#he is fuzzy and ROUND | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 2 months ago

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ATTACK ON P*SSY!

Synopsis. He’s a 10 but when you ask him to be rough…he goes rough.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rough s, headlocks, hard and fast, manhandIing, dóggy, GOJO’S POWERS, tummy buIges, spítting, dúmbifícation, MARATHONS, jealous s (Nanami’s side), chokíng, leaving marks, cúmplay, p talking, breéding, cervíx kíssing, true form Sukuna, dp, Ino cries, pússydrunk men, they go FÉRAL, p sIapping, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Lmk if you get the Love and Deepspace reference in Nanami’s heh.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Twisterrr!

“So…my girl wants it rough, huh?” Toji’s scarred lips tickle precisely the most sensitive spots on your neck, making him depart a husky snicker. “Heh- stop talkin’ outta ya pussy, mama.”

Your spit-glittered mouth formulates into a pout, hazy peripherals darting over your shoulder and towards your leering boyfriend. Hot. Each syllable hitched with whines, “I-I’m not. I reeeally want it r-”

“When ya can’t even handle this?”

He’s cutting your babbling off with an utterly mean drive of his hips, thoroughly opening up your clingy walls with the curvaceous tip crowning his shaft. Probing n’ probing until he’s pressing a sweet, sweet smooch lovingly on your g-spot.

Holding it there, unmoving.

Rendering you so stupid with only a single thrust that you feel yourself tremble like a leaf once he’s gritting out a low, “Oh? She got even ngh- wetter.” And before you know it, a lengthy foot is being pressed right along the middle of your spine. Strong, rugged palms pulling and pulling on your upper-arms to bend you into such a lecherous arch-

“Fine. Brace yourself, doll.”

And Toji barely even gives your popped ears the time to hear his rasped-out promise let alone register it- fuck, you should consider yourself lucky that he gave you a warning in the first place.

Because Toji Fushiguro was fucking you like he hated you.

His blushing mushroom head was as red as a strawberry, and just as thick - whacking against the poor bullseye of your tenderest nooks n’ crannies repeatedly until your tastebuds simply drowned in saliva.

Until you were throwing your head back with a thick gasp, “T-Tooooji- like that. J-just like that.”

“Just like hah! that?” He’s crooning from behind, planting a peck near your jaw. You feel so dirty when his foot strikes down to bow you even deeper into the perfect geometrical curvature, “Bend. Bend f’me a little more- yeahhh, just like that. M’only getting started, mama.”

Fuck, what?

Toji finds himself smiling all dopily at the tiny sob that slips through your cracked lips. Your glassy eyes wide, thighs shivering against his meaty ones, stringy wads of drool slipping and sliding in thin trails down either cute side of your maw.

So pretty.

“Whaaaat? D-don’t tell me this ngh- needy pussy-” And just as rude Toji talked, he pounded into you even ruder. Swollen, heavy cock now smearing streaks of sappy pre that stick on top of your g-spot like glue. “-can’t-” Hard. Merciless. So full and dumbstruck, you can only mewl when his big, beefy biceps ‘round you grow tighter. Bulging out large bruises on your heated skin, “-handle it?”

“I can I can—” You’re shaking your head like a rattle, vision fuzzy with tears and the arousal of his drenched black pubes scratching your violently papping mounds raw.

He coos, “Mhm, and this pretty pussy hck! won’t cum immediately?”

“Won’t-” You’re choking out, words getting stuck in the leaden ball in your throat when he angles his bloated cock to stroke the roof of your gummy walls. Puffed-up veins massaging every treasure trove of orifices in that delicious zigzag pattern of his.

“Hmm— dunno if I ngh- believe you.”

“P-promise.” Hips swiveling back into his in a lazy back and forth that slaps your ass into his toned abs, every murked pant you’re letting off matches the creaking bedsprings of Toji’s mattress. Sniffling, “Give it t’me. Fuh-fuck me rougher pleeease-”

You bite down on your slackened lower lip as soon as he graces your throbbing cunt with a claggy spank. Still being plastered against Toji’s slick, glissading front with one hand of his hands manhandling both of yours to pin behind your back.

You can feel the sloshing whoosh of his buttery precum dripping out of you, coating your inner thighs with such carnal need.

He chortles something dangerous, and you don’t have to ogle behind at Toji to know that he had his eyes dead set on the prize. Right on your sobbing pussy. “Well…since ya said h-heh ‘please.’”

Within two bats of your tear-lathered lashes, Toji’s unclasping his vice-like restraint on your arms to let you fall onto the cacophonous bed like a delicate piece of domino. Tittering.

Waiting the few sultry nanoseconds it takes for your brows to knit into an adorable furrow, waiting until that disappointed groan is just building up in your throat- before he’s shoving your sweat-shimmered face into the pillows and rutting.

“Jeez, mama-” You hear Toji drawl out through the muffling cotton in your ears, low baritone barely audible over the furious thwack! of his full, rounded breeder balls spanking your thighs. “Told you you’d cum ngh- immediately.”

Fuck.

And it’s only then that you realize that you are cumming - white-hot bliss flashing behind your flapping lids, your hips struggling to push and push off of the soaked sheets while he draaaaags out your high.

You’re grappling onto the headboard for dear life. For anything grounding, because right now you’re so weak you think you might just break. “Toji- Tooooji…c-cumming. M’cumming-”

“Shut up.” Toji hisses through gleaming, clenched teeth. Gone. Bosomy tip French kissing pinpricks of pre into your g-spot with every quiver of your high, and no matter how much you’re clenching your glutinous walls around him, he’s still driving out and in through the resistance so solidly deep. “Told you- told you.”

Before you can snipe back, his palm roughly plummets down on the sweaty crown of your head. Forcing you to bite on a mouthful of satiny pillowcase, forcing you to shut up.

To shut up so that he can slouch back and loll his greedy gaze to your gulping cunt, aftershocks of your orgasm so strong that he could count every time your saturated folds twitched. And he did count.

Five times in all before grumbling, “Told ‘er- didn’t I, p-pretty girl?” Not at you - but at your sloppy pussy. Who seemed more than happy to talk back in wet squelches upon squelches every time he was poking his veins into your gushing entrance. “Yeah- yeahhh I did, you’re so right.”

“Toji mmpf-”

“Wanted it rough, s-so now you’re gonna get it.” Toji’s every word rips out in a primal growl, and you feel your creaking bed snap! somewhere in the distance. Broken. A foot making its lecherous home on your head, hard. “Brace yourself, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Jealousy, jealousy

“P-please.” You’re whispering with your jaw hanging foolishly open, warbly tone right on the verge of breaking because your husband’s in so deep. So…insatiable. “You can be ngh- rougher today, Ken—”

“R-rougher?” Nanami’s echo comes out ragged, carnal. As strained as his sanity was beginning to feel right now when you were underneath him and begging so prettily like this. He dips a sensual peck near one of your ankles dangling off of his sculptured shoulders, “I don’t want to hurt you, my love. Or leave any marks that…” Pearly whites clenching, seethingly. “-others can see.”

And oh, Nanami Kento was a gentleman. Nanami Kento was patient with you.

Always.

But not with any touchy new co-worker of yours that just-so-happened to hang around you way too fucking often for his taste.

No, one singular mention of him and he’d dragged you to your shared bedroom to bend you into a filthy, filthy mating press until your melty, cotton-filled brain had completely n’ utterly forgotten just how your day had gone.

Until you were fidgeting the doughy heels of your feet against his curvaceous back muscles, “B-but I want it, baby.” Spit-shimmering lips automatically pulling into one of his weaknesses: your pout. “I want you t-to make me yours.”

At this, Nanami flinches.

He blushes - a cute blossomy red that scorches across his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears, already drenched with thin ribbons of sweat.

With a deeeep gulp, he croaks out. “...M-mine.” Swallowing a webbed mass of saliva that waters his tastebuds once. Twice. Before tenderly cupping your boneless legs and smearing them so wiiidely agape that they start to burn. Just the mere sinful action makes your pussylips let off a soppy squelch! “Arch f’me then, darling.”

You’re blinking, buzzing eardrums unsure of what you’d oh-so-clearly just heard departing Nanami’s parted lips. “What?”

“Didn’t tell you to question me. Did I, my love?” He hisses, the very fringe of his mouth curling into a sleazy grin at your adorably shocked expression. Rovering down to palm your lower tummy, opened flat and pressed against that thick, cylindrical outline he was fucking into you hard. “Better.”

Oh…he was feeling himself inside you. Caressing your tummy bulge with sheer loving, making your gluey walls stick to his solidly ridged shaft like you were keeping him hostage.

“Who s’fucking you deep inside?” He flicks the curved mushroom tip bumping through you, dabbing every inch inside you. Sleazy. Sloppy. Molten eyes half-shuttering until he looks so ruined. Fuck. “Who? Me or him?”

Your eyes blearily cross and uncross, the pressure of it so much. “Wh-who- who’s him-”

“Talking about another man when you’re with me,?”

Before you can gather your bearings, before you can even gasp in a lungful of shocked air at the gesture - Nanami shocks your throb-throb-throbbing clit with a sloooow drag of his metallic wedding ring. Smudging a cute, wettened heart right where you were the utmost sensitive.

“Pleeease-”

“Speak up.”

“I want-”

“Hmmm…what was that?” He’s striking the bulging patch of your g-spot with an achy glide of his bawling wet divot as soon as you open your mouth. Nanami was shutting you up with his fat, vein-covered cock not just once, not just twice- but three whole times before humming. “My apologies. Can’t hear you over ngh- her, darling.”

How could you ever underestimate just how strong your husband was? How rough he could really be.

Thickened, meaty thighs flex in tightened knots once his hips drive into yours viciously. Every harrowed pap! of his tawny happy trail scratching your slobbery folds open and leaving your mouth parched.

Whack after whack of his plump, split-ended tip scraping your magical spots expertly. And you couldn’t even predict when the next recurring strike would commence because your dazed eyes were sprinting all the way to the back of your head.

You could count eight of his Herculean abs in total, all of them cutting into your front and working to pin down your squirming hips. To stop you from getting more more more- “Fuuuck me. J-just want more-”

“Hmmm?”

“Ngh- I said m-more!” You yelp, breaths turning desperate and wheezing once he scrambles - scrambles - over the dewy, rumpled-up bedsheets to recover his favorite yellowy tie.

Immediately looping it around your delicate neck. Your fluttery lungs fight for gaspfuls of air once he’s leveraging it to drag you alllll the way up off of the claggy pillows- he was bringing you to him.

“Now, whisper it nicely in my hah- ear, my wife. Tell me exactly what you want.” Nanami’s panted puffs cloud your brain with heat and need and him. Before you know it, you’re already nudging your lolled head up to his ear. “There we go, upsy daisy. That’s a good girl.”

And all you can manage out is a slow, simpering gasp of syllables that sounded something like more!

But that’s all it takes.

All it takes for him to reel his greedy hips back, back, back until the very crown of his bloated cock was smooching your ringed hole. Spraying out sheen after sheen of sweltering hot pre that coats your cunt n’ slides right inside.

Timed exactly with the pace that Nanami himself picks up, barrelling out battering rams that indent his rotund circumference into your spongy cervix.

“Mhmmm, knew I’d h-have ya begging f’me–” Nanami coos something gravelly, holding your weakened head up to nuzzle sweet peck after peck on your lips. Shit, he’s even taking dirty lappings of the puddles of drool geysering from past your slack mouth. “Me. Me- right?”

“Y-yes.” You’re yelping once his relentless digits tighten on his tie, cutting off your winded breaths. Choking you. “You- you, Kento.”

Soft, padded fingers just finish drawing an obvious NK on your hooded nub- was he writing his name on your clit? “That’s riiiight, s’Kento. Kento’s here for you, my love.” Punctured with sappy snogs - on your lips, inside your leaking pussy. “Kento, no one else.”

“Ngh- n-no one else.” Tiny whimpers crack within your throat when you feel the swampy splat! of slick pouring more n’ more out of you and drenching him from abdomen to his twitching ballsack. Babbling, “You- Kennn—”

“Cute- mine. You’re my wife.”

“All yours.”

“H-heh, bet ya can’t even remember now- What was damn fucker- coworker’s name again?”

“Oh.” Nanami almost asks you to marry him all over again at the way your brows have to furrow, head shaking from side to cockdrunken side to clear your poor lil’ head. It takes a copious vicious pounds into the mattress to even recall the answer to his question. “Right! He said his name was Zayne…from Linkon City.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “Ya like that?”

Fuck- if the way whines pour from your overflooded lips wasn’t enough of an answer, then the syrupy slick constantly leaking out of you sure was.

Your bawling cunt was all but having a conversation with Geto, all stuttered slurps n’ squelches that rung like music within his red-tipped ears. And he’s lurching his head in a sudden nod, pearly white teeth all on gleaming display when he ogles a fat dollop of sap and spit slithering down your thighs slooowly.

“Y-yes!” You’re crawling towards the shuddering mahogany headboard, ringing with violent creaks after every pound. “Yes yes yes- I like it, Suguru–”

“Heh, fuuuuck yeah you do.” He doesn’t even bat an eye before hooking a hand on your waist and dragging you all the way back down. “S’supposed to be a punishment but yer such a slut when you’re hck! thrown around.” Smooching a frosty thumb all down your silvery slit, he snickers once he feels your cute insides clench on instinct around him. “Then again…”

Without a singular warning, without even a shred of hesitation, a firm arm roams over to your throat. Tight.

But Geto doesn’t just hold you- no, that would’ve been much too nice for him. Instead, he’s pushing the curvy mounds of his biceps ‘round your pretty neck like some sort of necklace - trapping you in a fucking headlock.

You’re plastered like glue against his glissading front, and you think you’ve never been wetter as you’re massaged by his ridged abs. Thin trailways of boiling hot sweat streaming between his cushy pecs and hitting at your backside with a plap! plap! plap!

Voice hoarse in your ear. Low. “There we go. Theeeeere we go. How about this? Ngh- ya like-” Squeezing his arm even tighter until bursts of remaining air leave your lungs. You could feel every twitch, every flex of toned flesh hot against your own. “-that?”

A sob lets off from your stupidly unhinged lips, “Y-yes– I like it-”

“Greedy fuckin’ girls shouldn’t answer.” He’s promptly cutting you off, both with his deep bass and his deeper strokes. Immediately oozing a tiny heart of sticky pre inside, “I was hah- talking to my lady down here.”

You practically shiver at the feeling of his burnished lilac eyes coursing down to your prettily dripping cunt, and just at that moment he hits your cervix with a sloshing spank.

Filthy.

A thumb dips down to pry your treacly folds apart, Geto’s pinkish tongue slobbering down his grinning lips at the sight of you swallowing him like mad. The sight of your arched back dappling with perspiration after every vulgar swerve of your hips trying to keep up with his. Needy.

“Mmmm yeah. She’s ngh- likin’ it alright. Look at her-” Sickly sweet strands of juices dangle off of his padded fingers like gum, so wet that his wrist gleams glossily. He just can’t help but lurch his head over to streamline a viscid web of saliva right on your sloppy hole, “-she’s a damn waterpark f’me.”

You keen at the back of your throat, spittle spraying a sheen all over Geto’s veiny forearm with a splash! “S-so mean, Sugu–”

“Mean? Mean?”

Something resounds like a growl at the back of your boyfriend’s throat, and only numerous sticky swats of his rounded balls later do you realize - that was a giggle. A giggle.

“H-hear that? My girl’s sayin’ I’m mean.” Another thwack of weepy spit hits your cunt, and the saccharine sweet gasp you take is delicious. Headlocking you tighter- “Oh, gorgeous. You asked to be punished with it r-rough. And you’re ah- getting it- fucking- rough-”

Rasping and ragged and gone. Utterly gone.

If this was supposed to be a punishment then you’d gladly take more.

Geto was pounding into you viciously now, rattling your cottony brain with every sharp slap of his fattened crownhead. Probing deeply into your warm innards to spread apart tender nooks and crannies you didn’t even know existed.

You were nodding like a stupid bobblehead, letting his veiny cock bloat n’ balloon up inside you- shit, the banging flesh where your ass met his silky pubes was rubbed raw by now.

A hoarse bark of laughter flees Geto’s lips once he realizes, immediately angling his rude pelvis just so he can grind purposefully against your agitated skin. It’s so cute the way your moans pitch even deafeningly higher at the texture.

Sliding his strawberry pink divot juuuust off your magical spot, he rolls his eyes. “Seeeee? N’ you s-say I’m mean.”

At that very moment, you think you’re seeing stars. The only sensations ripping through your mind being the Earth-shattering cadence that Geto was fucking into you, and the soft tickle of his long, beautiful locks curtaining your spine.

You’re tugging mindlessly on one of his inky tendrils, dazed peripherals sliding to a flushed Geto. That split-second of direct eye contact enough to make his base swell- “P-pretty.”

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

With a wicked slam! Geto’s both burying himself inside till the very hilt - straining your rubbery walls until you were whining at the hefty weight of him - and burying your face into the cushy pillow. His savage palm clawing and clawing at your head while he fucking cums, in the filthiest and most surprising way that fills your gooey cunt until you were overspilling.

Just from that.

“P-pull my hair-” He gasps - just barely audible enough that once you do, it makes a creamy coating of even more ribbony seed slip into your entrance. More and more and more. A steaming hot mess that makes you squirm-

“No. No.” Geto gasps - he begs.

And you don’t think he even registers that he’s promptly slamming a firm foot down on your head to pin you pliably down and make you take it.

This newer angle floods your orifice with such generous helpings that Geto feels his taste buds drench in water, sighing lovingly at the sight of your inner thighs being glued together by his sap.

He’s stepping your head even deeper into the sullied pillowcase once he hears you snicker. Shutting you up. Meaty thighs shivering, emptied balls twitching sensitively at the slap of saliva he spits once more on your entrance.

Gritting through furiously clenched teeth, “Oh, you are s-so getting hngh! pregnant tonight, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - OLFACTORY ETHICS?!

“B-baby…” Choso’s sharp canines snaggle on the drenched fabric of your panties, broad chest heaving in ragged huffs! as your roommate gulps in a deeeep inhale- and his mouth just drops. “Oh, baby.”

You smelled so sweet.

His favorite perfume - so good that it makes his pearly whites clench down and bite.

He’s smearing his favorite pair of your pretty pink silk all down the lower half of his handsome face, where it’d mostly glued to ever since you’d caught him stealing your underwear not too long ago.

Where it’d been since he’d blushed n’ begged for you to punish him.

And you’d known exactly how.

“Just fuck me, Cho–” You’re crooning, the pretty sound of your voice itching something deeply primal in his mind and making him twitch. Full-bodied. Making his achingly hard cock bulge a few millimeters even wider n’ girthier, carnally desperate. “Fuuuuck— C’mon now- you can do it.”

“L-like this?” He’s whispering, all muffled and breathy. Darkened mahogany eyes lock in direct contact with yours as he’s rubbing the ridges of his veined shaft along the sticky slope of your pussy. “Tell me- use me.”

“Mhmm— you’ve got it, baby. Rough now, m’kay?”

