#Entry Hall Table

[samdecors]

[thevisualvamp]

Work that skirt

[moniquemartinez]

Traditional Entry in Wichita Example of a small, traditional entryway with a dark wood floor, yellow walls, and a white front door.

[danielaprice]

Hall in Toronto Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary dark wood floor and brown floor entryway remodel with beige walls and a light wood front door

[wearetatal]

Farmhouse Entry - Foyer

Example of a large cottage dark wood floor and brown floor entryway design with gray walls and a dark wood front door

[bhujerbaa]

Hall Mudroom in New York Inspiration for a large, modern entryway remodel with a medium-tone wood floor, beige walls, and a dark wood front door.

[shamardj]

Mudroom Front Door Philadelphia Inspiration for a small modern medium tone wood floor and brown floor entryway remodel with beige walls

[cubern]

Transitional Entry - Mudroom Inspiration for a small front door renovation using transitional ceramic tile and colored walls.

[untamedsenseofcontrol]

Hall - Eclectic Entry Entry hall - mid-sized eclectic dark wood floor and brown floor entry hall idea with orange walls

[reiderwriter]

✍️ Dear Diary ✍️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Requested: Hi thereee! I was thinking about a request since I saw they’re open again… I was thinking maybe Con-non con breeding/cream pie?🤭 maybe somnophilia too. S get home en R is sleeping and he just take what he wants but it’s obviously something mutual.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Dubcon/ CNC, somnophilia, breeding, pet play (kitten/owner), daddy kink, unprotected sex, almost one bed trope, oral (m recieving), Perv!Spencer, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader and just incredibly horny Reader and Spencer.

Summary: Spencer comes across your dream journal and finds out that you're not plagued with nightmares but with wet dreams. And they're all about him.

A/N: Thank you to @reidmotif, who basically told me the entire concept of this fic was forcing Spencer to read smut headcannons about himself and watching the reactions. I think this is the quickest I've ever written something from start to finish 💀

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Spencer didn't know what possessed him to read through your diary, but he couldn't stop when he started. At a single glance, he could tell it wasn't the book that he was looking for, the one you'd sent him to find in your bedroom, the one you'd recommended he read. 

That one was beside it on the side table, but there was something about the black moleskin, laid perfectly flat on the desk, that had his fingers itching as he moved it forward. 

You were otherwise occupied with setting out the plates of takeaway you'd ordered for the six people currently sat in your living room, so knowing his company wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, he sat himself down and began reading. 

Within ten pages, he completely regretted it. 

He'd sussed out by the title page that this wasn't just a normal journal but a dream journal. It was heavily recommended in a lot of the mandated therapy sessions you guys did. Hell, even Hotch had suggested it to him a few times, so he shouldn't be surprised you kept one. 

He was just surprised at the content of your dreams.

He knew his own were dark and painful, and he was curious, thinking that knowing your dreams could help him assist you better through whatever was plaguing you recently. 

In ten pages, he'd managed to suss out that it was him that was plaguing you. 

“May 8th - Woke up hot again. Dreamt of Spencer waking me up with his tongue. Need to get this out of my system.” 

“May 10th - On my back tied to the bed. Spencer again. I'm going to hell.” 

“May 22nd - Kitten ears. And Spencer's cum splashing on my face as a wake up call. I'm a freak!” 

Each entry was similar, and he read on page after page, until he felt his cock stiffening and he had to put the book down and remind himself that there was company just a few doors away. Company that included his friends and a woman who'd been dreaming of fucking him every night for… three months now. 

He took a deep breath. He took a lot of deep breaths, forcing himself to think of the most unappealing things ever as he calmed himself down. 

A voice down the hall called his name, and he dropped the journal like a scalding pot and picked up the other book, opening it to a random page and trying to look convincingly entranced. 

“Spencer, what-?” You asked, seeing him sat on your bed reading the book. He thanked the heavens that the book was a hardback and just big enough to hide the remaining stiffness in his pants while he tried to will it to deflate. 

“Oh, good book, right? I should've known you'd start reading it straight away. Just take it home, Spencer.”

“No, no, it's okay, I don't need-” 

“No, it's fine. You can give it back at the Stanford Review Psychology Seminar next weekend. We're rooming still, right?” 

He took in what felt like a gulp of air, forcing the oxygen down into his lungs as his tongue laid as useless in his mouth as his cock felt in his pants.

“Right.” He managed to get out as you told him to haul his ass back to the living area. 

He took up your journal again, though, and for the next few minutes, committed your diary to memory and left the room. 

“Spencer, come on, kid, what book is as interesting as Wrestlemania?” Morgan said, clapping him on the back as he ripped through a slice of pizza. 

One where the author said she'd woken up mid-orgasm just imagining he'd tied her down. And him specifically.

“Leave the kid alone, you know he's prone to his little fantasies,” Rossi chimed in as well, passing Spencer a beer quickly and cracking one open for himself.

Not the most prone person in the room to fantasies, of course, but possibly the second most prone. 

“Shut up and watch the game, you're making him squirm,” you said from your perch behind his seat on the couch, giving him a quick pat on the shoulders, your fingers lingering just too long. 

And with the word squirm went his whole concentration as he started imagining your small mews and purrs of pleasure, your sleepy face dazed as his fingers roughly curled into your cunt. You'd squirm for him, and you'd do a whole lot more than that. 

The rest of the night tortured him the same way, though thankfully he'd managed to find a pillow to cover up his small - though growing ever harder - issue. At last, he was the last one left in your apartment, the others letting themselves out after you'd crashed on your own sofa just inches from him. 

To be fair, they'd pulled off the herculean task of cleaning up after themselves without waking you, despite your notoriety for sleeping light. 

He'd waved off the others and said he'd get you back into bed, protests quickly falling on deaf ears. Yes, Morgan may have been the better choice to carry your dead-tired weight, but he was also five beers in and just as likely to slam you into the bed a la whatever wrestlers Spencer had been ignoring on the screen all night. 

