiring the binds, “Ah, yes, but perhaps something can be learned from the book if more understood its warning… if only more read it…”

“If only…” You let the conversation trail off. Your eyes wander back to the pile of desks on the opposite wall. You feel yourself zoning out, focused only on the change of the room, not on the man in front of you.

“-Your favorite?” He asks.

You snap back to the conversation, trying to recall the beginning of his question, “I’m sorry?

“If this is not your favorite, can I ask which is?” He waves you to walk with him.

You follow him into the office at the back of the classroom. He sits in Meelo’s chair, and you sit in the chair that had held you so many times. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cushion had a you-shaped imprint in it at this point.

He asks a third time, “You don’t seem like the Jane Eyre or Louisa May student, so what is it?”

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and you try to sit up in the chair, asserting some sort of professionalism. Your answer will hold some sort of judgment for him. Although you want to be offended by his comment about the female author’s classics, he’s right. They were never your favorite.

“Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Meelo gave it to me as my first assignment.” You respond, confident in your answer.

He nods in approval, “Lovely choice, very telling. Meelo said you were very bright–one for the classics.”

He leans back in his chair, stroking his chin. His hand reaches up to the gold-rims and pulls them off, clattering onto the desk. He pulls himself towards the desk, resting his elbows on the table.

“Are you going to ask me mine?” He asks, almost presumptuously.

You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he has to find a way to be important here. You adjust yourself in your seat, crossing your arms in the process.

“If you want me to know, why don’t you just say it?” You retort.

He chuckles to himself, “Lord of the Rings.”

Your mouth falls so far open that you’re afraid a fly might buzz its way in. You lift your hand to your mouth and try to hide your disapproval.

“That’s a classic for sure.” You reply, “Not one I would’ve expected from a college literature professor, but a classic nonetheless.”

He pushes himself off the desk, running his hands through his long locks before they make their way onto the arms of the seat.

“You don’t approve?” He scoffs.

“I didn’t say that, I just said it’s not one that I would expect.”

“I believe there is a difference between a personal and professional favorite. A favorite you could read over and over again, and you could enjoy without having to think too much about what it all means. it’s an adventure, its heroes and legends, it’s a call for relaxation and enjoyment. I’d rather have my favorite be a well-known classic than a deep thought-provoking story about purity.”

You fight every urge in you to slap the man sitting before you for disgracing such a beautiful novel. But you think about Meelo. You think about stepping outside of the echo chamber.

“I think we may have different opinions on favorites, Professor Kiszka.” You say shortly.

You feel the tension grow between you already. This would be a difficult semester. Even more difficult because as you felt your dislike for him grow, you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful man sitting in front of you. His brown eyes stared deep into you, trying to assess his new assistant. You tried not to let him in too far. You were not fawning for him, at least you weren’t trying to. You wanted to fight off the growing warmth crying to spread through you. It was like seeing a handsome stranger in the bar; you knew the danger, but almost didn’t want to let yourself protect your heart.

He was by far the youngest professor here, and the most eligible. No ring was on his finger.

“Please, call me Jacob.”

You stood up from your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You try to compose yourself enough not to let any distaste escape from your lips.

“Sorry, Professor Kiszka, I have finals I need to finish, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you in January. If you need anything from me before then, I believe the dean gave you my information.”

You reach your hand out awkwardly, trying to invite a handshake. He cautiously reaches his hand back, pulling you into a firm, but still gentle handshake.

His eyes meet yours. The deep brown staring into you. Although you should have the power from your standing position, you knew he held all the cards from his seat. The handshake lingered longer than you had expected, both of you locked deep into staring each other down. He finally releases his hand.

“It was a pleasure.” You start to leave the office, but he makes one last remark, “Oh, one last thing…”

You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”

He reaches into the desk and pulls out a cloth-bound book, handing it to you. You slowly return to the desk, taking the book from his hand—the Lord of the Rings.

“Try it for me? You do have a whole winter break…”

You rub your hands over the cover, smiling at his request. You place the book back in his hand.

“I used to read it as a child. No need to give it a try when you’ve read it four times already.” You smile at him.

Even if it wasn’t your favorite, didn’t mean it wasn’t a favorite.

Present

In some ways, your relationship with him felt like a love-lost marriage. Just moving through the motions. You sat in on the classes and took note of who engaged, and who didn’t. You graded assignments, tests, and papers, with him always double-checking and doubting your work. You didn’t sit in on long conversations with him like Meelo. Perhaps some of that was your fault, always quick to get to work. He adjusted to you quickly, understanding how you needed to work, and letting you grieve.

Meelo passed quickly into the semester. You cried once in front of him when the news broke. You nearly snapped his head off when he asked if he could help you. From that moment on he took on this cold persona, but you don’t blame him at all. You knew in your heart that you would not have the same connection with him as Meelo, so it was easier to never try.

Through everything, your work never faltered, and your school work remained the priority. Perhaps it was a way to hide through all the pain but the calculated steps it took to grade provided a soothing rhythm amongst the distress.

You never failed to notice all the times you caught him catching glances at you. You were silly to think that it meant anything more than just a quick look, but still maybe somewhere in your heart, you had hoped that maybe he was thinking of you more than his assistant. For weeks you watched him stroll into class, always wearing a disheveled but somehow put-together outfit. You loved seeing how he would piece together different clothes from his collection. Never repeating an exact outfit, but always finding new ways to repurpose the same items.

One day he walked in with a new addition to his look, a cluster of pendants on a necklace. They looked older, more worn in than any new silver. You asked him about it briefly, trying not to engage in a further conversation.

“They’re coins, Spanish coins, designed after ones from the 1600s. I think the jeweler lied to me when he said they were originals, but they still look okay… Do you think so?

“You look like a pirate.” You responded.

A sexy pirate. You shoved that thought deep into the back of your mind. Holding on to it, because you didn’t want to forget how good he looked.

His Thursday classes were always one of the better ones. This was one that you had to take yourself for your graduate program. There was no TA’ing involved as that would be a huge conflict of interest if you got to grade your papers. You chose to sit in the back corner of the class by the window, in hopes that when spring rolls around you could watch the foliage return. The unfortunate thing about this choice was the waiting. February was colder than you had expected and the windows provided no warmth.

When you were TA’ing you got to sit at the edge of the office and the classroom. Kiszka brought a space heater for you to place at the doorway. He joked he didn’t need his assistant ‘freezing to death’, because then ‘who would grade the papers’.

You tried your hardest to not let him favor you, but you knew he was someone who would be kind no matter how much you asked him to stop. He would leave books on the edge of his desk for you to read and when you tried to return them he declined and told you he already had a copy in his collection. You doubted that and always protested in fear that you thought you might lead him on. But in the end, it was always you walking out with a new book in your bag.

He was trying his hardest to get along with you. Some days it was easier and you would entertain his questions, but other days it was easier to be quick and move along. This relationship was not going to be a fairytale. You had already found your soulmate once, and you lost her. In your mind, there was no more room in your heart to let someone in. And why should you prepare space for someone if you truly don’t know if they want to be there?

This class although interesting became boring as the weeks went on. The class had fallen into a seasonal depression of sorts. Many like you had expected to have Meelo for the semester when you had booked your classes, so when Kiszka showed up and tried to shake things up… It wasn’t easy. He was skilled and smart, sure… But not the same. He craved involvement and wanted the class to join in with him, but often would push people further than they were willing to go. A room full of mid-20-year-olds was truly a space of burnout. Many of these students had already passed four, sometimes five years of school before they stepped into this class. They no longer have that lively interest in reading and analyzing literature but want to create their own.

“-And what was this author trying to convey through his use of metaphors?...” He asked from his commanding space at the front of the class, “No one?... No one picked up on this…? Or are you too scared to be wrong?”

Your attempts at fighting off eye-rolls also subsided the longer this course went on, and this roll came on hard. You’ve heard this line countless times through multiple classes. He wasn’t wrong, but he could at least find different ways to say the statement.

“Y/N? Care to enlighten everyone?” He calls to you, in need of saving the class who had lost attention nearly an hour ago.

“Sure. It’s a metaphor for how women are treated in society.” You answer.

He grits his teeth and sighs, “Not quite, but you’re close…”

You lift yourself from your slump, “No, that’s right. She is clearly trying to convey the expectations of women in society and how we are treated. As a female author, she leaves these metaphors to be very simple for female readers to understand. For males, it’s harder to grasp that the severity of these situations could imply the treatment of women, but that’s what she’s trying to explain.”

He clasps his hands together giving them a brief shake, “That class, that is how you analyze. Literature can be read in different ways by different readers. The author may have a clear intention of what they are trying to write, but others may be able to relate it to other aspects of their life. I have my own interpretation, and you all may have others. That is how this should be working. There is nothing wrong, with how you analyze, just that you have the knowledge to back it up…”

Every time you tried to make him out to be the bad guy, he ended up being in the right. You hated how smart he was. You hated how much you wanted to watch him while he stood up there. You hated how he wasn’t her. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave.

“So with that,” He continues, “Finish up the last few chapters and please come prepared with statements next week about your findings. I want you to dig deep; feel the author. I’ll see you next week.”

The class starts their shuffle for the door, while you meander to your usual spot at the doorway of the office. The next class wouldn’t be in for 20 minutes, but you would at least have time to warm up.

You click on the heater and walk over to Kiszka’s rolling desk chair. You take your coat off and rest it over the seat, pushing it over to the door. Kiszka finds his seat at the front of the classroom, pulling out his book of the week. He usually would try to follow you, asking you what you were reading, then the next day showing up to class with an identical copy. It was annoying and endearing how much he wanted to learn from you. You wondered if it upset him that you weren’t as keen on learning from him.

He confided in you that Meelo was an idol of his as well, and although he didn’t get to learn from her, he was going to try to through you.

You pull your copy of Anna Karenina from your bag and join him. Your chapters ahead of him, but you enjoy being one step in front of him.

You peep up from the back of the room, “I didn’t ask, but please tell me this isn’t your first time reading this.”

He lifts his head from the book slightly, eyes still skimming the page, “Third.”

You sigh in relief. That would’ve been embarrassing; for him.

You return to the book. You’re finding it harder to dive in today than usual, something is different… You see out of the corner of your eye that Kiszka has put down the book altogether, and you can sense him staring. This lasts a few moments, but you try to remain focused on the words, but catching yourself having to re-read the paragraphs; not processing the sentences you’ve already read.

A minute goes by and he hasn’t returned to his pages. Instead, you hear the squeak of his chair rolling over to his computer. A few clicks and a frenzy of taps on the keyboard.

“Hey.” He prods.

You look up again from the book. He peers at you over the edge of his computer and then closes it so he can see you better. He grasps his jaw lightly, stroking it in his hands.

“Yes?” You asked, trying not to seem annoyed by the interruption.

“Let’s go over your manuscript. I want to see it.” He continues.

No. It’s not time yet. You’ve been meticulously editing it for months now. He wasn’t supposed to read it until midterms, you were supposed to have more time…

You drop the book into your lap, “It’s not ready…” You close the book, “Also we have class in twenty minutes, you won’t be able to read it all by then.”

He stands up from his seat, straightening his vest out, “I canceled class. Pull it out.”

Two Hours Later

Some time had passed. You both sat in his office now. Him at… his… desk, and you still positioned by the heater at the door. At this point you were warm enough to finally take your sweater off, stripping down to a simple black t-shirt. You saw him staring through the pages when you pulled the sweater off. If he had looked any harder you think he might burn a hole through the book.

The office was silent except for the occasional click and clack of the heater, and the flickering of the candle on his desk. He flipped through the lightly bound pages while you continued through your reading. Every couple of minutes you could hear the stroke of his red pen hit the pages. The words or corrections will wait for you later. You could sit and scoff at them later in your apartment. The man said his favorite book was Lord of the Rings, how could you possibly trust his editorial judgment?

You had made it about a hundred or so pages through your book, which was slower than you would’ve liked. You still couldn’t breach the interferences. You thought the silence would help, but hearing his hums, his pen strokes, the occasional sip of scotch… It was all a distraction.

You couldn’t stop looking up from the book to watch him slyly admire your work. You knew your writing was good; Meelo had seen the early stages of it all. She heard the direction and loved every word… A complete sadness rushed over you thinking of how she would never see the final product.

Kiszka would adjust himself every few minutes; switching positions in his seat. You wanted to trust yourself enough not to look every time he shifted his hips, but those linen pants he loved so much left little to wonder about him. You had a closeness to him that you didn’t want to admit. As many differences as there were between you, there were just as many similarities. He was an outsider here; you could see that clearly. The other professors didn’t trust him because of his age- the students tried to walk all over him because of that too.

Even though you wanted to hate how pretentious he seemed, deep down you knew it was a facade to seem more studious to others. You saw the real him in glimpses. The kindness he offered to you that many others most likely wouldn’t have. Your youth and love for literature matched his perfectly, although you couldn’t always find the way to express it correctly. Your loyalty to Meelo prevented that at every chance.

Letting him read this manuscript was a big step that you didn’t fully even realize until he had reached the halfway point. You wanted to go and rip the pages out of his hand, throw them out the window, prevent him from seeing you too deeply… But something inside you needed to know what he thought of it.

Frustrated by your lack of progress, you lowered the book into your lap. You took this time to look around the room. It had changed so much since you had seen it back in December. Kiszka’s library had taken up the room, along with his record collection. When you would come by early in the morning to drop off the graded work, you would hear him playing some of it. Blues, rock, the classics. You never disturbed him during these times, it felt too intimate to interrupt. Instead, you would place the binder of essays on his classroom desk and scurry away before he could come to say hello.

You place your bookmark into the page opening. You calmly stand and place the book where you once sat. Quietly, you make your way over to his collection.

You see him peer up through the pages. Curious about your movements, watching you silently behind the manuscript.

You lower yourself to the floor, sifting through the jackets of the vinyls. Alphabetical. Of course. You make your way quickly through the a’s and land through the b’s. As cliche as it seems, you truly love Abbey Road, and of course, there it is front and center with the other Beatles albums. You pull it out from the shelf, removing the jacket carefully from the sleeve. You lift the vinyl out and place it on the record player. It’s a modern one, which feels very out of character for Kiszka. He always seemed like the type to randomly have every item of his be nothing newer than 20 years old.

You press play and lower the needle onto the music.

Come Together plays softly through the speakers. You turn to look back at him, seeing if there is any protest. Instead, he has the red pen out, slashing across the paper. You grit your teeth and try not to engage. You return to his collection, running your fingers along the remainder of the vinyl. The plastic tickles through your fingers, creating a click, click sound as each jacket releases from your hold.

Although you did want Kiszka to keep reading, you felt it was necessary to distract him, to try and persuade him to step away…

You continue from the vinyl collection, traipsing through the room. It’s like a library out of a movie, truly. You admired his office deeply and loved to gaze at it while he was lecturing. Sometimes when he was deep in his philosophy of literature speeches, you would lean back in the chair and try to read the book titles from afar. Your eyesight was good, but not good enough to make out the exact names of all of them. You never dared to peruse like this before, but this moment presented the perfect opportunity.

You were his captive for the remainder of his reading. Well… In all reality, you didn’t have to be here, but you didn’t dare leave that manuscript alone. It had been stored with you in your tote for the past month. You tried to take chunks of edits at a time, working through it yourself when you had time but didn’t want to share it with anyone until you felt that it was complete.

You tried to fight Kiszka off, but the notion of him canceling class meant that he found taking the time to do this very important…

The books that were displayed on these shelves were not the type of books that you would find at your local bookstore. They were older, worn in, some of them originals, even some you haven’t read yet. Maybe he did have some things that he could show you…

You make your way to the last set of bookshelves, rounding the back corner of the office. The last edge of the wall had his makeshift bar.

The liquor was all dark, amber-colored. Very manly, you thought to yourself. Bottles of whiskey and scotch lined the makeshift bar. Jack Daniels, Sazerac Rye, Macallan Double Cask… You recognized some of the labels.

Kiszka crept up behind you, “If you wanted a glass, you could’ve asked.”

He reaches down below you to fetch a rocks glass from the bar. He grabs the Macallan Double Cask and pours a finger for you. The alcohol flows effortlessly out of the bottle, barely splashing into the glass. He hands the glass to you, your hand brushing his. His touch is warm… Kind. He takes his other hand and grabs your shoulder, in a comforting way. You want to seem completely normal, but feel your cheeks getting rosy from the touch. You suck on your bottom lip and try to hide your face.

You take a large swig of the scotch, trying to be mindful of not wasting such a good drink. He looks at you, shocked at your ability to take it so easily.

“Wow. Good.” Is the only words he can mutter.

You smile meekly. The praise makes you feel undoubtedly shyer than you had just before.

“Are these originals?” You ask, pointing to the corner section of his library, “I couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to touch them if they were.”

“Many of them, yes,” He responds, “I trust that you would be gentle with them, please, which one were you curious about?”

You make your way over to the shelf, placing your drink down on the small table near the corner. You reach up to fold out the red bound book. Its title was completely faded from the binding, but we’re curious as to which one it was. He follows closely behind you, close enough to almost be on you.

He laughs, “Funny you should grab that..”

You open the cover to find Lord of the Rings printed in big black letters.

“Oh, dear god.” You sigh.

“It is an original if that makes you feel any better about it. I know you hate this book, but still-”

“No, no,” You protest, “I never said I hated it, I just said it wasn’t my favorite. Remember we have different opinions on that professor.”

He scoffs and takes the book from your hand. Rubbing the cloth binding with his thumbs.

“Want to know something funny?” He questions.

You did. You really did. You wanted the connection at this moment… For whatever cosmic reason it finally felt okay to banter with him. You nod your head, approving him to continue.