“R-rough…”

Slipping and sliding, his hips feel frenzied already. Tapping out a few fat globs of pre from that slobbering orifice nestled on top of his crownhead, Choso can’t help but thumb each bead past your sloppy hole.

“G-gonna fuck you now.” He’s hiccuping out cloudy syllables, piping hot bursts of air that fan your face and make you shiver. And he notices, oh, he notices and flushes. “Gonna fuck- fuck you, baby…”

Choso’s jaw remains almost permanently unhinged as he watches his globular tip push past your teensy resistance, the clingy surface of your cunt molding and melting around him. Hot. Puffed-up pussy lips stretched wiiidely agape, your hole quivers with every one of his prominent veins scraping their way inside.

A whine cracks at the back of his throat-

Shit, was this heaven?

Through half-lidded peripherals he’s stealing looks your way to confirm that you weren’t actually an angel.

Wet tongue lolling out to give your leaky mouth a big kiss, “S’this- this-” And just then Choso’s rumbling baritone is so hot that it makes you clench - and him to jerk into a rut-

He really was out of control now.

“Oh.” He’s trailing off, hitting the damp ends of your pussy and he fucking sees white. Every inch that you’re flawlessly gulping down making him swoon into you, “Ohhhh fuck wait- fuck fuck fuck—”

Hard.

Fast.

Choso was sloppy, letting his sensory tips dangle near your hips while he bludgeoned you with every sultry second. Using his lean muscular strength to pull your ass down to slap n’ slap against his pelvis.

Pumping his probing mushroom tip deeper until you swear you could taste every sappy ribbon of milky precum he was pounding into you. Until his sculpted abs were being struck ruby red at the stinging drives.

“This good? M’I good for you?” He makes such a messy puddle of slick pour from between your bloated folds, hitting a fat thumb over the gloopy mess. Your buzzing ears ring with the wet pap! “S’this r-rough, baby?”

“Fuck- ngh- f-fuuuuck, Choso—” Truthfully, you could barely even speak. The only thing able to escape your mouth being jumbles of fucked-out syllables and gluey drool. You whimper with each whack of his fat cock, “Faster-”

Combing through Choso’s silky bangs, you tug away the stray strands plastered to his sweat-slicked forehead. An action enough to make him burn as bright red as his sobbing tip, leaning further into yours with his utterly ripped front.

“M-more, baby.”

It’s the only thing that’s falling from your lips before nothing else can anymore.

Because your dear roommate is taking the kindly time to slap over his palm on top of your mouth - sodden panties and all.

Damn, was it a sight that made his dewy cockhead twitch dangerously in warning.

Muffling your lecherous words with the stringy scrap of fabric, he grumbles. “Sh-shut up, baby- another word out of you n’ I ngh! w-won’t last much longer.”

Though- fuck, if he wasn’t weak whenever it came to you.

Because as he feels your steamy maw loosen - droplets of spit dripping down to lather his doughy palm - Choso finds himself inching in closer. Bubblegum pink nipples rubbing sensitively against your front when he leans in and listens-

You’re batting your lashes up at him, “Want- want it all inside, Cho.”

Oh.

Oh, and when Choso cums it’s with his pussydrunken head buried into the delicate crook of your neck, sharp fringes of his teeth sinking so roughly into the side of your urgent pulse that you think it might draw iron-tasted blood.

“T-take it.” His voice lilts unstably a few octaves higher, massive hands manhandling the legs looping his feet - pushing and pushing and pushing until your capped knees hit your tits. Veins popping out of his own neck, hard. “Every last fucking drop.”

It’s burst after burst.

The curving globe of his plump head batters out stripes of hot cum with every single thrust, drilling right past the gluey maze of your walls to leave syrupy white splotches on your cervix that you feel coat your cunt in a sloppy second skin. Messy.

You claw your hands down Choso’s flexing back and it makes his eyes burst with white-hot stars of pleasure. “Yeah- yeah. I-inside, baby- don’t miss.”

Hypnotically, he drags the simmering pads of his tongue right along your all-new bite mark. Possessive. The entrails of your panties still dangling haphazardly from one side of your mouth-

Choso feels his heart race when he bites down on the silken edges; letting it stretch stretch stretch before he spits your slutty underwear aside.

“Oh, baby.” Snogging away the wires of spit that sliver from between your lips, “Was- was that rough ‘nough.” He murmurs in concern against your lips, eyes daring to dart all over his animalistic marking. And then he slouches backwards to tilt further down. “Didn’t wanna-”

He takes one heartbeat - two - simply staring at the frosty ivory rings of cum that spilled out of your pussy. A mess that he had to blame for.

And when Choso looks back up at you, it’s through pure heart eyes. “A-actually, I don’t think that was ngh- rough enough, baby…”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Pony.

“Mmmm- my human’s always so sweet.” Sukuna’s sheeny glossed lips pry apart the heated folds between your legs, his long sultry tongue lapping up every bead n’ ribbon of cum pouring out of your cunt. “Sooo fuckin’ sweet.”

And just as monstrously big as his height was, his tongue was certainly not to disappoint.

You yelp once the split-ended pads of his tastebuds swirl allll the way inside your dripping pussy, round and round. Poking and prodding into sweet geysering spots that he knew would make your pretty lil’ mind useless.

One big, beefy hand of his roams up to curl around your throat and keep your dazed eyes dead locked on the slicked mess the king was making out of your sugary sweet pussy. Unmoving.

“Y-you’re so…” You’re drawling, words so drunken that it’s like they were clinging to your hoarse throat. Your mouth simply hangs at the sight of Sukuna constricting his tongue to let creamy oodles of his seed from hours before sliiiiide all down to his parched throat like a runway. “-filthy, Kuna.”

“H-heh.”

He doesn’t get up until you’re all thoroughly cleaned up, every dollop of thick cum lapped away from your overstimulated entrance.

Hell, you don’t even think Sukuna can think until he pulls away with a drenched plop! Stringy cobwebs of fluids sticking to his face as if some sort of lipgloss.

A bulky second hand of his leaves a spank right on your throbbing clit, and within the blink of an eye you’re being scooped up into Sukuna’s arms. Nestled right against his cushy pecs - his two achingly hard cocks-

And when he kisses you it’s a reminder - letting your maw slide over the caramel salted splotches homed inside his mouth. Savoring it just as much as he was savoring you.

Just as much as he wanted to ruin you.

Your spine arches with a scorched breeze as he inches in to grunt against your ear. Low. Prowling. “Callin’ me filthy when you’re the one leaking with my cum, brat.”

“W-well, not anymore because- fuck!”

“Quarrelsome.” He remarks over your shrill wails, toned muscles on his thighs flexing when he grabs the sweaty crown of your head and pushes you down, down, down onto his rock-hard dicks. Every gust of your heady breaths fucked out of you with just a few swallowed inches of his looong vein-decorated shafts. “I should fuck that outta ya.”

He’s bouncing his tattooed legs in a quick, harsh one-two one-two one-two. Panting, leering at the primal squeeeealch–! that rings in his ears.

Capped fringes of his knees smack against the sexy curve of your ass, the relentless little motions push past that tiny resistance and swivel Sukuna’s proudly swollen crowns all ‘round your bruised insides.

Bulging you open, prying your sticky insides apart until he had you seated all prettily on his lap and whimpering.

“Ride it then, pretty mama. Show me what that ngh- needy human pussy can do.” Sukuna grumbles through a teeth-clenched lil’ grin, halfway through breaking into a soppy smile when your cute noises only get louder. He slouches backwards into the centuries-old headrest so that he won’t miss a single second of your sensual show, “N’ remember- I like fucking rough. I like fucking hard.”

“R-rough?” You rest your hands on his broad shoulders, gulping needily at the way his corded muscles flex underneath your touch. Legs already twitching as you swerve needily, aching once more for that splitting sensation of him plunging oh-so-deep inside. “Fuck- fuuuuuck, Kuna-”

You could already feel the fat bulbs of his tips grow even fuller, snagging right onto the crevices of your g-spot and tugging. He barely even has to try to make your head fill with stupid fuzz.

“Ya call this rough, lil’ human?” He’s spitting into your open mouth, grabbing a handful of your ass and making your clit smear down his tufts of curly pink. Gyrating n’ gyrating. “Seriously- s’embarrassing the king.”

“Th-then you-”

Just at that moment, he’s digging two hands on either side of your hips to slam! them down onto his. Hard. Stinging. Rubbing over the tenderized globeful of your ass before doing it again. Again. And again and again and-

“This is h-how ya fuck rough, pretty mama.” You swear Sukuna’s smirked grin was glistening with a thin trail of dumbstruck drool. “Feel good? Feel the sting? The way m’all deep inside-” Staring down at your cute, cross-eyed expression, he taps a plumply padded finger halfway down your tummy. “-here?”

You’re overstimulated, sensitive. The only thing you can do is nod. Nodding and nodding while a flash of smugness flickers in his crimson eyes. “Count.”

Oh? Oh.

And it’s only when his two matching cocks plant vicious pounds right where he’d marked - only when he slurs out a wet stripe of pre that drenches your pussy from the inside out - that you realize what he meant.

“O-one-”

“Too late. Two.”

Sukuna grits out, practically mocking you. Numbering away every time his bawling divots were whacking your spongy cervix. The lightning-bolted veins on his lengths scrape every carnal spot he could reach - which was all of them.

“Three- ah! Four.” You mewl out, legs scrambling to latch around his tensing core when you’re struck with another one, two, three bludgeons of his girthy circumferences. It’s enough to make you dizzy, and it’s purely on autopilot that you let off soft gasps of, “Si- s-seven?”

Snickering, “Yer finally haaaah- gettin’ it.” The cushioned mattress rings with creak after creak as he repeatedly bucks. “Put yer back into it, brat.”

“Ngh! Eight-”

“Mhm.”

“N-nine…”

“Mhm.”

Your papping flesh stings at the ferocious contact, already rubbed raw that when Sukuna swats a rude palm against your pussymound - you find yourself sobbing. Big, fat tears of salt, “Ten!”

“Nuh uh- that counts as hah- eleven.”

Fuck- he has to stop himself from snickering. He has to stop himself from drooling through both cracked mouths, already missing the taste of you. If you looked closely, you could see the cursed mouth across his abs licking its lips greedily. Grinning. “Now cum f’me before I put my tongue in, too.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Blush blush blush!

“Here?”

“Taku.”

“Or here?”

“Takuuu–!”

“Orrrrr–” Ino’s tossing his chestnut bangs out of his face to see your cute face better, snickering to himself as he lets his ramming cockhead draw a looong wet trailway to your cervix. Sweltering hot and heavy, slithering right past your precious g-spot. “-here?”

Your gooey walls twitch instinctively around him. “N-noooo-”

Pressing down. Hard. “What’s that? Oh yeah, here. Right?”

You’re huffing and puffing something that sounds like a quivering ‘please’, wobbly lips bitten between the ends of your teeth until Ino pries them free n’ sucks.

“Hmmm. What was that?” His drenched, bawling divot rubs out a fat thud! mere millimeters above where you were aching for him the most. Again. Purposefully.

“S-so mean.” You whimper for just about the nth time tonight as his deeply probing dick pushes against your gummy walls, stretching out the hidden crevices. Prominent veins almost massaging your magical spots but not quite. Tease. “All I did was c-call you ngh- pretty.”

Fuck, there it is again.

And it doesn’t matter how many times the very syllables have departed from your unsteady lips - Ino Takuma still blushed a cute, maidenly pink from apples of his handsome cheeks right down to his collarbones.

Breath hitching, nose bridge crinkling. If he was any weaker man he might just have cum—

He whacks the spherical bulge of his plumpened cockhead into you until your peripherals are teary. Hefty balls so fat that you feel the side of them flinch tenderly against your dripping cunt.

“Sh-shut up.” He’s shivering, teeth grit to stop himself from slipping out a strained keen. Those pretty fawn eyes of Ino’s slide all the way to the back of his throat when you slink a hand underneath the dark ski mask capped on his crown n’ caress. “Gonna- gonna fuck you until you haaah- forget that, sweetness. Gonna fuck you dumb.”

Your awestruck tastebuds fizzle with the taste of his splattered precum sloshing! inside you, watery trickles of saliva travelling all the way down to where your chin was smushed against your chest.

Where Ino was folding you into a mating press so tight that you could feel your ears pop after every pressurized thrust.

He was being so…frenzied.

Manhandling you to every whim and want, you were fallen onto the bedsheets delicately whilst he handled you like some ragdoll. And you’d never seen him act this vehement, this filthy, clapping his toned thighs noisily against yours.

“N’ for that…” His sing-song bass tickles the precious soft spots near your neck, rearing to give your molten tongue tiny suckles. “M’not hittin’ that c-cute g-spot any time tonight.”

It wasn’t simply a threat - he meant it.

He was stroking the slick-glittered mushroom head of his shaft over n’ over into every nook and cranny inside of you except your g-spot. Every rut so greedy that his buttery streaks of pre were piling on near that particular orifice.

Drowning you.

Ino feels his heart race at the sultry little jitters you give him; your poor body torn between digging your heels into his tense shoulders and pushing him away or pap-pap-papping your ass down for more.

“Now now, where are you goinggg—” He doesn’t waste any fucking time rounding a hand behind his head and lassoing you ankles within a few slender digits. Trapping you. Dragging you until the backs of your thighs were clapping in a standing ovation against his. “Fuck that pussy back. C’mon. C’mon, pretty.”

“P-pleeeease, Taku-” You can’t even bring yourself to be an ounce ashamed at the whiny pleas that invade your voice. “S-so close, baby- want it. Want it so bad.”

“Fuh-fuck…” He’s breathing out, mouth drier than a desert at the way you had him so weak. His prominent hip bones pat down your pelvis and leave your mouth gasping into perfect ohs! “Fuckin’ evil ya are. How bad do you want it?”

“S-soooo badly.”

“Hmmm, I dunno- where are those manners?”

“Please!”

“Hmmm?”

Oh, how he could feel his abs tense dangerously at the mixture of annoyance and depravity twisting your beautiful face.

“...w-with a cherry on ngh- top.”

“Mhm, n’ you’re gonna take it nicely?” Ino spreads your legs open a little wider, rocking and rocking. And you’re so wet - even wetter than the splattering pools of slick spittle that splosh out of your other set of lips. So sensitive. “Take it like my pretty c-cockslut?”

You can’t mumble out anything through the thickly rounded fingertips that smush your cheeks together into a pout he almost finds adorable. “Y-yesh— give it t’me, pleeease?”

Fine. And then he does it - finally gives you exactly what you’ve been craving carnally all this time. Striking it right on the bullseye, like you knew he could.

Just a bump up of his plump, curvaceous tip into your splotchy g-spot and you’re halfway through screaming. Struggling and struggling your legs jerkily at the bolting shocks of your orgasm and Ino just doesn’t let up.

He keeps your ankles locked no matter how much you fidget, he keeps the vicious push of his leaking cock into your most favorite spots like it was a button.

Fuck, it was almost too much.

Gritting his teeth through the sloshing figure-eights your hips swerve through every peak of your high, you’re milking yourself on his throbbing shaft so good that Ino forces himself to tip a hand towards his cottony mask and pull down-

“Taku–?” You’re questioning out in warbly tones once your vision was being blinked back, high tapering out into flimsy tingles that still manage to make your toes curl.

Before you can stop yourself, your sensory pads flit over to his ski mask to tug away. And boy, were you fucking glad for that.

Because you’d never seen Ino so flushed. So ruined.

He was like a picture. A red, red gale overtaking his twitching features ‘nough that you could connect the constellations of his freckles.

Caramel brows furrowed tightly knit, tawny lashes flapping his eyelids almost shut. His cherry pink lips looked so kissable; swollen and glossed in slimy spit and- and overstimulated tears.

All ready and awaiting the way you drag him back by the hair and gift his pinkish tongue with a wad of spit. Groaning.

“My pretty boy.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Starboy

You’re stuffed.

So stuffed with heaps upon heaps of Gojo’s slick cum and yet he was still possessing a massive hand clawing at your hips. The only thing holding you fucking upright while he drills his overworked cock into you, furiously.

“T-Tooru—” Your sentence punctures with every hitch of your wheezing lungs, and you can barely see two inches in front of you let alone swivel your head back to stare at the strongest. Keening groggily, “How are you s-still even hck! going?”

He doesn’t answer. Fuck, you don’t even think he can even hear you right now.

But the way your voice pitches into a pretty whine makes him flinch. Buckling on your knobbly knees, you can feel the steamed handprints imprinted on either side of your papping mounds of flesh.

Dizzy peripherals flickering to the side you gasp- he was leaving scorching hot marks on you. All nice, shapely lengths of his five digits.

Gojo’s snickering- snickering through one of his ragged scoffs, and he rests his towering bodyweight until it was lounging on the base of your cutely arched spine. He’s shivering. Strained. “S’not enough.”

Not enough?

And at this point, your muddled mind is overtaken with the dawning realization that nothing might be enough for a freshly-unsealed Gojo Satoru.

Even though his raw cock was so red n’ swollen already, pulsing out inside you to the same ba-dump–! of your pulse rate. The fat lightning bolts of his veins angle oh-so-deeply against your g-spot. Everywhere and anywhere.

And Gojo only has to trace a few greedy fingers down to feel the dewy trickles of seed that dribble out from your puffed lips like a waterfall. Ogling his lustrously glazed limbs and gasping-

Your mouth drowns in a fresh lamination of syrupy saliva at the way it makes your thighs slap together as if they were held by glue. Gojo’s bulky base endlessly decorating with more and more creamy strings of sappy cum - and then some.

“I-I’m serious…” You’re blurting out, both hands fisting the drenched silken sheets in front of you. You keep your gaze locked on the way he’s pummeling behind you and find yourself rendered almost spellbound. “-m-might not even fit-”

“Limitless void, sweetheart.” He’s cutting you off smoothly, blushing red crownhead twitching up eagerly with just the lecherous thought. Breathless, fuck- he was so far gone he could barely even choke out an answer. “Be my c-cum…dump.”

It takes you one violent thwack - two - of his sloppy, succulent shaft poking messily into your deepest innards for you to realize what he meant. He wanted to use limitless void on your needy cunt. And then an exact three-second spank to your clit for you to wonder whether he was already doing that.

Because Gojo’s doughy soft fingertips leave your body jolted, miniscule tendrils of blue lightning slithering all across your spilling pussy.

“Toru- are you already…”

“O-oh.” He didn’t even realize.

Your eyes roll back at the buzzing sensation of his cursed technique sprinting down your perfectly curved spine, repeatedly pounding hips twitching involuntarily. Vicious.

“I w-wan’’ that.” You admit, the rooound plumpness of his tip swabbing at your g-spot precisely and making you more honest than ever. Bulbous tears formulate near your fluttering waterline, “Want it. Want it so bad- pleeease, Sato- mmpf-”

And you’re not sure if it’s the sorcerer’s superhuman reflexes or your cockdrunken mind - but it’s almost as if you’ve instantaneously teleported into Gojo’s broad, beefy arms.

“F-fuuuuck–! Toru, it’s so much- ngh- it’s soooo much.”