He'd gotten himself mostly under control anyway, so he'd been able to rush them out of the door, drunk or senile, and managed to turn himself back to you. 

You were curled up in a little ball, like a cat who'd found the perfect cardboard box to sit in. You filled the space and looked comfortable, but he knew you'd be sore in the morning. Either that, or your words had driven him to the brink of insanity and he just wanted his hands on you for once.

He didn't bother trying to fully lift you, knowing you'd definitely freak out and wake up if he tried. 

Instead, he started talking to you in your sleep. 

“Y/N… let's go to bed,” he whispered, pulling your arms limply around his neck as he tugged you upwards with two hands firmly on your hips until you were standing. 

You let out a small whimper of protest, head falling forward to nuzzle into his chest as he started slowly walking you back to your bed. It was a technique he'd used on you more than once, getting you to comply when half asleep on multiple occasions to assist you when drunk or exhausted or both. 

With the revelations of your diary, he thought about talking you into even more in your sleepy state but resisted. 

“Spencer…” you mumbled, gripping him loosely and pressing kisses against his shirt and chest, lazily. 

He had to remind himself you were still asleep, even if you were moving and talking. Asleep, even if you had wanted him to wake you up with a cock in your cunt. Asleep, and not his girlfriend, or lover, or anything more than coworker, as his cock hardened and the backs of your knees finally hit the side of your bed. 

You half collapsed onto it, and we're half lowered gently by Spencer, though in all his uncoordination, he couldn't stop himself from falling directly on top of you. 

“Yes, Spencer…” you sighed, hands brushing up and down his chest above you as he froze solid. 

He was screwed. He'd read every word of that diary. He could imagine exactly what it was you were dreaming of at that moment, and he needed to extricate himself before he did something he'd hate himself for. 

His hand snaked up your waist, just brushing your nipple as he finally dropped it to the bed and pushed himself up. He couldn't touch you anymore without consequences, and while those consequences sounded truly…delightful, he resisted. 

Tucking you into bed, drowning out the sounds of your faint purrs and moans, he rubbed his cock through his pants to ease some of the ache. He denied himself more, grabbing your recommended book from the side table, leaving the infernal journal and closing the door on quite possibly one of the most arousing experiences of his life. 

He was screwed. 

A week passed and left him in his state of screwedness. You may have dreamed of him taking you like that, almost against your will, but he dreamed of you begging him to do so. 

He awoke stiff every day and refused to touch himself, to acknowledge the disgusting pleasure he was getting from his imagination. 

A week full of cold showers and blue balls, and what did it end with except being back in close quarters with your horny ass. 

Screwed supreme. 

You noticed he was acting off very quickly, and you'd commented on it the morning of conference day one, knocking him back slightly with each step towards him you took. 

“Spencer, are you sick?” You said, stepping closer, raising a hand as if to test his temperature. 

“No, no, I just... germaphobic, remember?" he smiled, gently brushing your hand away. He also took another step away from you to stop him from balling his hands into your sides and pushing you down to the floor to have his way with you. 

“That hasn't bothered you before. You literally said last week that we're in the same places so often that we've been exposed to the same bacteria and have likely formed an immuno-connection or whatever-”

“There's just-” he said, now taking another step further away from you, hands up in a surrendering pose to halt your approach. “A lot of people at this conference. It's making me a bit uncomfortable.” 

You seemed to understand that, backing off. And thankfully, just in time, because a second later and his hands would've been tangled in your hair, forcing you to your knees so he could show you just how compromised he could get you. 

You'd dreamt about something similar on March 25th. And April 3rd. 

It wasn't just his own lust for you fogging his mind - he'd dealt with that before, his hand a friendly nighttime companion - but compounded with your own, it was unbearable. 

He looked at you and all he saw was “March 2nd - Begged Spencer to cum inside me, and fill his little kitten as much as he could. Could I convince him to fo that for real?” 

For fucking real.

He felt infinitely more respect for your skills at your job now, knowing that he couldn't go a week without genuinely flinching away from your touch feeling this goddamn pent up, and you'd lasted three months and counting without so much as batting an eye. 

After wandering through the conference all day, listening to the keynote speakers and giving a speech of his own, he'd grown exhausted. He was tired of avoiding you, but it had to be done. The thing he feared the most was breaking and becoming one of the monsters he'd dedicated his life to catching. The thing he feared most was you. 

You'd hugged him when he completed his speech, lingering still after pulling away, so he was still aware of every inch and curve of you. 

“I'm so proud of you,” you said with a smile, straightening his tie. You wouldn't be proud of him if you knew what he wanted to do with that tie. He imagined, even in a crowd of people, pulling you back by your hair - March 31st - and gagging you with the scrap of material - April 17th.

After almost doing just that, he quickly excused himself, and 12 miscalls and 27 text messages later, you'd finally given him what he wanted - “I'm going to sleep now. We need to talk in the morning.” 

He finally crept back to the room you were sharing from a restaurant below. He'd thought about numbing his senses with alcohol but decided against it, not willing to take the risk that he'd numb his inhibitions at the same time. 

It wouldn't be the first time alcohol had made him get handsy with you, scowling as he remembered his hands trailing all over you during karaoke at the Delfino, his hands gripping tighter as the night stretched out longer. You'd both been trying to sing Billy Joel, and then he'd been trying to keep hold of you no matter how much you'd giggled and fidgeted. 

Looking back now, he was sure it was only the presence of every single one of your coworkers and half the FBI that stopped him from covering you in kisses, from pushing his hand up your shirt and playing with you. 

Alone in your hotel room, there was nowhere else. 

Sure enough, though, there was another bed, which he happily threw himself on when he entered, knowing he'd claimed the one closest to the door. 

He sat for a minute, then two, then three, and just knowing you were close had his brain begging to repeat everything it had learnt in your diary. 