“I saw the movies before I read the books.” He laughs, “My brothers and I loved it, we were practically obsessed, but I was younger then and a stupid boy who didn’t read like I do now. Not the fairytale way most people find their favorite but it reminds me of childhood…”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make fun of him for it. But you knew that this was a special moment for him. A look into his past, a presentation for more. He places the book carefully back on the shelf, tucking it back into its spot.

“Well, I guess that makes more sense now. But, as a graduate professor, you ought to just say you like the pretentious shit. No one’s going to take you seriously.”

He turns from the shelf, “Who said I was worried about that? If I lie then I am a fraud. I don’t care if anyone says that.”

Oh fuck. His confidence is so intoxicating. He’s right. Why should he care?

“I just- I meant… I thought that the other professors-”

“You thought that they don’t take me seriously? Right. They don’t. In schools like this, you have to earn respect. I’m not an alumnus, I didn’t go to Harvard, but I do a damn good job at what I do. As much as you may protest some of my teaching, I know what I’m doing.”

He breezes past you and strolls back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. You reach back for yours and hold it between your hands, trying to collect yourself. You hope that you didn’t hurt him.

“Did I offend you?” You ask.

“‘Course not,” He takes a swig, “I just wish you would realize that it doesn’t matter what standards others hold you to. You are not someone else. You are you.”

“I know that.” You respond dryly. Your answer didn’t sound as confident as you wanted it to be. It came out unsure and desperate.

“Then why has your whole academic career been based on your relationship with one woman? Why must everything you do be for her?...”

You stand there silently. Completely struck with emotions. Anger, sadness, discouragement.

“She… She made me who I am,” You pipe, “She’s the reason I am in this program.”

He strolls back over to you, locking your eyes with his. It’s intimidating, this look he has on his face. He’s studying you, seeing how lost you feel. Truly for the first time you couldn’t even try to put up any walls. He had broken you down.

He places his hand on your shoulder again, “Can I show you something?” He asks.

Before you have time to even object to him, his hand moves from your shoulder to your waist, guiding you back towards his desk. You feel butterflies growing inside you.

No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He is your advisor. He is not someone you should feel this way about. He’s trying to help you, he’s not interested in you.

The vinyl finishes its song and moves on to Something. He guides you into his seat. You place the glass down on the desk and wipe the condensation from your hands onto your thighs. He reaches over the desk and twirls the manuscript back in front of you. The pages sit open about two-thirds of the way through. He stands behind you, practically leaning on your back. His chest rests against your shoulder, pointing at the beginning of the page.

“See this paragraph here?” He questions.

You strain so hard to not melt at his touch. His hair is grazing your cheek. It smells wonderful, but you can’t admit that. He has this gentle but clean musk about him. He smells like a perfectly cared-for bookstore. A soft smell of tobacco and oak. The chains with pendants are draping over his neck, sparkling in the moonlight of the night, softly clanking together with his movement

You need to focus.

You respond, afraid that you waited too long, “Yes?” Your voice wavers, the lack of confidence creeping back through, “Is there something wrong with it?”

He turns to face you, “Yes. I have a big problem with it.”

You feel your heart sink. What could be wrong with it? The back half of the book is the best part, it is the part you feel most confident with. You feel confused. All of those walls and confidence you felt once in his presence were lost.

“What…? What problem?”

You look back at the pages, disregarding his closeness to you, pulling the bundle of paper back towards you, and flipping through to the previous pages. He puts his hand on yours, stopping you from searching. He lowers himself next to the seat, squatting to be at your eye level. His thumb wanders back and forth over your wrist.

He smiles a crooked and cunning smile, “It’s some of the best writing I’ve seen in years, and the author was too scared to even share it with anyone. She lost someone and had to do this all on her own. That’s terrifying, but it’s still her work. ”

You look at the hand holding yours. It’s strong but has a softness to it. It has a few rings sitting on them, but none a wedding band. You lower your head and release your wrist, grabbing it with your other hand. You sigh heavily and grasp your hands in front of the pages. Your hands travel up to hide your face, which presents a melancholic smile that you can’t let go of. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or his presence, but you feel a glow coming from inside.

You rush your hands past your face and through your hair, resting your hands on the back of your neck. Scoffing, you turn to look at him. His amused smile is irresistible.

“You,” He starts, “Are an amazing writer.” His hand lifts from the pages and reaches up towards your cheek, holding your face in his palm, “And no matter who your teacher is, you can still do it on your own.”

Your hand finds its way up to his arm, holding him back. Staring longingly at each other. Both deep down knowing that this was about to lead down a path you couldn’t return from.

“Professor-” You initiate.

“Jacob.” He replies.

“Fine… Jacob. This- I… I don’t think.”

He quickly removes his hand from your face and comes to his senses. “Oh, dear, um… I’m so sorry y/n… I…”

You let yourself slump in the seat. How could you? How could you squander that moment? After years of wishing to find a man who was at least half as interested in literature as you… Here you are throwing it away. But you could be right to do so. He was your professor, you were his assistant, the moral implications of this all…

Jacob stands and leans back onto the desk, stroking his chin, concerned. Thinking about it all. You can see the nerves climbing through him. He feels embarrassed.

You reach your hand up to your face again, burying your emotions into your skin.

“I just thought- I, fuck.” He continues, “I thought we were turning a corner, I was looking and I thought I saw you-”

“You did.” You respond, “...I was looking.”

You lower your hand from your face to stare back at him. You put the manuscript back on the desk and stand.

“You… You were?” He searches for the answer.

“Jacob… For months I have looked. I didn’t want to like you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself. My mentor was my heart and soul, she was everything to me. I didn’t want to give you any chances because I didn’t want to lose someone like that again… I can’t handle that heartbreak. But…” You trail off.

“But?” He inquires.

You reach for the scotch glass and swirl the liquid around. Staring deep into the stormy amber.

“Fuck it.” You take the last of the scotch into your mouth and turn back to Jacob, “You… You are what I’ve wanted. I can’t deny the way I feel when it’s just us. When I see you deep in thought, when you push me to go further; when you challenge me. When we’re alone, and I see you for the man you are. When I see how genuinely fucking amazing you are. And I’m so mad at myself for not opening myself to you.”

Jacob peels himself off the desk and stances himself in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them tenderly in his. You drop your head, your hair falling over your frustrated expression.

“You were grieving, you wouldn’t have been ready for this.” He reaches his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You look up to him with doe eyes. He was the older man, coming in for the prey. You wanted to be his. You wanted to have him. You wanted it. You denied it for months. You denied it from the moment you saw him. You denied yourself to knowing him in fear that this exact moment would happen. But here you were. Unveiling yourself to him in the very place you felt the first attraction.

“I want to be ready. No, I am ready. I want this. I can’t deny myself happiness because of everything that happened,” You said.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Trying to test you.

You nod your head in approval, trying once again to keep the emotions bottled in.

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure because-”

“Please don’t say it. I know. I know this is all morally fucked up, but I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Just treat me like one.”

He smiles, admiring your maturity, “If you want to do this, there are some things we have to settle first.”

You look up at him confused, “Things? What things?”

“More like rules,” He answers, titling his head playfully, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to scare you even more than you already seem.”

He returns his hand to hold your face, just like he previously had only moments before.

“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”

“As much as I like to be gentle with women, I also enjoy being rough.” He says through a velvety tone

You jolt back, at first fearful of his words, but relax quickly, reminding yourself you don’t need to be scared.

“How rough are we talking…” You prod.

The cunning smile returns across his face, “Don’t worry, I don’t leave marks, at least too bad of marks… And only rough enough that you’ll still be wanting more by the time we’re done.”

You bite your lip at the thought. You’re no virgin at this point in your life, but you’ve never been able to explore this type of intimacy. Every man in college is practically an amateur at pleasuring women and even more so when it comes to exploration in sex. You’ve read plenty of books to know about the type of sex he was talking about. As much as you enjoyed the classics and the light-hearted romance, you still found yourself picking up a steamier romance book in private.

You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before…

Being here with this man, who was only a few years your senior, felt like you could practice this fantasy safely. He knew what he was doing, he could show you pleasures you didn’t even know you could enjoy. Even if you felt like you couldn’t learn more from your education with him, perhaps there were other things he could teach you. It was all becoming a bit too exciting.

His hand moves slowly down from your cheek to your waist. His palms gently grazed your spine until they locked in on your love handles.

“So,” He continues, “Are you going to be my good girl? Can you be good for me? Do you think you can take it?”

You reach out to his chest, moving aside his shirt which had barely been buttoned. With one swipe down his sternum, you unlatched all of them revealing his smooth golden skin. He watched you intently, seeing you explore his skin like never before. You traced your fingers along the opening, feeling your need to reach more grow. With each second that passed you felt the insatiable thirst to be close to him; to feel him. His grip on your waist tightened with each pass you made over his chest.

His other hand joined him on your opposite side. You feared that your hips may break with his excited hold. You looked up at him, biting your lip, trying to remain coy. That soft smile appeared on his lips; you had answered with your body language.

He pushes his hands further into you and lifts you onto the desk, your ass barely resting on the edge of the wood.

“Words,” He said, pulling himself closer into you, resting perfectly between your legs, “Nothing’s going to happen until you tell me you want it to. This isn’t going to work sweetheart unless you use your words.”

“Jacob-” Are the only breathy words that you can mutter.

You can feel him growing, feel the linen pants barely holding back his excitement. You feel your heartbeat travel from your chest, down into your stomach, into your…

His hand moves up to your jaw, holding it firmly in his grip, “Y/N, follow the instructions. Words. I’m not going to wait much longer.”

“Yes-”

Before you can even finish he’s pulling you into an embrace. Your lips meet his. The soft taste of scotch remaining on both of you created an intoxicating addicting feeling. It was complete passion, complete neediness to be one. His tongue introduces itself into your mouth… Soft, wet. Beckoning. The noises you both are making sound feral, completely unusual for the both of you. What once was a prim and proper relationship between you became a fervent desperation to touch… To fuck.

His hands traveled down your body, first reaching your chest, grasping you completely in his hand. Rolling his palms over the front of your breasts, driving you completely mad. You wished the barriers of clothing had been completely stripped away, but he was too hungry to even keep you waiting for long. His hands reached under your shirt, plowing underneath the wire of your bra to find your naked breasts. A soft relieving moan escaped your lips through the breaths of the kissing.

You reached your hands out to find the remainder of the buttons of his vest closing you off to his body. You made quick work of unbuttoning them, reaching your hands across his midsection; climbing to his back. Reaching up towards his shoulders, feeling the softness of his skin across the pads of your fingers. God, he was perfect.

His fingers traveled to your nipples, running his thumb and forefinger over the bud of your nipples. Before you could even realize what you were doing, your nails dragged down his back, raking into his skin. He paused the kissing for a moment to let out a moaning growl. He slid his hands out from your bra, slipping down to the edges of your shirt, attempting to tug it off as fast as he could. You snatched your hands out of his shirt to raise them over your head, giving him complete access to strip you.

He placed his hand between your breasts and forced you down onto the desk, your head falling onto the manuscript below you. He shook off his vest and was quick to pull his shirt off.

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes it rough, huh?” He asked.

You lifted your head from the desk, “No, definitely not.” You responded. Unsure where this untamed version of you had even come from.

“No, sir” He stated, pushing you back down.

“What?” You asked, skeptical of what he meant.

He mounted himself once again between your legs, grinding himself into you. He traced his finger down your neck, to the waistline of your pants.

“Sir… That’s what my good girls going to call me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, unaware that you were even doing so, “Call me Jacob,” you mock, “Call me sir.”

He reached back up to your jaw, pushing his thumb into your cheek, “If you’re going to be a brat we’re going to need to set some more rules. Good girls don’t get punished, but you’re already testing me.”

Completely stunned, you look back at him trying to emulate a softness, an apology. You had to admit though, you weren’t scared of him… If anything you were more turned on by the thought of his punishments.

“And how would you punish me, sir?” You ask in your best sultry voice.

He let out a low grumbling laugh. He studied your body, not even acknowledging your question, just thinking… Thinking of what he would do to you. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you hard into his cock. There was no wondering anymore. You could feel how large he was, how excited he was. If your own body wasn’t blocking it you could probably see it entirely.

“Maybe,” He starts, “Maybe you’re not going to be my good girl,” His hands dig deeper into your waist, “Maybe, you’re going to be my little slut.”

The word echoed through the room. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not the feeling of being displeased, it was a feeling of being right. Being here with him, being under his control, felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. He could see you in a way that someone hasn’t seen you for months. He was learning every inch of you and would learn even more as the night went on.

He leaned down from his high position to plant gentle kisses along your neck. Gingerly leaving behind little reminders of passion.

“-And if you’re going to be my slut,” He whines through breathy kisses, “you need to know the safe words.”

You run your hands up to his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. Tracing his scalp over your fingertips. You don’t want to go this slow, the breaks are killing you. You just want to feel him. You want to feel him on you, in you, taking you completely as his own.

His kisses finally reach the band of your jeans, but that doesnt stop him from exploring further. He pulls down on the jeans to reveal more of your stomach, delivering gentle almost tickling kisses.

“Green,” He whispers, “Means you like it… You don’t want me to stop.”

His hand travels over to the button of your jeans, popping the metal away from the denim. Your eyes follow him, watching his hair fall over your stomach, the metal of his necklace chilling your bare skin. His shoulders look strong here, masculine, powerful. Watching him focus so intently on you is killing you. This is a man unlike any other that you’ve been with, he’s focused on treating you first, even if there were some other pleasures in it for him.

“Yellow,” The zipper slowly starts to unravel as he pulls your pants further down, “Means you need me to slow down… If you need a break…”

Your pants steadily fall off of your legs, finally being exposed to him entirely until they fall onto the floor. The only thing separating you from him now is your thong. Which you are now praising yourself for wearing today. He resumes his consuming kisses across your midsection, joining back down where he had left off. His hands slip underneath him to grab the edges of the lace, sliding off the thong with ease.

His kisses start to graze you closer to your…

He stops and lifts himself. His hand leads up to your mouth, putting his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You accept them, excited for what it means.

“Red.” His voice develops a more serious tone, “Means stop.”

He removes his now slick fingers from your mouth, returning them down below. His fingers reach your cunt, and you welcome him with excitement of your own. Your body is in shambles waiting, wanting to know what it feels like. His fingers dance across your aching clit, his thumb padding the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your deprived body. A loud distressed moan escapes you, you can’t help but express your enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry sir,” You shudder through achy moans, “I don’t think I’ll need to use that one.”

“Good girl.”

Without any hesitation his fingers breach you, filling you up. He stands over you, watching you grow with the agony of pleasure. Your breath hitches with each pump, your back arching with each lift of his fingers. His thumb traces back over your clit, stimulating every inch of you.

Every attempt at communicating the feeling faulters, except for, “Oh fuck-”

Your body is shaking with each movement. He’s painting the perfect picture of an orgasm with just one hand. The power he holds, the knowledge he has. He knew how to please you better than you knew how to.

His free hand makes its way around your neck, gripping it, holding you in place so he can work harder at you. You’ve never been choked before, it’s a completely new sensation. The gasps for air were something you thought you’d fear, but instead, you were wishing he’d hold on harder.

“Green?” He asks, looking for permission.

You nodded your head ferociously

You feel yourself completely letting go under his control, something you feared once to let him have all the power. But here, now, held down to his desk… You never wanted it to stop.

“Words.” He barked.

Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, “Yes, yes…”

“Yes, what?” He asks again, his fingers slowing their movement. Clearly, he wouldn’t be letting you get away with anything. You had to be obedient and do as he told you.

“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg.

The words were getting harder to communicate. If he could finger you into oblivion, you might let him if it meant you could feel this good again.

He smiled in approval and resumed his previous pace. Steadily building faster, and faster. Harder and harder. You could feel how wet you were becoming, it really didn’t take much for him to draw the excitement out of you. The swirls of his fingers and the vigor of his motions were precise… Calculated, trying to accomplish only one mission; and he was close to succeeding.

Your moaning only got more frequent and louder, you couldn’t hold back. The pleasure was far too great to stay quiet. He almost let you be loud too, only for a few moments before reminding you of your location. He lifted his hand off your neck to lift a single finger to his lips and then pointed around the room.

“If my good girl can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to make her. We don’t want anyone spoiling all the fun.”

You nod your head, remembering you were still in his office. Your surroundings had escaped you completely; only thinking of him and you.

His thumb started to apply more pressure, practically begging for you for more. A softer moan forced its way out, helpless to be silenced. His hand plasters itself over your mouth, holding you silent. The pads of his fingers resting deep into your cheeks.

“I know baby, it’s so hard… You’re gonna be so good and come for me now, okay?”

Finally being relieved of speaking, you nod your head, ready for the climax. His fingers dive upward, grazing the sweet spot buried inside of you. The pressure, the sensation it’s all too much. You feel your belly tighten, your back arching. He’s trying to hold you steady as you writhe in pleasure. There’s no stopping anything now.

“Do it baby, come on… Be a good little slut for me…”

Your eyes roll deep back into your head. You feel the sweet sensation of release wash over you. Like a wave of ecstasy, traveling from your toes, past your aching clit, through your belly, all the way to your head. Stifled moans slip through the cracks of his fingers. His fingers stay at their steady pace, pushing past your orgasm. You feel yourself dripping around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, you’ve never felt the devotion to make you feel this good. Your body is quivering around him, unable to shake the overstimulation. You’re squeezing onto his wrist, trying to come down easy, but everything he’s doing is making the sensations crash into you.

He takes his hand away from your mouth and you immediately gasp for air, trying to find serenity.

“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”

He shuts you up by taking his mouth to your soaked cunt, sliding his tongue through the mess he made. You place your hands beside you to sit up slightly. This was a sight you did not want to miss. You take his hair in your hands and tuck it aside. Each stripe of his tongue makes you wince, you want him to stop, but you can’t let him. It feels too good. It’s too much but just the right amount all at once.