You try to jostle yourself, to perhaps run from the overwhelming cadence. But he doesn’t let you even budge. Of course, he doesn’t.

He was so rough. Using you.

One of his hands shackled to your hips like superglue, kneading filthy handfuls of your ass while he guides you to meet every pound. The other snugly curled around your throat, the only thing holding you upright - the only thing pinning you to him.

This all-new angle helping him maze deeper, deeper, deeper inside of you until it felt like he was permanently prying your jelly-soft walls open. The slosh! of his drizzled cum pouring lazily out of you, it was almost as heavenly as the feeling of Gojo’s chiseled abs sloping down your back.

He’s whispering in your ear, pitchy and rasping. “Yeah? Yeah?” His pearly white teeth nibble softly on your tender lobe, every sharp exhale of breath striking you swelteringly hot. “T-take- cumdump- take-”

The warm clinginess of your pussy has reduced the great Gojo Satoru to stuttering.

“A-all inside” Your head lolls foolishly backwards into the cushioned comfort of his pecs, just slightly slipping on the sweaty sheen covering his muscles. You bat your tear-dipped lashes up at him, “Wan’ it all inside- o-okay, Toru?”

His response departs in a breathless gasp, “Okay.”

And when Gojo cums he makes sure that his girl is not even a second far behind.

Throwing his head back with the most pornographic, draaaagged out call of your name- he wastes no time drenching his long, long fingers in a splat! of webbed saliva and pinching your clit.

It’s like an explosion, it’s like you burst with the nth high of tonight - your rubbery walls milking Gojo’s length completely dry with the intensity, your body shuddering, heart thumping so hard you think you bet Gojo could hear it.

And he was even worse.

“S-sweetheart-” Gojo grits his teeth so hard that you hear them clink! Murked heaves are so solidly condensed that you think you can almost see them. Weighted hips clapping against your ass in a sloppy recurring plap-plap-plap. “My girl, m-my…cumdump.”

Your toes curl the moment you feel his thick, ribbony knots of seed overflood your insides. Waves upon waves upon waves of it caking in with the rest of his excess remnants, so heavy that you can feel it tenderly stroke your most sweetest spots.

Almost too much.

The lights had shattered ages ago, and right now the both of you are so far gone that you don’t even hear the bits of loose furniture in Gojo’s bedroom fall to the floor with dull thuds!

A milky white ring sugarcoats Gojo’s ivory pubic hair, making his silky texture leave wet streaks across your stinging ass. Ones that make him leap from hoarse and dumbstruck straight into babbling helplessly.

Completely drunk on you.

“My girl- my cumdump.” Broad arms wrap around your fatigued body. “My girl my girl my giiirl– oh, my girl.” Before Gojo gifts your bruised mouth with a tiny peck, loving. “D’you know what a-a mating press is?”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - OH BABY, BABY…

The broiling bathtub water sloshes over each ceramic side, almost as wet as the silvery oodles of sap that just kept on pouring out from your pussy. Churning n’ smearing so vehemently that Higuruma can’t help but lift your legs up higher to take a longer look.

Admiring, honestly.

“Isn’t this niiiiice?” He’s grunting out low into the cute lobe of your ear, your hips wriggling needily with every vibration rumbling from his broad best. So close that you could smell the flowery spuds of soap and his masculine natural musk. It was addictive.

“A hot bath, n’ my hot wife-” Oh, you can already hear the smirk in his tonality. “-in a hot f-full nelson to boot.”

“Ngh! Hirooo–!” Your weeping whimpers babble out without you even knowing, the masses of your ass grinding vulgarly back into his prominent hipbones. “F-fuck me already.”

“Impatient impatient.” He tuts, “And why should I?”

“B-because I wan’ you—”

You’re garbling out the prettiest noises, but that wouldn’t be enough to stop his vengeful teasing. Quirking a sleek, black brow. “Aaaand?” He loved this look on you, of course. All greedy n’ desperate.

Though…little did your dear husband know that you had a secret weapon tonight.

“And I want a baby.” You’re finishing off. Smug.

Higuruma freezes. Higuruma gulps, “A-a what?”

“A baby, Higu.”

“A…baby.”

“Mhmm– ah!”

The yelp that departs your mouth in a sudden rush is solely because of the way that he latches his calloused fingertips onto the small of your back like a steering wheel and pulls you down down down.

Greeting your sloppy entrance with pearly ribbons of pre and a sharp slap of his fat head.

“C-can’t just say shit like that out of your pussy, sugar, n’ ngh!” His gravelly tone punctures every pumped inch pinpricking inside of you. You feel so pliant letting him pry apart your deepest mushiest walls, “-not expect ta end up pregnant.”

Your hands scramble towards the smooth ends of the bathtub to keep yourself grounded onto something - anything.

But, ah- Higuruma was selfish for your attention. And he ends up guiding your roaming palms up to his damp cocoa hair, letting you pullll through your bouts of adrenaline however you pleased. “Fuck- fuuuck jus’ like that, Hiromi.”

“I know, I know how to fuck my ngh- wife proper, angel.” He slicks his tongue out to lap at a beaded droplet of water running down your neck. Staring through half-lidded eyes, “You just sit- back- n’ take- it-”

Your eyes comically cross and uncross repeatedly with every whacked slam Higuruma plunges into your gooey depths. A sharp, stubborn one-two that leaves your ass rubbed raw from his happy trail so dark that it was almost black.

And he wasn’t easing you in- oh, not even in the least.

He was hard. Rough.

Rugged pounds so much more vicious than usual, you swear he was battering a bruise the same thick circumference as his plummy crownhead. And his tempo was juuuust enough to force the cracks of your mouth to fill up with treacly drool - not urgent, not slow. Simply precise, loooong fucks of his mean length.

You swear your very cunt was being molded to every puffy vein and ridge decorating his shaft, and the mercilessly massaging texture was enough to drive you wild.

You’re clinging onto his velveteen locks with one hand, and his big, bulging biceps with the other. “Ngh- Hiromi- i-it feels so good-” Clawing and rutting your way through every creamy mess of pre he was slipping past your ballooned-up folds. “You’re in so deep.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

And, fuck, your husband didn’t like to see you wasting even those gummy slatherings of precum he was rewarding you.

You’re feeling the round-tipped ends of his fingers caress the saturated seam of your pussylips and pinch. Holding your dewy cunt tightly closed while he was bound to fill you up - so much so that he promised you were going to overspill.

“Gonna be s-soooo much fucking rounder n’ bigger when I fucking breed ya. Riiiight-” Higuruma hiccups, long lashes tickling across his clammy cheeks at the ever-tightening hug of your pussy. Free hand skimming down to measure out a loooong distance between your gulping hole and where he was hitting his pre-capped head into your cervix. “-there. M’gonna breed ya right there, my wife.”

He was measuring you.

Dark eyes a mere millimeter-wide crack away from falling shut, imagining just how glowing and pretty you’d be all full of his kid.

More thorough, even more thorough.

Your entrance was so cozy when he pinched your pussy that he had to arch off the polished bathtub with slippery schwfs! Pushing n’ pushing past the slight resistance of you sucking his heated, heavy cock after every thrust.

Desperate.

You were biting down on your lips to hold back primal screams, because Higuruma was making sure you felt every dragging scrape of his full veins. Making sure your fuzzy eardrums rang with every wiiiinded squelch and splosh resonating from down under - and that was not just the water.

“Gonna fuck ya u-until ngh- until they all know what we’ve done. T-till they all know how I made a ngh- fuckin’ mess of ya.” He snickers after your heels slip along the bathtub trying to rut wildly into him.

“H-Hiro-”

“You wanted a baby. N’ now you’re fuck- getting one.”

“P-please–” You’re letting your head tumble backwards, bleary eyes rolling way deeper and deeper to the backs of your lids as Higuruma keeps rocking constantly into you. Impatiently, “Harder, baby. Harder. Faster.”

“Haaah? Harder? M’supposed ta take care of the future mother of my kids, sugar- not break her pretty ngh- pussy.”

Though he’s grumbling this into your unfastened mouth, his pace only picks up into something filthy. You almost feel dirty letting the plumpened curve of his mushroom tip swat the door to your womb.

And then you feel his reddened, swollen divot dangerously twitch-

“W-wait-” It takes a few seconds for you to manage to get your eyes fluttering open, and even then you’re fighting against the temptation of his long, veined cock fucking you dumb. “Did you j-just say hck! ‘kids’?”

“Sure did, angel—” Higuruma titters by the side of your pulsating throat, gifting you with one, two, three pecks. Right before sinking his teeth into your fragrant skin and groaning, “We’re having five kids. At least.”

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

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dollfacefantasy · 5 months ago

Text

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x bratty!fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: for the first time ever, jason needs dick's help with a client. upon meeting you, dick understands why. you're a handful - bratty, needy, the whole deal. luckily for everyone involved, dick has a soft spot for brats and jason has a tendency to follow in his footsteps.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, praise/degradation, gun play, brat taming, dacryphilia

wc: 12.9k

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, but i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up unfortunately. anyways comm for the sweetest ever @fearcvlt. thank you again hehe. as always reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

part 2

Dick watched the numbers above the elevator door light up one at a time. Every couple seconds, the soft glow moved one space to the right. It started with 1, 2, 3 and now landed on 67, 68, 69. Finally 70 lit up and a soft ding sounded through the cabin.

He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and took a deep breath. When Jason had texted him a few days ago, he made this situation sound dire.

Dick had been in the middle of working out, pulling himself up and down using the rings hanging from the ceiling of the gym. The chime of his phone pulled him from the focus that came with his muscles burning and sweat dripping from his hairline.

'Are we allowed to drop clients?' was the first message he saw.

But then another quickly followed.

'It's been a full twenty-four hours.'

At first he wondered if it was a joke, but Jason didn't really joke about clients.

He tried thinking to himself what case he'd even been assigned to. That gig at the shipping yard had wrapped up by now, and that stalking victim had canceled on them for another security firm.

Then he remembered. That Monday Jason was supposed to start with the senator's daughter.

Something must have really been wrong for him to want to drop that. It was one of the best jobs they'd been offered since starting up their agency. It was full-time protection, meaning round the clock, 24/7 pay. Also a high profile contractor like a senator meant word of mouth getting around to his colleagues, similar types who would want some security for their own twenty-something-aged brats.

'We can't drop her. Maybe I can see about someone swapping cases with you. Did something happen?' was all he responded with.

The reply was instant. 'I'll take literally anything else.'

'She can't be that bad,' he sent in return.

'You take her then. Find out for yourself.'

He rolled his eyes at his dramatics. There was no way you could really be so awful. While Jason didn't joke about work that much, he loved to complain. Shaking his head, Dick typed back a final message.

'Keep your head for the next few days. I'll come see what I can do over the weekend.'

So that was what he planned on doing for at least the next five or so days. He had said the weekend, but it was Thursday now, and he didn't have to do anything else till next Wednesday. Plus, he figured Jason would try his hardest to rope him in for longer if things with you hadn't changed.

He walked into the entrance hall of the penthouse, eyes briefly scanning his surroundings like they always do upon entering somewhere new. The design was sleek. A classy white end table sat below a large mirror with delicate decorations adorning its surface. A plush rug rolled down the hallways to a set of French doors.

One glance around told him this was all expensive. Every detail chosen by someone young, experiencing their first taste of independence. It was cute in a way. At least he thought so. He could only imagine the distaste Jason had reacted with upon seeing the pink candles or vases of dainty flowers.

He continued in the direction of what he assumed was the living room. Though he had only taken a few more steps across the fuzzy rug before he heard loud voices muffled by the doors ahead. He paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to determine the severity.

The first voice he knew belonged to Jason. It boomed with annoyance, loud and brash. The other was higher pitched. He waited a few moments, feeling out the rhythm of the argument. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no third party, which meant it wasn't any serious danger.

He took another breath and braced himself to be put in the middle of whatever spat you two were having. Jason still hadn't been clear about what his exact problem with you was, so he didn't know what to fully expect. From the few things he had said over the phone, he gained the impression you were just a spoiled rich girl, and Jason's temper wasn't made to deal with any of those.

Grabbing one of the bronze handles, Dick pushed the door open. From where he stood in the alcove that held the doors, he didn't think either of you had noticed him enter.

The scene looked as he expected. Jason leaned against the pristine ivory island in the kitchen while you stood at the back of the large taupe sectional that spanned through the living area. You had your arms crossed over your chest, your foot looking as if you had just stamped it on the hardwood below. Jason, on the other hand, appeared as though he was about to explode. His fingers rubbed at his eyes before he spoke.

"For the last goddamn time, I'm not taking you, so find something else to do.”

"No. It's not your job to tell me what to do. You're only getting paid to follow me around where I wanna go," you retorted.

"I'm not taking you to the fucking mall!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms open, "Christ, you have a cell phone, a laptop, and an ipad. You could probably even use that watch you got on your wrist to shop."

"But it's not the same," you pouted.

Upon hearing that, it seemed like Jason's brain was actually on the verge of malfunctioning. In an attempt to help out, Dick walked the rest of the way in.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his voice much cooler than the tense argument that preceded it.

Immediately, both sets of eyes were on him. Jason's features melted into relief while yours swirled with curiosity.

"Is this your boss?" you asked. Your arms fell to smooth out the small shorts you had on before they rose again to make sure your hair was in place.

Meanwhile, a sneer spread on Jason's face again. "No. We're partners," he said.

"C'mon, Jason. I like to think of us as friends before coworkers," Dick teased and flashed a smile. That earned him one out of you in return. Right then, he knew this would be easy.

He headed over to the area where you stood, and acting charming as ever, stuck his hand out in search of yours.

You gladly returned the exchange, offering your palm up for shaking like a trained puppy.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he introduced. He wrapped his fingers around your hand with a firm grip.

Your smile widened before those soft lips parted to expel the syllables of your own name. You were being so much sweeter now that your sights had been set on someone besides Jason. Jason, who was currently watching with a mix of disbelief and irritation as your bratty temperament melted away before his eyes.

"Would you mind showing me where I could put my stuff?" Dick asked.

"Oh sure," you answered, "Follow me."

You waved him in your direction before prancing through an archway that led to a small area with a few doors and the stairs.

"I'll just show you where everything is while we're at it. That's the main bathroom. That's the office. And then up the stairs is where all the bedrooms are."

He followed behind you through the small room and then up the curved staircase. Jason trailed behind him, watching like this mask of pleasantness would fall away to reveal your true attitude any second.

Your hips swayed as you walked up each step. He felt like the way your ass jutted out a little as they did was intentional, but it didn't matter. Dick could be professional when he needed to be. He kept his eyes averted and stayed along your path.

After the stairs, you led them down a thin strip of lofted walkway that overlooked the living room and kitchen. With one hand on the silver railing, you explained each door that lined the wall as you went.

"That's the smaller living room. That's the second bathroom. That's the guest room Jason is staying in. And here is yours," you said as you got to the second to last door. You pushed it open and gestured proudly at the space.

"Looks nice. Thank you," he said before heading in.

He tossed his bag on the bed and glanced around. It truly was nice. The bed looked like one out of a five star hotel. The end tables were polished and seemed as though they'd never seen a visitor throughout their time here. And then there were the floor-to-ceiling windows against the farthest wall. There was nothing to see outside right now. This floor rested so high up, clouds engulfed the glass panes.

"Mhm," you hummed before biting your lip, "And my room is the last door. There's always extra space in my bed if you don't like this one."

"But I thought you said I was a perv for suggesting that?" Jason interjected and shot you a glare from where he leaned against the door frame.

"Ummm, yeah, you are," you deadpanned, "I'm offering it to him, not the other way around like you did, obviously."

"It was a joke," Jason grumbled.

Before the tension could bubble over again, Dick laughed and looked over his shoulder at your teasing expression. "You know, I appreciate the offer, but this looks like more than enough for now."

"Ok, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you put your stuff away while I figure out what we can get for dinner," you told him before stepping back out of the room.

Dick waited a few moments to make sure you were really gone before turning to Jason and smirking.

"That's who you've been having such a hard time with?" he mocked.

"I swear that's the best she's been all week. When it's just me, she doesn't quit. She goes on and on and on. Whining, complaining. It's borderline harassment to be honest," he responded and crossed his arms.

"Oh come on," he laughed, "She's as hard to deal with as a kitten."

"For you," he responded, "Once she gets bored of you, she'll act the same."

"Guess we're banking on the fact that I'm a lot more entertaining than you then, huh?" he teased.

"Shut up," Jason scoffed before turning and leaving the room too.

Over the next couple hours, Dick got settled in his room and then migrated back downstairs to feel out the situation here. Already he could guess why Jason didn't like you, but if things continued the way they were, he wouldn't mind slipping into his place. A full day of pay, and all he'd have to do is flirt back and forth with you every now and again.

In the living room, you laid back in the corner of your couch. Some tv show played as background noise while you scrolled through your phone. He made an effort to talk to you, to subtly observe more of your personality. Fortunately, you were pretty open to his attempts. Once he found a subject you liked, it was like flood gates opened. You couldn't have been more eager for someone to talk with.

Poor thing, he thought. You had everything you could want, but you were still so starved for attention.

As he listened to you chatter about your favorite tv show or something that happened last summer between you and your friend, he could see the quirks in you that drove Jason up the wall.

For one, you had a tendency to pout. He didn't think you were even aware of it most of the time. While he found it kind of cute, he knew that every time your lip started to puff out, it would send Jason's blood pressure through the roof.

You also were very touchy. Over the course of the short conversation, you drifted from your end of the couch to the cushion right next to Dick. Whenever you laughed your hand landed on his forearm. If he joked around in return, you'd lightly shove his bicep.

It was all pretty juvenile, methods of flirting used most often by kids with their first crushes, but he didn't mind. You were sweet and well-intentioned. Just so desperate to feel wanted.

And admittedly, he played into your desires a bit. He knew Jason would have lambasted him if he was down here right now instead of taking a break in his own room, but Dick didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't the one on call. Though even if he was, it's not like was overtly flirting with you. He was just having some fun and keeping you entertained. A few compliments and well-placed touches. That was it.

He straightened out his behavior a little by the time Jason did return downstairs to join you both for the dinner you'd had delivered.

You stood at the end of the table, graciously distributing the containers of food while they took up a seat on either side of you. Things went pretty smoothly overall. Once you each had a plate with your dishes of choice, you sat down and began to eat.

"You have that big kitchen," Jason commented after a few bites, looking over his shoulder at the room in question, "Do you ever actually cook anything?"

You narrowed your eyes for a moment but responded in the most calm tone of voice. "Yes, I do. But not for you."

Luckily, all that came from the tense exchange was Jason rolling his eyes. Neither of you seemed interested in launching into a full argument when you could focus on the food in front of you instead. A few minutes of quiet passed, but then conversation sprouted back up without an issue.

You asked them how they got into “bodyguarding,” making sure to add that modeling had to have been on the table for Dick. As with most interactions, he responded with a charming laugh. Though this time Jason interrupted to give you the spiel about their past - they worked together under the same mentor at a security company and decided to branch off and start their own as partners.

"Yeah, but why?" you questioned when he concluded his story, "Isn't it like... scary? You have to protect people from stalkers and stuff? That sounds so nerve wracking."