“March 1st - I think I had a sex dream about Spencer. I think I really enjoyed it. I think I should avoid him today” 

“March 18th - Used my vibratory before bed and still woke up needy. What would Spencer's cock feel like buried inside of me?”

“April 14th - He took me over a desk in the bullpen while continuing his conversation with Hotch. I almost cried, waking up and finding out it wasn't real.” 

“June 4th - Spencer is coming over tonight, and I spent the whole day masturbating to memories of my own dreams about him…. I'm definitely going to hell.” 

It was as he repeated each of these entries in his head like a mantra that the bed shifted and he felt something next to him. 

Whatever bed he'd thrown himself into, you had decided to occupy as well. He felt your ass first, wiggling up against his crotch as you snuggled into whatever warmth he was offering beside you. 

The content sigh that left your lips was the final straw as Spencer's nerves frayed and his already throbbing cock begged for relief. 

His hands held your hips still as he unthinkingly began to rut into you, rubbing his cock against your ass in any way that would find release. 

He tried to stop himself, but you were mid-dream now, and you were making those noises again. 

Tiny little pants, mewls of pleasure, his name. Jesus Christ, his name. 

He pushed down his boxers as you threw your head back, landing at the crook of his neck, your breath fanning over his skin as you turned over. 

Instead of rutting against your ass, he could now hitch your legs across his thighs and at least get close enough to where he wanted to be, buried in your wet, aching pussy. 

He didn't let himself. Biting his lip, he moved his hands from your hips to his cock, and began a slow, painful attempt at jacking off. 

It should've been easy with you in front of him. He should've already exploded on his hand, especially after more than a week of nothing.

But you were in arms reach and it was as if his entire body was on strike until he sank into you. 

In the end, it was your movements that led him to crack, just like it had been your words in the first place that had moved him to such desperation. 

Shifting uncomfortably again in your sleep, you'd managed to push your leg over his lap and roll on top of him, all while unconscious. 

And then you started moving. Like really fucking moving, like dry humping. Spencer's brain disappeared as he tugged at your clothing to figure out how to remove as much as needed removing. 

Luckily, all he had to do was shift your panties to the side and make sure he didn't get tangled in the rest of your night dress, and, thoughtlessly, he was plunging into your depths. 

He thought it would be that first thrust that would wake him, and though he had his suspicions, he was right. You didn't move. If anything you were quieter now with his cock filling you than you had been dry humping it not a minute earlier. 

You were awake, he knew. You were awake, and you were pretending to sleep. His cock throbbed inside you at the thought and he knew he needed more. 

“March 19th, I dreamed that Spencer woke me up with some cream for his kitten. I called him Daddy. God, I wish it were real,” he whispered in your ear as you continued your facade, quoting your diary back at you as he flipped you over. 

He was gentle still, allowing you to maintain the illusion of sleep even as your heart beat out of your chest and a moan threatened to burst out of your mouth. 

Softly, his hips retreated from over yours, his thick cock withdrawing from your heat before slamming back in. 

“April 12th - Daddy let his good little kitten drink up her spilt milk from the floor. I licked his cum up with my tongue as he fucked me from behind. I'm perverse.” 

Your breathing was way harder to control now, as his hips swayed into yours repeatedly, his real cock stretching further than you'd ever imagined his dream one reaching. You'd never been a good visualiser. 

“Wake up, Y/N,” he said, kissing your neck and replacing his lips with a firm hand at your windpipe. 

“Wake up and talk to me. We're supposed to be talking about earlier, right? You're supposed to be mad at me, but instead, you're close to cumming on my big fat cock.”

You screwed your eyes up tighter as he lifted his head and let his tongue silence the first moan that you let.slip through. He'd won. 

His to guess clashed with yours as you tried to control his pace from under him, tugging your hips up, begging for more of his dick to enter you. 

Sure, you were awake, but to you, this was just another dream, and he wasn't going to let you escape him this time. 

“That's it, that's.my little girl, milk my cock,” he murmured, even as he grabbed your hips again and started setting the pace once again. It was his fingers stabbing into the gate of your hips and stomach that had you finally fully waking up and realizing that this was real, that Spencer had fucked you awake. 

“S-Spencer,” you moaned, chest jumping with each jack hammer, his head buried between them, picking and sucking like some ravenous beast devouring prey. 

“Daddy,” he corrected, sucking one nipple that had popped out of the top of your night dress into his mouth and biting down. 

You arched into the touch, and he didn't let you move away, hands instantly gripping you tighter as you squirmed and fought in his grip. He held tighter still as his dick entered you, again and again. 

Like you were falling asleep again, your brain cleared until there was only him, hic cock, his tongue on your chest, his hands on your ass keeping you in place.

“May 16th - Last night, Spencer was my owner, and he raped me in the middle of the night. He pushed his fat cock into me and I howled in pleasure, stating exactly where he put me until he released his load into me.”

The words were your own, but you couldn't feel any shame heading them, knowing the reenactment felt just as good as you'd hoped it would subconsciously. 

“Y/N, focus on me. Focus on milking my cock like s good little kitten, come on Y/N,” he said, thrusting into you with no qualms now. 

He'd given in, and he'd given in quickly, but if this was the reward, then he was never holding back again. 

“Spencer-” you shuddered out as your orgasm broke through you, his panting writhing form finally pushing you back down into the bed as he continued tutting into you until he, too, could no longer hold back. 

With a painful groan, he came and pulled out of you in an instant, letting his cum leak out of you as he watched. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled you up, tugging at your hair until you were both on your knees, then pushing you down until your face was level with his softening cock. 

“Clean up your spilt milk, kitten,” he panted, and you complied happily, licking up every drop that had splashed against his cock and stomach and thighs. 

His moans were musical, whimpers and pouts and sinful curses as he held up your hair and tried not to fuck your mouth, enjoying the sensations of your exploring g tongue too much for that. 