He was consuming you, desperate to explore every inch of you. Wildly eating you up, trying to capture every last drop of his work. You were spilling into him, it was never-ending. It was like you weren’t even there; everything except your pusy. This was a high that you never wanted to come down from. He was devoted to keeping you there as long as he could, but you couldn’t hold on for more.

You fell back onto the desk, squirming through it all. He had you right where he wanted you. You let yourself fall into him, trying to take it all. Your hands reach over the desk, trying to find somewhere to hang onto, but instead knocking the scotch glass off the desk. Shattering loudly beneath you.

Jacob didn’t stop though, he was completely distracted, locked in. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yellow.. Yellow..” You begged, completely overstimulated and shocked. How could you even ask for that?... But it was impossible to withstand any more sensation.

He stopped slowly, easing you out of the enjoyment. His hands reached up over your thighs and rested on your hips, slowly petting them with his thumbs. He looked up at you through glazed-over eyes, completely drunk on your arousal. He didn’t want it to end.

Slowly raising himself back to a standing position, you could see how hard he had gotten. He felt just as much pleasure as you did. He was completely lost, coming back to reality. Chin dripping with your wetness…

He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily. The passion was more fiery than before. You did something to him and he did even more to you. It was strange to taste yourself on his lips, but exciting nonetheless. You were caught up together. Complete and one at that moment. And then it all stopped…

Footsteps approached outside the classroom. You both stopped. He removed himself from your lips and raised his head to listen.

A knock at the classroom door.

“Hello?” Someone called out.

There was no mistaking that someone was in this office, between the music, the glass breaking… They knew.

“Everything okay in here Kiszka?”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He stands and reaches for his shirt, buttoning it with no haste. He grabs your shirt and pants and kicks them under the desk, “Go, get underneath the desk,” He whispers, “Now.”

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playingdxngerous · 1 year ago

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Against the Door

18+!! Basically immediate smut. Really short read.

CW: begging, teasing, swearing, fingering, oral f!receiving, very slight praise kink implied

Dating a rockstar has changed your life for the better. There are so many girls begging to have your boyfriend, but you have him right at your fingertips, whenever you want. That is, until he goes to practice with the rest of the band.

You scrounge around the house impatiently, trying to find something to do as you wait for Jake to make it back home. He was supposed to be home almost an hour ago, but some problems with the microphone and speakers had kept them all overtime. Suddenly, you hear your phone ding from across the room.

"Sorry for being late tonight. How about a date to make it up to you? Wear something nice. Be there in 15." A text from Jake reads. You smile and run to your closet to find something to wear. With such a short notice, you go basic and pick a tight red dress. You quickly apply mascara and some red lipstick and hope for the best as you brush out your hair.

A knock on the door sends you almost sprinting to go open it. Jake stands in the doorway wearing tight jeans and halfway buttoned shirt. His hair is messy, but the perfect amount.

"Look at you all dressed up," he smiles.

"I just threw some stuff on in a hurry." You respond.

"Well, I think you look fucking sexy," he says, making your face red hot. He walks towards you and grabs your cheek, pulling your lips into his. His kiss is sweet, so menacingly sweet. He smiles into your lips and places his free hand on your hip to push your bodies closer.

"You're making it really hard to make me want to leave the house now," you say while pulling away. He places his thumb on your lower lip and slightly pulls down.

"Then let's stay here my love." His hand moves from your hip to your ass and squeezes.

"Please," you beg. You push him against the closed door and lean your hips onto his crotch.

"Babe..." he whispers. You slowly kiss his jawline, making your way up to his ear.

"I want you to fuck me right here," You whisper back.

"Oh yeah?" He looks down at you, smiling. "If you say so." He switches places with you, your back now against the door. He kisses you again, his tongue quickly finding its way to yours. His hands squeeze your hips. You softly moan into his lips. His kneels down onto his knees and kisses up your thigh before pulling up the tight fabric of the dress. He runs his thumb over your clit through your underwear to tease you.

"Please baby," you ask in a hushed voice. He listens, pulling down your underwear at last.

"You're so fucking wet for me, my love," he says from under you. His head moves closer to you, licking a stripe up your pussy. Your body tenses as he pauses on your clit. He kisses it, sucking harder and harder. His tongue glides back and forth.

"You're so pretty when you're desperate." His eyes look up at you. "Be a good girl for me." He moves his hands away from your legs and slides one finger along your slit. He stops as he reaches your hole and barely pushes in his fingertip just to see your reaction. You bite you lip and grind against his hand, your clit moving along his palm. "You know you won't get it that easy, princess," he says as he pulls his hand away. You grab it and move it back to where it was. He pulls away once more, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he rises to his feet. He pulls your chin up with his index finger to match his height.

"Please go back, I need you." You whimper.

"Beg for it," he says down at you through half lidded eyes.

"Please."

"You call that begging?" He moves his hand down your chest, circling his thumb around your nipple.

"Please baby, I'll be so good." You cry out.

"Say my name." He says.

"Please Jake. I'll do anything." You move your hand over his jeans, feeling his hard dick. He looks you up and down and pecks his lips with yours, then moves back down to his original position.

"Are you going to listen now, my love?" He smirks. You nod, struggling to form any words from the growing tension in your body. He starts to lick around your clit, refusing to actually touch it. He grabs your hips and moves you back and forth until you catch on and start to ride his face. His tongue glides along your pussy as your clit repeatedly brushes over the tip of his nose. He moans into you, the vibration of the noise bringing you closer to your climax. He seems to sense it and pulls away. He slides his two middle fingers in his mouth before surprisingly pushing them inside of you. "Finish for me sweetheart," he says. He quickly pushes his fingers in and out. He reaches just the right spot every time, making you weak in the knees. Every push sends you closer to your breaking point. To make matters worse, he begins to slide his tongue directly over your clit, sucking with each movement. You grab his hair and hold your breath as you feel yourself hitting your climax. He pulls out and slows down his tongue before eventually moving away completely. He stands back up and pushes your hair behind your ear with his clean hand.

"You did so wonderful, beautiful. See what you get when you listen to me?" He smiles and kisses you gently. Out of breath, you smile and nod. He pulls your dress back over your thigh. "Let's go, you know I didn't forget about the date," he says smiling big.

#greta van fic #jake kiska fic #greta van smut #jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka smut #fanfic #gvf fic

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playingdxngerous · 1 year ago

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Just a reminder that listening to Hozier and not caring about politics is not something you can do. You can't listen to his music and not care about the world. You can't just ignore the political messages in his music. A big part of Hozier as an artist, and as a person, is bringing awareness to different issues and standing up for human rights. You can make jokes about him being otherworldly and a tree man because yes, a lot of his romance and morbid songs surround the physical earth it self but you cannot take away the years he's spent discussing human rights issues. He didn't spend 10 fucking years creating incredible albums riddled with songs like Take Me To Church, Nina Cried Power, Foreigner's God, Cherry Wine, and Eat Your Young just to have the political context, a.k.a the heart and soul of those songs, to he ignored. His "aesthetic" is not fairies and forests and skinny white girls in pretty dresses, his "aesthetic" is confronting the government and its corruption to shine light on issues that have been ignored for decades. You can't listen to Hozier and claim to love his music while not paying attention to the world around you.

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playingdxngerous · 2 years ago

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Extra Credit

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: spencer reid smut, praise kink, hand kink if you squint hard enough, age gap (teacher and college student), digital penetration, oral f! receiving, angst bc the beginning is kinda sad ig, happy ending, just a ton of praise basically, also i didn't proofread so probably some mistakes here and there

~For my delusional girls, like me~

"So, for homework I just need you to read the next 5 chapters and write me a summary. Tell me how this relates to transcendentalism in literature. Don't forget to use the study guide from this previous test." Professor Reid says as he walks across the room, handing out the graded tests. He gets up to your table and quickly flips your paper over as he hands it to you. You know it must be bad if he hides the score from your peers. You turn it around to see a circled 47 with the words "u ok?" written next to it. You look up and he's completely across the classroom, continuing on his rant about the homework. Still, he is looking right at you. How does he know?

Your mind traces back to the night before. You're on the phone with your boyfriend in the process of being broken up with. Followed by, of course, your parents fight growing louder and louder within the walls. You look out your door and see them yelling at each other, throwing their hands in the air after every sentence. Last night was not a good night, especially since you had to spend almost all night studying for the test you just failed. A score of 47. How?

The class continues on like normal for the next 30ish minutes. Each tick on the clock is just another second you must force your tears to stay in.

"Okay just don't forget that homework guys. It's really important that you know this for the final." His voice comes back into focus. He dismisses the class. People start to trample over you as you put your stuff into your bag, crumbling the test. Professor Reid walks up to you, propped up against the table with his hands. "Mind to see me for a sec?" He asks concerned.

"Look, if it's about the test I'm sorry. It was just some careless mistakes and I won't ever do it again. I'm okay." You say as he guides you to his desk. Once again he leans against the table to get to your height. His suit stretches out with his arm, his button up shirt and tie becoming more visible.

"I know it wasn't just some careless mistakes. You're usually a straight A student. You've never gotten below a 90 on one of my tests."

"I was just being dumb, I'm sorry." You look down in unexplainable guilt.

"Don't say that about yourself, you're such a smart girl," he requests. Your stomach drops at his validation.

You try to laugh it off, "You're really overestimating me right now Mr. Reid."

"You think I don't notice when something is wrong? I know you and I know you aren't just being dumb. Talk to me." He says, ready to listen.

"I didn't know you paid that much attention to me." Your eyebrows furrow.

"I do," he grows quieter, "Noticed you weren't sitting with your boyfriend today too."

"How did you even know we were together?" You puzzle.

"How could I not?" He gasps with a smile. "It's kind of obvious you know. The way you look at him and all."

He really does pay attention.

"He broke up with me last night. Cheated on me too."

"I'm so sorry, I wish I could make it better. It's really seeming to affect your mental health right now." He responds concerned.

"Yeah, it's whatever. It's not just him being a problem right now so I don't really care. If anything, I'm just numb."

"It's not the group of girls beside you, is it?" His voice speeds up with a higher pitch. "I will fix it immediately if you ask me to."

"No, it's just my parents and stuff at home." Tears sting in your eyes.

"Is there something I can do?" He inquires.

"Extra credit maybe?" You shrug.

"I can do that. What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know just-" your voice breaks off as a tear falls out. "I'm just really stressed right now.” You wipe away the teardrop, yet more start to join it. He brings his hand up, curling his index finger to wipe the preceding drops. With no thoughts in your head, you accidentally lean in and cradle him into a hug. He allows it, wrapping his arms right above your waist. Seconds go by until you realize what you’re doing.

"I'm so sorry. Oh my god, why did I do that?" You pull away rapidly.

"Hey," he grabs your arm, "I don't mind. You can come to me for anything." He catches your eyes with his soft gaze, taking away any sadness left in you.

"So extra credit?" You clear your throat.

"Yeah um," he snaps out of it, physically shaking his head. "Just don't worry about it okay?"

"Are you sure sir?"

"Yeah." He gulps. "And the homework too."

You hug him again and he grabs your hair, massaging into your scalp. You squeeze tighter, never wanting to let your teacher go. This hug has been better than anything your ex boyfriend or parents have ever provided.

Like a scene out of a movie, he leans down and kisses the crown of your head. Tears once again stream down your cheeks at his loving touch, drying up as they fall onto his button up shirt.

You pull your head away to look at him, nothing but softness in his eyes. You place your hand on his cheek, feeling his slight stubble in your palm.

"Kiss me?" He asks in a hoarse whisper. In what feels like ages, you both unconsciously lean into each other. Slow and steady. His lips fit perfectly against yours. Your heart skips a beat.

The thought of him being your teacher rings through your head, making you pull away out of embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hey stop, it's okay." He assures.

"This is so wrong. You probably didn't want that and only kissed back because you feel bad for me." You cry out.

"You know we both enjoyed it. Plus, I'm the one that asked for it to begin with." He assures.

He's right. You did enjoy it. More than you probably should have. It got your mind off everything else.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Reid." Feeling like a crybaby, your eyes drown your face once more.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay." He says almost unintelligibly fast.

He begins to kiss your head all over, letting his lips fall randomly along you. He moves to your forehead, then trails down to your neck. You instinctively grab his hair and let him continue. He makes it back to your lips and you sloppily return the favor. Each second you grow hotter. A slight whimper escapes your lips as he slides his tongue into your mouth. The taste of the two of you combines, the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. His tongue slow dances with yours and he warm breaths begin to escalate onto you as he pulls away. His eyes remain closed even when not on your lips. He shortly returns, faster than ever. Passion floods the both of you. It flies in the air, warming up the world around you.

His hands find your waist, which he grabs to pull you closer. Friction rises in you below your skirt, so you squeeze your legs together to release it. This does little to no help, as the way he devours your lips turns you on more than ever. He grabs your right leg and hoists it over his hip. With the skirt being pushed up from this action, you begin to grind against his crotch with only your underwear and his slacks in between.

You then follow up with the other leg. He places his hands behind your thighs, his strong arms growing in size as he holds all of your weight up. You grab his biceps and squeeze. You’ve never imagined yourself admiring your teacher from so close, but it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

He places you on his desk, pushing random papers and pens aside. With your knees up, your skirt slowly slides down your thighs. He has no other choice but to look you up and down with his starving eyes.

"Still up for that extra credit?" He smirks and bites his lip.

"Been dreaming of it forever Reid."

"Are we forgetting that I'm still your teacher even when you beg me to fuck you? It's sir." He squeezes your thighs.

"Okay sir," you say sarcastically. "Why don't you get on with it then. Make me forget all about my ex you were probably so jealous of."

"Stay quiet for me like a good girl and maybe we won't get caught, how about that?" He pulls your head up by your chin.

"You just don't want to admit it." You say right before he collides his lips with yours for the millionth time.

"You just really want that 47% to stay huh?" He laughs.

"No! Please Mr. Reid, I've wanted you forever. Please just give it to me already."

"So needy!" He replies in a high pitched voice. After a small peck on your lips he makes his way down your body with his hands. He takes extra long on your tits, making sure to cause your stomach knot to tangle even more. You shiver at the touch, so ready to let your orgasm go. Your legs straighten out and dangle off the desk.

He moves his attention to this, changing the direction of his body. He grabs your hand and kisses it, dropping it as he begins to kiss up your leg. Starting at the knee, he makes his way slowly up to where the fabric of your skirt ends at the top of your thigh. He nudges it up with his hands, feeling around your waist.

"You're being such a good girl for me." He looks up at you without moving his head too much. His half lidded puppy dog eyes stare into yours. "Such a good girl. Legs all spread, dripping wet for me. So perfect. My princess." You struggle to find ways to respond as you are completely taken aback by his loving praise.

"Please, I need you." You blurt out.

"What do you need my love?"

"You. Everything."

"So, you want me to take these off I assume?" He teases as he tugs at your panties.

"Please!" You yell from overstimulation.

"Hey quiet remember?" He swallows hard before going back to where he was. Slowly, he pulls them down. "Holy shit you are soaked." You love the cussing side of your teacher more than you probably should.

"I want you so bad baby," you beg.

"I'm right here. I will give you whatever you want. You deserve it, princess." He leans forward as he speaks, slowly reaching his mouth to your wet cunt. His tongue moves in circles around your clit, not yet touching it. This man will be the death of you.

He slides his tongue back and forth, then licks a long strip up your pussy. His speed increases as he flicks his tongue back and forth. Moans seep out of you and him, creating music. As he flattens his tongue and practically shakes his head into you, your back arches more than you thought possible. He sucks and licks with professionalism. You skin begins to prickle as the heat rises in you further and further. He takes notices and pulls his head away.

"Don't tell me you're close already, we just started." He wipes his lips. He leans up and removes his tie to get it out of the way. He places it behind your head and uses it to pull you up towards him. You kiss intently. "Like how you taste, my love?" You blush hard at his comment.

He takes off his jacket and moves back down, rolling up his sleeves and buttoning them in place. His veins travel from his hands up, entrancing you. He slides one finger into you to get you used to it. However, your body is ready for whatever he has for you. He slides in one more right after.

"You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you sweetheart."

Just as you begin to reach your climax, he begins to go harder and faster. He moves his head back down and starts to suck on your clit. He whimpers as you pull his messy hair, making you starstruck.

"C'mon baby let it go." He continues. "Let it out for me. You can do it princess." You fucking love that he talks you through it. It sends you over the edge, causing you to finally release your orgasm. The two of you share deep breaths among each other and he licks his fingers to clean them. "You did so good for me, such a good little girl." He praises in such a smooth, sexy voice.

"I feel so much better." You exhale. Your vision slowly returns after the climax you just hit.

"I'm glad. You definitely earned that extra credit, by the way." He says. You laugh and begin to slide your panties back on, followed by hundreds of innocent kisses.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #mgg fanfiction #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #angst with a happy ending

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playingdxngerous · 2 years ago

Text

KINKTOBER DAY THREE

October 8 -- Begging

masterlist

author's note: this was supposed to be mutual masturbation, but I wasn't feeling it, so I switched it to begging. Thank you again for everyone reading and supporting. 💕💕💕 If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know! 🎃🎃🎃

summary: Spencer can't help but be upset with the choice you made, so he takes out his frustration in your hotel room later.

warnings: female reader, dom!spencer, begging, a little bit of 'good girl', hand job, fingering, female receiving oral, multiple orgasms

word count: 3.6k

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

His eyes flick over to you, and you can read him like a book. The anger and frustration battle across his features as he opens his mouth to argue against your suggestion. You speak before he can, “I know this is dangerous, but I trust all of you to keep me safe. We have to do this.” Spencer slams his mouth shut and forcefully turns his head from you. Your stomach drops, but you know you’re making the right decision. This case will be over in a couple of hours, and then you can talk this out with him, and everything will be fine.