"It's not if you're good at your job like us," Jason dismissed.

Dick saw the frown appear on your face, and he swooped in with an answer of his own to make you feel less discarded.

"It can be tense sometimes on rough cases, but it's really rewarding, you know? Getting to help people and protect them from the worst parts of life gives us a purpose," he explained.

"That makes sense," you nodded before laughing a little, "I could never do what you two do. I'm wayyyy too scared of being shot."

Dick chuckled, but Jason's look didn't soften at all.

"What is it you plan on doing with your life?" Jason asked.

His tone was short, prime for judgement, but you tried to let it roll off you. You kept your shoulders back as you answered the question, like it was a part of an interview you'd prepared for.

"I'm not totally sure what I'm gonna do with my whole life, but in the spring I'm gonna start working for my dad as an aide. Like when he takes office and everything."

"So what was the point of you going through college when you're guaranteed a job like that anyways?" he asked next.

Dick shot him a look across the table. It was one thing to respond to your whining, but picking a fight was another. He could see the question pricked at a real insecurity of yours. You bristled and tried not to let the weakness show itself.

"Because," you huffed, "I'm still supposed to know things and have skills of my own. And we're not like the Kennedys or something. I can't get by on my last name forever."

"Right..." he said and redirected his focus to shoveling some more food into his mouth.

Again, Dick took it upon himself to resuscitate the mood. He chatted with you some more about school and potential areas you were interested in for your future.

As things wrapped up and the three of you cleared the table, he finished by offering to take you on that shopping trip you'd been asking about earlier tomorrow. That seemed to be all it took to fully brighten up your mood. You eagerly accepted before heading off to your room for the night.

After you'd left, the room clouded with silence for a minute. The two of them migrated over to the living room. Both him and Jason took a moment to enjoy the peace that plumed up in your absence. It dissipated when Dick decided to speak again.

"You know, part of the reason she gets snippy with you is because you're not exactly pleasant to her," he started.

"No, she doesn't like me because I won't play into her flirty bullshit like you do," Jason replied and shrugged.

"It's more than that. You dismiss almost anything she says, and you try to provoke her into lashing out at you."

"Like she doesn't do the same to me? All that whiny, pouty shit she does for you, she tried for me at first, but I hurt her feelings because I didn't act like it was cute. It's pathetic"

"Alright, but as the professional, you're supposed to keep the appearance that she doesn't bother you. I'm just saying you could try playing it cool around her," Dick suggested.

Jason glared at him. "I wasn't hired to be nice to her."

"You're not getting paid to be an asshole either."

The harsh look deepened in the other man's green eyes. "What are we getting paid to do here exactly? She's not in any actual danger."

So that was his problem.

Dick sighed, but before he could provide some form of justification, Jason was pulling up your case files on his phone. He turned the screen to Dick.

"Look. Read it. Why'd we even accept this bullshit? He basically admits there's no real threat in the request," he said.

Dick took the small device and scanned over the document with his eyes. He didn't have to read it to know why they accepted it, of course. The money was great and the connections they could gain from it would be even better for the firm. He still skimmed the tiny words staring back at him though. The request for protection that asked you be assigned a full time guard in the potential event of political retaliation. Political retaliation that both sides of this arrangement knew was not coming. Your father had won his race by a comfortable margin. No one even attempted to contest the result. All of his positions were uncontroversial as well.

It was obvious to Dick that he and Jason were simple pawns in a power struggle here. They were the expendable pieces your father could tote around and punish you with for whatever reason. Maybe you'd been too outspoken about something. Maybe you had a tendency to get too wild when you went out. Maybe you'd just outsmarted the last move in this lifelong game of chess.

Whatever it had been, this was just the next subtle method of control. He'd seen it before in rich kids like you. Shitty as it was, it was part of this business.

Handing the phone back to the other man, he answered. "You know why we took it. And I know it's frustrating, but not every case is gonna be something out of an action movie. If he wants to pay for someone to ease his mind, then that's just how it is."

"He hired a babysitter for an adult," Jason spat with disdain, "That's all this is. The only thing I'm protecting her from is maxing out daddy's credit card or taking a laced bump at some shitty party."

"There are worse jobs in the world than watching over a pretty girl, Jason," Dick said and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh bullshit. This isn't just watching a pretty girl. This is listening to her run her fucking mouth. It's putting up with her bitching and moaning in my ear 24/7 about how she doesn't want me here."

"Look. It's not that hard to figure out," he interjected, "She was spoiled rotten growing up, but that also means she probably had a lot of people trying to control her life. She's getting her first real taste of freedom being out of college and living on her own, and then her dad takes it away by hiring us. Can you blame her for being a little pissy about it?"

"So what? Poor little rich girl. She has people who want to be involved with her life and make sure she has a future," he scoffed, "If she doesn't like that, she can take it out on her dad. Why do we have to deal with the fallout?"

"I know it's not what you want to be dealing with, but you're smart enough to know that things aren't that simple," he responded, "Everything in this place - the clothes she wears, the furniture we're sitting on, I'd bet even her phone she carries around - doesn't belong to her. None of it comes from her own money. Maybe her name's on the title of this place, but you know it's not really hers. She probably plays nice and puts up with things that don't really bug her to make sure he doesn't start taking it all away or offering to give it to her in the first place."

Jason still wouldn't drop his scowl. He understood Dick was right, but you were so goddamn irritating, he didn't want to admit you deserved even the smallest degree of grace.

"You don't have to act like a boyfriend or even her best friend," Dick offered as a compromise, "All I'm saying is that if you weren't so aggressive from the jump, she might feel more inclined to listen to you."

"She's a grown woman," Jason grumbled with hushed incredulity, "I shouldn't have to handle her like a little girl or a puppy or something."

"You're right. You shouldn't have to. But it's the way it is, so adapt or drive yourself crazy. It's your choice," he said.

"I guess," he huffed before slumping back in his seat a bit.

Dick relaxed back against the couch as well. Looking at Jason now, he couldn't help but think that part of the reason the two of you butted heads at every opportunity was because you both were in the running for the most headstrong person he'd ever met.

The next day, Dick made good on his promise to take you shopping. The two of you drove to an upscale mall and spent the next few hours roaming the wide corridors. He stayed close to your side, his muscular arms covered in the bands of your shopping bags as you led him from one place to the next. You talked his ear off, but he didn't mind. It was better than lounging around the penthouse and listening to you and Jason bicker.

And in your defense, while you had him carrying all your stuff, you took plenty of chances to offer to buy him a few things. Anything his eyes lingered on for more than two seconds had you playfully waving around your card. Each time he'd decline. He had to keep some appearance of doing his job. Jason would never let him hear the end of it if he thought he indulged in this shopping spree too.

He was still somewhat playing his part though. His eyes scanned the exits and entries (when they weren't lingering on how your lip gloss shimmered on the soft curves of your mouth). He was focused on making sure no suspicious characters tried approaching you (when he wasn't ogling the way your t-shirt stretched across the swell of your chest).

"So only one last place, right?" he checked while you typed away on your phone.

"Yup!" you chirped.

You trotted along a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of a store entryway framed by two dark, tile pillars. The words above glowed in a light, classic font. He eyed it and then shifted his gaze to the display windows. That was when he realized this was a store for lingerie.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. "Really?" he said, raising his brows at you.

"What?" you asked, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys that gets all weird about bras and panties. What do you think I'm wearing under this?"

"I don't really think it's my place to be imagining that," he chuckled.

"Well you don't gotta imagine right now. Just stay close to me while I pick some things out," you replied with your own little smile.

Unlike Jason, this wouldn't be a hill he died on. He followed you into the store and remained quiet within a few feet of you while you checked over the stands for items you liked. You seemed pretty picky when it came to this stuff. Your face contorted into contemplative expressions, weighing if you should go with the lacy black or the baby pink.

"So... do you actually have someone to wear these for or...?" he asked while trying to seem aloof.

"I wear them because I like them," you corrected while shooting him a playful glare, "But to answer your question, not yet."

"Ah, yet," he grinned.

"Mhm. It doesn't hurt to be prepared," you said.

He huffed out a small laugh and kept in line with your footsteps. After a while, you selected a few pairs and seemed almost ready to go. You weaved through the array of perfume stands and seasonal racks. On the way to the register though, your eyes caught on a pair of silk pajamas. They were dainty, thin, and striped. Just the kind of thing that looked as though it was sewn specifically for your closet.

"Oh my gosh. Dick, can you hold this?" you said. The question was pointless as you'd already shoved the basket of panties into his arms before the words finished leaving your lips.

You pranced to the display with the sleepwear and looked it over with adoring eyes. With a wave of your hand, you summoned a nearby attendant to ask for a set you could try on.

Moments later the worker guided the two of you towards the back of the store, showing you the changing area. It was nicer than most shops. A large mirror sat on the wall that was covered in floral paper. Next to it a small door concealed the private fitting section, and in the center was a couple seats.

The woman waved you in. She glanced over each of you with a tight-lipped smile before adding that "your boyfriend" was welcome to wait inside for you.

He opened his mouth to amend her definition of him, but before he got the chance, you chimed in with a cheerful "thank you!"

His eyes zipped from the exiting staff member to you. Upon looking in your eyes, he could see your amusement dancing there. You grabbed his free hand and led him to the plush couches. Then you took off with the pajamas in your hands into the private part of the room.

"So boyfriend, huh? Is that my title now?" he called to you through the open space above the door. While you changed, he set the endless supply of bags down on the loveseat across from the one he chose to sit down on.

"It could be," you replied, "Isn't it like safer if bad guys think a girl has a boyfriend?"

He'd dealt with clients flirting with him before, but never one as flagrant as you. Only one day with you, and he could tell you'd never experienced true shame in your two decades and some spare years of life.

"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled in return. Even though your confidence humored him, he couldn't deny the part of him that was flattered. The same part that got turned on.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you strutted out. Your luscious legs stretched out from the tiny shorts that bedizened your hips. The button-up top hung off your shoulders and framed the curves of your waist. With a few steps, you stood in front of him, as if you were a model in a fashion show organized personally for him.

"Exactly. So, how do I look, darling?" you teased, doing a little spin for him.

He reached out and grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your flesh squish beneath the pads of his digits. Your eyes connected with his as he dragged them up from your waist to your face.

"Stunning, sweetheart," he played right along.

A small giggle trickled from your lips before you turned to the side to assess your appearance in the mirror. He kept his grip on you. Both his and your eyes glided over your frame, lingering on his hands clasped around the bottoms.

"I'll have to get them then," you decided after a few moments.

His pupils shifted up, sparkling under the fluorescents on the ceiling. "I think that's a great choice. Though when you wear them later, you may want to fix the pocket," he said.

Trailing his right hand up from its post on your hip, his fingers coasted over your breast to the shirt pocket that was flipped slightly inside out. He pushed the material back into place, delving two digits beneath the silk flap. The tips teased the curve of your breast. They dragged on the skin just above your nipple through the cloth.

Fortunately for you, he pulled them out seconds later, allowing you to step back and hide the way the small bud had begun to pebble for him. The smirk on his face hinted that he still knew though.

"Ok, well I'm gonna change back. Then we can check out and go home. Maybe we could get some food on the way back or something," you said, laying out the plan as a distraction for the blooming heat you felt in your abdomen.

"Yeah, sounds good," he responded and shrugged.

He watched as you capered back behind that door. You were a tease through and through, and that couldn't have pleased him more. It's what made this all so easy. You could flirt and bat your eyelashes and speak in that seductively innocuous tone, but when you caught scent of any real arousal, you pulled back quicker than a skittish dog.

It could make it easier for him to remain professional. A way of keeping him from crossing the line that was supposed to divide him and all clients. But it also made you so much more tempting. An elusive prey animal just begging to be caught.

The rest of that day followed the plan you had set in the dressing room.

You checked out of that last store then had Dick carry your collection of purchases to the car. The two of you picked up some food on the way home. Despite your lavish taste in just about everything else, when it came to dinner, you were a pretty cheap date.

When you made it back to the penthouse, Dick shoulders the weight of everything you bought again. The two of you don't bother asking Jason for help, knowing it would only cause more drama. Instead, he let the thin handles on the bags of clothes and jewelry and trinkets dig into his skin and nearly cut off his circulation.

Besides that though, everything went fine. Jason gave you both a look of disdain when he saw the evidence of your shopping trip, but he didn't comment.

Maybe he was taking Dick's advice.

That seemed to be the case even as you came trotting down the stairs not too long later. You'd changed into your new silk set. The fabric didn't leave anything to the imagination in terms of your figure and that was what it did cover. Most of your legs and a sliver of your chest remained exposed to any eyes that should wander by.

You had a little smile on your face as you entered the room. Of course, you knew how you looked. You were bratty, not stupid.

Upon spotting Jason in the kitchen, you headed in that direction. He'd been standing in the corner where the counters met, eating something for a few moments. The calmness of solitude that had previously filled the space dissolved when he caught sight of you.

As much as he couldn't stand you, Jason was still human. His brows raised and his eyes stuck to your scantily-clad body, raking over your curves and smooth skin. You watched with absolute joy as he finally acknowledged you in some way other than a nuisance.

It only took him a few seconds to catch himself, but the damage had been done. You bounded over to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. He kept his eyes down now, intent on trying not to gauge if you were wearing a bra under that skimpy thing by how your breasts bounced.

"So Jason... What did you do while me and Dick were out?" you asked.

"Desperately awaited your return," he grumbled sarcastically.

The question obviously meant nothing to you. He could hear it in every syllable. It served as a placeholder. A plausible reason you could linger around him to flaunt yourself.

His response brought a laugh out of you in spite of the backhanded nature of the statement. "You could've come with us. It probably would've been more fun," you smiled.

"For you maybe."

"Well yeah for me," you said. You pushed off the island and stepped a few paces closer to him. "What do you think of my clothes? They're new. Dick said he liked them."

You did a small twirl like you had in the dressing room. An attempt to lure Jason's gaze back onto you. He didn't take the bait so easily though and locked his gaze on the food he'd been snacking on.

"If you got Dick's opinion, then why do you need mine?" he shot back.

"Cause I want it," you answered.

With a deep breath, he brought his eyes back to you. He could control himself, both his temper and other kinds of impulses. Plus, there was no way he was going to let you win. You had enough smugness in your voice as it was. No way was he gonna make the problem worse by letting you feel as though you had him intimidated.

"Looks the same as the ones you normally wear," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but I didn't ask that. I just wanna know if you like them."

"Why? Are you gonna throw a fit or something if I say no? Call daddy and have him hire someone with better taste to babysit you?" he mocked.

That put a scowl on your face, which made him smile. The two of you worked like a seesaw of emotions, one extreme on each side, animosity shifting so rapidly the bar could never rest at a balanced middle.

"No," you scoffed with a glare, "I was just trying to be nice to you-"

"Oh really? It felt more like you were fishing for compliments to me," he said, "You bought the clothes, so obviously you like them. Why do you need me validating your choice?"

God, this felt so much better than getting worked up over you. Watching your face morph into increasingly petulant expressions gave Jason more joy than imagining the day a month from now when this job would finally be done.

"Whatever," you huffed and rolled your eyes before retreating to the living room to be with Dick.

That was fine with him. He didn't cause a blow up or have to deal with Dick's lecture while simultaneously getting you out of his immediate vicinity. Though, that was probably for the best for reasons other than his anger too.

He would never ever admit it out loud, especially not after the point he'd made about it last night, but seeing you in that tiny get up, all desperate for his approval... it had him craving some alone time to quell the heat he felt beginning to simmer within.

He cleaned up his plate that was now empty and then ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment, and he let out a sigh. After a few moments, he decided he didn't need to shove down the feelings. He'd been pent up enough over the last week. Nonstop hours of you trying to get under his skin and make him snap. It left him yearning for some outlet, for some relief. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off all the time.

Right now, Dick was with you. The chances of you wandering up to his room to bother him were slim. He could sneak off for a while, spend some quality time with his right hand and chill the fuck out.

So that's what he did. He headed off upstairs and shut the door to his room.

Now you sat beside Dick on the couch as an old movie played on the tv. You were so close to him that your bare thighs rested against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

It wasn't that late, but only a third of the way into the movie you felt yourself sinking into the cushions behind you, tiredness overtaking your body. Your eyes grew droopy and glazed as you tried watching the action playing out in front of you.

A few minutes later, you started to accept this might be a pointless effort. In your defense, shopping was a tiring activity! Malls were big and required lots of steps to get through. When you combined that with doing all the spending math in your head, talking to Dick, and trying things on, it made sense that you were beat.

You let your head slump over and hit his shoulder. Your temple thudded against the curve of it as a yawn made its way out of you. You brought your legs closer to your body and wrapped one of your hands around his bicep as well. If you were gonna go for an inch, why not take the whole mile?

His head swiveled in your direction when he felt the gentle contact. He didn't protest like you knew Jason would have though. Rather, he let you grip onto his muscular arm and rest against his broad frame before bringing his free hand over to smooth down the nape of your neck.

"Are we still playing boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.

Your eyes fluttered open as you tilted your face up to look at him. After a moment's thought, you bobbed your head in a lazy nod.

Upon seeing your confirmation, a lascivious smile spread across his lips. He leaned back further into the couch himself and stretched his legs out onto the extended part of the sectional. Once he was adjusted, he pulled his arm free of your grasp. You showed slight dismay at first, displeased with the loss of support and heat. Though it quickly evaporated as he draped it over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

"Well if I was your boyfriend," he said, drawing out the syllables pointedly, "I think we'd be sitting like this."

Even in your tired condition, you felt a bit flustered. You wouldn't show that though. It would take more to get you to willingly show how he affected you. You snuggle into his sculpted side and nestle your face against his chest. Below his skin, you hear the faint but steady beat of his heart.

"You're probably right," you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, "It's comfier like this."

"Mhm. Safer too," he teased.

You nodded, not needing words this time around. One of your arms encircled his waist to keep you snug against him while you continued to watch the movie.

It was honestly a miracle in your own eyes that you hadn't passed out yet in the few seconds you'd been sitting like this. He was so warm, and he smelled so good, like fresh laundry. And now his hand had started rubbing up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his palm and the perfect amount of pressure seemed like it would be lulling you into unconsciousness in minutes.

But then he spoke again.

"And if I was your boyfriend, we'd be doing a lot more than just watching this movie," he whispered.

The words hit your ears in soft puffs of air, sending chills down your spine. You bit your lip and willed your eyes to open wider before looking at him again.

"What else would we be doing?" you asked.

"What do you think? With you sitting here, all cute in your little outfit..." he began, lowering his mouth to your neck. A soft gasp left you as he began laying kisses up your throat to your ear. His teeth scraped over your earlobe before his tongue grazed the skin behind it. "I think I'd have a pretty hard time keeping my hands to myself," he finished lowly.

The skin of your shoulders prickled beneath the satiny material of your top and continued to do so down your arms and legs. You weren't completely inexperienced, but you'd never had such intense attention focused on you. You'd never felt like the center of someone's entire world like you did right now.

Your hand lands on his thigh, gripping the meat of it with your fingers. You turn your head into a brief kiss before pulling back an inch.