When he'd thought you'd done enough, he tugged you up again, wrapping his hands around your body firmly and pulling you in for one more kiss. 

“Next time,” he said, pulling away and panting to catch his breath. “Next time- you have- a dream- just- tell me.” 

You nodded and tried to chase his lips, but he pulled you back down to the bed before you made it  eliciting a small whimper of frustration. 

“You're sleeping in my bed,” he observed, stroking your head as he held you close. 

“You were avoiding me.” 

“I was avoiding you because I've been walking around with a boner for a week, and I didn't want to jump you in a conference room filled with 300 people.”

“You read my diary,” you said, pouting. 

“You let me read your diary. It was wide open on the desk, and you sent me into that room alone, knowing my eyes move quicker than my conscience does.” 

You hummed, smiling in reply but didn't answer the accusations. 

“I wonder what my wake up call in the morning will be like,” you smiled, shutting your eyes and letting yourself fall asleep, his chest pillowing your head and his arms closed tight around your waist. 

[jaero]

Exterior - Traditional Exterior Large traditional red three-story brick house exterior idea with a hip roof and a shingle roof

[thevisualvamp]

May I take your hat

[ripriprippers]

Traditional Entry (San Francisco)

[justcruisey]

Like the setting but getting a little sick of the all white look.

[pin-k-ink]

lazy day // suna rintarou

tw ⇢ friends to lovers, making out, biting, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex, begging, multiple orgasms

wc ⇢ 5.7k

The buzzer sounded just after noon, and you grinned as you hit the button to allow Suna entry into your apartment complex's lobby. It was just like any other lazy weekend day when your old friend would swing by to hang out, watch bad movies, and inevitably find some way to engage in your long-running campaigns of relentless shit-talking between fits of laughter.

You had known Suna Rintarou for years now, long enough for any initial awkwardness or uncertainty in his company to have faded away into the well-worn comfort of real friendship. He was one of the few people with whom you could spend hours upon hours just existing in each other's space without it ever feeling stilted or forced.

By the time his trademark dual-toned drawl of "oi, I'm coming in" echoed down the hall toward your door, you were already kicking off your slippers and assuming the usual sprawl across the sofa - ready for an afternoon of pure, familiar vibes. The telltale rap of knuckles against your entry had you calling out for him to enter without bothering to get up and answer it yourself.

When Suna appeared around the corner, he was already looking perfectly at home in your space as usual - stylishly rumpled t-shirt untucked to hang loose over slim athletic shorts that separated to reveal a teasing glimpse of toned thighs and calves with each lazy stride. His hair was artfully mussed as if he'd rolled straight out of bed and onto your doorstep, radiating the type of effortless charisma and striking features that might have made you self-conscious in the presence of someone you knew less intimately.

As it was, you simply quirked an eyebrow at him and reached for the game controller resting on the coffee table. "Looking hopelessly hungover as always, Rintarou," you quipped without missing a beat. "You'd think making the national team would mean they teach you better hydration habits."

"Not all of us slob around in stained sweats every time we have a lazy day," Suna fired back smoothly, dropping down onto the opposite end of the sofa from you with careless grace. His dark, hooded gaze somehow conveyed pointed judgment even as one corner of those perpetually smirking lips quirked higher. "Some of us like to maintain at least a bare minimum of personal standards."

You scoffed loudly, purposefully stretching your legs out to drape obnoxiously across his lap - wiggling your barefeet in his face with a wicked grin. The tip of Suna's nose crinkled with distaste as he tried and failed to shove your ankles away, making no secret of his displeasure.

"Personal standards, my ass," you crowed, taking petty delight in his discomfort. "You're just prioritizing sleazy looks over comfort in a desperate plea for attention, as usual."

When Suna's large hands succeeded in shoving your legs off his lap, it was your turn to grouse in annoyance at having your prime lounging real estate revoked. But you maintained the teasing smirk as you sat up properly and bumped his shoulder with your own.

"Besides, you really think a slob like me even registers on anyone's attractiveness radar? Unlike some posers I could mention."

There was a weighted pause then as your playful ribbing lapsed into something thicker, more weighted. Suna slowly turned to face you more fully, analytical gaze flickering over your features with unmistakable intent. You resisted the urge to squirm under the sudden scrutiny.

"You might be surprised," he said at last, quiet words slicing through the tension with their ambiguous double meaning.

Your breath hitched minutely as you registered the undercurrent of suggestion baked into that simple statement, gaze momentarily dropping to trace the obscene curves of Suna's mouth before flicking hurriedly back to his lidded, piercing stare.

Did he just...? Or was that simply Suna being his usual quietly provocative self, skating the line between casual commentary and subtle flirtation in that masterful way of his? You swallowed hard against the strange spiral of heat that single heavy look had sent unfurling low in your abdomen.

Before you could think better of it, you leaned in closer until the space separating you from Suna's striking features had narrowed into something unmistakably charged. "Is that so?" You heard yourself murmur, holding his gaze boldly despite the sudden thundering of your pulse. "Do tell..."

For a protracted moment, the atmosphere thickened further, both of you suspended in fraught consideration of the intimate boundary you were toying with blurring. Suna's lips parted slightly on an indrawn breath, dark eyes dipping briefly down to your own parted mouth before reconnecting in smoldering lock.

Then the spell was abruptly broken by two things:

First, Suna reaching over to snake the gaming controller from your lax grip, nimble fingers ghosting against yours in a feather-light brush of contact that sent tingles rushing straight down your spine. The second was the low, sandpaper-rough rasp of his tone undercutting the heavy tension with a teasing edge.

"You wish you knew," he murmured, lips curving into one of those signature smirks that could make your insides clench with how arresting it looked painted across those striking features. "I'd shatter that simple mind of yours into a million pieces."

He accompanied the provocative statement with a slow, pointed once-over of your dumbstruck form that had heat prickling across your skin anew.

"Now quit hogging the controls, or I'll wipe the floor with your score like always."