If anyone notices Spencer’s reaction, they don’t say anything. Instead, most of the team looks at you with worried expressions. Hotch is assessing you, his arms crossed tight over his broad chest. “This guy is erratic and unpredictable.” He says in his calm and calculated tone.

“He’s going to attack tonight. We know that this vigil is going to draw him. He can’t resist it. All I need to do is distract him long enough for you to move in.” You explain rationally. “We can’t allow more people to die, and I’m the only one who hasn’t been identified as an agent by the media.”

You refuse to break eye contact with Hotch. You steady your breathing and straighten your shoulders. You’re confident in this choice, and Hotch knows you won’t back down. He nods, “okay.”

“Okay?” Spencer interjects, his voice breaking slightly from his heightened emotion. “You can’t be serious, Hotch.”

“This is her choice.” Hotch answers, and everyone in the room seems to hold their breath as they wait for you to reply.

Hotch clears his throat, “let’s get started. We’ve got four hours until the vigil.”

You level your gaze at Spencer, trying to telepathically tell him you’re sorry. “I have to do this.” Spencer’s jaw sets hard. You see the muscles flex against each other. He turns away from you and leaves the room.

“He’s just worried. We all are.” Emily reaches out for you and rubs a comforting hand up and down your arm. You nod.

You don’t see Spencer again until you’re in the SUV five blocks away from the site of the vigil. Morgan had spent the entire ride over repeating the plan to you and making sure you understood exactly where everyone else was going to be. You kept nodding and letting him start over again because you knew that this was how Morgan made himself feel better about the situation. Before he got out of the vehicle, he had reached over to the passenger seat and grasped your shoulder. “You’re brave. And you’re damn good at your job. We’ll catch this bastard.”

Now you’re alone, glancing at the watch on your wrist. In ten minutes, you’re going to get out of the car and walk toward the vigil. It’s chilly enough that you have a jacket on, and it doesn’t even look like you’re wearing a vest underneath your clothing. You let out a shaky breath and try to calm your nerves.

You jump when the passenger door swings open and you reach for your holster automatically. “It’s me.” Spencer says, and you take your hand away.

“You’re supposed to already be at the vigil.” You mutter and look straight ahead out the windshield because you can’t look at him. You can’t handle seeing any sort of anger on his face.

“I know.” He says your name, and you turn to face him. The anger in his eyes has dissipated, and only fear remains.

“Spencer, I’ll be –” You start, but you’re interrupted by his hands grabbing the side of your face and pulling you in for a kiss. It’s forceful and meaningful, and your hands find a tight grip on his shoulders. The two of you say goodbye to each other with your lips and tongues, neither one of you wanting to break apart, to face reality.

Finally, he pulls away from you and sets his hands on your shoulders. “Be safe. Please.”

You incline your head toward his, connecting your forehead to his. “I will.”

He kisses you again, with less force, but with the same meaning, and then steps away and closes the car door. You watch as he walks down the alley until he completely disappears. And then a few minutes later, you get out and walk the opposite direction down the alley.

Your hotel room is dark, and only the lights on the nightstand work, but you’re too exhausted to complain. After wrapping the case, Hotch had told everyone to head to the hotel for a few hours, and you would fly out in the morning. No one argued because you hadn’t even seen your hotel room since landing.

You’ve taken a shower, changed into pajamas, and started to get comfortable in bed when there’s a knock on your door. You climb out of bed and look through the peephole to see Spencer standing in the hallway. Quickly, you open the door and step aside for him to come inside. As soon as you shut the door and turn around, he has his hands on you, your waist, your hips, shaky hands traveling across your skin.

“I’m okay, Spencer. Not even a scratch. I’m fine.” You reassure him with a calm and steady voice. He doesn’t stop his hands and won’t look you in the eyes, so you reach out for him. Your own hands hold onto both sides of his face and force him to look into your eyes. “I’m fine.” You repeat.

He swallows and nods and blinks away the tears that were gathering in his eyes. “Don’t do that again, please.”

You know you can’t promise that, but you also know that Spencer doesn’t want to hear that right now. “Okay.” He kisses your cheek. “Okay.” He kisses your other cheek and then your forehead and, finally, your lips. His hands on your hips pull you tighter against him like he can’t have you close enough, like he wants the two of you to merge together as one person. Your hands move up into his hair, fingers tangling into soft locks, nails scratching against his scalp. His moan vibrates against your lips, and he deepens the kiss. His grip on your hips is vice-like. You groan into his mouth.

He mumbles your name, and you answer with a moan, suddenly desperate for every part of him. The stress of the day comes to a head, and you just want your mind to go blank. Spencer is the only person who can make your brain stop its constant ruminations.

“Please, Spencer.” You urge him with your words, but also a quick movement of your hips against him. You move your hands away from his hair and down the back of his neck toward his clavicle and then start to fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

You only get one button undone before he says, “stop.” He breaks away from your lips, and his hands wrap around both of your wrists and pull your hands off of his shirt. When you look into his eyes, the anger is back, not as fiery and passionate as it was hours before but low and simmering just below the surface. “You think you just get what you want after that?”

His voice is heavy with emotion, and it zings straight to your lower belly. You want to smile, but press your lips together instead and shake your head.

“Answer me.”

“No.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t give you anything tonight, huh?” He moves one of your wrists into his other hand so that he has both of them wrapped in one hand. The hand that's now free moves to your neck, a finger trailing down to your clavicle. You swallow against it. “I should leave this room right now. Leave you all alone and so needy.”

You swallow again. “Spencer, please.”

He lifts your wrists above your head and pushes you up against the door of the hotel room in rapid succession. You let out a sharp gasp at the movement. “Please, what? What do you want?” His other hand has found another place back on your hip, gripping it, his thumb rubbing back and forth on a bit of skin peeking out from your old Academy t-shirt.

“Please don’t leave.” You whisper. The hand on your hip slides underneath your shirt and up your stomach toward your breasts. His fingertips are barely there against your skin, enough to make your skin tingle, and goosebumps bloom, but not enough to satiate any need for his touch.

He drags one of his fingers across the underside of your breast, and your hands twitch in his grasp above your head. He twists his grip and tightens it.

The hand near your breast spreads across your breast and grabs it. You arch your back into his touch. “You need it so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes. I need it.” You don’t even attempt to play coy and press your thighs together, trying to get any sort of relief between them.

Spencer ducks his head against your exposed neck and kisses it roughly, nips at it without leaving a mark, and then licks and soothes where his teeth nibbled. “Are you going to listen?”

You nod before realizing that you need to answer verbally. “Yes. Yes. I will. I promise.”

He laughs against your neck. His breaths on your skin make you press your thighs tighter together. “You’re going to do as you’re told.” It isn’t a question.

“Yes.” You confirm.

His lips find yours again, and the hand up your shirt tightens on your breast, his thumb finding your nipple, teasing it back and forth. He kisses you slowly, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth and then racing to brush his tongue against it. A constant tug of war between a ping of pain and a rush of comfort. You take all of it, anything he is willing to give you, you want all of it.

When his thumb and pointer finger takes your nipple and rolls it between a pinch of his fingers, you let out a desperate noise.

“Spencer.”

He makes a deep noise from the back of his throat but doesn’t stop kissing you or pinching your nipple. A pulse all of its own begins in your core, fluttery and demanding.

“I’ll do anything, please.” He bites at your clavicle, the only place he’s marked you so far because he knows it will be covered by your shirt in the morning.

“You’re going to leave your hands above your head, do you understand?” He finally instructs.

“Yes.”

“You don’t get to touch me.”

“Spencer,” you start to protest, but you look into his eyes and stop yourself.

“You touch me, and I stop. Do you understand?”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“Good.” He goes back to your neck, teasing and tasting your skin, driving you crazy with want. But you don’t dare move. If he pulls away completely now and leaves, you think you might lose your mind.

In between his soft bites, he instructs, “I’m going to let go of your wrists, okay? But you’re not going to move them. Leave them exactly where they are. And then I’m going to get on my knees and make you come as many times as I want. But if you touch me at all, I’m going to go back to my hotel room and leave you here all alone. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nod feverishly. He lets go of your wrists, and you don’t move a muscle.

He smiles smugly and pinches your nipple one last time before sliding down to his knees in front of you. His fingers graze up the back of your calves and thighs and then to the front of your thighs. He pushes your legs apart, and you lean back further on the door for support as he pulls down your pajama pants, leaving your underwear on.

“Look at you,” he tuts. “Soaking through your panties just from a couple of kisses.”

You let out a frustrated breath. “It was more than a couple kisses.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, and you slam your mouth shut. “Are you going to waste my time? Talking back with that smart mouth?”

“No.”

“I can think of better uses for that mouth. You can’t talk back with my cock down your throat, can you?”

You swallow harshly, and you feel yourself getting wetter. “No, I can’t.”

He leans forward, and you hold your breath, waiting, but he kisses your inner thigh instead. And then he starts the same pattern of kissing and nipping he’d done earlier, but now on your thigh. His hands are on your ass, massaging and rubbing. As he moves to your other thigh, he makes a point to incline toward the place you need him so desperately, but he only exhales across it. You whimper, and you feel the turn of a smile on his lips as he presses into your thigh.

It is basically torture, and it’s taking every single ounce of self control you have not to grab his head and put him exactly where you want him. You know you can’t, so you beg instead, “please, Spencer. I can’t take the teasing anymore.”

“Aw, my poor baby.” He taunts, and you grunt when he pulls away completely and removes his hands. He sits back on his heels and looks up at you. “Take off your shirt.”

You do what he asks rapidly and then put your hands back above your head without him asking. He smiles, “good girl.”

The room is dim, shadows play across his face, but he watches you as you breathe, your breasts rising and falling. He lifts hands and presses his palms up your stomach and then back down, causing more goosebumps springing up across your skin, toward your core, but he bypasses it and travels down your thighs instead. “I think you’ve ruined these panties, baby.” He laughs, mesmerized by the growing wet spot. Your clit is throbbing and you feel like you could fall apart with only one single touch from him.

“What would you do if I stopped now?” He wraps his hands across your thighs and squeezes and then looks up to your eyes. “Stood up and walked out of this room?”

You would probably spend the rest of your night touching yourself until you couldn’t handle it, but you don’t want that. “Please don’t.” You reply instead. “Please touch me, Spencer.”

He squeezes your thighs again. “I am touching you.”

You groan, frustrated. “Touch my pussy, please. I need it.” You give in. He can’t help his smile as he moves one hand over slightly and uses his thumb to touch the wet spot on your underwear. He presses into you over the fabric. It’s only the tip of the iceberg, but you moan anyway because you’re so desperate.

He presses deeper, wetting his thumb through the fabric, and then moves it upward, finally rubbing over your throbbing clit. You let out a shaky breath and lean forward slightly. His thumb rubs up and down on your clit lightly, practically a feather-like touch. He doesn’t use any pressure on it. You move your hips forward, trying to force some pressure, but just pulls away.

“Spencer.” You whimper.

He laughs, “so whiney.” He puts his thumb back and continues in the exact same way as before. You lean back fully back on the door with a small cry. “Do you want to come?” He asks.

You screw your eyes shut and nod furiously.

“Open your eyes and answer me.”

You force your eyes open. “I want to come, please, Spencer.” You try to get rid of the whine in your voice, but you don’t succeed.

“Yeah, I can tell you do.” He uses just a little more pressure on your clit and begins to circle it. You shiver and let out a pitiful moan. “So needy. So desperate.” He mutters and leans forward to kiss along your thigh again. Your hips buck against him involuntarily. “You can come whenever you want, baby.”

“I need more.”

“No.” He kisses your thigh again and looks up to your eyes. “You come from this.” You curl your toes on the floor and push your head back. “I’ll give you more when you come.” His thumb continues its barely enough circles on your clit and you exhale. “Don’t you want more?”

“Yes!” You huff.

“Then come.” He nips your inner thigh, moving closer and closer to your clenching pussy, but never actually reaching it. His other hand moves back to your ass and he kisses your other thigh. You can feel the deep pleasure at the base of your spine and you give yourself over to it. “That’s it, so good, baby. Come just like this.”

You come hard and force your hands to stay above your head, your hips bucking against Spencer’s hand. He moves his hand from your ass and holds onto your hip to stay your movements. Once you come down from your high he pulls down your underwear and sticks his thumb into your pussy.

“You're dripping, baby.” He murmurs and fingers you for a few seconds until swiping the thumb back up to your clit. You’ve barely had time to recover from your first orgasm and you let out a small breathy shout. “Ssshh, we can’t let anyone else hear how needy you are.”

You bit your lip to contain your whimpers. Spencer’s thumb circles your clit, using the pressure you need. Another wave of pleasure is already rising, gathering low in your belly. “Do you want my fingers, baby?”

“Please. Spencer. Yes. I need them. Please.” You ramble.

He takes the hand that’s on your hip and inserts his middle and ring fingers into you, immediately pressing into you, rubbing against the spot inside you that makes you want to scream. You swallow the shout that you can’t let out and instead continue to ramble to Spencer. Your legs shake as you give into another wave of pleasure.

“That’s it, give me another one. So good, baby.” You come against his hand again, but this time Spencer doesn’t let you come down from it. Instead, he moves the hand off your clit and grips your hip to hold you in place as his mouth replaces his hand. You ride his tongue through the aftershocks of your orgasm and let the next wave begin to crest. His fingers never falter as he fingers you. He pulls away for only a split second, “touch me.”

Your hands fall from the door instantly and tangle in his hair, grasping and scratching, finally getting to push him harshly into you. He moans against you, sending vibrations up your body. You come one more time with a small shout, as quiet as you can. Your legs are shaky and unstable, but Spencer holds you tightly as he takes his time licking you clean.

When he stands up to his full height, you pull him into a kiss and then lower your hands down to his belt. He breaks the kiss, “I don’t have a condom.”

You kiss him and continue to take off his belt. “I don’t care.” You get his belt undone, unbuckle his pants, and reach in to take him in your hand. He’s unbelievably hard. The feeling of him is so heavy in your hand.

He puts his hands on your shoulders as he takes a shuddering breath. “You should care. We haven’t talked about this yet. And you’re in the heat of the moment.” He rationalizes.

You stick out your bottom lip because you know he’s right. “Can we talk about it later? Cause I want you, all of you.” You squeeze the base of him. His eyes flutter shut and then flip back open as he licks his bottom lip.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll talk about it.” Then he kisses you again as you pump your hand up and down on him, your thumb swiping at his leaking head. “Oh shit. Don’t stop.” He stutters against your lips. His kisses are sloppy and nothing like his calculated kisses earlier, but you don’t care. He’s pumping his hips into you, so completely lost in the feeling of your hand on him.

It doesn’t take long until he’s moaning into your mouth, “so good. You’re so good,” he rambles. One of his hands reaches for your hair and pulls your head back so he can look into your eyes. You bite your bottom lip, and he comes in his pants with a harsh grunt.

He kisses you, and you keep moving your hand until he’s hissing from sensitivity and pulling away from you.

The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you back into a deep kiss until you're both breathless. You subtly wipe your hand on his underwear because they’re already a mess, and then both hands hold onto his waist until his kisses slow down.

“I’m sorry for being angry.” He finally says.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. I guess today, technically. But at home, I mean.” He looks into your eyes, searching.

He nods. “Okay.” And he kisses you again, light and feathery. “I need to go clean up before we leave.”

Your fingers play with the edge of his pants. “Or you could stay, and I could clean you up.” You offer with a not so innocent smile.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He kisses you chastely and pulls away. He looks around for your shirt and pants and then helps you get dressed again. “See you on the jet.”

You step away from the door and let him leave. In a few hours, you’ll have to board the jet and pretend that the genius profiler on your team didn’t just give you three mind blowing orgasms, so for now you allow yourself to watch him walk down the hotel hallway. He scrambles to buckle his belt as he walks and then runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. You go back into your room with a smile.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife

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playingdxngerous · 2 years ago

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Relaxation Break

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!

Warnings: smut, hand kink, unprotected p in v, oral m! and f! receiving, digital penetration f! receiving, some teasing, use of the word sir, some pet names, shared hotel room, cussing, spencer reid x reader, begging, probably some more small ones that i'm forgetting, me actually not proofreading whatsoever

first spencer reid fic, be nice to me guys

Sharing hotels with the BAU team was something you easily got used to as the job went on. You usually like to bunk with another girl, not wanting to have an awkward experience with someone like Gideon, for example. However, tonight will be different. With Garcia coming along this time, you have no other choice but to share a room with one of the men. You decide to stay with Spencer, feeling as if it would maybe be less awkward than Hotch. Hopefully, at least...

He unlocks the door and lets you walk in first, observing the room with every step you take. Two beds. Thank God.

"Care if I take the bed next to the lamp?" Spencer asks from beside you as he double checks the locked door.

"No, I don't care," you smile, trying to spark some form of emotion rather than the blank, quiet stares you share.

"Okay great," he replies, immediately setting his stuff down. You walk into the bathroom and wash your face, getting ready for bed. You walk out in sweatpants and a tank top, surprised to see Spencer is also dressed in comfier clothes. You've never seen this side of him, nor did you know it even existed. He's sitting criss cross, staring intently at the files in front of him.

"I'm going to try to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow," you say in a yawn.

"Is it okay if I keep the lamp on for a bit?" He asks innocently with a rasp in his voice. You like it a little more than it should, and it really surprises you. You've always thought Spencer was cute, but you never saw it any more than just admiring from afar. You've never pictured any form of relationship, or even touch with him. Especially when it comes to the two of you sharing a room. This is foreign land to you, and for some reason you can't help but let your mind wander further into it. You look at the grip on his black pen, his veins popping out with each quick movement. Heat rises in you, yet you force yourself to keep it in control. Not tonight. You are not falling for Dr. Spencer Reid tonight.