"If you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to keep your hands to yourself," you murmured.

And that was the last thing he needed to hear.

He dove in and kissed you like it was the millionth time. His lips moved against your own sensually before his tongue found its way into your mouth. A tender moan slipped out of you in response. He played the part of your boyfriend better than any actual candidate for the role before him.

Your palm migrated up from his thigh to his lap. With a few delicate swipes, you coaxed a bulge into rising against the fabric of his pants. Your hand then fled the area and trailed up his abs onto his chest. Every inch of him felt as though it had been crafted by divine beings. A gift for anyone who should have the pleasure of experiencing him.

He tugged you closer, guiding you so close that you were all but in his lap. His right hand groped the dough of your ass while his left crept onto your breast and gave it the squeeze he had wanted to earlier in the changing room.

You squeaked like a chew toy in response, which drew a laugh out of him. He teased the mound again by kneading it a few more times. His fingers dragged across the soft curves before zeroing in on your nipple, tweaking and pulling at the sensitive little nub. That brought some whines out of you.

"My little girlfriend's so responsive," he whispered.

He knew he was acting like an idiot right now. He wasn't just crossing every client-contractor line in the book, he was practically leaping over them with joy. If Jason came down here and saw this opening to a porno playing out on the couch, he would never hear the end of it. But he just couldn't stop now. The way you arched into his touch was fucking intoxicating. You had him hooked, and he hadn't gotten farther than feeling up your tits.

And then you whimpered and nipped at his bottom lip. It wasn't like you could really defend yourself from his words. Every touch had you keening for more.

He hummed at the mini bite before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. The arm wrapped around your back continued to support you while the set of fingers that had been playing with your chest fell towards the junction of your thighs. You seemed a little nervous at the start of the descent, but by the time his hand made it there, your legs spread open for him with no hesitation.

Both of your harsh breaths drowned out the sounds from the movie that had been long forgotten by now. And then your soft, sweet moans joined them.

He started out with a few loving caresses over your center. A few pets to get you warmed up. It was all you needed to let out those cute little noises. You rolled your hips at his hand, already signaling your need for more.

Without a second thought, he obliged you. His hand slid beneath your waistband and into your panties before his fingers slotted between your lips, finding your clit with expertise. They danced over your bundle of nerves and pressed down on it. More whines trickled from your mouth. He could only hope his lips on yours did a sufficient job of muffling them.

"That's it, sweetheart," he crooned, "You're so cute. Not worried about anything but feeling good."

You bucked your hips without a care in the world now, just like he said. They rocked up into the friction his digits were providing. Wet sloshing sounds emanated from where his hand moved beneath your shorts.

After a little while longer of just touching, he worked a finger inside of you. Then another. He pumped them in and out, relishing each precious mewl that erupted from you in turn. His digits curled. Each stroke inside you brushed a tender spot that made your thighs quiver and jerk.

"Fuck," you inhaled sharply before reaching forward to try palming at him, a haphazard attempt at returning the favor.

His free hand brushed yours away though. Those cerulean eyes glimmered with cockiness.

"I can take care of myself, baby. I'm being paid to service you, remember?" he purred.

Your eyes rolled back, and your head followed in that direction, hitting the backing of the couch. You weakly nodded before allowing the pleasurable sensations to cloud your head. He just kept thrusting his two fingers in and out while his palm ground against your clit.

You vaguely felt him start to grind his hips against the side of your leg. He used the pressure as stimulation, giving himself some muted relief while tending to you.

In the throes of bliss, you hadn't realized how close you were until the edge was right there. You whined and squirmed, trying to alert him that you were a few skillful pumps away from unraveling.

"Dick... gonna..." you whimpered.

"Yeah, I can tell. You're getting nice and tight," he murmured.

You nodded. Your lip started to jut out, those pouty habits making themselves known in the heat of the moment. He grinned before kissing it away.

"Let go, baby. Soak through your new shorts. Get 'em all messy for me," he cooed.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as your toes curled. It was impossible to resist the urge to release when he was guiding you to it like that. Your whole body tensed up and then relaxed over and over, the highs of pleasure washing over you in waves.

He watched every little move you make, drank it all up like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara.

"You look so pretty while you cum," he praised. You heard him say the words; though, they sounded distant amidst the haze of bliss surrounding you.

When you finished, he could tell you were exhausted. Your eyelids drooped as if keeping them open was an impossible task. You laid there limp beside him, just about ready to melt into the couch.

He chuckled and slipped his hand from your shorts. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucked them clean and then ducked in for one last kiss. You squeaked in surprise but didn't pull away. He let you taste yourself for a moment before retreating.

Even though he hadn't cum himself, he figured it would be fine for tonight. There were four weeks left of this job after all. He'd have more time with you. Tonight he could deal with finishing himself off in his room after taking you to bed.

He shut the tv off and then scooped you up. Your body draped between his two arms. You didn't complain or protest; rather, just leaned your head into his shoulder and accepted the aid. He walked with you up the stairs, down the walkway to your bedroom. The last door on the path.

Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the threshold into your space. It appeared like the rest of the apartment, just more concentrated. A more pure embodiment of you. All the other parts of this place he'd seen had traces of your personality throughout, but each and every part of this room represented a piece of you.

He didn't spend any time snooping around or getting a better look. Like the perfect gentleman, he placed you in bed, draped a blanket over your body, and made sure you were situated. Then he retraced his steps back out into the hall. He headed down to the guest room and slipped inside, planning on taking care of himself and then passing out for the night.

The next morning, Dick woke to a thudding on the wall behind his headboard. Knock. Knock. Knock. The noises pounded against the barrier in an even-rhythm, every second or so. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going on by the time he reached full consciousness. They'd invaded the last part of his dream, so he assumed maybe a few minutes.

Even though the sounds should probably concern him, all he felt was annoyance. The wall behind his bed was the one connected to Jason's. He figured the noises were a result of him working out or moving some things around. Maybe you two had gotten into another argument and he was packing his things in anger.

Dick dragged himself out of bed and stretched. He'd slept longer than usual last night. A lazy smile rose to his face as details came flooding back to him. How you'd felt around his fingers and whined for him to keep pleasuring you.

Once he'd figured out what the noise was about, maybe he'd head over to your room, see if you were up yet. It'd been less than twelve hours, but he was already craving another taste of you.

He stepped out into the hallway, walking in the direction of the room the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could hear some grunting too. It sounded pretty intense. Either Jason was working out really hard or you'd really pissed him off. Maybe a combination of both.

"Hey, Jason. Some of us are trying to sleep. You don't need to compete with the construction crews around the rest of the city with all this-" he started to call out, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw the source of the banging.

He felt like a flash grenade had gone off in the room he was looking into. The source of the loud sounds was no longer a mystery. It was coming from Jason's headboard slamming into the wall. The headboard was doing that because the man in question was kneeling on the bed with you pinned down in front of him, fucking you like he was an animal in heat. Dick saw your body jerk in panic as soon as you heard the sound of his voice close in.

"Jesus, man!" Dick said and spun away from the explicit sight before him. His mind reeled and tried to grasp onto what he just witnessed.

As he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he just saw Jason balls deep inside you, he also realized that the lewd noises weren't stopping. He slowly turned back to get another glance - just a curious one, he told himself.

His eyes found the two of you again. Jason kneeled on the edge of the bed. One of his large hands gripped your hip while the other held your face down against the pillows. Now that Dick was really listening, he could hear your little muffled whines and squeaks.

Jason's body glowed, flush from arousal and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. Your limbs were folded up like pieces of a portable chair. Dick tried not to focus on the flicker of heat in his gut, and instead, think about how even with another set of eyes, neither of you had stopped going at it. In your defense, he didn't think the decision was up to you. Jason had manhandled you into a position that gave him all the leverage.

Finally after another second or two, the other man looked his way.

"You need something, Dick?" Jason grunted as though he'd been interrupted while reading a book rather than pounding you into the mattress.

He blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Do you really have to ask that? You're not a prude, and you're far from innocent," he mocked. His voice was breathless as though he found some deep satisfaction in this act. Dick believed that. He'd felt how soft and tight your cunt was last night, warm enough to melt even someone as tough as Jason down a bit.

"I'm not a prude, but you could at least shut the door," he responded. The absurdity of this situation then began to dawn on him. He stepped closer to the bed. "Really, Jason. What the fuck are you doing? She's a client," he finally said.

That brought a laugh out of the younger man. "Client, huh? That's not what I was hearing last night when you had her out on the couch."

Dick tensed in the face of the accusation. Shit. He'd thought the two of you had been quiet enough. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"That's different..." he defended weakly.

In reality, he of course knew that it wasn't. Him fooling around with you last night was, on a technical level, no different from what Jason was doing now. Either one if found out by your father, their employer, would get them fired and possibly slapped with a lawsuit.

But he did feel it was honestly different on some level. He'd just been playing with you. Going along with your flirting. Having some fun. Jason was fucking you. Every thrust was like an act of revenge for all the pouting and whining and huffy glares. He bullied his cock deep into your cunt with every swing of his hips. Your body jolted from his momentum, your fingers curled around the edges of the pillow. It was intense and raw.

"It is not," Jason denied, "Plus, I thought you'd be happy. We're not arguing anymore. You wanted me to act cool with her? Well she thinks this is pretty fuckin' cool. Don't you, princess?"

Before you could mumble something against the satiny linens below you, he looped an arm around your neck and pulled you up against him. You squealed at the sharp angle this new position put you at. Your eyes rolled back, and the only sounds that came from your lips immediately were hazy babbles.

You eventually collected yourself enough to nod. He laughed in your ear, slotting his face right next to yours. You could feel his breaths against your cheek, his sweat smearing on your skin.

"Use your words, sweetheart," he purred.

A shudder coursed its way through you. Your dazed eyes opened just enough to connect with Dick's bright blue ones. You didn't know what to say, so you let out the easiest thing you could think of.

"F-feels good..."

Dick nearly winced at the fucked-out sound of your voice. It was sultry and slurred. If you weren't so disgustingly rich, he was sure you'd make a killing doing this stuff on camera.

His eyes scraped over the shape Jason had you propped in now. Your body was arched like a bow, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. He had your arms hooked over one of his behind your back while his other was wrapped around your throat. Your chin rested on the thick muscles there. Saliva spilled from your mouth while the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.

Everything about it was turning him on, but he tried to disguise that fact. He shifted where he stood in an attempt to readjust himself and not let his cock fill out. But then his eyes caught on the slight bulge in your stomach. The faint outline that protruded in rhythm with the man behind you thrusting.

He almost came on the spot. A groan worked its way up his throat, and he ran a hand over his face into his messy hair.

Jason huffed out a laugh at the noise. "You should've seen her. She came in here trying to pick a fight. Probably a warm up before she scampered off to your room to get you to relieve her frustration."

"Nuh uh," you whimpered pitifully.

In response, he released your arms and shoved you down onto the mattress again. You whined at the force he put into slamming your face against the blankets. His hips rutted into you even harder too, clearing any further words of denial from your mind.

"I wasn't asking," he chided. He gave your ass a firm slap before holding onto your hips.

You mewled and clawed at the soft bedding.

"Maybe you are being honest though. Maybe you didn't plan on getting Dick to help you out. You probably knew he couldn't give it to you like you needed," he said. His green eyes flitted up to the man standing beside the bed, letting him know it was an open challenge.

Dick knew he shouldn't take the bait. This was weird enough as it was, standing there and watching the two of you fuck. But wouldn't it be weirder not getting involved? If he just left, he'd still be half-hard. He'd probably skulk off back to his room to jerk off, and that would be more pathetic than whatever he was about to agree to.

"Sure, Jason. If that's what you have to tell yourself," he mocked, "She knows how good I can make her feel. She just knows that you're easier."

Jason’s usual scowl appears on his face. "You cracked first. Gave into her and acted all sweet," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but look at you. She didn't have to work at all to get you to fuck her," he taunted, "I'm sure she'll be so tempted to not act out anymore when this is how you deal with it."

He closed the gap between himself and the bed, reaching for your face. He cupped your jaw and tilted your head upwards to face him. Swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, he smirked at the cute, pouty look on your face.

Jason growled and tugged you back. His hips clapped against your ass. You whined in a mixture of pleasure and pain, screwing your eyes shut. He leaned over your body like a dog guarding its favorite toy while continuing to pound into you.

"You know I'm right," Dick said, "You're so rough because you know you have to compensate."

Now Jason was actually getting a little pissy. He was the one who made this competitive, but it didn't take much to trigger his temper.

He let go of your body and pulled out. "You think you can do better? Go ahead then," he said, gesturing to your twitching form. You whined at the emptiness you now felt, but it did nothing to change his mind. He gave you a quick swat between your legs, ripping a cry from you.

"No whining, little brat," he said, "Not when you're getting so much attention. More than you deserve."

Dick watched with interest before connecting his stare with the other man's.

"You just want me to what? Strip down and fuck her?" he asked.

"Why not? Don't act like you don't want to. I can see the tent in your pants," he responded.

Looking down, he knew he was right. The front of his sweats had puffed out with his desire. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed about it right now though. Jason was shameless as could be, so why should he try to keep up an appearance of modesty?

He shrugged and began peeling off his t-shirt before pushing his pants and boxers to the floor. Both pieces crumple up next to his feet as his cock comes into view. He gives it a few lazy strokes while reaching for you.

You glanced up at him, your pupils dilating upon seeing his length. It was slightly skinnier than Jason's but just as long. Your mouth watered for a taste. He chuckled, your admiration stroking his ego.

"Come here, baby," he cooed, much more gentle than Jason.

The sound of his voice revived you from your fucked out state, and you were happy to be guided into his arms. He sat against the headboard and took you onto his lap. Pressing a few kisses to your lips, he ran his fingers down your jawline.

He knew he wouldn't have to do anything to get you ready. You were already dripping onto his thighs from the mess Jason left between your legs. He shifted you around by your waist, laying you back against his chest. The both of you faced Jason who sat at the end of the bed.

"You think you can ride for me?" he murmured against the shell of your ear.

Your legs were wobbly and your mind still felt a little cloudy from the euphoria Jason pumped into your veins, but you nodded anyways, not wanting to disappoint Dick.

He rewarded you with a grin and pecked your temple. "Such a good girl. Gonna show him how sweet you can be when you're treated right, huh?"

Again, you nodded, but he also caught Jason rolling his eyes.

You rose onto your feet and positioned yourself above his lap. He helped you out a little, lining his shaft up at your entrance and sliding it through your slick.

Slowly, you began sinking down on him. He couldn't help the choked moan that slipped out of his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight," he rasped.

You didn't let up, lowering yourself all the way down in one go. Your ass rested against his pelvis, and he gave you a few moments to adjust. Hell, he needed them too to catch his breath. He couldn't cum too quickly right now. Not with Jason watching. He'd never hear the end of it.

But eventually you do start to bounce. His hands hold onto the little divots in your side to help you keep balance. Your warm slippery walls squeeze around him with each of your movements.

More whiny sounds seep from your lips. They were higher-pitched than last night. Less drawn out and delirious. Each time you took him all the way, your hips jerked. He reached around, swirling his fingers over your clit.

"So sensitive," he teased.

You whimpered and continued to bounce yourself in haphazard bursts. Your pussy gushed for him, your juices dripping down to his balls. By the time you finished, there would be a wet patch for sure.

He tilted his head back against the headboard, just letting himself feel for a moment. Meanwhile, your eyes meet Jason's. He had a fist wrapped around his cock. He kept his strokes slow, as if trying to hide the fact that he was doing it at all.

"Feeling good?" he asked, but you know it was intended to mock you, "You like sweet and gentle? Better than how I do it?"

Before you could answer, Dick slammed you down on his cock. Your eyes fluttered, and you loosened up, allowing him to take over in lifting you up and down on his shaft.

"If you're asking, that means you know you're losing," Dick chimed in a sing-song voice.

That just spiked Jason’s blood pressure. He stood up. "My turn again," he demanded.

Dick openly laughed in his face while continuing to pump you like a fleshlight. "No," he said.

"Yeah. You've had your turn, now it's mine. Give her back," he said. He was getting more agitated because he realized how petulant he sounded.

It only brought more laughter from Dick. "Give her back? What is she? Your favorite doll or something?" he taunted, "It doesn't really seem like she wants to go back to you. I think I'll keep her here till she finishes."

"You're the one who interrupted."

"You're the one who practically invited me to."

"I don't care. You had enough time, now it's my turn to show you. I'll get her at fucking gunpoint if I have to."

Both of them knew he was just blowing off steam. When Jason got mad, he would say things like that without thinking twice. But you'd never heard his voice so gruff, dripping with the potential for violence. When he got pissed at you, he was annoyed and agitated. Frustrated more than anything else. This was something else, and it turned you on.

You clenched around Dick's cock and let out a shaky whine. They simultaneously dropped their bickering and looked at you. Dick slowed the pace as he eyed you, but Jason's lips curved upward.

"Oh you like that idea?" he chuckled, "Thought you were afraid of guns, princess?"

"I- I am," you said, trying to backtrack.

His dark locks swayed from side to side as he shook his head. The moment he headed towards the nightstand Dick knew what he was doing.

"Jason-" he started, but his gun was already in his hand. The dark pistol pointed towards you.

"Come here," he said.

Your eyes widened, thighs quivering as Dick stopped moving you and let you slide off of him. He watched as his cock slid out of you, still coated in your arousal. You crawled forward towards the man pointing the gun at you.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair when you were close enough and dragged you the rest of the way. His cock kicked at the yelp you let out.

"That's a good girl. You know to come when you're called," he praised.

You whimpered in response, looking up at him with wide, puppy-eyes. He didn't soften in the slightest though. Scooping you from behind, he dumped you onto your back.

"Spread your legs for me nice and wide," he directed. You clasped your own legs behind the knee and made sure there was ample room for him to get at your center.

The gun remained aimed at you. It kept your heart pumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. A sick combination of fear and lust ran through your limbs. Jason didn't mind the shakiness though. With his free hand, he guided his thick cock back to your entrance and slid right in.

"Fuck, you take it so well for such a prissy little thing," he growled.

He didn't give you the adjustment period like Dick had. Instead, he pushed all the way in and then dragged his hips back before slamming in again. You mewled at the stretch. The sweet burn of him splitting your cunt open.

"Jason..." Dick said again in the tone of a parent about to count to three.

Jason didn't drop it though. He leaned forward, pressing the cool metal barrel against your shoulder and folding you in half under his bulky frame. He was so deep inside you that you couldn't really say he was thrusting anymore. Just grinding his hips. Deep, even rolls. Those tears that had been teasing you before leaked out freely now. You hiccuped out a broken sob as he continued fucking you within an inch of your life.

"She's fine," he grunted, trying to suppress a moan of his own, "Fuck... you know I'm careful."

It was true. Dick didn't actually believe Jason would shoot you, but still, this felt like the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing. This was probably the most danger you'd been in over the course of your entire life. It was definitely the first time you'd had a gun aimed at you.

Heat sweltered between you and Jason, making it almost impossible to breathe. Your head lolled back in search of some relief. Some semblance of breathing room. But he was just all around you. Every part of your body felt under his control.