Just like that, the heavy atmosphere seemed to evaporate - replaced by the comfortable cadences of well-worn camaraderie and low-stakes competition. Except this time there was an undercurrent of heightened awareness that refused to dissipate completely no matter how much you tried to will it away.

You found yourself hyper-focused on little things like the brush of Suna's bare arm against your own each time he shifted position, or the deep timbre of his voice sending subtle vibrations across your hypersensitive nerve endings whenever your bodies drifted too close on the couch. Even something as innocuous as the shifting of muscles in his shoulders and biceps as he maneuvered the game controller was enough to set your pulse fluttering with a strange, avid sort of attention.

Suna, damn him, seemed to barely register the newfound tension singing through your form as he remained focused on trying to narrate over the gameplay with that usual brand of cutting snark and obscenely bitten-off curses. His posture was deceptively relaxed as he slouched back into the cushions in that effortlessly sensual way of his, clearly still operating under the assumption that this was just another routine hang session.

But for you...nothing felt quite so pedestrian any longer. Not after you'd both tiptoed up to the precipice of that scorching new intimacy and gotten a tantalizing glimpse of the unfamiliar vistas lying in wait on the other side. You were profoundly, viscerally aware of Suna's nearness in a way that neutered all compulsions to keep viewing him in that safe, established light of long-time platonic companionship.

Instead, you kept finding yourself helplessly drinking in details and dynamics you'd allowed yourself to overlook or take for granted until now. The long, sinewy lines of his neck tapering into sharp, defined collarbones that disappeared tantalizingly beneath the scooped collar of his shirt. The hypnotic flex and release of biceps tensing beneath bronzed skin during particularly intense bouts of trash-talking over the game.

Oftentimes your straying gaze would stray further, taking the opportunity to indulge in dragging your heavy-lidded stare across the lean, powerful expanse of Suna's exposed abdomen - admiring the cuts of muscle etched there beneath a thin sheen of perspiration and imagining how those ridges would feel branding against your palms, your inner thighs...

Inevitably, you would tear your hooded eyes away with shuddering inhalation, a pulse of molten heat lancing straight to your core and leaving a dull, liquid ache throbbing between your legs. This was your oldest friend you were ogling like a piece of meat here - someone whose physical form you should have long since adjusted to seeing in every context without a scintilla of indecent thoughts intruding.

Yet damned if the newfound promise of intimacy sparked between you earlier hadn't set your subconscious reproductive drive into painfully heightened sensitivity - tuned to appreciate the eroticism and aesthetic of Suna's gloriously honed body down to its most minute, tantalizing details. Of course, he seemed utterly oblivious to the roiling conflict of compulsions making itself known in your ungoverned lapses from nonchalant coolness into burning longing.

That is...right up until one of those heated lapses in your focus resulted in you reflexively licking your lips while drinking in the sensual view of Suna's arms - lean but corded with flexing sinew - as he delivered a particularly searing verbal takedown of your lamentable gaming session.

To your bright shock and dismay, those richly hooded eyes you found so aesthetically arresting captured the motion instantly. You watched with frozen tension as Suna's trash-talking trailed off mid-sentence, lips parting with the unmistakable glimmer of realization flickering through his turbulent stare as it tracked your own molten regard.

Pinned speechless under the escalating weight of that unmasked look, you could do nothing as the heavy seconds stretched out and your respective roles - that of long-time best friends just hanging and fucking around, grew increasingly tenuous. There was no mistaking the shift of energy between you as Suna reached up to run a hand through his tousled hair, casually showcasing the flex and drag of his long, strong fingers through dark strands in a strangely intimate pantomime.

"Having trouble concentrating?" he husked out at last, sotto voce inflection bearing enough blatant suggestion to stoke the rapidly kindling blaze of lust now roaring in your lower belly to an outright conflagration. You watched, dry-mouthed and transfixed, as his tongue darted out to trace the plush curves of his lower lip - mirroring your own subconscious gesture of yearning just moments earlier.

When you managed a fractional shake of your head, voice failing you utterly, you saw clear flashes of intent and scorching arousal blaze to vivid life in the glittering depths of Suna's heavy-lidded gaze. The game controller tumbled abandoned to the floor as he prowled forward until his long, muscular frame was hovering bare inches from your own tingling, heated skin. You could feel the erratic puffs of his breath fanning across your slackened features as he drank in the sight of you utterly enthralled.

"Then let me help you focus..." Suna rasped against your searing skin, mouth a hair's breadth from yours. Any further protests, any attempts at maintaining propriety or equilibrium, fled before the promise of rapture blazing in that final, weighted moment between you.

His lips ghosted your own in a barely-there touch, igniting every hyper-sensitive stretch of nerve endings until all that existed was the liquid, throbbing maelstrom of your mutual wanting. When you unconsciously lurched forward to seal the contact between you with a desperate whine...

Suna didn't give you a chance to fully close the infinitesimal distance between your parted, yearning lips. With a low, guttural sound of impatient arousal, he surged forward - broad palms cradling your face with surprising gentleness even as his mouth came crashing down over yours in a searing, demanding kiss.

The contact was electric, whiteout pleasure jolting down your hyper-sensitized nerves at the initial slick glide of Suna's tongue licking insistently against the seam of your lips. You parted for him on a breathless keen, finally surrendering fully and allowing him to plunder the molten recesses of your mouth in a dizzying spiral of dominance and desperation.

His kiss was every bit as intense and consuming as you'd allowed your treacherous fantasies to envision during all those stolen heated glances from the corners of your eyes - an unhurried, sensual cyclone of lips, teeth, and questing tongue that rapidly had your fingers fisting into the soft fabric of his shirt simply to keep yourself grounded. When the first rumbling groan of appreciation vibrated from Suna's chest into the trembling hollows of your own, you thought you might shatter apart from the intoxicating onslaught.