"Yeah of course, do whatever you need to do Dr. Reid." Did you really just say that out loud? You force a slight chuckle, masking the flirty sarcasm in your voice.

"Oh, that's sir to you actually. Don't forget I'm a professor too." He smirks with his comment.

"Whatever smarty pants," you say to lower the mood of the conversation. Not tonight. You are not falling tonight.

"Mhm..." he mumbles before focusing his attention back to the folders in front of him.

"Night," you say, covering your face with the covers to block out the bright light.

"Night," you hear him say from outside of the sheets. The white blankets don't do much to hide the light from you, which slightly aggravates you. This is definitely not something to look forward to after a long day of profiling a killer. You toss and turn for what feels like forever until you're all tangled up in the sheets. With an abrupt movement you throw them off of you and blow the hair out of your face.

"Is something wrong? A nightmare?" He asks worriedly.

"No not that. I haven't slept yet. Do you mind to maybe turn the light off? I understand you probably have a lot to do but it's okay to take a break sometimes. You can't let this job take over every part of your life." You pause and loudly sigh. "It's kind of worrying. You deserve the same amount of rest as everyone else in the branch. You don't need all of this hard work placed on you."

"I don't mind. I chose this job because I knew I could handle it. I'll be okay."

"Spencer..." you whisper to almost nothing.

"Maybe I can do the work in the hallway or in the bathroom or something. I want you to be able to rest. I'm sorry, I didn't know I was bothering you or-" He rambles on before you cut him off.

"Spencer no," you say as you walk over to his bed. You gently place the files to the side in an organized manner so as to not mess up his work. He looks at you in silence, his puppy dog eyes becoming strangely hard to ignore. You grab his hand, and he slightly flinches.

"I'm sorry I forgot you probably don't like that." You apologize and quickly pull away.

"It's okay, I honestly didn't mind."

"Are you sure?" You bewilder. He nods.

"Look Spence...," you take a deep breath. "I know you have a ton of work, but you deserve to take a break for once in your life. Let that be tonight. Get some good sleep for once. Wake up energized to finish the files."

"No one calls me that." He smiles. "I think I like it, to be honest."

"What happened to sir?" You laugh and grab his hand again. This time he doesn't pull away.

"Oh, you know." He shrugs his shoulders. "I guess you're not one of my students so it's cool."

'I'll still call you sir if you like', your mind threatens to say. However, for right now at least, this thought must be kept to yourself.

"Well, that's beside the point. I just want you to know that it's okay to relax sometimes," you actually do say.

"I don't really know how." He responds, giving you trouble deciding what to say back. You run your thumb along his hand, admiring every little perfection about it. He looks down to see for himself, and his breath slightly hitches at the commotion. You squeeze his other hand with your free one, causing him to meet your gaze once more. This time way closer than the last. Inches lay between your faces. His warm breath blows onto you, proving the closeness between you. He seems to finally be catching on to you as his eyelids only remain halfway open. Afraid to make a move, the two of you sit in silence wondering if he feels the same as you.

"I can try to help you," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear.

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice almost a whimper. He has definitely caught on. For a man who rarely even shakes hands with other people, he seems to love the attention you are now giving him. You squeeze his hands harder, admiring the way they tower over yours in size. He mimics your thumb movement, slightly going back and forth. Definitely caught on. Thankfully.

"Yeah." You slightly lean in, lips parted ever so softly. He follows your movement, not yet making contact with you. After what feels like forever, you decide to take control and simply peck his lips to see how he reacts. Once again he follows you, pulling away right after you do.

"I-" he pushes out in a stutter, his eyes wide and his face red. You smile as he swallows anxiously.

"Everything okay Spence?" You smirk, eyes slightly closed still.

"Yeah." He clears his throat and licks his lips. Silence barges in once again, the room filled with blushes and clandestine stares. Out of nowhere, your starving lips collide with his quickly. He slides his tongue over your bottom lip, forcing him inside of you. His change in demeaner surprises you to your core. Never in your job have you seen Spencer Reid so full of life and action. He moves quicker than ever, desperate to be as close to you as possible. He grabs your jawline, your pussy wet at the thought of what his hands probably look like again your soft skin. He moves back to your neck, grabbing a handful of hair to push you closer. He tastes sweeter with each kiss, driving you absolutely rabid

"Jesus Christ, Spencer, you're so different right now."

"Is that a bad thing?" His swollen pink lips ask. You can't move your gaze away from them.

"Not at all." You say and hurriedly go back into the kiss. After a few moments you pull away and stare into his dilated pupils as your brain seems to stop functioning. Arousal takes over the both of you.

"Just to be clear, how far are you wanting to go?" He asks.

"Wherever you take me." You say weakly.

"Just tell me if you need to stop, okay?"

"Yes sir." You smirk. Found his weakness. He rolls his head back and licks his lips, his adams apple moving as he swallows gently.

"I've never done this before, I'm sorry if-" He begins before you shut him up with a short kiss.

"Spence, you don't know how long I've looked at you in awe, forcing away my thoughts of seeing you on top of me. Fucking me until I can't breathe. Worshipping you." You breathe out.

"I never thought I'd enjoy this as much as I am."

"Let's make it even better." You say as you climb on top of him, pushing him against the pillows parallel to the bedframe. Your lips meet his again, this time neater than the last. You bite his bottom lip as you pull away, dragging it with you. You crawl down to his waistband, teasingly putting your fingers underneath it.

"Can I?" You ask.

"Wait. You first." He lifts up your chin with his index finger.

"Me?"

"Is there a problem with that darling?" His words echo in your mind. Darling, darling, darling. His darling. All his. No one else.

"No, just usually men don't care about the women's pleasure. I assumed you'd want me to suck you off first."

"Well, I personally care very much. I'm fucking dying to taste you." You've never heard Spencer curse before, and you've sure been missing out.

"Please do baby." You moan.

"On your back. Now." He says strictly. You love this side of him more than anything. You follow his rules and lay on your back as he looks at you in hunger.

"May I?" He holds the waistband to your pants in his perfect hands.

"Yes," you nod.

"Yes what?"

"Please Spencer."

"Yes what."

"Yes sir."

He finally pulls down your sweatpants, your soaked panties still on. He eyes them down, sliding one finger up the crease.

"You're so wet for me sweetheart."

"Spencer you're being so different. Ten minutes ago you would have passed out if I were almost naked in front of you. What's changed?"

"You think I haven't waited ages to touch you?" Oh.

"I don't understand. You're so much more... I don't know." You trail off.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks seriously, backing away slightly.

"No!" You almost shout. "I'm just so lost."

"I guess I just feel comfortable with you. I've wanted you for so long and now that I finally have you, I just feel so different." He smiles.

"I'm all yours."

"Good," he kisses your thigh. He begins to trail up to your pulsing heat in a line of kisses. Gently he pulls the remaining fabric off of you, leaving you in just a tank top that you happily remove. His fingers graze across your clit, your nerves sending tingles through your whole body. He grabs both of your thighs, squeezing gently as he drowns his head in you. His tongue moves all around, making you see stars. He licks at your entrance, slowly sliding in a finger out of nowhere.

"More..." you beg. He slides another in, slowly pumping. Each time he slides in he curls at just the right place, almost sending you over the edge. The mixture of his tongue and fingers begins to take over you, making you grab his hair to relieve some of the pressure.

"C'mon baby finish for me." His words vibrate into you. With this your orgasm finally collapses onto him, relief suddenly flowing through you. You raise up and look into his menacing eyes. The two of you exchange deep breaths as he holds you in his arms.

"Your turn." You exhale.

"Think you can handle one more?"

"Why don't you tell me, Dr. Reid. The corner of your lip curves up. Oh sorry, I mean sir."

"Guess we won't know unless we try." He leans in to kiss you, then kissing down your neck and leaving a red spot from sucking.

"Better hope Gideon doesn't see that," you laugh.

"Yeah good luck. He would never suspect it from me."

"I didn't either," you mumble, Moving down his body you slide his sweatpants off and run your hand up his shirt, purposefully ignoring his huge erection. He takes it off, the two of you completely vulnerable to each other now.

"Think you can take it?" He laughs.

"Watch me." You sit on his waist, slowly sliding his dick in. He whimpers, the unholy sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Fuck," he says under his breath. As you gain speed his mouth falls open and he leans his head back. Moans escape his lips and you've never been more content in your life. He grabs your chin once more, placing it between his index and thumb. "You're so pretty riding me like the princess you are. I love it." You speed up at his words, desperate to make cum. "I'm so close love, keep going." Every new pet name sends you head over heels for him.

Acknowledging how close he is, you pull off and begin to suck on him. He releases almost instantly with a quiet moan. He looks down and watches as you swallow his load.

"Woah." Is all you can manage out as you both admire each other in such a state.

"Never thought this would happen." He says smiling.

"Me neither." You smile back and crawl up next to him, pulling the messy sheets over the two of you. He kisses you on the forehead and pulls you in closer. "Feel relaxed now?" You laugh.

"Oh definitely. More than ever."

"So... the lamp goes off now?" You ask excitedly.

"Yes," he sighs and reaches over to twist the knob on it. "The stupid lamp can go off."

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic

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playingdxngerous · 2 years ago

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oh my.

We all know how Jake obviously just loves to watch…

You’re sitting in Jake’s lap, legs on either side of his, to keep you spread apart for him.

His fingers tease at your inner thighs, drawing shapers and patterns, smirking in amusement as the muscles twitch and quiver under his light touches.

“Jake, please…” you whimper, aching and throbbing just to have his fingers inside you, or stroking over your clit.

He complies finally with a low chuckle, bringing his fingers to your dripping heat.

“Aww, is that better now, sweet girl?” Jake coos, lust blown and dark eye, tracking your every move. “You have my fingers on your pretty pussy and suddenly everything is all okay? Needy girl.”

“Yes god, fuck, i love your fingers.” You clench around nothing, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure gradually starts to spread through your whole body.

“I know you do, baby,” Jake says, replacing his fingers with his thumb as he slips two fingers down to your entrance.

He sinks them into you with no hesitation, smiling proudly at the unholy noise it pulls from your lungs.

Your head falls back, arms coming up to grip at his shoulders.

“Open you eyes and look at me, pretty girl,” Jake commands, bringing his free hand up to stroke his knuckles along your cheek.

You bring your head back down and attempt to do what he’s just asked, eyes fluttering slightly as you force them open against your body’s will to keep them closed.

“Good girl,” he praises. “There’s my beautiful angel. So pretty.”

“Jake, I- I need more,” you tell him, rocking your hips into his hand. “Please, Jakey.”

“Shhh, I’m gonna give it to you.” It’s a promise, falling off his lips like honey. His fingers sink deeper into you.

They curl up into that sweet spot, making your mouth drop open in a moan that bounces around Jake’s living room.

“You like it right there?” Jake questions smugly, adding a little more pressure up into that spot.

“Fuck, oh fuck-“ You curse, fighting to stay upright and look at him as the heat in your lower stomach starts to build.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl, or I’ll stop.” Jake threatens, knowing good and well you won’t be able to hold yourself up for very much longer.

“Don’t stop, Jake,” you plead with him desperately, mouth dropped open in open-mouth whimpers and moans, of which are rapidly growing louder. “Don’t stop, pleaseee…”

You force yourself to look him in the eyes once again. His head is tilted back just slightly, watching you fall apart in his lap with a pleased and cocky expression.

It only drives you closer, the cocky smirk and narrowed eyes; watching you ever so intently.

Curling his fingers back up into your sweet spot, he flashes you a wicked grin before shaking them rapidly into it, just like he does to draw vibrato out of his guitar.

Your mouth falls open, and had your eyes not rolled back into your head, you may have seen Jake’s mouth fall open, mocking the faces you’re making.

You collapse into him, head falling against his shoulder. Your face buries into the crook of his neck immediately, but Jake isn’t having it.

“Oh, poor thing,” Jake taunts with faux pity, sliding his hand in between his shoulder and your face, grabbing your jaw and forcing you back up. “Didn’t I tell you I would stop if you don’t look at me?”

He holds you up by your face, just far back enough to keep eye contact with you.

“Are you close?” He asks, voice low and smooth, eyebrows raised as he watches you frantically nod your response.

Trying to form words is far beyond you at this point. Too far gone in the ecstasy of Jake’s fingers to process anything, let alone create a coherent sentence.

“Yeah?” Jake’s fingers are playing you just like his guitar, with speed and precision that’s leaving your head spinning, numbing the limbs of your body and pouring gas into the fire burning in the depths of your body.

“Look right at me, pretty. Right at me and I’ll let you cum.”

“Jake!” You sob through heavy breaths, choking on a moan as his hand slides down to your throat.

Your eyes lock with Jake’s, your need for orgasm helping you to do as Jake says.

His fingers practically vibrate inside you again as his thumb works over your clit, sending you plummeting into an earth shattering orgasm.

Jake watches you with hooded eyes, mouth slightly parted as he drinks in the sight of you coming undone in his lap. He emits a low hum, as your release drips down his fingers and begins to puddle in the palm of his hand.

Once you’ve come down, he releases his grip around your throat and withdraws his fingers from you.

“So good, baby.” Jake presses a kiss to your temple as you fall against his chest.

“Here…” He holds his soaked hand up and you automatically know what he wants.

You take his wrist in your hand, licking yourself from his fingertips. He stops you as your tongue starts to travel to his palm.

“Ah-“ He pulls his hand away quickly, bringing it to his own mouth and you giggle softly at his sudden actions.

“What? You thought I wouldn’t want a taste?”

#jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet smut

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playingdxngerous · 2 years ago

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needing inspo for my new fic guys so you should totallyyyy like actually respond :) <3

#greta van fic #greta van smut #sam kiszka fic #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka fic #danny wagner fic #gvf fic #gvf smut

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playingdxngerous · 2 years ago

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oh my.

Sweet Talker - Sam Kiszka

A/N: Remember when I said it would be a crime not to write a voice kink Sam fic? Yeah. There’s not much of a plot here really, just filth. Only lightly edited! I love you all so, so much!

WARNINGS: 18+!! Fingering, teasing, lots of dirty talk, voice!kink, hair pulling, choking, unprotected sex (be smart, be safe!!)

MASTERLIST

••••

Sam’s voice.

No matter how many times you hear it, it tears its way through your ears and shakes its way through your body in the most knee-buckling ways imaginable.

The slightly raspy, yet soft and almost nonchalant drawl of his words, never fails to send sweet, debilitating chills up your spine. And god, did he fucking know it, too. He notices everything, but particularly loves to clock the little things that turn you on.

When it’s just the two of you, his voice is much softer and quieter than it is when he’s with his brothers, or socializing with others.

While you adore his boisterous laugh and louder tone when he’s excited, that quietness that he seems to save specifically for you, is your favorite. Your weakness.

“What did you do while I was gone today, gorgeous?” Sam asks you quietly, while his hand strokes up and down your bare back softly.

You snuggle further into his bare chest, fingers gliding over his collarbone as you lay on top of him in your shared bed. The two of you lay this way often, partially -or sometimes fully- bare and just talking - Informing the other about the days events. Some days offering much more dramatic of tales than others do.

“Mmm…” You trail off into thought, thinking very little about what you’ve even done throughout the day, but more so the tingle Sam’s voice has just sent through your body and straight to your core. “I didn’t do all that much today, really…”

“That’s a cop out,” his lazy, raspy voice shoots the teasing observation at you, as he glances down at you with that goofy grin of his.

You’re quick to defend yourself. “It is not! I would just ra-“

“-Rather listen to me talk?” You can hear the smile in his voice, the second he cuts you off to finish your sentence for you. “Uh huh, I bet you would.”

A crimson blush paints over your cheeks. You’re incredibly thankful that you can bury your face away into his neck.

“You do this almost every night, doll,” Sam points out, tone smug and knowing. “One of these days, you’re gonna get sick of hearing me talk so much. Now c’mon, tell me about your day and I will tell you all about mine after.”

A faint huff slips through your nose. Of course you want to talk to him about your day…after you take care of the ache making home between your legs that he has caused.

“I spent some time editing some photos… those boudoir ones that I took a couple days ago,” you explain casually, going into as little detail as possible.

“Yeah?” Sam’s hand continues drawing lines up and down your spine - effectively fueling the fire inside of you. The lilt in his tone playfully urges you to continue. “I bet they look beautiful… You should get some done soon…”

You tilt your head to look at him, “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would love it,” he corrects with a light tap against your nose with his free hand. “The same way you would love a recording of me talking on a five hour loop.”

“That would depend on what you’re saying,” you shoot back, smiling. It doesn’t really matter what Sam was saying, his voice affects you, always. For the sake of guiding your little cuddle session in a different direction, though…

“Oh, really? So a professional recording of me talking about the weather, wouldn’t do anything for you?” Sam jests, bringing his opposite hand up to poke at your side.

“Sam,” you sigh, frustrated by his obvious stalling. He loves to make you wait and suffer and pine, just a little.

“What?” You feel him shrug against you, dropping his voice lower. “Would me telling you exactly how to touch yourself be better? Or me reciting all the praises I know you love so much?”

A shaky breath shakes out of you at that, a clear sign for Sam to continue. He isn’t exactly digging for verbal answers just yet.

“Ohh, that struck a chord, didn’t it?”

And here he goes, right back to teasing you again.

Wrapping both arms around your body, he carefully flips the two of you over, so that you are laying beneath him.

“That’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? For me to call you pretty and coo in your ear while you cum all over my hand?” He starts to place kisses along your jawline, working his way to the sensitive skin just below your ear. Slipping his hand in between your bodies, he grazes his fingers over your heat, “Just… like… this…?”

Another whimper floats out of you just as Sam moves back up to join his lips with yours.

It’s a slow and sweet kiss at first, tricking you into believing Sam is going to give you exactly what you want, right away. His tongue pushes against yours gently, deepening the kiss and stealing all the air from your lungs.