Your vision went spotty for a moment, but when you came back, you saw Dick's face above yours. Jason had leaned back a bit, allowing you to cool down. His hips maintained a steady rhythm though.

The older man stared down at you, stroking your cheek gently. He swiped your tears away with your thumb. His palms kept your head cradled as if you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It just made you cry more.

"You're so pretty crying like that," he crooned. His knuckles swept over your heated skin. "Such a sweet girl. Not used to getting it so rough."

"She'll be used to it by the time the month is over," Jason said. He put the gun aside now, using both hands to hold onto you.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued showering you with soft words and tender touches. It was like each half of your body was in a separate world.

You could tell Jason was close by the way his thrusts were becoming more sporadic. His breaths puffed out in harsh pants while his fingers gripped you tight enough to bruise. Luckily, you were getting there too.

The only one left behind was Dick, but he wasn't worried. He had the patience for you.

Jason thumbed your clit, dragging you the rest of the way to the finish line. You came with a scream so loud that both of them were thankful the penthouse suite meant no neighbors to hear you. Your body quivered and convulsed. You sobbed out cries for both of them. Your hands flew to Dick's wrist to hold onto something.

Jason kept pumping into you for a few moments more, but you were tight as a vise. He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he should pull out. But as he was going to, you locked your shaky legs around him and shook your head.

"I'm-" you tried before cutting yourself off with a whimper, "I'm on the pill."

In that moment, it was like he heard an angel speak to him. He slammed into you as hard as he could and collapsed onto your body. His larger chest crushed you against the bed, his face nuzzling into your neck as he spilled himself inside you. You swore you heard him whine, but it was hard to tell with everything going on.

He fucked his cum into you, not pulling out until he was completely satisfied. Once he was and that dreamy bliss of post-release had settled over him, he reluctantly rolled off and landed next to you flat on his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.

But you weren't done yet. Dick slid around to where he had been and pushed his cock into your hole that was still leaking Jason's cum.

"The best goes on last," he teased with a lazy smirk.

He sighed, his long lashes dusting his cheeks at the sensation. His grip was much softer. He took his thrusts slower too, knowing your poor pussy was aching from how rough Jason got.

You whimpered and twitched at the slight overstimulation.

"Shhh, doing good for me," he cooed, "Pussy's so warm and soft. She wants me. I’ll make her feel all better."

The sounds coming from where your bodies connected were absolutely obscene. And even though Dick wasn't going as fast, he was getting just as deep. His tip brushed your sweet spot over and over. Your toes curled and your back arched. This time it was Jason you held onto. You gripped his hand tight as you could, and he let you. He didn't baby you like Dick did, but he allowed you the comfort of his large, warm palm around yours.

You were totally gone by the time Dick was ready to let go. He angled his hips to guide you into another release. Your walls fluttered around his length. His head tilted back and he let out a groan, feeling his own peak bubble up inside him.

He came inside too, pumping your cunt full of another load. Like Jason, he fucked it all in. He stayed snug in the tight grip of your pussy for a moment before pulling out. Sticky, white cum gushed out, dripping down onto the bed.

Dick landed on the opposite side of you from Jason. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

The three of you laid in silence for a little while. For you, it was out of pure exhaustion. You wondered if it was that for them too, or if they were processing what they'd done. The lines they'd crossed and the secret they'd now have to keep.

But you didn't get the chance to dwell on it for too long because soon enough, Dick guided you off the bed.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to your bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. You assumed Jason stayed behind to take care of the bedding, but you didn't ask.

Dick drew you a bath and helped you in. He did like he said he would, cleaned you up. Every move he made he did so with all the care in the world. Gentle hands wiping the dried drool and tear streaks from your face.

When you were done, he helped you out and dried you off. He let you go about the other parts of putting yourself back together on your own, taking a few moments to tend to himself.

You didn't know how the rest of the day would look. If things would be awkward now or if they just wouldn't acknowledge what happened. You waited on your bed for Dick, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes and your skin smooth after being lathered in lotion.

He came in after you a few minutes later. Immediately, your fears of things being weird were extinguished by the smile he gave you. The same charming one he'd had since a few days ago. He climbed on the bed with you and laid back against your pillows. You followed in suit, leaning your head against his shoulder.

You were content like this, just relaxing with him. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the quietest you'd been since he arrived.

Moments later the door opened and Jason came in. He crossed the room without a word. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he basically answered the question when he reached the other side of your bed.

He laid down next to you like Dick had on your other side. You eyed him suspiciously. Never would you have imagined he'd willingly spend time with you. He caught the look though and gave it his usual frown.

"What?" he scoffed, "I was the one actually hired to watch you. I gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble."

Unlike before, his speaking didn't provoke you to whine or insult. Instead, you smiled and wrapped your arm around his bicep.

"It's ok. I won't make you admit that you wanna cuddle too," you grinned.

He shook his head in denial. "I'm just doing my job," he asserted, "Plus, I think I won the contest, so it only makes sense that I'm the one who stays with you."

"Hey, we never decided on a winner," Dick cut in.

"I mean, we didn't have to because it was pretty obvious."

"Well we got a whole month, so if you're so confident, we can always have a rematch later," Dick challenged.

"Um, you guys didn't even ask for my vote on who I think won," you interrupted with a pout.

They both turn their eyes to you. For once, Jason didn’t look at you with total disdain. In this moment, you could see some fondness under the top coat of annoyance.

"There's that attitude. I guess it was naive of me to hope we fucked it out of you," he said.

Dick chuckled at that. "It'll take a couple more rounds before that's even a real possibility."

You glared at the both of them, but like Jason, your eyes didn't hold real anger or frustration now. Only the hope that they'd try to put you back in line again.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson smut #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc smut #batboys x reader #ch: jason todd 💌#ch: dick grayson 💌

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dmitriene · 3 months ago

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Bear price when he wakes up dizzily and finds your belly a little swollen after his hibernation. his darling already in her 2 month or something 😵‍💫

cw: hybrids, pregnancy.

there's nothing else john could've ask for, waking up to his hibernation finally over, all the drowsiness leaving his brawny, fat thickened body slowly, the nature outside the cabin already awake, birds bringing a chirp soothing songs with the first, pale layers of sun, breaking through the loosely curtained window above the wooden headboard of the bed, golden glow highlighting your sleep curled body to warm your skin, soft as a fleece, blanket and furs rumpled, furling at your curved hips.

the bump of your tummy is unmistakable, round, with a barely noticeable, dark vertical line that runs down the center of your abdomen, a little bit hard under his calloused palm, as he smoothes his thumb tentatively over your skin, a deep, gravelly rumble reverberating through his throat, and you answer him even in your sleep, curling in at the feel of his touch, tucking yourself closer to the slope of his side, your palms coming to cup over his own.

you don't say anything when your eyes flutter open, bleary, mirroring the sleepy dizziness that reflects in john's own, tender blues, flicking over your tummy and face with sincere spoken awe and giddiness that makes the corners of his lips curve up, lifting his mutton chops beard, softening his features along the lingering, bed warmed contentment, his heavy, hair dappled hand curling over the line of your exposed hips, palm splaying at the small of your back, tugging you close in an embrace that replaces thousands of words, his face nuzzling against your smile gleaming one.

john and you both don't have to know for sure if there's something growing inside of you, it's obvious, from your pretty round tummy, to the gut deep possessiveness churning inside of him, overcoming his senses with gum aching need to claim, make sure you're safe and pliable with nothing to worry about in his grasp, his face lowering to nudge in the arching curve of your neck, sensitive to the touch of his scraping beard, making you shudder, and smelling mouth drooling good, all ripe and calling, as his sharp teeth nip down.

he makes sure to not overwhelm you, holding his basic instincts in tight grip so as not to pounce at you at any given moment, unable to not think about how good you would've feel around his cock, so sensitive and gorgeous, carrying his offspring while being pumped full of another load, but unfortunately, john has to get a grip, since pregnancy makes you a little bit fuzzy and sleepy, but it's doesn't means he can't get between your thighs and get a taste of your pussy, weeping honey sweet all for him.

main masterlist. quidelines.

#𐔌 . 𝘫𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 .ᐟ #john price smut #john price x female reader #john price fluff #john price x f!reader #john price comfort #john price x reader #captain john price fluff #captain john price x reader #captain john price smut #captain john price x female reader #john price drabble #captain john price x you #captain price smut #john price x you #captain john price fanfic #john price cod #bear!price #bear!john

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incognit0slut · 4 months ago

Text

Champagne Kisses

A night involving champagne gives you the perfect excuse to end up naked after weeks of harmless flirting. Spencer thinks one night isn’t enough.

category: smut, fluff word count: around 8k content: softdom!spencer, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (but no creampie he’s testing his pull-out game), alcohol consumption, food play (more like drink play), and i wanna say spit kink but they’re using champagne instead so does that count? a/n: merry 2025 please tell me you remember me or else i might actually cry

You’re doing it again.

You’ve been clawing at his face for the past hour, stealing fleeting glances and looking away just as quickly, because every time you do, you find the same thing.

Brown eyes. Chocolate, marbled in hazel with tiny golden speckles. Pinning you in place. Dismantling you layer by layer. And somewhere in the quiet heat behind them, in the barely-there twitch of his jaw, you’re pretty sure he’s already mapping out the fastest way to get you out of your clothes.

It’s nerve-racking. Smart Spencer you can handle, awkward Spencer you can charm. But flirtatious Spencer? Flirtatious Spencer is dangerous.

Even more so when you’re squashed between Penelope and Luke at the overcrowded booth of O'Keefe's, who are mid-argument over something you can’t even muster the energy to care. Not when long legs stretch in front of you, and strips of neon lights slice across the table in a glow that crosses his form, curving around handsome features that make him look far too inviting.

Because that’s what your mind keeps drifting to. Taking him back to your place, where the only thing glowing would be the dim light of your bedroom.

Or maybe the pale light from the hallway.

Perhaps the soft flicker of the lamp in your living room.

Either way, your mind is already drawing images of him doing whatever it is he’s picturing in his own head. The location doesn’t matter.

“Don’t you agree?”

Your gaze fall over him once more before you force yourself to look away, catching Penelope staring at you expectantly. “Agree to what?”

“That margaritas are objectively the most fun drink and clearly better than boring beer.”

This is the argument they’ve been debating for the last five minutes?

Luke scoffs from your left. He doesn’t look angry though, his expression is more amused than irritated, lips formed in a cheeky smirk. “I can tolerate margaritas if we’re on a beach. But beers are solid all year round, pop a cap and you're good to go."

“You’re such a guy."

“I'm telling you, you don't need fancy ingredients or a blender. No little umbrellas."

“Literally proving my point. Beer has no personality.”

“Are you saying I have no personality?”

Bright pink-framed glasses shift as Penelope tips her head. “If the shoe fits.”

You’re at the point where you’re no longer surprised by their arguments. Loud and pointless, is how you'd describe them. You suspect Luke does it to get a reaction, and normally you’d add fuel to the fire, because Penelope is a pretty fire-cracker when her nostrils flare in absolute indignation. But your attention is elsewhere tonight.

Knees brushing yours under the table. A small smile curled at the corner of his lips. Deep set of eyes dragging over your face, your neck, the spot between your collarbone and shoulder where the pulse of your heartbeat seems to echo louder each second.

You slide with your back against the chair, thighs clamping shut.

You feel him imprinted on you, heated gaze traveling beneath your skin. You wonder if he realizes what he’s doing, if he’s even aware of the effect all the time his eyes fall on you. Since the moment he walked in the room, since he took that seat directly across from you, and if you’re being completely honest, that glint in his eyes has been there probably for weeks now. The when of it all is a bit fuzzy.

Tonight feels adamantly different though, and you feel like you might just need a little extra something to quiet the nervous hum beneath your ribs.

But you’re not entirely sure whether it’s nerves or something far more indulgent that has your mind secretly leading you to a very unholy place. A place where you wonder if the rough, scruffy drag of his jaw feels the same below his navel.

You’re a hundred percent certain that it does.

“You know what’s a better drink?” your voice cracks, desperately needing that extra little something. “Champagne.”

Penelope’s head whips toward you. “Champagne? Here?”

You glance around the bar and raise a hand, trying to flag down the bartender.

The wood-paneled walls are covered with vintage beer advertisements, and the sticky floor is dotted with peanut shells from the complimentary bowls on every table. It’s the kind of place where the closest thing to champagne is probably prosecco poured into a plastic flute for a wedding after-party.

“What’s wrong with champagne? It’s a classic drink, great for celebration.” You order a bottle and four tall glasses before fixing her with a look. “It’s the New Year.”

She snorts. “We’re already halfway through January.”

“Penelope, we had to work on Christmas and New Year’s. We finally have this night to breathe, let me have this.”

There’s a beat of silence before she sighs dramatically. “Fine. But it still feels weird drinking champagne in a bar where the most sophisticated cocktail is a rum and coke.”

“Which is exactly why we’re elevating the night,” you reply, watching as the bartender sets the bottle down with (thank god) proper crystal flutes. You pour the first glass, the golden bubbles racing upward like tiny fireworks as you pass it to her.

Luke accepts the next glass without the same hesitation, but when you offer one to Spencer, the curly-haired man shakes his head.

“Right. I forgot you don’t really drink alcohol.”

The faintest smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t have anything against alcohol, just not in large amounts.” His gaze shifts to the bottle on the table. “I also happen not to like champagne.”

Penelope looks mildly offended. “Why not?”

“Because the carbonation overpowers the flavor. It’s hard to enjoy a drink when it’s constantly popping on your tongue.” You stifle a laugh before you can stop yourself. He looks at you. “What?”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” you reply with a grin. “Here, maybe this will change your mind.”

You pour him a glass and nudge it toward him. He simply looks from the glass to you.

“Come on,” you coax. “We’re celebrating the New Year.”

“Seventeen days late."

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

"Do not ruin the fun. We’re still celebrating, and you can’t toast with water. That’s practically begging for bad luck.”

He exhales sharply, lips twitching in what might be defeat or mild amusement, before reaching across the table. Everyone raises their glasses. The instant the bubbles hit his tongue, his nose scrunches in subtle distaste, and the sound of your laughter flies through the small space.

“It’s not that bad,” you insist.

“I still don’t understand the appeal.”

Champagne isn’t exactly your first choice either. You’ve always been more of a wine person. A good wine. A rich Burgundy that makes you close your eyes on the first sip to taste the faint of autumn in a glass. But champagne feels right for the occasion.

This taste blooms on your tongue, crisp and bright with hints of green apple and citrus and that faint yeasty richness at back of your throat. They dance across your palate, leaving a lingering sweetness through your veins that doesn’t soothe your nerves so much as ignite something beneath them, something warmer, deeper, curling into your bloodstream.

It makes you very bold.

Bold enough to hold his gaze without flinching. Bold enough to let your tongue flick across your lips. Bold enough to let your foot glide slowly up the length of his long, long leg.

You’ll have him taste his own medicine.

You, too, can play with fire.

“Maybe you’re drinking it wrong,” you hum, feeling him tense for the briefest, tiniest moment before he relaxes. “There’s another way to make champagne better.”

He grips the stem of his glass. “Something tells me you have a suggestion.”

“I do.”

He tilts his head. The din of conversation around you slowly fades into a muffled hum, the clinking of glasses and Penelope’s laughter barely registering as you notice the curve of his smile, the question lingering in his eyes.

Will you show me?

And that’s how you find yourself naked between his thighs two hours later.

It started innocently enough—or at least that’s the lie you fed yourself when you watched Penelope and Luke stumble their way to the dance floor, giggling as they poured yet another round of sparkling wine. But the champagne didn’t keep your attention for long. A few more stolen glances later, you found your hand wrapping around his arm, the other clutching a half-full bottle of champagne like some reckless lifeline.

It is reckless. Even you can’t deny that. You’ve always been cautious when it comes to bringing a man home. But this isn’t just anyone. This is Spencer. Someone who already knows too many pieces of you, someone who doesn’t need to be deciphered or explained.

And maybe that’s why you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging him out of the bar.

The ride in the stuffy cab felt like an eternity and a blink at the same time that the moment your apartment door clicked shut behind you, his mouth was already on yours. You barely had time to process how surprisingly good he tasted before your clothes started to disappear.

It’s a dizzying rush of hands and heat, and you’re now standing over him, knees brushing his as he sinks into your couch.

Yes, your couch. The soft, slate-blue one you’ve spent countless evenings curled up on, legs tucked under a blanket, flipping through books or half-watching shows you never finish. But now it cradles a completely different weight—the heavy heat of him radiating with tension-laced curiosity and a barely contained lust that seems to bleed right into the fabric.

“I can’t believe I’m kissing you,” he mutters dazedly, trailing his lips along your jaw with a hand resting on your naked back.

“I can’t believe you can unhook my bra that fast.”

He catches the sheer black fabric now hanging haphazardly over your lamp where he’d tossed it aside moments ago. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Should I be concerned about how much practice you’ve had?”

“Not really. I’m a fast learner.”

That, you believe. But you’re not entirely sure if it’s his innate skill or the way your body seems to respond to him so effortlessly that leaves your lungs feeling like they’ve forgotten how to work. Breathing is no longer instinctive now. It’s a function you have to remind yourself to do as his tongue dances along the curve of your breast, and by the time he takes the achingly hard tip into his mouth, your chest tightens.

You suck in a desperate need of oxygen while he sucks the last thread of composure from you.

“Sweet.”

“Huh?”

“You—” He pulls back just enough to let his teeth graze the delicate skin before soothing it with a slow drag of his tongue, “taste sweet.”

Your hand slides to the back of his neck with a sigh. “You’re exaggerating.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bodies don’t taste like anything, it’s skin.”

Spencer shakes his head as he cups the weight of your other breast with the same care you’ve come to expect from him. Taut nipple rolls under his thumb. “How do you explain this then?”

You don’t respond. Not with words, anyway. Your body speaks first as you arch into his touch, chasing the warmth of his hands before you can form any thoughts.

“How do you explain,” he continues, his lips trailing down the slope of your stomach, “why I can’t get enough of how sweet you taste?”

Your mind finally catches up, and the words settle over you like honey itself.

“You think so?”

“It’s not a thought, it’s a fact.” He presses a kiss to the soft skin just below your navel. “I don’t know how you can taste better than this.”

Your laugh is breathless, barely steady enough to be called one. “You’re laying it on thick now.”

“I’m just being honest.”

It’s cute how he says it with such conviction, like it’s the simplest truth in the world and not a line that’s turning your legs to liquid. Your knees threaten to buckle as you step away, reaching for the half-empty champagne bottle perched on the coffee table. The glass feels cool against your overheated skin as you twist the cork free.

“What are you doing?”

“Considering your words.” You hold up the bottle, the champagne fizzing invitingly at its neck. “What do you say we make this even sweeter?”

His eyes light up with interest. “Is this where you show me the right way to drink champagne?”

You nod and sink back between his thighs. “I know you’re not big on sharing food, but I think you’re gonna like this.”

“You do realize I’ll share anything with you.”