It was a struggle to maintain even a modicum of coordinated thought with the blazing distraction of Suna's mouth doing such punishing, profane things to your senses. But you were somewhat aware of one broad palm sliding down from where it had been cradling the nape of your neck to splay hotly across the span of your lower back. Then deeper still until thick fingers found the generous swell of your ass and kneaded the yielding flesh there with insolent possession and need.

That proprietary caress sent a giddy spiral of heat lancing straight to your core. You whimpered in a haze against the velvet glide of Suna's tongue undulating so wickedly against your own and arched instinctively, pressing your chest harder against the hard ridges of his own as you unconsciously sought more unbearable friction.

Suna made a low, hungry sound deep in his throat at the wanton motion and the sensation of your lithe form writhing so feverishly in counterpoint to his dominance. His hand momentarily abandoned its thorough exploration of every lush curve to instead fist convulsively against your throat, barring your arching retreat and binding you in the scalding, breathless cavern of his devouring kiss.

You moaned outright at the borderline-aggressive display of appetite and possession, shuddering as your body responded with another involuntary wave of liquid heat gushing between your clenching thighs. Every raw instinct was howling for you to twine yourself around the hot, unyielding lines of Suna's powerful physique until you were effectively immobilized in his embrace, slave to whatever raptures he deemed to inflict upon your senses.

But before you could even muster the coordination to attempt wrapping your legs around his narrow hips and haul him bodily on top of you, Suna tore his mouth away in a ragged gasp. His eyes blazed with an incandescent storm of lust and something darker, more primal - an infinite well of compulsions barely leashed behind adamant ridges of self-control.

In that searing, suspended moment where you both gulped down one ragged breath after another, Suna's gaze was like a physical caress - scorching a lascivious path across every one of your features rendered feverish and dewy from the intensity of his kisses. His fingers continued kneading insistently against your nape, every teasing scrape of calloused fingertips sending sparking waves of blissful torment arcing down your sensitized nerves.

"Don't even think about stopping now," Suna growled against the swollen crest of your bottom lip before sucking the tender flesh between his teeth in a sharp nip that wrenched an inarticulate sound of desperation from you. "We're just getting started."

True to his word, the next searing collision of your mouths dissolved whatever remaining shreds of propriety or restraint had still persisted between you. Any concept of stopping things before they spiraled into outright debauchery simply evaporated under the unholy lashings of Suna's relentless, all-consuming passion.

He seized you by the hips and simply hauled you forward until your heated bodies were flush together, legs hopelessly tangled as he proceeded to lay an scorching path of biting kisses down your jawline and throat. Your head lolled back in blind rapture, both hands burying convulsively into Suna's thick, sweat-dampened locks as he nibbled and sucked at the vulnerable juncture where your pulse rabbited beneath silken flesh.

Every nerve in your body was strumming with fiery need, skin prickling and hypersensitive as if lying exposed against the blazing desert sands at high noon. Each scrape of Suna's teeth and calloused caresses felt like molten brands in their wake, driving both of you towards a fever pitch of outright delirium that was rapidly proving insurmountable.

All the while, the cavalcade of filthy compliments and growled encouragements continued to pour from Suna's lips between each punishing new worship against your skin - each one more scandalizing than the last in their absolutely shameless appreciation of your rapidly-overheating senses. You could only keen and writhe shamelessly in return, far too intoxicated by the storm of sensations to offer any coherent responses beyond breathless mewls of blissed-out acquiescence.

"So fucking gorgeous like this...hot and desperate and ready for me to take you apart," Suna husked against the swollen peaks of your nipples – which had hardened into insistent buds clearly visible through the thin cotton of your shirt at some point during the proceedings.

He raked his sharpened canines over the taut fabric in deliberate torment, drinking in the way your back arched convulsively at the electric sensation with that same burning stare from beneath hooded lids. When his broad palms shoved the thin barrier of material aside to finally bare your sensitized breasts to his scorching mouth, you cried out in wordless bliss...only to find your raptures muffled against the searing, eager crush of Suna's lips an instant later.

He swallowed down every cry and whimper with a ravenous hunger, his dexterous tongue twining sinuously with your own even as his broad palms continued to knead and toy with the heaving mounds of your chest with wanton greed. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been so utterly lost to the throes of pleasure - your entire being consumed by the scalding slide of lips, tongues, and questing fingers against the heated contours of your quivering body.

When Suna's teeth caught and pinched sharply against one erect nipple, you nearly shattered apart from the overwhelming sensation. Your inner walls clenched reflexively, a fresh flood of molten heat pulsing through your core as your hips rocked helplessly in a desperate search for more stimulation.

Suna swore raggedly at the way you moaned and shivered in his arms, the low, graveled rasp of his voice resonating straight down your spine and making the aching void between your thighs spasm. In one fluid motion, he released his possessive hold on your abused, spit-slick nipples to instead grip the waistband of your sweats.

The thin cotton and cotton panties beneath were summarily dragged down your thighs, leaving you utterly exposed and panting with wanton anticipation. You felt rather than saw Suna's heated gaze sweeping across the naked planes of your body, taking in the full glory of your quivering thighs spread wide and the glistening slick of desire staining the plump folds of your cunt.

When he reached up and traced a long, calloused finger down the glistening seam of your weeping slit, you nearly sobbed at the exquisite feeling of relief - arching wantonly against his questing hand and grinding your sensitive clit against his knuckles in a bid for more friction. Suna's nostrils flared as he watched you writhe wantonly against his palm, dark eyes blazing with unrestrained need as they roved hungrily across every inch of flushed skin laid bare for him to see.

"Fucking look at you...all hot and needy, just begging for it," he rasped, his voice gone husky and thick with lust. You watched, breath hitching as he slowly raised his hand to his face and dragged the wet fingers that had been stroking and teasing your soaked folds across his full, swollen lips.