Every few kisses, he will slowly start to pull away, making you chase after his mouth, with a smirk that grows with each of your impatient whimpers as he keeps his lips just out of your reach every time.

“What is it?” He questions knowingly, bringing his hand up to your jaw to keep you in place.

“Sam,” you’re fully pouting now, pushing against his grip in attempts to kiss him more. “You’re always being a tease.”

“Quit pouting.” He nudges your bottom lip with his thumb playfully. “You love it when I tease you. Don’t even try to act like you don’t.”

Sam is right and you know it. He knows you know it, too. You can’t fool him.

He takes your silence as victory, “Uh huh. See?”

The teasing, slightly condescending cadence to his tone sends you reeling all over again. His knowing smirk making your stomach twist with desire and excitement. As it always does.

You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips with all the strength you can muster.

Your lips meet not so gracefully at first, and you swallow down the low chuckle Sam emits before the kiss turns needy and quick in pace.

Sam’s hands start to feel around your body, gripping at your hips, your waist. A soft growl vibrates through his chest. The sound reminds you why you want to be in this position in the first place.

“Sammy…baby.” It comes out almost like a plea. You need to hear him.

“You’re such a needy thing,” Sam says, shaking his head.

“Not needy,” you protest. “Just wanna hear your voice.”

“I was gonna get there, if you would just be patient.” Sam chuckles, hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Can you do that? Be my sweet, patient, girl?”

All you do is shake your head ‘yes,’ but that’s not good enough for your Sammy. Not in the slightest.

He leans in, lips grazing yours with the formation of each of his words, “That just won’t do. I think you already know that, too. Speak up, princess. Spit it out.”

It’s low and raspy, the demand. You’ll do absolutely anything that his gravely, lust-drawn voice asks of you.

“I’ll be patient for you.” You give in right away. “I’ll be your good girl.”

“Yeah? You’ll be my good girl?” Sam questions, trailing his hand down from your throat to your chest, teasing and toying with your nipple.

“Yes, s-sir.” Your breath catches in your throat, your body warming rapidly as Sam continues to feel around your chest.

“You always are,” Sam sighs, his right hand traveling down your stomach, stopping just shy of your core. “You always listen so well and cum so pretty for me.”

Your hips raise to press harder against his splayed hand, the warmth of it only adding to your body’s excess of heat and need.

Sam leans in even closer, nudging your head to the side with his nose. His lips graze your ear, sending chills up your spine. All while his hand continues it’s decent between your legs.

“What is it, princess?” He notices the way your breath catches in your throat, the soft squeak of a whimper giving you away. He places a few kisses to the pulse point below your ear. “Your heart is racing. Did I get you all worked, sweet girl?”

“Sammy…” It’s a desperate plea, almost embarrassingly whiny - the way his name falls off your tongue.

“I know, I’m gonna make you feel good,” Sam assures you, sliding his middle finger through your folds, sighing as your arousal completely coats his finger. “Is this what my needy girl wanted? For me to talk to her and play with her sweet little cunt?”

A few slow circles over your clit is all it takes to pull a moan from you, making Sam’s lips curve up into a cocky smirk.

“There we go,” Sam starts, voice low and smooth. “There’s those pretty noises.”

Sam’s thumb replaces his middle finger, keeping the light pressure against your clit, knowing that it will drive you straight to an orgasm and fast. His middle and ring fingers slip inside you slowly, curling up into that sweet spot that he can do perfectly reach.

“Fuck, Sammy,” you cry, reaching up to grip at his bicep. “Right there, please…”

“Right where, princess? Here?” He punctuates the question with a firm curl of his fingers, holding the pressure for a few seconds until you begin to squirm beneath him.

“Oh god- Fuck, yes! Sammy, please!” Your breathing becomes even more labored, eyes screwing shut as you fall into overwhelming pleasure.

“Such a pretty girl,” Sam coos, smiling down at you. “I love when you whimper my name like that.”

“Keep talking, Sammy, please,” you beg him, head lulling back against the pillows.

“Keep talking?” Sam teases lightly, dropping his voice even lower. “You just love my voice, huh? Bet I could make you cum just by talking to you. What do you think, gorgeous?”

“I-“ You attempt to form a coherent sentence, but another wave of pleasure and moan stops you short. “P-probably.”

“Mmm, might have to test that out one night,” Sam hums, as if just voicing a casual thought out loud.

You feel Sam’s forehead press against yours, only serving to make you melt further into the sheets.

“Listen to me, baby doll,” Sam practically growls, although he knows he already has every bit of your attention. You force your eyes open to meet his. “You’re gonna cum right on my fingers and say my name nice and pretty when you do. Okay?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you answer him breathlessly, feeling yourself squeeze around his fingers, pulling them in even deeper. Oh, how your body reacts to him. Every. Time.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he praises, kissing down your cheek to your neck. “Let me have it, gorgeous. Please.”

It burns low in your stomach, your body’s internal scream for release. A few more pumps of his fingers and swirls of his thumb, throw you over the edge and into the raging waves of your high.

You feel it throughout your whole body, tensing and relaxing all the muscles in your body rapidly.

Your head spins as you come down, but Sam clearly isn’t ready to stop.

Your hand shoots down to wrap around his wrist, tugging at it in attempts to stop the overstimulation. “S-Sammy-“

“-Ah,” he cuts you off, pulling your hand away and flattening his hand out over your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart. “Baby doll thought I was done?”

A constant stream of whimpers huff out of you with short bursts of breath. You can feel your clit throbbing against Sam’s thumb, the overstimulation twisting into pleasure with the littlest hint of pain.

“You wanted me to talk to you all low and soft and pretty…” Sam taunts, moving with your squirming body, following every jerk. “And make you cum all over my fingers, but now you can’t take it? My little sensitive girl.”

The shudder that shakes through your body at his words, draws a low, raspy chuckle from Sam’s chest.

“Oh? Someone liked that, didn’t she?” Sam continues his relentless taunting, pulling his soaked fingers out to circle your clit.

Opening your mouth with the intention to answer him, all that manages to come out is a breathy whine. A noise so high pitched and desperate sounding, you might be the slightest bit embarrassed about it, when you think back on it later.

Sam’s lips curve up into a shit eating smirk, far too pleased at the sounds and reactions he’s pulling from you. And it’s so easy.

He leans in, mocking the airy, high pitched noise you just made, directly into your ear.

“F-fuck yo- u-oh, fuck,” you stutter, moaning and stumbling over your own words as Sam quickens the circles over your bundle of nerves. “

“Oh, fuck.” It’s parroted right back to you, his voice mimicking yours; sweet and needy.

Why the way he mocks you turns you on so much more, you aren’t exactly sure. You haven’t the brain power to ponder on it, yet, either.

That sweet and most welcomed burn reforms in the pits of your belly, just waiting for the perfect pass of Sam’s fingers to unravel and take over your whole body once again.

“I’m so close, Sammy,” you warn, gripping at the blanket beneath you with one hand and the pillow behind your head with your other. “Please, don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop? Don’t stop what?” He knows exactly what you mean. “Don’t stop talking to you, or don’t stop pleasing this throbbing little clit?”

“Sammy…” It trots out of you through a whimper.

“Gonna make you cum one more time before I give it to you.” Sam says, as though it isn’t up for debate. And at this point, it isn’t. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Your back arches off the mattress, the pleasure finally taking over your body in a second orgasm.

“That’s right, gorgeous,” Sam practically groans. “Let it all go for me. My pretty, messy, princess. Absolutely fucking gorgeous when you cum for me like this.”

Sam’s lips are suddenly colliding with yours in a searing kiss, capturing all your little noises right in his mouth.

As soon as he feels your body start to jolt, he eases his skilled fingers from your clit, sliding them down through your wetness to bring up to his watering mouth.

“Jesus christ, you taste so fucking good.” Sam sinks your fingers in and out of his mouth, watching you watch him.

You’ve watched him do it before, but it never fails to completely wipe all coherent thoughts from your mind -no matter how many times you’ve seen him do it- to watch him be so filthy.

Dropping his hand from your mouth, he wraps it loosely around your neck, just barely squeezing as he leans down to reconnect your lips.

You can taste yourself all over his lips. It’s an addicting combination of your own release and the aftertastes of mint on his tongue. Creating a sweet, spicy, concoction out of the two of you. Fitting.

“Tell me, baby doll,” Sam calls gently for your attention. “You want me here again?” His fingers trace over your lips ever so lightly. “Or here?” His hand travels down your body, tracing over your folds with the same featherlight touch, before dipping down to gather more of your wetness and begin slowly stroking over your clit again.

Your body jolts and convulses on its own accord, making Sam laugh lowly at you and your bodies way of displaying its sensitivity.

“Awe, is it too much for you now, doll?” Sam teases, lips dragging over the center of your throat. “Has this poor little clit had enough?”

“Need you inside me.” You raise your hips, trying to press yourself against his cock, visibly straining against his sweatpants. “Fuck me, Sammy, please.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want, when you beg that pretty.” Sam removes both hands from your body, tucking them into the hem of his boxers, shoving them down his legs hastily.

Taking himself in his hand, a shaky exhale flutters out of Sam. His eyes close, hair falling around his face as he continues to lose himself with each stroke of his own hand.

At last, he pulls himself back together and guides himself through your folds, letting out a deep, breathy, groan at the feeling of how wet you are.

“F-fuck,” Sam mutters, shakily trying to line himself up with your entrance.

Your jaw falls slack, as he pushes himself into you with a smooth thrust of his hips.

“Oh, m-my god…” Your words barely stutter out loud enough for Sam to hear.

Sam brings himself down above you, using one of his forearms to hold his body just above yours. His other hand slips up to tangle into your hair, tilting your head back against the pillows.

“Move, Sammy, please move.” Your voice is pathetic, dripping in desperation and submissiveness.

“What if I make you wait?” He questions slyly, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “What if we stayed just like this and I just talk to you some more? Tell you how amazing you feel wrapped around my cock, until you cum all over it just from my words?”

“Sam, I swear to god…” You try to fight back, wanting nothing more than for him to just move and fuck you completely senseless.

“You clearly love the idea,” Sam points out. “And you love when I talk to you like this. I know that’s why you squirm every time I hold you close and say little things in your ear. Why do you think I’ve started doing that more often? You think I don’t notice how your breath catches when I say even the most mundane things right in your ear?”

“You’re right, I love it,” you say through a fresh wave of whimpers that are tearing through your throat and filling up the room. You’ll always soak up his praises like a plant starving for water.

“I fucking…love it…”

Sam tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. “You’re clenched so tight around me…I could cum in you right now.”

Now that…

That strikes a new nerve, causing you to arch your body into Sam’s followed by a noise reminiscent of a sob.

“Oh, fuck me…” Sam curses, fist tightening in your hair as you flutter around his already throbbing cock.

Unable to wait any longer, Sam begins to rock his hips, slowly dragging himself in and out of you. The burn of him stretching you out rips another unholy sound from your lungs - one that he accidentally mimics, but in a much deeper tone.

“My sweet baby doll, making me feel so good.” Sam picks up the speed and depth of his thrusts. “You love on my cock so well, don't you? You're always just so, so sweet to it."

Sam’s head falls against your shoulder, short huffs of uneven breaths hitting your neck and adding yet another sensation to the pile.

Your hands reach around his body, one tangling in his soft tresses, while the other claws it’s way down to the center of his back - surely leaving flaming red marks in its wake.

“Pull it,” he groans, tilting his head back ever so slightly, to ensure you know exactly want he means.

You oblige without missing a beat, tightening the hand tangled in his hair and tugging it firmly.

“Fuck, goddamn,” Sam sputters, delivering a particularly deep thrust into you, making you gasp and choke on the words you’re trying to form.

“What's that? You feeling good?” Sam fires questions at you breathlessly. Later you’ll probably wonder how he manages to stay together enough to form full, coherent sentences.

“You want to tell me about it? About how my cock is filling you up so good? How you can feel me here?" He lays his hand over your stomach, splayed out and applying the littlest bit of pressure.

You open your mouth to speak, babble some barely understandable praises and call out his name over and over again. Yet, nothing comes out. Your mouth simply hangs open, not even a hint of a sound coming forth from your lungs; they simply hold captive any air left within them as Sammy relentlessly fucks you.

“Tell me, baby, tell me how good it feels,” Sam smirks cockily, knowing full well that you can’t. “You can't even talk, huh? Am I fucking you speechless, doll face?"

“S-so close,” you gasp, both hands gripping at Sam’s shoulders now in hopes that you will stay anchored to earth.

“Are you? Tell me you’re gonna cum so pretty for me,” Sam demands, snaking his hand between your two bodies to rub hasty circles over your bundle of nerves. “Say it for me.”

It takes every part of your body to form the words for him. “I-I’m gonna cum s-so pretty for you, Sammy.”

“You want me to talk you through it? Huh?” Sam’s voice is dripping with sex, low and smooth as silk. “Yeah, I'm gonna talk you through it, baby."

A few more deep thrusts of his hips and passes of his calloused fingertips over your hyper sensitive clit, is all it takes to unravel you.

“Come on, cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me.” Sam coaxes.

The way you clench around him, suffocating his cock, dragging him to his own high right behind you, has him sucking a long breath through his teeth before he can even speak.

“That’s it, baby doll. Fuck, there it is.” He’s hardly keeping it together above you, determined to work you through most of your orgasm before he allows himself to fall into his own. “That’s my good girl, so fucking pretty making a mess all over me. My gorgeous, messy, baby doll.”

You can hear him, faintly, as you ride out your seemingly never ending climax. And God, do you love when he calls you ‘baby doll.’

Just as you start to come down, Sam’s thrust become sloppy and sporadic, signaling that he’s reached his own high.

“Where do-“

You cut him off before he even finishes his sentence. “-Inside me. Let me have it, please, pretty boy.”

“Oh, fuck…” he draws the word out, rough and airy. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-“

His hips rock into lazily a few more times, the obscene sounds of both of your releases, bouncing off the four walls of your room.

“How the fuck does this manage to happen every night,” Sam huffs jokingly, slowly pulling out and collapsing beside you, still fighting to catch his breath.

“It might not if your voice wasn’t always dripping with sex appeal every time you open your mouth,” you jest right back.

“What?” Sam gasps, feigning shock, but fighting back a smile. “So you only fuck me for my voice? How low of you, doll.”

“You’re right,” you admit, grinning at him. “I don’t just fuck you for your voice… I also fuck you for your pretty face.”

Sam wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into him with a pleased smile. “Mm. That’s fair enough, I do have a pretty face.”

@wildbluesorbit @jaketlove

@tripthelightfatality

@sunandthemoontwinflames

@shutupdevvie @jakesguitarsolo

@ageofbarbarians @streamsofstardust

@gvfpal @theweightofjake

@twistedmelodies @belovedsamuel

@watchingover-hypegirl

@watchingovergvff

@jakekiszkasbuttsweat @losfacedevil

@starcatcher-jake @gardensgatedaisy

@i-choose-the-road

@sammykiszkamyass @sammysprincess

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@jake-kiszkas-smirk @gretavanfanfics

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@colorstreammind @ofburningskies

@groovyvanfleet

@highladyofasgard

@of-infinite-wonders

#sam kiszka #gvf smut #sam kiszka smut

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playingdxngerous · 2 years ago

Text

fresh start

18+ minors dni

Warnings: cheating*, eventual smut, swearing, SLOW BURN, p in v, slight angst, arguing, Jake is very cocky, jealousy, pet names, oral f! and m! receiving, fingering f! receiving, masturbation, fluff at the end

Word Count: 4151

* I do not condone cheating, and I think it is an awful thing to experience or do to someone. Please do not cheat on people. This is just a fanfic :)

also i did not proof read absolutely any of this so if you see a mistake then ummm no you dont!

Your two month anniversary is today, or was today, in this case. Just when you thought things were getting better in your new relationship, it all started going downhill. Never in your life did you think you'd get broken up with on your anniversary. So much time wasted. It's for the stupidest reason too. Your (now ex) boyfriend James claimed over a phone call that he has been slowly losing feelings for a week or two and needs time away. Everyone knows what that means. There's another girl. Someone better, prettier.

"Fuck you!" You yell over the phone in your parked car. "You'll never be as happy as you were with me and you fucking know that, James. You know that." You hang up the phone before he can respond, tears streaming down your face. You look down at the outfit you had put on before driving over to his house. A red satin dress with lingerie underneath. You'd been planning the night out together for a few days now. He was going to take you to a movie, out to eat, and eventually back to his house before the two of you exchange gifts. he never even got to see you in your new dress. The asshole broke it off with you just before you reached his neighborhood.

You turn on music to distract yourself, yet nothing works. Guess I'll just get fucking blackout drunk tonight, you think to yourself. You quickly back out of the random parking lot you were settled in and speed to the nearest bar.

Pulling into a parking space you wipe off your tears and reapply mascara. You put on red lipstick and step out of the car, no cares for what happens to you tonight.

The bar is familiar, since this is where Jake used to take you. Jake. As if your day weren't bad enough, memories of your old relationship flutter through your head. Playing guitar, hooking up backstage, secret dinner dates where you both tried to avoid fans seeing you together. You were in love, more than you could ever be. More than you thought he would ever be. You were clearly wrong, as one day touring apparently "became too much" on him and was the reason for the breakup. About a month later the tour ended, and he found a new girl named Elena. This is when you decided to force yourself to move on and meet James. Your savior, you thought. He strongly resembled Jake. Maybe that's why you fell so hard for him too. Long hair, raspy voice, played guitar. Even his name is close to Jake's. A complete carbon copy of him. Enough with the exes, you think as you open the door to the bar with a deep breath. Tonight you can forget both of them even existed.