Your lips curl into a soft smile. You’ve already learned that kissing Spencer feels deliciously messy. It’s sloppy in the way passion tends to be when control is the last thing on either of your minds, with tongues and teeth colliding in an unpolished rhythm that’s as raw as it is consuming. Adding champagne to the equation doesn’t feel like much of a stretch.

You step forward at the same time his hands fall to your hips. “There’s a trick to drinking champagne.”

“I’m listening.”

The bottle’s rim grazes your lips as you take in his appearance. His shirt is wrinkled, hanging just a little more loosely around his chest with two buttons undone. He’s the very definition of disheveled that’s entirely your doing. He looks absolutely irresistible.

“You need to linger on the taste,” you start, your voice dipping into something softer as your eyes meet his again. “Be patient. Let it sit and overwhelm your senses before you swallow.”

“You mean marinate it in my mouth?”

A giggle burst out of you. “Exactly. The longer you let it linger, the more it softens, and the sweeter it gets.”

You tilt the bottle to your lips. The sweetness starts to bloom on your tongue, subtle at first, but then richer, fuller against the roof of your mouth. There's a flicker of recognition in his eyes when you pull him closer by the nape of his neck, the exact moment he realizes what you’re about to do.

Your lips meld seamlessly with his as the Champagne slips from your mouth.

His lashes flutter briefly. There’s a soft flush spreading across his pale cheeks, and you feel the faint hum of pleasure, vibrating against the delicate curve of his skin as a liquid thread drips down your chin.

And then you’re kissing him. Or he’s kissing you. It’s hard to tell who moved first, but it doesn’t matter. His lips part further, and you swear you can taste every nuance of the champagne in a way you've never experienced before. Sharp citrus, a whisper of honeyed sweetness, and beneath it all, something clean and cool that reminds you of first snowfalls.

His lips are swollen and wet and perfectly shiny when you finally pull back.

“What do you think?”

“I think we should drink champagne every day.”

Your hand drifts to the side of his neck with a smile, thumb brushing lightly against his pulse. “Even when we’re working?”

“Especially when we’re working,” he counters, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, tasting what’s left of you. His gaze flickers to the bottle in your hand. “Can I try it?”

You pass it to him, your eyes fixed on the way he tilts it to his mouth. You’re sure the bubbles in your system aren’t the reason your pulse races as he sets the bottle aside and rises to his feet. You’re also sure that no amount of champagne is responsible for the way your lips part eagerly when his hands cradle your cheeks.

There it is again—that sweetness. It hits you the moment his mouth captures yours, but it fully overwhelms you when he tilts his head and gently coaxes the champagne from his lips to yours.

You’re not surprised at how quickly he picks this up. It’s common knowledge that he’s a very diligent person, but it’s still a bit astonishing how he’s taken to playing with a drink he supposedly doesn’t even like. This is nothing like solving cases or flexing his impossibly sharp brain, nor the crosswords you’re used to seeing him hunched over at his desk at lunch.

This requires a different kind of finesse that involves his lips and tongue rather than a pen and paper.

It also seems like he might be enjoying this even more. He leans back just enough to let his tongue sweep across the seam of your lips, collecting the last trace of sweetness clinging to you.

A thumb swipes over the wet trail under chin. “I could get used to this.”

“Champagne or me?”

“Both.”

Satisfied with his answer, your fingers trail down to undo the last few buttons of his shirt. “Do you wanna try something else?”

He quirks an eyebrow as you push down the fabric down his shoulders. You don’t say anything all the while you start to unbuckle his belt, peeling every layer of his clothing until you’ve stripped him completely bare—and would you look at that? The faint trail of hair down his belly matches the scruff shadowing his jaw.

There’s a brief pause as your eyes travel down his body, lingering on his surprisingly impressive size, and a comment sits at the edge of your tongue. You decide to let your actions speak for you.

Your delicate fingers wrap around his delicious thickness. You swipe the first signs of precum glistening over his tip with your thumb, and a low sound of pleasure rumbles in his chest.

“Is this what you had in mind?”

He sounds like he’s in pain, and you shake your head with a playful smile curling at your lips. “Sit back on the couch.”

Spencer sinks into the cushion.

“This might get a little messy.”

His brow furrows slightly, and for a moment, he looks genuinely intrigued. What he doesn’t expect is the way you slowly pour the remaining liquid down your chest. His mouth parts in surprise, and then his gaze follows every single drop like it’s gravity itself pulling him in.

You’re mesmerizing. Always have been, actually. There is no doubt in Spencer’s mind that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met in his life. Your mind is brilliant. Your heart is kind. But watching the champagne mix with the sheen of sweat on your skin, you’re something else entirely. You look lethal. A different kind of captivating.

He’s already pulling you by the waist, and you’re a mass of giggles as you twist out of his grip to set the bottle safely aside. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Can you blame me?”

Honestly, you can’t. If the roles were reversed, you’d probably look at him the same way.

When his hands finally find your hips again, there’s no point in pretending you don’t want to be caught. You bend your knees and shift on the couch. He helps you swing your thigh over his own and deposits you in his lap.

Desperate is a good enough word to depict for him because as soon as you're close enough, he’s tasting you all over again. His tongue drags slow over the curve of your shoulder, across the hollow of your throat, and down to the soft swell of your breasts. Goosebumps ripple across your skin with every pass, every flick of his tongue, his touch leaving a trail of heat that you swear you can feel seeping into your bones.

You don’t even realize when you start to move until you feel the slow, unintentional rock of your hips into him. His cock fits snugly between your folds that you start grinding as the words fall from your lips without much thought, “What do you think of sex without a condom?”

His pupils dilated, lips parting, but no sound comes out right away.

"Spence?"

His gaze flickers to where your wet bodies are pressed together. Damp moisture from his tip smeared erotically between puffy lips, clear liquid coating his hard length.

“I think… it’s very intimate."

“Too intimate?”

"No." His fingers trail along your skin before his thumb settles just under your breast, in the delicate curve where your rib meets, and finally looks at you. "Is that what you want?"

You're bobbing your head up and down.

“Then I'd really, really like that.”

You shift your weight on your knees. “So you trust me?"

"More than anyone."

“I trust you too,” you say, your voice dipping low as your fingers wrap around his cock, guiding him to your entrance. “Can I request something, though?"

"Anything."

You pause just long enough for your words to land. “I don’t want you to come inside me.”

He exhales a soft laugh. “That can be arranged.”

His answer makes your lips twitch, but as you start to sink down, your body seems to have other ideas. There’s a resistance you didn’t expect, a sudden tautness that refuses to give.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

Oh my.

“What’s wrong?”

When you first wrapped your hand around him and took in the full reality of his size, you’d been impressed. Now you wonder if maybe you underestimated just how much he has to offer.

You bite the insides of your cheeks and try again.

“It’s been a while,” you confess quietly. You can’t even recall the last time you were this intimate with someone that the hesitation feels foreign, like a hiccup in a moment you’ve been eagerly anticipating.

And you are eager. Maybe a little too much. It feels almost ironic, considering how much you’ve thought about this, how your imagination has filled in the blanks a hundred times over. Now that it’s real, your body seems to be having second thoughts your mind absolutely isn’t entertaining.

You shift your hips, determination flaring as you take a slow breath. Left, right, up, down. But then a sharp sting shoots through you. Your face quickly twists into a grimace.

"Hey,” he calls gently, thumbs brushing gentle circles against your hip. “We can stop. You don’t have to push yourself.”

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You want him to push past whatever invisible barrier your body is putting up. The idea of stopping now feels more unbearable than the sting itself.

Your lips press into a stubborn frown. “No,” you say firmly. “We are not stopping.”

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm. I think my body's just being weird. I'm sorry."

His brows knits together almost immediately. “I should be the one apologizing.”

Frustration suddenly wells up in your chest, and this time your teeth sinks into your lip, unsure whether it’s the tension in the muscles between your legs or the ache of wanting him that feels stronger.

And you want him. So fucking bad.

“You need to relax,” he soothes, running his hands up your waist, past your ribs, across your back.

“I am relaxed,” you huff.

“I don’t think you’re relaxed enough.”

Before you can respond, he carefully lifts you from his lap and settles you back onto the couch. The cushions dips under your weight, and you barely have time to process the change before he gracefully drops to the floor.

“Should we move to your bed?”

He grips one of your ankles, his thumb brushing along the soft curve of your bone before he leans down, pressing warm lips to the skin above it.

“After this,” you reply, glancing at the sticky champagne trail still glistening faintly on your skin. “Don’t want my sheets getting sticky.”

There’s a flicker of amusement on his handsome face. “After this?”

“Did you think we’d be stopping after one round?”

His laughter vibrates against your calf. “How many times are we talking then?”

“Until I can’t feel my legs.”

The smile he gives you is slow and warm. It curves one corner of his mouth first, almost shy, before spreading fully, lighting up his face in a way that steals the breath right from your lungs.

“You’d let me have my way with you all night?”

“I’d probably let you have me anytime you want.”

His grin is almost blinding that you can’t help but give him a pleased smile of your own.

“Let’s focus on tonight first.” He moves to your other the leg. Delicate bone and tendon brushes against his lips. “I need to get you ready for me. Would you let me do that?"

Words fail you as his mouth moves closer, and the heat of his breath against your skin makes your entire body tense in anticipation. He presses another open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

"You're still tense."

Kiss. Kiss.

“Really need you to relax.”

You try, but then again, it's impossible when his lips are so close, yet still not where you need them the most.

His name slips in a desperate whisper.

"Hm?"

"Stop teasing."

His lips quirk in response, but he doesn't argue.

He dips his head and finally— finally! —drags his tongue along your achingly wet folds. Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.

"Better?"

The question is entirely rhetorical.

You don’t bother answering. Words seem sparse when his actions are spelling out everything you need to know in bold, underlined strokes. His touch is distinctly different from the playful, champagne-dampened kisses he had gifted your skin.

Now he’s utterly focused. He’s researching, and it appears his diligence isn’t confined to his academic when the same focus he applies to his studies is translated so flawlessly into reading your body like a favorite book. One he’s intent on memorizing every line of, delighting in every pause and whisper between the chapters of your sighs.

It’s this thought that tickles the back of your mind when he slips a finger in. He’s always been about comprehensive understanding, and well, you’re all about empirical evidence. Right now is proof of a hypothesis you’re too pleased to confirm that Spencer Reid might just be a genius in more ways than one.

Especially in how his steady thrust of his finger syncs perfectly with the hot, wet pull of his mouth, scratching such a carnal itch that it resonates deep in your brain. You sigh in pleasure when he adds another finger, and he lifts his head then, lips shiny and pink from his ministration.

"Do you think you can take a third?"

Your heart gives a few extra thuds in your chest cavity. “Please, please.”

Look at you, reducing yourself into begging, but really, how could you resist? Who could withstand the intensity of his gaze, the way his voice dips low like velvet wrapping around your senses?

Your head tips back against the couch, a soft whimper lashing out as he adds that third finger. The stretch is almost overwhelming but oh so good.

"Does it hurt?"

You let out a loud exhale. "No."

"Tell me if it hurts."

"Feels good." Your legs fall apart even further. "Don't stop."

He smiles, and then he's doing things to your body that have you questioning how you're even still breathing. The wet, sticky slosh of your arousal fills the room, a sound so explicit it should mortify you. But then three knuckles press deeper, stroking against that rougher patch of nerves and all rational thought dissolves.

A sound you didn't even know you could make escapes your throat. You're gasping, moaning, a little bit squealing as his free hand slides up your plush thigh before finding your puffy clit. And dear god, you’re choking on the breath that lodges in your throat. You're so close it's almost unbearable. A hand shoots out, and you’re gripping his forearm with a desperation you can't even pretend to hide.

You need him inside you.

“I'm ready," you gasp harshly, your lips parting in quick, desperate puffs. "I'm ready. I’m ready.”

He has the audacity to shake his head.

"I'll decide when you're ready."

Your breath stutters even more.

Why does that sound so hot? Why does that simple, infuriatingly calm statement make your thighs clench, your pulse race, and a fresh wave of heat roll through your body?

Before you know it, he’s coaxing your orgasm from you with just the right pressure, and every movement feels like it’s designed to bring you right to the edge. You’re not surprised by how wet you are, you’ve been dripping for what feels like hours. But what does surprise you is just how much your body can take. The intensity that doesn’t wane, that keeps pushing you higher, drawing out gasp after gasp until hot syrup gushes out of you in long, sticky droplets that pool on his fingers, down to the couch.

It’s endless, relentless, and you can’t even tell where one orgasm ends and the next begins. Your hand claw at his wrist.

“Spencer,” you whine, your voice breaking on the syllables. “Sensitive.”

He stops immediately, his fingers still inside you, his other hand slipping from your clit to rest on your thigh. “Too much?”

“A little,” you smile breathlessly. “C’mere.”

He crawls towards you as you lay on your back, relaxing your thighs.

His eyes trail over you, scanning your sweat-slicked skin, lingering on your perky breasts, moving down to where your legs are fallen apart, waiting for him. The sight is so overwhelmingly enticing that he finds himself wrapping a hand around his cock, muttering a low praise under his breath, “I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful you are.”

Your eyes flick downward, and a spark of confidence—or maybe pure desperation—pushes your reply out without hesitation.

“Tell me again while you fuck me.”

You’re so blunt and shameless that a part of you might have blushed if you weren’t so far gone. Spencer doesn’t seem fazed, though. If anything, his eyes flash with a knowing sparkle that only deepens as he presses his bulbous head right at the shy of your entrance.

“I think I’m going to enjoy telling you,” he muses.

And Spencer is one to keep his promises.

He thinks you’re devastatingly pretty when he’s sinking into you. There’s a dazed look in your glossy eyes, and the sweetest sound coming from your lips as he stretches you in a way that leaves no part of you untouched.

He sings praises under his breath when the heavy weight of him finally settles deep inside your body. He patiently waits as your walls flutter around him, all the while his lips brushes the delicate curve of your collarbone, between low, broken whispers of how perfect you are.

Although perfection might not even capture the essence of what he sees in you at this moment. You’re a breathtaking array of contradictions. Powerful and vulnerable, fierce yet tender. You’re nothing short of divine as he gives another smooth, long thrust that pulls a sound from your lips that he knows will echo in his mind long after.

The heat of you surrounds him completely, and he swears he feels every pulse of your body welcoming him deeper. You’re slathering his entire cock with your slippery slick, and the dampness imprinting against his pelvis only seems to spur him on. He moves in steady, languid strokes, and your toes curl at the sensation burning in your belly.

He’s hitting you so good your ankles find themselves running down his back.

“Spence,” your voice is raspy and wet. “Fuck me harder.”

His quiet groan harmonizes with the rhythm of your heart. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t—”

You stop, and he looks through the mist of bliss you've shrouded him in. Your face twists, eyes going wide, lips parted to take in sharp breaths. He panics for a moment.

“You’re in pain,” he decides, reading the way your brows knit together, the way your breath stutters in your chest. It seems the most logical conclusion—until he realizes how wrong he is.

Because you’re writhing under his weight when he pushes in deeper, and your mouth trembles, not with discomfort, but with something devastatingly good.

“Oh,” he exhales. His smile is uncharacteristically smug. “It’s not pain, is it?”

You shake your head.

“You want it rough.”

It’s more of a statement than it is a question, but you’re nodding vigorously.

His restraint snaps like a frayed thread.

The next thrust is sharper, it pounds into you with enough force to shift your body slightly back against the cushions. Your lips mouth around another shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

Still. Not. Enough.

“Harder,” you slur against his tongue.

What’s a hot-blooded man to do when asked so sweetly? He answers in the only way he can.

A hand curls around the back of your knee to pull you open just enough for him to drive deeper. The angle makes you feel impossibly full, how the folds of your vulva hugs around his shaft greedily, letting him claim all the space you didn’t even know existed. You can even feel the wet drag of his cock against your swollen clit with each hard thrust, a sensation so piercing it rips a gasp from your throat and a plethora of groans wailing from the couch.

“Like this?”

The relentless thwack-thwack-thwack of skins colliding is making you delirious.

“Yes,” you cry out. “Fuck—Yes. Yes.”

Your vision blurs as you blink, and—god, you think you might actually cry. And honestly, with how full you feel, with how every nerve is sparking to life under his loud rhythm, it wouldn’t even surprise you.

Your lashes feel wet as you squeeze your eyes shut, but you force them back open, unwilling to miss the way he looks above you. Jaw tight, sweat beading at his temples, eyes locked on you like nothing else exists.

Nothing probably does, not when he moves with a rhythm that feels both gentle and crude, like he’s savoring every second so sweetly while simultaneously chasing the most carnal kind of pleasure known to mankind.

Pleasure that has you melting, pleasure that has your body fully acclimating to his size. And now you’re teetering on the edge of another intense orgasm that begins its ascent from the tips of your toes and fingertips, spiraling a tingling rush up through your legs and arms, gathering force at the pit of your stomach, and exploding into the point where you’re intimately connected.

It happens all at once.

You’re trembling.

You’re shattering.

You’re pathetically whining.

Euphoria floods every inch of your body until you’re drowning in it. A liquid fire in your veins. Your cunt clenches around him, so tight you swear you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as keeps pressing you into the couch. Again and again and again, until you’re nothing but an incoherent mess, your words blabbered in a breathless rush of pleasure-induced nonsense.

One heartbeat stretches into two, then the muscles in his arms flexes as his pace falters. He’s shaking now, his pelvis moving in hurried, shallow thrusts as though he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach before the heat of him presses into you one last time.

He abruptly pulls out, his cock visibly pulsing in his hand and strokes himself with a stuttering groan as thick, pearly ropes splutters across your stomach. His fingers dig deeper into the back of your thigh while he continues to paint your skin in messy streaks, and you watch in fascination the moment his head tilts back in pure, unfiltered pleasure.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him quite this beautiful.

His brows pinches in concentration for a few more seconds before his gaze slowly meets yours again, and a faint, blissful pink colors his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly, looking a little out of breath. Devastatingly handsome and sweaty. Flustered in the best way.

You brush the damp hair sticking to his skin with a small, satisfied smile. “Are you kidding? That was extremely hot.”

His laughter fills every corner in the room. Then his hand drift down a comforting path down your thigh as he leans to capture the giggle tumbling from your lips with his own. It’s then you realize that kissing Spencer isn’t just enjoyable, it’s downright addictive.

You’re beginning to think he’s just as addicted to you too, because when he pulls away, it’s reluctant, his lips leaving yours with a faint, wet sound that lingers as sweetly as the kiss itself.

“Will you really let me have my way with you all night?” he asks gently, and you can’t help but wonder why he even feels the need to ask.

“Was I not obvious enough?”

You feel his smile before you see it. “Bedroom now?”

To tangle your naked limbs with his again sounds pretty close to heaven. Absolute, indulgent heaven, except for the distinct stickiness of champagne, sweat, and a cocktail of other body fluids clinging to your skin. The thought of sinking into cool clean sheets in this state makes your nose scrunch.

“We need to make a stop to the bathroom first,” you say, running a hand up his arm to squeeze his bicep. “Have you ever tried shower sex?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he admits truthfully.

You make a sound of disapproval.

“We definitely need to change that.”