Then, holding your rapt, stunned stare, he dipped his head forward and slowly licked the slick coating off his digits in one deliberate swipe. Your stomach clenched with arousal at the erotic sight, the sound of his appreciative hum at your taste sending a fresh gush of wetness to slick the sensitive folds between your legs.

"And you taste like a fucking dream..." Suna murmured, the corner of his lips quirking as he registered the fresh rush of moisture that had spilled out at his salacious gesture. He gave you one last slow, deliberate drag of his fingers along your pulsing seam, savoring the way you squirmed and trembled against the delicious friction.

Then his dark, predatory gaze snapped up to lock with your own as his broad hands came up to grip the backs of your knees and shove them wide. You couldn't hold back a shuddering gasp at the sudden motion, your entire body flushing with renewed heat as you realized how shamelessly exposed and vulnerable you were to Suna's piercing regard.

"Gonna eat you out until you can't even remember your name," he vowed, the rough edge of lust saturating his low drawl sending a fresh, giddy rush of desire spiking through your overheated senses. You could only moan in reply, eyes fluttering closed as his palms slid up the inside of your trembling thighs, thumbs teasing the sensitive creases where leg met pelvis before trailing across your swollen folds.

Then his long fingers were spreading you obscenely open for him, and you were suddenly drowning in the most exquisite, mind-melting pleasure as his hot, insistent tongue swept along your soaked slit. Every nerve ending seemed to spark to vivid life under the dizzying onslaught, your whole world shrinking to the scorching, sinful drag of Suna's mouth against the swollen petals of your cunt.

He licked and sucked at your drenched core with wanton greed, lapping up the fresh surge of wetness that had spilled forth from the erotic sight and sound of his own lewd devotions. When his agile tongue finally found its way up to circle around the taut bud of your clit, you keened and bucked wantonly against his mouth, all sense of modesty and dignity erased in the all-consuming firestorm of your shared arousal.

Suna moaned in appreciation at the shameless display, the vibrations reverberating straight down your hypersensitized flesh and sending another pulse of molten heat throbbing through your molten core. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and hauled you closer, locking your writhing body against the unyielding, scalding heat of his own and burying his face ever deeper against your dripping cunt.

There was no room left for coherent thought as Suna proceeded to lap and suck at your swollen, sensitive folds, the wet sounds of his tongue gliding through your slick folds and the wanton, broken moans escaping from your lips combining into a symphony of lust. The rhythmic drag of his talented tongue was relentless, the wicked suction of his mouth almost painful in its perfection.

Each new surge of pleasure had you writhing harder against Suna's merciless ministrations, the tension building at the base of your spine threatening to snap any moment. Just when the pleasure was reaching its zenith, the tip of his tongue suddenly plunged inside your aching entrance, thrusting in deep and hard to lap at the silken inner walls of your weeping core.

The feeling of his velvety tongue probing so deeply into the tight, grasping depths of your cunt was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge, the orgasm exploding through your senses with an intensity that left you seeing stars. Your head fell back against the cushions as you thrashed and cried out, fingers burying themselves once more into the thick tangle of Suna's hair as you rode his tongue through the searing aftershocks.

Only once the last shudders of ecstasy had faded did he release his punishing grip on your thighs, allowing your body to sag against the cushions as you fought to regain equilibrium. When you finally managed to crack open a bleary eye, it was to find him hovering over you, the sharp angles and planes of his features softened into a rare, genuine smile.

You could feel the warm puff of his breath caressing the skin of your cheek as he leaned closer, the subtle scent of his musk and sweat mingling with the more potent aroma of your combined arousal. Then his lips were ghosting feather-light against yours, the soft brush sending little jolts of residual electricity through your already sensitized nerve endings.

"I'll be honest," Suna murmured, the raspy edge to his voice somehow making the simple words sound indecent and erotic. "I never imagined that would happen, but fuck, it was even hotter than I could've hoped for. How about you?"

When you didn't respond immediately, his hooded eyes searched your features and a slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Still speechless? I must have really done a number on you then."

The teasing quip was accompanied by the sudden brush of a calloused palm trailing a scorching path up your thigh, coming to a stop right at the junction where hip met pelvis. You shuddered and tried to summon up the brainpower to fire off a suitably witty retort, only to end up moaning instead when two long, dexterous fingers suddenly slid against your drenched core.

Suna chuckled, clearly pleased by the reaction, and leaned closer to murmur against the shell of your ear. "But I'm not done with you yet," he husked, punctuating the statement by thrusting those questing digits up into your slick channel, causing a fresh wave of molten heat to flood your aching walls.

You gasped at the sudden invasion, inner muscles clenching and fluttering around the thick intrusion as the rest of Suna's weight settled over your trembling form. He hooked his fingers deep, dragging his knuckles along your tender inner walls in a sinfully decadent motion that made your toes curl.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, his voice dropping to a rough growl that sent an answering throb straight down to the apex of your thighs. You felt his teeth catch against the sensitive skin below your ear, biting down gently and eliciting a fresh shiver of arousal. "And you're going to feel even tighter around my cock..."

His fingers twisted and curled again, setting off another cascade of sparks behind your eyelids. A wanton moan spilled from your lips, only to be stifled as Suna's tongue plunged into the cavern of your mouth. He kissed you deep and wet and filthy, letting you taste the heady musk of your own arousal on his lips.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both gasping for air, the air thick with the scent of sex and pheromones. Suna's dark eyes were blown wide with lust, his cock throbbing and heavy against the soft curve of your belly. You could feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest, his skin slick with sweat as he pressed against you, trapping you against the couch cushions.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he rasped, the raw desire in his tone sending another bolt of liquid heat pooling in your core. His fingers were still buried deep, stretching you open with slow, deliberate thrusts that had your back arching and toes curling with each delicious slide.

"God, please..." you moaned, unable to help yourself. It was all too much and not enough, the sensation of being filled and stretched so thoroughly sending shivers of pleasure racing up and down your spine. You could feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, your whole body tightening with anticipation.