You walk to the barista and order a drink, asking for anything strong. She's middle aged, tattoos lining her arms and neck. She has that rare beauty to her, the beauty you'd find with a trashy addict husband. The beauty you'd find riding a motorcycle late at night. She brings you a surprise drink, winking at you before saying this will definitely get you some guys on your finger tonight. Little does she know that you secretly wish you never met any guy in your life anymore. You down the drink in one sip, the taste burning your throat. Just as you begin to ask for another shot of something, a spine-chilling voice interrupts you.

"Hey pretty lady," Jake Kiszka directs to the barista. "I'd like whatever this girl just got," he says pointing his thumb to you.

"Just one? Don't want to offer her one?" She smiles at you.

"No thank you." You quickly respond to her. "I should probably get going."

"I've got a date over here somewhere; I can't be buying random girls drinks. Don't know where the hell mine is though." Jake says. "Don't know if I give a shit either..." He mumbles under his breath.

"Be respectful for once you prick." You say directly to him, not expecting it to actually come out of your mouth.

"Oh yeah?" He downs the shot with no face. "What will you do about it? Start making out with someone who looks just like me? I've seen him before y'know. You could've gone for someone slightly different than me. Guess you were just so crazy for me you couldn't stand a simple break while I was on tour." He shrugs his shoulders. Anger rises in your stomach as he lies straight to your face. The worst part is that he's not even drunk. You've seen him tipsy, and you know for a fact he is complete sober right now. These are sober words hitting you directly in the heart. Being broken up with was enough, but this just makes it way worse. It takes everything in you to not punch his cheek and leave a mark for his precious little Elena to kiss.

"Go back to your fucking girlfriend." You grunt through your teeth. Your hands unclench to reveal little marks from your red painted fingernails. "And it wasn't a break. Don't ever say that again. You broke up with me to fuck her a month later. You lost feelings, not me. I would've stayed. I did stay. I stayed until your player ass found her. I hope she's happy with you."

"She is." He says and walks away into the crowd. You see Elena grab him around the neck with a confused face. He shakes his head and smiles, leaning in for a kiss. He widens his eyes as they practically make out, staring right at you.

"You wanna dance?" A random guy grabs your hand and scoots up to you. You turn to Jake, who is still intently staring. However, his face now portrays anger and jealousy rather than pettiness.

"Sure, why not?" You smile widely and wink in Jake's direction. A song you've never heard plays out of the large speakers spread across the room and you struggle to stay up to tempo with your new date. You wait impatiently for the song to end, excusing yourself when it finally does.

You walk around aimlessly, trying to find the bathroom. As you take a turn down a hallway to find it, Jake is leaned against the wall as if he were waiting for you.

"Can you leave me alone for five minutes and just let me breathe?" You almost yell.

"I don't think James would like to know you're out here drunk and dancing with random men. Dressed like a slut and all."

"I don't care what he thinks anymore."

"Oh, so I should text him on Instagram and tell him?"

"I don't think Elena would like you sneaking off to talk to your ex by the bathroom either." You say, putting extra emphasis on her name.

"I'm sure she's doing the same. The bitch just let some dude buy her a drink. I wouldn't be surprised if she's already in his car by now. Wouldn't be the first time. I haven't even seen her since you saw me kiss her."

"And you don't care at all?" You ask, genuinely confused. If James ever did that to you would lose your mind.

"You think I care about her? She's with me for the sex. I'm a fucking rockstar, what do you expect. You really think I love her like I did you?"

"Jake why would you bring that up?" You say almost sadly.

"You never answered my question so why should I answer yours." He claims.

"Okay fine, what was the stupid question."

"Does your copy and paste boyfriend not give a shit that you're out here with other men?" His eyebrows raise.

"He broke up with me."

"What?"

"He fucking broke up with me! Is that what you so desperately want to hear?"

"Why did he- Why would he..." He trails off in confusion.

"Why don't you ask yourself that Jake. Seems like you two have something in common." Tears start to pool in your eyes, so you turn your heel to start walking away. Jake's warm hand grabs your hip, pulling you in to a hug. You can't help but stay there for a second. Thankfully, reality begins to kick back in and you push him away.

"Go find Elena. Take her home. Give her a fucking night to enjoy because God knows I won't enjoy the rest of tonight. Give her everything you ever wanted to give me, everything you did give me. Give her your love. And don't ever hug me again unless you mean it. I'm tired of people holding me in and breaking my goddamn heart." You utter.

"Am I not making it oblivious enough?" He laughs.

"Jake what are you on about now?"

"I don't want her sweetheart." He moves closer to you, making you tilt your head to now keep eye contact. Your heart sinks at the pet name.

"You don't mean it." You whisper.

"Do I need to prove it to you that I mean it?" He smirks.

"I'm not going to let you cheat on her." You croak. He turns you around to face the crowded room behind you, his hands resting gently on your hips once more. You scan the room and immediately find Elena on the lap of some guy at the bar, kissing him harder than she was with Jake moments ago.

"Oh my god Jake I'm so sorry she's doing that to you." You feel genuinely bad for him, as you know it must be hard to witness that.

"Like I said darling, not the first time. So, are we going to get going or what?" Your head and heart pull to opposite sides of your answer. As much as you want to say no, it's so hard to decline an offer like this. You and James' relationship is already in shred, and you've almost completely forgotten about it because of Jake. It's so easy to just say 'yes'...

"Jake we can't. It's not right." You finally respond. Slight regret fills your head.

"What about it isn't right? Neither of us are in a loving relationship at the moment. Mine is falling apart hour by hour and you don't even have one at all. I think you're just scared you'll enjoy it too much. You miss me too badly. You miss the way I feel in your pretty pussy. The way I taste. The sounds of our moans together." His voice gets quieter as his sentences go on, stepping closer and closer until your chests are touching.

"Fuck me, Jake." You whisper.

"Is that a yes? You know I won't ever force you." He pulls away a little, making the wind blow cold between you.

You scoot back to him and grabs his neck. "Yes Jake. I want you so badly." He smiles and kisses you slowly. The shape of his lips brings back memories of your relationship. The same lips you'd kiss for hours at a time, so often. He must sense it too, as each second he kisses hungrier and faster. The capricious night runs through your thoughts. How over an hour ago you were crying on the phone with James, and now you are making out with your ex as his girlfriend finds someone else to toy with right behind you, no care in the world.

He slides his tongue against your bottom lip, starving to taste you. The sweetness of his spit mixes with yours and you try to forget that Elena had just tasted the same thing recently. He seems to notice your overthinking tendencies and pushes you against the nearest wall, placing his thigh between your legs to distract you.

"We're in public," you laugh as you pull away from his swollen lips.

"Let's go then," he smirks. He walks quickly through the crowd, flipping off Elena as he walks past her. You grab hold his hand and smile, staring straight at her as she goes back into her kissing session. You make it outside, the chilly air giving you goosebumps. Jake gives opens the door for you, giving you a blue jean jacket from his backseat. You put it on, his scent overwhelming you.

"And you're absolutely sure you-" He begins before you interrupt him with a short peck on the lips.

"Yes Jake." He nods and puts the car in reverse, grabbing your thigh once you make it on the main road.

"My house?" He asks. You nod, not wanting to go into your room and allow him to see the hanging polaroids and framed picture of you and James. He squeezes your thigh in response. The drive ends shortly, and you notice that his hand is way further up than it started.

He gets out of the car and opens the door, guiding you through the familiar house to his bed. You sit on the edge and he leans down in front of you, taking off your red heels.

"Oh what a gentleman," you tease as you crawl back against the headboard, letting him hold himself up on top of you.

"Mhm," he moans, leaning in for a desperate kiss. "I've missed your lips," he says while pulling away. Your heart sinks at his claim, yet you know it's way too soon into your breakup to catch feelings for your ex once more. Guilt takes over you. Two months isn't that long, right?

"Why Jake? You've had Elena for a while now. Why do you miss me?" You ask.

"I don't know how I can make it clearer that I never liked her like I did you. You were and still are so special to me." The sentence drops your heart even more, your butterflies almost making you nauseous. "You probably don't feel the same though, and I guess I understand why." The thought rings in your mind. Did you ever love James more than Jake? James was easier to be around, as he was always less busy. He didn't have such high expectations on him. Maybe that's why you loved him so much. He was the part of Jake you wanted to be around. He didn't have a huge job where he was never home. He wasn't touring the country. He was actually able to show you affection. And the biggest part, he looked very similar to Jake...

"You don't know that," you finally manage to speak.

"You liked me more than James? After what I did?

"Jake...: You whisper, grabbing his arms. "I was absolutely in love with you. We were together for so long. It's difficult to compare that to a two month relationship." Jake smiles in pride and kisses you passionately. His tongue glides across yours, making you forget the whole conversation about James. Tonight was a night to forget about him, and that's what you're going to do. "Make me forget about him," you say out loud without even realizing. His eyes spark, starstruck by your request.

"I'll do anything you want sweetheart." He smirks, covering it by biting his lip. Your face gets hot by the minute as he reaches his hand up and cups your tit. While squeezing, he begins to suck on your neck. A red spot remains as he moves away, which shows that you are his for the night. Remnants of him will stay on your body, giving proof of the sins. You don't care though, in fact, you hope James sees somehow. You want him to know how you feel. You want him to know that you chose Jake over him. Not in a way to make him jealous, but to show him what he missed out on. To show him what he will never have again.

"You're so sexy in this dress," he rasps. Your mind flips to the lingerie you have on under it, originally intended for someone else.

"It would be better if you took it off, in my opinion," you tease.

"Oh yeah?" He raises his eyebrows, slowly pulling on the shoulder straps. "Do you really deserve that special treatment, princess? I shouldn't make you strip it off in front of me?"

"Jake please," you whimper. Tonight will be a long night.

"Use your words," he lifts up your chin with his index finger, looking you in the eyes.

"Fuck me," you moan. He slides the straps down further, and you help him slide the dress down your legs. A pink matching set lines your body, making him noticeably hard through his jeans.

"Dressed up for your little boyfriend huh? Too bad he's missing out on this." He slides his fingers across your clit, the fabric of the lace covering it. "So wet and desperate for me. I hope he's so jealous right now." One more word from Jake and you feel as if your heart might stop. "I need you so bad baby please," you squeeze your legs together in order to relieve some tension. He notices and pushes them apart immediately. "Please Jake."

"I think I'd rather listen to you beg for me all night." He kisses your stomach, trailing down to the top of your panties, gently pulling on them with his teeth. He looks you in the eyes and stops midway. Running his hands up your body, he unclasps your bra. You become tired of waiting and start to rub circles through your panties. He grabs your hand and puts it behind your back, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

"Be patient, love." He centers his attention back to where he was initially, pulling down the lace bottoms fully. All of a sudden, he glides his tongue flatly across your slit. Electricity shoots through your body. He is doing this simply for you to feel pleasure, not him. You forgot how good this felt, as James only ever cared about if he was going to finish or not.

"Feels so good," you mumble.

"We just started baby," he smirks as he moves his head back. His tongue gains speed with every flick. He sucks on your clit, moans forcing their way out of you at the touch. You grab his brunette locks and watch as he devours your cunt. A quiet moan vibrates off his tongue as you pull his hair.

"I'm so close," you practically yell. He brings his fingers up to his mouth, sliding one into you to get you used to it. He sadly moves his head away and raises up to kiss you as he fucks you with his finger. He slides one more in shortly. "Fuck baby go faster I'm so close." He menacingly slows down and bites your lip as he ends the current kiss. He positions his tongue back over your clit and continues to push his fingers into you, curling at just the right spot.

"Jake!" You shout his name like a prayer as you release your orgasm onto his fingers.

"You did so good princess," he cups your jaw with his hand.

"My turn," you say as you attempt to catch your breath.

"What?"

"Lay down." To your surprise he turns over and actually lays on his back. He used to hate letting you be in control. "Going to fuck you better than that bitch Elena ever did."

"Won't be hard to beat," he laughs. He unzips his jeans and pulls them off, throwing them on the floor nearby. You help him pull his shirt off and run your hands down his chest to take in the moment. You've really missed this, no matter what your mind tries to convince you. You take his dick in your mouth, letting your hands cover the rest of his length. You start to pump with your mouth and get faster as he whimpers underneath you.

"Condom?" You ask. He reaches into his nightstand and rips one open with his teeth. You help him slide it on, then crawl up to straddle his waist. With his help you begin to ride him, butterflies filling your stomach. Whimpers escape from his lips. He grabs your waist with one hand to guide your hips back and forth as you bounce, his other hand squeezing your boob. Another orgasm rises in you.

"I'm going to cum baby keep going," he reassures you as you start to slow down. Tired from all the movement, you pull off and take the condom off, sucking his dick once more. You rub your clit, his face alone almost sending you over the edge. "Fuck," he sighs as he releases into your mouth, watching you swallow him. He looks down and sees you touching yourself. "Desperate for another?" Your face gets hot at his observation.

"What if I am?" You tease. He flips you on you back and immediately starts to fuck you with his fingers. You're taken by surprise, but you love it more than anything. He curls as he slowly pumps them at just the right place and speed.

"C'mon baby finish for me." His words unravel the knot in your stomach, causing you to cum on him once more. "Good girl," he mutters before sucking you off his fingers. He kisses you longingly, then makes a trail of pecks to your neck. "Next time you think of that asshole ex of yours, I want you to remember what that kiss tasted like. What we taste like."

"I'm all yours now Jake."

"I know you are," he replies while walking to his drawer. He pulls out a pair of plaid pajama pants and an old band t-shirt, putting them on in front of you. "Are you staying the night?" The question rings in your head. Why is he asking you? Why do you want to stay the night with your ex? Why did you do any of this?

"If you don't mind," you respond before thinking. He reaches in and grabs you similar clothes to his.

"Of course not. Do you want anything? Water or snacks?"

"Just you," you grin. He turns the light off and climbs into the bed with you once you have put the clothes on. His body lies inches from you, not daring to touch you or else feelings might form again. Uncertainty of your own feelings stream throughout your thoughts. "Jake?"

"Yeah?" He turns over to face you, moonlight barely shimmering down on him from a window.

"Are you going to go back to Elena and act like this never happened?"

"After seeing you so vulnerable tonight I don't think I could ever look into her eyes again. I really missed you." He places his hand on your cheek. His thumb unconsciously moves back and forth.

"Does this make me a bad person?" You ask silently.

"Why would you be a bad person?"

"James," you say shortly.

"He clearly deserves this. I don't to assume anything or hurt you, but he's probably out fucking some girl right now. I don't see why he ever would, you're the best girlfriend anyone could ask for." He speaks from experience.

"It's not just that though."

"What is it then?" He furrows his eyebrows.

"I'm catching feelings for you again. They never completely left to begin with. When we broke up, I found James, yet his only job was the replace the hole you left in me. I wanted you. In the back of my head, I have for the whole two months leading up to today. I never got over you, I never will. I understand if you don't feel the same way, I just needed to tell you sooner rather than later. That being if we ever even talk again after tonight."

"I feel the same way love." The name makes your heart pump faster.

"What does this mean for us?" You worriedly ask.

"I think it means we need to take things slow if we ever want to go back. You just need-" He says before you interrupt.

"So you do want to go back?"

"Is that bad?" He questions

"I want to as well, so I guess it's okay." You smile.

"We can have a fresh start if we just pace it right. Rushing into a relationship the same day you got broken up with probably isn't a good idea. Tomorrow I will make breakfast and let you sleep in. We can act however you want, no label."

"That sounds perfect," you yawn.

"Good," he smiles. You lean and kiss him on the cheek. He pulls you closer, yet leave a gap in between you just in case. You scoot in, wishing to be as close as possible. He hugs you and runs his hands up and down your back. You slide a hand up his shirt, craving his warmth in such a cold room. Eyelids getting heavy, you close your eyes and dream about a fresh start with Jake Kiszka.

#jake kiska fic #jake kiszka #jake kiskza x reader #greta van fic #greta van smut #jake gvf #fanfic

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playingdxngerous · 2 years ago

Text

guitar lessons

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!! some impact play (barely, like almost not at all), degradation, teasing, talk of a safe word, handcuffs (in a way?? but not for very long), praise, a little fluff, fingering, masturbation, oral f! and m! receiving, penetration f! receiving

Word Count: 1822 IT FEELS SO SHORT AND RUSHED IM SO SORRY 💔💔 IT’S 2 AM IM SO TIRED

Hookups with Jake were not unusual. It happened more often than you wish to admit. However, today will be different. Today is a guitar lesson, and only a lesson. Nothing more, nothing less. Right?

As you begin to knock on the all too familiar door of Jake's house, he opens it immediately. He greets you with a bright smile, seeming genuinely excited to see you.

"Hey pretty girl," he smirks. Your face automatically gets hot, but you do your best to shut it down.

"Jake stop. We agreed just a guitar lesson today. That's it." You respond. He rolls his eyes.

"I know. Come in." He widens the door and locks it behind you as you walk in. The smell of pumpkin overwhelms your senses as you walk into the living room. A small candle is lit on the table, creating a comforting vibe to the area.

"Since when did you even own candles," you laugh. He looks at you and struggles to hold down his smile.

"Fine then," he blows it out. "Guess someone doesn't appreciate fall like I do." You can't help but stare at him. He is built with beauty. From his blue plaid shirt to his skinny jeans, everything about him is so beautiful. Today is going to be very hard to keep as just a guitar lesson when all you can think about it how badly you wish to kiss his perfect lips.

"See something you like?" He teases as he looks himself up and down.

"Bring me the stupid guitar," you laugh, trying to avoid the question as you both know the answer already. He walks over with a basic black guitar and places it in your arms while he sits on the couch beside you.

"Aw is your beloved too precious for me to play?" You say through a grin.

"You are so needy. We are never going to get anywhere like this." Nevertheless, he gets up once more and brings you his well-known Gibson SG. There's small chips and scratches along the paint of it, reminding you of all the times you've watched him absolutely destroy it on stage. All the times you've watched him pulse into it just like he does to you.

"So, what all do you know about guitar already?" He asks, breaking your dirty thoughts.

"Absolutely nothing."

"Okay great," he says sarcastically. "Guess we can start with chords then." He begins to give you finger placements which you try your best to follow. You fail of course, with it being your very first time even holding a guitar.

"Alright here I'll show you," he says as he grabs your left hand and places it correctly on the fretboard. You scoot closer to him and angle your body, your back laying against his chest. He grabs your right hand and helps you strum the strings.

"You're doing so good now," he says softly into your ear.

"As if you aren't doing all the work for me."

"Fine then I won't help you." He says as he pulls away from your body. His absence leaves your body cold, longing for his warmth.

"Wait no, come back I'm just kidding. I like your help." You pull him by the sleeve back to where he was. He sighs and starts to talk about another chord, yet all you can think about is him and his perfection. His cologne now becomes more visible with the scent of the candle fully gone. You take note of his calloused fingertips grazing across yours. His soft brunette locks touch your shoulder every time he leans against you further.

"Are you even listening?" He asks, bringing you back to reality.

"Yeah sorry." You apologze.

"What did I just say then?" You do your best to come up with a response, but there's no way you could even try to lie your way out of this. His beauty getting the best of you, you turn a little and kiss him. You remember all the promises to keep this just a guitar lesson, but deep down you know it's impossible with Jake Kiszka this close to you. He sets his guitar on this ground and grabs you by the hips. The passion in the kiss turns to lust as he runs his tongue across your bottom lip, begging to let him in.

The kiss gets deeper and deeper as time goes on. You run your hand down the buttons in his shirt and begin to undo the top one. All of a sudden he pulls away.

"You said just a guitar lesson and I don't want to make you do anything you don't-" he says before you interrupt him with another kiss.

"Fuck that Jake. I want you."

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Very." You say shortly. He kisses you again, this one somehow even more powerful than the last few. You undo the last buttons, and he slides the sleeves off him arms.

"Just couldn't avoid me enough huh? Too wet and desperate for my dick?" He rasps, making you literally stop breathing. You've waited far too long to see this side of him again. His words turn you on, making you feel your cunt get wetter by the second.

"Holy shit your attitude changed." You breathe out heavily.

"Oh yeah? Should I stop then? You know you have a safe word pretty girl." He raises his hands to your tits, squeezing them softly.

"Please don't stop Jake. I need you so bad." You begin to grind against the crotch of his jeans, making a mess in your underwear.

"Let's go to the bed?" He asks, to which you nod and drag him by the hand to his room. He pushes you on the bed and you crawl back against the pillows. He kisses your thigh, stopping at the zipper on your jeans. He unzips them, and you help guide them off of you. You pull your shirt off, causing him to reach up and unclasp your bra. Throwing it on the ground, he immediately starts sucking on your tits. You squeeze your legs together in order to relieve some of the tension between them. He pushes them apart as soon as he notices.

"C'mon now, let's not get too fast."

"Please Jake, I need you." You whimper. To your surprise he listens and slides his fingers across your wet panties.

"Like I said before, you're always so, so needy. Begging for me like a little whore." He stops his hand and pushes two fingers against your hole, the fabric still covering it. "Say it. Tell me you're my whore."

"I"m your whore..." you whisper.

"Speak up sweetheart." He somewhat gently slaps your thigh with his free hand.

"I'm your fucking whore Jake please just fuck me already oh my god." He takes his hand away. "Please," you say nicely as you grab his wrist.

"Should I really? I think I'd prefer to watch you squirm and beg for me." He grabs your tits once more and sucks a hickey onto your chest. Tired of waiting, you reach down and rub your clit yourself. You moan and grab his hair with your other hand. He pulls away again to no surprise.

"That's not going to work sweetheart." He confusingly gets off the bed. "Don't you fucking move." He says, walking out of the room. He returns seconds later with a guitar strap in his hands. He steps over to you and ties your wrists together with the strap.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" You smirk.

"Not important," he says shortly. He finishes tying and kisses a trail from your lips to your soaked underwear. He slides his finger over your slit, still covered by the stupid fabric you wish you took off earlier. "This what you want baby?" He asks. You nod vigorously. He pulls the panties off, sliding his fingers once more. He brings them to your mouth, making you taste yourself. He then sucks on those same fingers before sliding two of them into you quickly. You moan as he curls them just right.

"I'm going to cum if you keep doing that." You say, yet immediately regret. He pulls out of you, edging you worse than ever.

"We can't have you doing that so soon my love. We just started." He moves his head down right after, licking circles around your clit yet refusing to touch it. You try to reach down and guide him, yet the guitar strap stops you. You grind your hips into his face instead. He actually lets you do this, shocking you to your core. The feeling of his tongue moving so smoothly against your clit sends chills down your back. The knot in your stomach burns even more, just begging to come undone. Jake notices and pulls away once more. This man will be the death of you.

"I said not so soon." He smirks. His starvation for you fills his eyes. He wipes his mouth with the side of his hand and undoes the guitar strap. "Touch yourself."

"What?" You're taken aback by his comment.

"Touch yourself like the slut you seem to be. So needy to cum so do it already." You reach down and rub your clit as he watches. He leans down and kisses your thighs. You move faster, to which he responds by sadly grabbing your wrists and stopping you. "You really think I'd let you finish that easily?"

"You're such a fucking asshole." You groan. He suddenly unzips his jeans, his dick hard already. He reaches in his nightstand and throws a condom at you.

"Put it on me." He demands. You slide it on him and pull back to let him fuck you. He immediately begins to pulse into you, moaning under his breath. "So hot watching my dick in your pretty pussy," he whispers into your ear. This sends you over the edge, finally allowing your orgasm to release. Your moans turn into yells. He pulls out of you to let both of you catch your breath. "Make me cum sweetheart." You turn around and sit on top of him. Your shaky legs straddling his waist. You scoot further down and pull the condom off, putting his dick in your mouth. You go as far as you can, your hands covering the rest of his length. You bob you head up and down, before he quickly finishes into your mouth.

"Such a good girl," he says, pulling you up by your jaw. He kisses you shortly. "My good girl." You kiss him lovingly, your hands moving up his neck and into his hair. "So pretty and perfect. You did so good."

"So much for the guitar lesson," you giggle. He pulls you in close and squeezes you.

"This was much better."

"Are you saying I suck at guitar?" You scoff.

"No!, he clarifies, "I was just aching to touch you the whole time."

"Mhm yeah, keep trying to defend yourself Kiszka."

"Fuck you," he laughs.

"Pretty sure you already did." You fall back into his arms, kissing his cheek as he embraces you.

#greta van smut #greta van fic #jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka #jake kiska fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #greta van fleet fanfic

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playingdxngerous · 2 years ago

Text

Taste of Chlorine

18+ minors dni

Warnings: somewhat of a slow burn, eventual smut, drinking, some degradation, TEASING, fingering, oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving (very little), penetration, slight fluff at the end

Word Count: 2362

gonna be honest there's probably so many typos bc i wrote this like half asleep

Summary: Avoiding the guitarist of your brother Danny’s band was already hard enough, trying to put your past crush aside. With your sibling’s birthday party being in his pool late at night, you have no other choice but to talk to the man you wish to ignore.

Jake Kiszka had never seemed any more than the guitarist of your brother's band. Danny had once teased you about having a crush on him, but you told him multiple times that you didn't. You never thought it was possible to see him as more than a friend. Sure, he was attractive and all, but you would never date him because of how close he was with your brother. It's weird, Danny had said before. You had forced yourself to push away all of those thoughts the moment you had started to secretly think about him more than you should. He is your brother's friend you had to repeat to yourself for the first few weeks. Eventually you blocked away all of those feelings, making it much easier to hang out with him. The butterflies disappeared one day, along with any emotion of attraction. Therefore, seeing him at Danny's pool party would be easy, right?

You had been dreading his birthday for a while, due to this exact reason. Pushing away Jake was easy during their practices. Avoiding conversation while with the full band was a breeze. Tonight, however, is much harder. With only you and the band in a single pool, there is no way you can go a whole night without paying some sort of attention to him.

Moonlight glimmers across the pool once everyone arrives. You and Danny carry out drinks and pool floats. He turns the color changing pool light on, along with fairy lights lined across the fence in the yard. You've always enjoyed the scenery around his pool, the colorful lights and vast grassland along the edges. Flowers grow wildly, bringing life to the area.

Jake pushes Danny into the pool as he begins to speak to you. If this is how the party starts, then tonight will definitely be harder than you expected. Danny laughs in response as Jake jumps in next to him, the rest of the boys eventually joining in. You get in next to Josh, hoping to avoid the quick glances from Jake. Casual conversation erupts with Josh and Sam as you try your best to join in. You look at Jake across the pool, who is staring right back at you. After making eye contact, he forces himself to look away.

Danny gets out of the pool and grabs everyone a beer, offering one to you as well. You happily accept and Jake takes notice, making his way over to you.

"Don't drink too much tonight," he whispers in your ear and swims away towards Danny.

"What?" You ask, seemingly too late as he never gives a response. Why can't I drink too much, you think to yourself. Surely you didn't hear him right. Why would Jake Kiszka tell you that? Why is he even making conversation to being with? Your head spins with confusion as the night moves along.

Time passes and many beers are cracked open by the boys, with the exception of Jake. No one seems to be sober enough to pay attention to you, so you float towards the edge of the pool, admiring the moon. As if his weird comment didn't blow you away enough, Jake surprisingly tackles you from behind, dunking you in the water.

"You asshole!" You playfully hit him on the chest. Avoiding him is definitely a hard challenge for the night.

"Oh, calm down you're already wet anyway." He responds.

"Why are you acting like this?" You ask.

"Like what?"

"Jake stop playing dumb." You demand.

"I don't know what you're talking about, maybe you should explain it to me."

You sigh, knowing he will forever get his way. "Why am I not supposed to be drinking a lot?"

"Hm, I'm not sure what you're talking about." He smirks.

"Jake I swear if you don't stop-"

"What are you going to do about it?" He interrupts. Heat rises in your face. You are at a loss for words.

"I..." You begin to say before interrupted once more.

"You what, pretty girl?" He smirks again as he gets closer to you. Your jaw drops at the statement. You look around to make sure no one can see. To little surprise, Josh and Sam are hitting each other with pool noodles as Danny shotguns another beer. Jake scoots closer to you and the pit in your stomach burns with fire.

"See why I wanted to be the only ones sober?" He whispers into your ear, his warm breath brushing the side of your face. You nod and reach up to grab his wet hair before he quickly pulls away, confronted by drunken Sam.

"I'm staying the night, no way I can drive us home," he tells Jake.

"That's cool with me," he says in response. Sam completely ignores your presence, which you take as a good thing in this case.

Everyone slowly gets out of the pool into the chilly night breeze. Jake walks towards you with a towel, wrapping it around your shoulders.

"What a gentleman," you tease.

"Yeah whatever," he laughs. His hand raises to cup your cheek, his thumb running across your bottom lip.

"Just kiss me already," you say quietly enough for only him to hear.

"Not right now, they will see." He sadly removes his hand as he notices Danny walking closer.

"There's some guest rooms if you guys are staying," he slurs. jake thanks him and Danny walks away, unbothered by the fact that one of his best friends was just inches away from you.

Everyone walks inside, leaving you and Jake the last people inside. He grabs your hand and runs off to a spare bedroom.

"Jake, we can't, what if Danny finds out."

"No one is finding out." He assures you. "Everyone is drunk off their asses and probably passed out in bed already."

"But what if someone hears?" You ask worriedly.

"Guess we better be quiet then." He smiles, pushing you against the locked door. Staring into his eyes, you make the decision to give in and kiss him. Your lips collide, fulfilling the need you've had for months now. He pulls your jaw down slightly, your tongues messily dancing together.

"Fuck..." You say as you catch your breath. Jake immediately goes back in, holding either side of your face as he bites your bottom lip.

"I need you." You whisper into his mouth.

"What do you need my love?" He asks. My love.

"Just you Jake. Everything. I need you." Forming sentences becomes harder and harder while he runs his hands down to your hips. He plays with the string of your bikini bottoms.

"I'm all yours," he flirts. You drag him by the hand to the bed. He pushes you onto it shortly before climbing on top of you. He watches you as you run your hands up his chest, grabbing onto his necklace. You pull him in by the chain, kissing him hard. His hand glides down to your tits, running his thumb in circles across your nipple. You let out a slight moan, which he covers with his hand.

"Thought we were being quiet?" He grins, his smirk fuller than ever.

"Impossible when you touch me like that."

"You don't know how long I've waited, pretty girl."

"Show me," you say in all seriousness. He pecks your lips before leaving a trail of kisses from your neck down to the fabric over your chest. He sucks a small hickey onto your tit, leaving a red mark which you know will eventually darken. His fingers wrap around the string as he asks for permission to take your top off. You nod eagerly, ready for him to do whatever he wants to you. He gently pulls on the string and watches as the top easily slides off, revealing your chest. He admires you for a moment and begins to suck on you. This turns you on even more as you feel yourself grow wet for him.

"Jake please..." your sentence trails off as he begins to suck more bruises onto you.

"C'mon love, use your words." He says as he looks up at you, not once moving the position of his head.

"Fuck me already" you beg.

"You're so needy," he teases, but you know he's right. All you want is him. His lips, his fingers, his dick. You want to be his, whatever that may be. You long for his touch, which he begins to fulfill as he kisses down to your bottoms. He lingers his kiss over the fabric covering your clit. Your breath hitches in shock. He roughly grabs your thighs, leaving red marks with his calloused fingers.

"This what you want?" He asks as he slightly pulls down the fabric.

"Oh my god yes please," you moan. He shakes his head.

"Aw, that sucks," he places the bikini back over you. "Guess you have to beg me for it."

"Jake please," you cry out. You squeeze your legs in an attempt to relives some of the tension in your center.

"Look at you being such a good girl for me, doing what I ask." He leans up, whispering into your ear. He kisses your neck once more.

"Jake I need you, please."

"Why should I?" He pushes his body against you, his erection touching your crossed legs. "I think you're pretty fucking hot like this."

"Baby please," you say, running your hand down to your clit.

He grabs your hand to pull it away. "Hey now, that's my job." He finally begins to rub circles onto you, however over the bikini fabric. It's better than nothing, you decide.

"So wet for me," he smiles. "So wet and needy. Little slut." His fingers begin to move faster. You start to grind your hips against them. He pulls away, and you expect another snarky comment. To your surprise, he starts to pull the bikini off of you. He moves his face down, licking the area around your clit. He avoids the sensitive spot itself, seemingly trying to send you over the edge.

"Shit I'm going to cum," you gasp.

"Not until I say so." He commands. He pulls away to kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue. With your eyes closed and focused on his lips, he shockingly slides a finger into you. You jerk at the sudden feeling and loudly into the kiss.

"Shh, we're supposed to be quiet," he reminds you. You nod your head, eyes still slightly closed from your overstimulation. You kiss him once more before he pulls away and moves back to the position from before. He slides his tongue over your slit before sliding his finger back in, this time adding a second one. With the combination of his fingers and sucking, your orgasm begins to rise once more.

"Jake I'm so close," you sigh.

"Show, don't tell," he says into your pussy, the words vibrating into you. The knot in your stomach unties as you release onto his fingers. He drags them up to your mouth, making you suck them clean.

"My turn," you announce as you flip him onto his back, your legs straddling his waist. You pull his swimming trunks down slowly, grabbing his dick with your hands.

"I don't have a condom," he says in between kisses.

"Birth control," you say simply before kissing him harder. You wrap your mouth around his length, your hands covering what you are unable to fit in. He grabs your hair and pushes you in. You hear a slight moan come from his lips, getting you wet once again.

"Maybe I should tease you like you did me," you joke. Knowing you're not cocky enough to do it, you move up and sit on his dick. "But I'm not a bitch enough to do it." A shared smile shimmers across both of your faces.

"You're so fucking sexy, why have we never thought of doing this before?" He asks.

"Trust me, I have." You gently laugh.

"Why haven't you ever made a move then?"

"Maybe because I didn't like the idea of fucking my brother's friends?" You say sarcastically.

"Clearly you do, y'know, considering you've been begging me to."

"Maybe you should fucking do it then," you joke. He flips you onto your back and wraps his hand around your neck.

"Maybe I will." He slides his dick into you suddenly, taking your breath. He begins to pulse into you slowly, giving you memories of watching him do the same to his guitar during practices. You place your hand on his chest, feeling his fast heartbeat. He grabs your tits, pulsing into you faster and faster.

"Fuck I'm so close," he moans.

"What happened to show don't tell?" You manage to get out. He pulls out, releasing onto your chest. You both take a minute to catch your breath before he whispers, "be right back." He walks into the bathroom in the room, walking out with a wet cloth to wipe you with. You pull him in for a kiss, this time less desperate and more loving.

"So, this never gets brought up to anyone right?" you ask, breaking the kiss.

"Oh definitely," he laughs. "I don't want to even imagine what Danny would say."

"You have clothes?" He asks.

"Yeah, in a bag in the kitchen." You respond. He wraps the pool towel around his waist and leaves the room to get your clothes. The silence in the room makes you realize what you reached tonight. The man who you tried your best to avoid is now the man you wish would come back to just share his presence with you. You long for him more than ever, hoping for another foreseeable night like this one.

He returns with your clothes, having put on dry sweatpants and a tshirt for himself. He turns away respectfully as you get dressed, then turns the light off and jumps into bed with you. He holds you tightly, fingers and body intertwined as you lay on his warm chest.

"I had so much fun tonight," he says.

"Me too," you happily agree. You listen to his slow breaths, gently closing your eyes as the night comes to an end.

#greta van smut #jake kiska fic #jake kiskza x reader #jake gvf #jake kiszka #fanfic #greta van fic

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