Suna's gaze was burning, his lips curled in a smug smirk as he watched your reactions. His fingers worked in and out of you, twisting and curling in a torturous rhythm that had you keening and squirming beneath him.

"Please what?" he purred, voice dripping with smugness and lust. You couldn't believe how utterly wrecked you sounded, your words a garbled mess of pleading and desire.

"Please, Suna, I need you...need to feel you inside me..."

A low, feral sound rumbled in his chest, the vibration resonating throughout his powerful frame and sending a fresh shiver down your spine. His free hand slid up to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing over your parted, swollen lips.

"Good girl," he murmured, the praise sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He withdrew his fingers slowly, savoring the way you shuddered and whimpered at the loss. Then he reached down, gripping his throbbing length and sliding it along your dripping folds.

"Let me hear you scream my name when I fuck you senseless."

And with that, he plunged into you in a single, fluid stroke. Your head fell back against the pillows, a cry of bliss ripping from your throat as his thick cock filled you, stretching you open with his girth. You could feel him throbbing inside you, his heartbeat matching yours as he buried himself to the hilt.

Suna's breathing was ragged, his pupils blown wide with desire as he looked down at you. His hips rolled, grinding his cock against your aching walls, drawing out a strangled moan. He set a slow, deep rhythm, the slide of his shaft dragging along every inch of sensitive tissue in your core.

Your hands came up to clutch at his broad shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscle and sinew there as you struggled to hold on. Suna's eyes were locked on yours, his expression intense as he fucked you with steady, measured thrusts. His teeth caught your bottom lip, the sudden pain sending a jolt of pleasure racing down your spine.

You could feel the pressure building again, your entire body tightening like a coiled spring. The heat in the pit of your stomach was growing more intense, a liquid heat coursing through your veins. Every thrust of Suna's cock was driving you closer and closer to the edge, the delicious friction setting your nerves on fire.

You could feel the pressure mounting, the tension in your lower belly drawing taut until it was almost unbearable. Suna's hips rolled, grinding his cock against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

"Fuck!" you cried, the sound muffled against the hot press of his mouth.

"That's right, sweetheart," he groaned, his pace picking up as he drove into you. "Come for me. Come for me, and I'll fill you up nice and deep."

The filthy promise was enough to tip you over the edge. You shattered around him, pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your muscles clenched around him, your inner walls rippling around his cock.

Suna grunted, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. He fucked you through your orgasm, his hips pistoning furiously as he sought his own. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips parted as he neared the edge.

Suddenly, his entire body stiffened, a shudder running through him as his cock twitched and jerked inside you. Warmth flooded your core as he came, his seed filling you. The feeling of his hot spend inside you, marking you, was enough to trigger a second orgasm, your body writhing beneath him as you rode the wave of pleasure.

Suna's arms wrapped around you, his breathing ragged as he buried his face in your neck. You clung to him, fingers digging into his skin as you both fought to catch your breath. After what felt like an eternity, the haze of ecstasy began to recede, the reality of the situation settling in.

As the euphoric afterglow gradually ebbed away, a wave of disorientation crashed over you - leaving you struggling to reconcile the sudden shift in dynamics between you and your best friend. It didn't help that Suna still had you pinned beneath his lean, muscular frame, his cock softening inside you as his labored breaths continued to fan across your cheek.

Your mind was still reeling from the unexpected turn the evening had taken, and you could feel the telltale prickle of anxiety beginning to creep along the fringes of your consciousness. Before you could fully descend into the familiar spiral of self-doubt and regret, Suna lifted his head, pinning you in place with that same piercing gaze.

"Don't start getting weird on me now," he drawled, the lazy rasp to his voice doing little to mask the thread of steel underlying the warning. You blinked owlishly, trying and failing to gather enough wits about you to formulate a coherent response.

"Wha–"

"I said," he interjected, voice dropping into that low, authoritative purr that somehow managed to send a fresh jolt of desire shooting straight to your core despite the lingering fatigue weighing down your limbs. "Don't start getting weird on me, or I'll fuck that anxious little look right off your face."

When you gaped up at him in slack-jawed disbelief, Suna smirked.

"Just giving you a taste of what's coming if you start to doubt me. And this." His hand swept down the length of your body in a possessive caress, eliciting a sharp hiss of pleasure-pain as the rough calluses on his palm scraped over your abused nipples. "What we've just done here is just the start, and I can guarantee it'll only get more intense from here on out. So keep that in mind before you go and ruin a perfectly good post-orgasmic cuddle with that self-deprecating shit."

"But..." you protested weakly, struggling to find some kind of anchor in the midst of the chaos. "How do you even know I was about to...?"

Suna snorted, the derisive sound managing to convey exactly how stupid he found the question. "You've been my best friend for how long now? You think I don't know your anxious ticks and tells by now?"

He leaned in closer, the dark glimmer in his eyes sending a fresh shiver of apprehension and anticipation down your spine. "But that's all the more reason to trust me when I say it's going to be fine. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this – how long I've wanted you, and this is only the beginning."

The confession stunned you, your eyes widening as a new surge of emotion rose up in your chest. Your heart fluttered, a giddy warmth flooding through your veins and making your toes curl with delight. Suna's expression softened at the sight, the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Before you could formulate a response, his mouth slanted over yours, the slow, sinuous glide of his tongue against yours banishing any remaining doubts and fears in a wash of pure bliss. Your eyelids fluttered closed, your body melting bonelessly against his as you surrendered to the exquisite sensation.

When the kiss finally broke, Suna was wearing that infuriating, smug grin you'd come to associate with the most devastating, game-changing wins. You glared at him half-heartedly, unable to maintain the act for more than a few seconds under the force of his knowing stare.

"I hate you," you muttered, even as you wound your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. Suna chuckled, his fingers carding soothingly through the tangled strands of your hair.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Now, how about we get cleaned up and then we can continue this in your bedroom?"