Spencer realizes a lot of things can change in one night.

He also discovers how much he’s capable of learning in such a short period of time. Granted, he’s always been a quick study, but this is different. The hours between midnight and sunrise completely upend his understanding of things he’d only ever read about—sex, intimacy, the intricacies of how touch can feel as much like a language as words.

But beyond the newfound knowledge (and let’s face it, an entirely new appreciation for his muscles), there’s something else. Something that surprises him even more.

He likes waking up with another warm body beside him. More than likes it. There’s a strange kind of peace in the way your leg drapes over his, your hair a tousled mess against the pillow. Peace that makes him wonder if this, too, is something he could get used to.

Even if you’re hogging the blanket. He can feel the cool air on his back while you’re wrapped in most of the covers, leaving him to soak up whatever body heat he can steal by staying pressed against you. Not that he’s complaining. He’d happily stay like this for hours, but the sun is already creeping higher through your window, and your phone has been vibrating nonstop ever since he opened his eyes.

The sheets rustle as he shifts closer, mouth puffing warmly on your cheek with a breath of your name folding into your skin. You blink through heavy eyelids, and Spencer thinks you look adorable all wrapped up like a cocoon in the tangled linens.

“Hey," you croak, then clear your throat. “Morning.”

The soft rasp of your voice is even as endearing as the sight of you.

“I think we’ve already passed morning,” he says, slipping a hand under the covers, finding the goosebumps prickling on your upper arm.

“We slept in?”

“My guess is it’s almost noon.” There’s another buzz vibrating from the bedside table that stops him from pressing you against his chest. “Someone keeps calling you.”

He wonders if you can sense the slight annoyance in his voice. He wonders if he even has the right to be annoyed. It's Saturday. You clearly have plans—or at least someone thinks you do based on how persistent they've been.

If you catch the flicker of irritation in his voice, you don’t acknowledge it. You stretch lazily for your phone instead, and his attention is momentarily snagged by the way the sheet slips down your shoulder, revealing the constellation of freckles and moles he’s spent the entire night memorizing with his lips.

"Nobody’s calling.” Your thumb scrolls through the notifications. "Penelope just doesn't understand the concept of personal space when she texts."

Spencer feels the tightness in his shoulders ease, though he doesn't miss the way your eyes narrow into sleepy slits at the screen.

"Oh."

That one syllable is enough to set his mind buzzing.

"What?"

"Um."

It’s the subtle crack in your voice that hooks him. He’s never been good at sitting with unanswered questions, especially not when your expression shifts just enough to make him wonder what could possibly warrant that little noise.

He finally curls an arm around your waist, and the faint trace of your scent fills his lungs as he gently draws you back against his chest. A relentless stream of messages glares up at him over your shoulder.

Penelope [Sent 23:37]: Where are you?? Penelope [Sent 23:45]: Is reid with you? Penelope [Sent 00:05]: Did you leave? WITH HIM?? Penelope [Sent 00:17]: You did, didn't you? Penelope [Sent 00:33]: You can’t just vanish like this, you know I have questions!!!

Spencer barely registers the way his hand drifts down to rest against your stomach. He pulls you in unconsciously as his eyes scan over the flood of texts that started piling up this morning.

Penelope [Sent 09:19]: Good morning. Penelope [Sent 09:25]: Answer me. Penelope [Sent 10:24]: Seriously, are you alive? Penelope [Sent 10:39]: YOU OWE ME DETAILS. Penelope [Sent 10:48]: Last chance. Calling you in ten.

"I think she's onto us."

It’s not so much a matter of thought as it is a fact. Your words are less a theory and more a confirmation of reality, as undeniable as the relentless stream of texts lighting up your phone.

"What should I tell her?"

Spencer leans in closer. The soft scent of your shampoo drifts up, clean and faintly sweet, wrapping itself around him in a way that makes his chest ache, though he’s not sure why. He’s inhaling everything—your warmth, the curve of your shoulder brushing his chest, the way your voice carries an edge of hesitation that feels so out of place for someone like you.

And that’s what truly catches him off guard. Not the fact that Penelope is practically banging on a metaphorical door with her texts, but that you’re hesitating. You, who rarely second-guess yourself, now unsure about sharing the details of last night with one of closest people in your life.

Or maybe the surprise lies closer to home. How easily the words form in his own mind, bypassing the overthinking that usually rules him.

He has ten minutes to think before Penelope supposedly calls, but he doesn’t need ten minutes, or even ten seconds, because the answer is already there, so obvious it practically tumbles out of him.

"The truth," he hums against the crown of your hair. "You should tell her the truth."

You’re quiet for a while.

“Are you sure?"

For someone who invited him into your home, who let him press you into the couch cushions, spread you out on the cool tiles of the bathroom, and pull every sound he wanted from you on the soft give of your mattress—on your back, your front, even sideways—you seem awfully uncertain now. Very out of character.

So what’s changed this morning? Is it the stale morning breath he’s sure he hasn’t fixed yet? The mess of his curls sticking up in every direction from a night spent pressed into your pillows?

Or is it something much deeper that he hasn’t quite put his finger on?

The thought clings to him as his thumb brushes your stomach. "I’m sure," he says. "Are you?"

You hesitate for a beat too long, and that tiny pause lands heavy on his chest.

"This is going to change everything," you finally say, sounding somewhat like a warning.

He frowns. "Didn’t you want it to?"

"I did. I do." You pull in a breath that shakes on the way out. "Maybe we should discuss this before we say anything to anyone."

Your phone slips quietly onto the bed as you twist in his arms. Face to face.

"Do you like me?"

What kind of question is that?

"Did I seem not to like you last night?"

"No, Spencer, I need to hear it. Do you like me?"

He studies the delicate fold between your brows. He watches the quiver on your parted lips. And your eyes—watery and glossy and wide. Soft lashes framing the quiet expanse of irises that shimmer like glass.

He knows what you need. Spencer has spent most of his entire life reading people, pulling truths out of their silences and decoding what they can’t (or won’t) say. And even though he hates applying that skill to you, he knows this isn’t just about reassurance. You’re not only questioning what happened between you last night. You’re questioning what comes next.

The time glares from your phone over your shoulder: six minutes. That’s all he has to convince you that his feelings go far beyond fleeting lust or the heady haze of alcohol. Six minutes before Penelope inevitably interrupts.

But he’s not the greatest with words, is he?

Sure, he’s read more books than most people will touch in a lifetime. He can recite Edgar Allan Poe by heart and dissect layers of meaning in Dostoevsky’s prose like it’s second nature. But his own feelings don’t come wrapped in poetic declarations. That’s not who he is.

What he can do, though, is tell you the truth.

“You know how you told me I could have you anytime I want?”

A strand of hair brushes against your cheek as you nod.

“You’ve already had me from the very beginning.”

Your gaze softens, then you sigh sweetly, and he knows without a doubt that the truth is exactly what you need. “Before all the sex?”

“Before we even kissed.”

The distance between you slowly becomes nonexistent. You slot your knee between his thighs, a lick of smile curling at the corner of your lips.

“So… when I ran my foot up your leg?”

His lopsided smile is no different from yours. “No.”

“Last week when I wore your cardigan because the AC got too cold?”

“You looked really pretty in it, but no.”

“Last month?”

“Even before that.”

You click your tongue. “Give me a clue. A hint.”

But you don’t need clues. Clues are for puzzles, for cases that demand solving. This has never been a mystery. He’s known it for longer than he cares to admit, and he wonders if you’re asking because you genuinely don’t see it or because you just want to hear him say it.

Either way, he’ll happily say the truth as plainly as it exists in his mind.

“From the moment you joined the team.” You pause for just a heartbeat, and he reaches out to brush away the stray of hair slipping down into your eyes. “You probably didn't notice, but I couldn't stop staring at you.”

“You’re lying,” you accuse softly.

“I’m a terrible liar.”

He watches as you mull over his words. He knows you’re trying to decide whether to believe him, though he doesn’t think it’s really a question of if. You already know he’s telling the truth.

Your voice is awfully quiet that he has to perk his ears for it.

“What took you so long then?”

Because while he’s a terrible liar, he’s always been painfully good at keeping his heart to himself. Years of compartmentalizing, of burying emotions under layers of logic and detachment, have made it almost second nature. And maybe that’s why it took him so long.

That, and bad timing.

Countless abductions.

A never-ending chase after unsubs.

Death of a team mate.

And prison.

God, prison.

He wonders if these are valid reasons or just excuses. Had there ever been a perfect moment? Or had he let his fears and the chaotic nature of his job push his personal happiness to the sidelines too often?

The words knot in his throat, and in the end, all he can muster is an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

For waiting so long.

For not saying this sooner.

For only finding the courage to make a move under the guise of flirtation and champagne.

He’s selfish. He is. Because he's reaching for you based on his time, his terms, waiting until he was ready to fit you neatly into his schedule. But you simply shake your head. Because that's what you are, isn't it?

You’re selfless, and so profoundly lovely that you offered yourself to him last night without reservation. And now you’re even more radiant, wrapped in the soft light of vulnerability, tinged with doubt, yet always so giving. Pulling him closer to your chest with a hand on his back. Fingers splay across his skin, nails dragging idly along his spine.

“Don’t be,” you reply, feeling his body expand and deflate under your palm when he breathes. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

See? Selfless. The least he can do now is give you back the words you need to hear, the assurance you deserve to hear. Your foreheads press together, and he reverently lays his hand on your cheek, spreading lean fingers into your hair.

“If you must know, I do like you.”

But the word feels so inadequate for what he’s finally trying to tell you. Like doesn't even scratch the surface of how much space you take up in his mind.

"I more than like you,” he decides to add.

It doesn’t take long before you kiss him. Soft petals bloom warmly against his mouth, puffing humid breath he tastes on his tongue. A blissful moan he swallows greedily, lets it settle deep in his chest, his bones, his veins, filling every corner of him with the sweetest weight of you.

A flutter of lashes skims against his cheekbone when you tilt your head, pulling back by the barest inch. “You’ve made a huge mistake, by the way.”

The pad of his fingers presses gently on your scalp. “Why?”

“You’re never getting rid of me now.”

His thumb moves against your hairline as he takes in your words. For a moment, all he can do is absorb them, replay them, savor them. Then his eyes soften, the corners crinkling with genuine delight, and he lets out a soft huff of laughter that melts right into the narrow space between you.

He scoots impossibly closer, hoping your skin will somehow mold with his. Because after all the surprisingly creative positions he discovered with you last night, it’s the only conclusion he can come to: you fit into him. Perfectly. Soft curves finding their place against the lines of his frame, every piece of you adhering like glue to his skin.

Chest to chest, nose to nose, and lips so maddeningly close to yours that he can still taste the warmth of your breath, sweet and intoxicating in its nearness. It’s enough to drive him a little insane, though he’d argue he’s always been slightly off-center where you’re concerned.

His fingers twitch, ready to close that infinitesimal gap when the sharp buzz of your phone suddenly slices through the moment.

Six minutes.

That’s all the time the universe has granted him, and it’s woefully too short.

"Might need to block her number," you mutter under your breath as you shift slightly to reach for your phone. He watches the way your fingers fly over the screen rapidly before placing the device back on the side table.

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth." Then you drop on him like a dead weight, limbs tangling in the most inconvenient ways until your head is tucked in the crook of his neck. "Also sent her an eggplant and water emoji.”

A crease forms between his brows. “What does that mean?”

You fail to keep in your laughter. “You don’t want to know.”

He’s fairly certain he does want to know. In fact, he’s starting to realize he wants to know everything about you now that you’ve given him the chance. Beyond the pull of bodies and the way they slot together so seamlessly, beyond the electricity of skin against skin.

Though he can’t deny his curiosity at one precise moment, the way you’d slightly gasped when his fingers accidentally brush around the base of your throat. He wouldn’t mind knowing what that meant for you, and, surprisingly, what that even implied for himself.

But as intriguing as that is, it’s not what lingers the most. It’s the subtleties he wants to unravel, the pieces of you he hadn’t even realized he’d been aching to explore.

Your wit, your thoughts, your mind—that lovely, intricate thing he’s admired for so long. Full of nuances and depths he hadn’t even realized he’d only been skimming the surface of. He’s sure there’s something far greater than even his endless mind could have imagined that ties to the beautiful shape of you.

And you’re so beautiful. He’s known that for years, but mere hours ago, he learned it in an entirely new language. Even when he understands seven different ways the world chooses to communicate and speaks four fluently, yours is his favorite.

Yours doesn’t need words or perfect pronunciation. It’s instinctive and warm, written in every sigh, every glance, every unspoken verse that linger in the subtle shift of your body. In every nuance of your taste.

God, your taste.

He knows you’re right, skin can’t be sweet. The dichotomy isn’t lost in him. Yet it doesn’t matter, because not even the crisp, effervescent bite of champagne compares to the warmth of you. Not even sugar, and he basically lives on sugar. In chocolate-sprinkled donuts that he grabs on the way to work, in the endless cups of coffee that fuel his day.

You’re something else entirely, beyond comprehension.

And if one night was enough to saccharine his senses with you, he can only imagine what forever could do.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fanfiction #lou writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut

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screampied · 1 year ago

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YOU AND YOUR BRILLIANT WRITING ARE AMAZING OMGOMG. all i’ve been thinking about is the jjk men getting their girl LMAO yk breeeeeding until actual mind break w the goal just being planting a seed in your tummy 🫠

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ GETTING A SCREAMPIE !!!! ’﹒

𐚁̸ sum. top jjk men and how they breed you + toji, gojo, sukuna, choso, mdni.

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, brēeding kink, unprotected, size kink, oral (f), dirty talk, daddy kink, missiōnary, mating press, cowgirl / rev, mentions of pregnancy, manhandling, bum ass toji, sukuna has two cawks. an thank yewwww !!

☆ CHOSO KAMO

probably the heaviest breeding kink known to man—he’s half curse so he’s infertile.

choso knows the inability to reproduce but he always takes it as an opportunity to stuff you full, again, and again, and again.

“o-one more,” he breathes out, his voice was so breathy, clinging onto each breath that yanks out from esophagus. drowsy eyes shut tight as he’s watching such ropes of his cum already ooze out of both holes. choso’s ears feel fuzzy—he feels fuzzy, but the only thing that was currently on his mind was his goal to make your tummy all plump and rounded. laid flat against your back, you stare as he hovers over you with a cute pout on his lips. his jaw tightens before he pulls out just to stare at the mess between your thighs. “one more, baby. ‘m still full, s—so fuckin’ full,” and he leans in for a kiss, a deep one that’s enlaced with a mixture of your saliva and his. choso’s breath is heavy, he’s heaving as his body pressed into you—thick hands reaching between your thighs just to plug his own seed back into you. “don’t waste it, okay? i saved all of it. saved it just for you, just for us...”

his voice was so tender, such smoothness lingers underneath it as your legs tightly snake around his waist. choso’s staring at you, so in love—he’s always been in love with you though. he was obsessed with you, although his new current obsession was seeing you with a swollen tummy.

again, he’s infertile—yes, but he still likes to imagine he can get his pretty girl pregnant.

oh how he just desperately yearns to gift you with a baby or two . . or three. “c-choso,” you’d mewl out, softly piercing your teeth into the inner parts of his collarbone. choso likes to pull out, pull back in, then out again. a mess, your pussy was flooded with such ropes of his hot cum that he can’t help but gaze at it with a cute sheepish grin.

in his mind he’s thinking . . ‘did i do that?’

and he did, although this time once he pulls out his now flaccid cock—he whines, lowering his head towards between your thighs to get a much closer look, a better view of the mess he was primarily responsible for. “oh no, it’s spilling out,” he says with a cute furrow tugging at his thin eyebrows. choso’s very gentle, he creates a soft strumming a thumb against your swollen clit before he surprises you with his next action. he lolls out his pink clean tongue before tasting the aftermath—tasting himself, a concoction of your slick arousal with his own bitter taste. he doesn’t mind at all, choso’s quite the freak in bed so the moment he runs his tongue against your entrance, there’s no stopping. “gotta k-keep my baby plugged in so she can give me a mini me,” he whimpers, lapping his tongue gradually against your folds—he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment at the bitter taste lingering on the flatness of his taste buds. you’re throbbing, a hand combs its way through his messy strands before you start to arch. “right?”

so cute, your heart swells up with a mush of butterflies as you feel his eyes pierce into you— as he speaks, choso’s voice briefly cracks and he continues to clean up the sloppy mess, using his same stubby thumb to plug your cunt back up with the cum that resumes to spew out gradually.

“y-yes, don’t stop, ‘cho,” you mutter out in jittery words—his tongue was so slow and precise, making sure to rummage through every part of your clit. with two fingers, he pries open your pussy more to get an entire glimpse. he feels his cock strain, wide eyes the size of saucers peer right into you before he gives your cunt a plethora of individual chaste kisses.

mwah after mwah. by this point, he’s making out with your pussy — strings of his own mess forming into a little sheeny cobweb, as well as your wet saliva that coats his lips in such a glittery color. “praise me more, p-please. wanna know how good ‘m making my princess feel.”

with a soft sadden pout, he looks up at you with glossy eyes—such wetness all over his lips before he starts to create sucks against your cunt, nibbling on it shortly afterward. you’re throbbing in his mouth and he shivers incessantly once he feels your fingers playfully massage all through his neglected scalp.

“making me feel so good, you’re doing so well baby,” you whimper out, “s-so fuckin’ good.” his tongue was quite long too—considering how he was a curse, he made sure he knew how to eat you out. choso moans, a mere gritty grunt shortly follows as he reaches a hand down to touch himself before he pauses.

“can i touch myself too? can i touch myself while i clean my pretty girl off?”

“yes baby.”

“fuck, s-say it again,” he whines, leaning right into your touch. he was like a kitten— purring at the way your fingers comb through his hair, tickling his scalp. he awaits for your answer with drowsy eyes and a pouty lip that continues to tremor. “please.”

you giggle at the way he was so in love with your voice, especially in a mere intimate moment like this. “yes baby,” you coo in a melodic tone, watching his droopy eyes shine and he pants before hesitatingly reaching a hand down to feel on his left out twitching cock. “touch yourself for me, ‘s okay,” and he whines as you softly pick up his head from between your legs by his hair—he intakes a breath, and you pull him into a deep kiss. choso whimpers, starting to stroke himself, leaky reddened tip all cold from the wafting air as you taste the mess all on his tongue. bitter yet sweet, he runs a hand on your tummy before he feels your legs wrap around his slim waist once more. once you pull away, you mutter out a soft, “you’re such a good boy for me, choso.”

“heh, i— i try to be,” he pouts, sheeny lips glossed with his own arousal and yours included. choso’s big hand rests against your tummy before he gingerly presses down on it, leaning in for another kiss. “i wanna be good for you,” he whines before leaning down again to kiss near your navel. “wanna be good for you ‘n our future baby.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

with toji— it’s evident that he’s got a major breeding kink. the thought of you walking around with a plump swelling tummy drives him crazy.

although, he’s not too keen on baring a child— he’s only more worried about the making process.

stuffing you full of velvety ropes of his hot sticky cum. his favorite part, especially whenever he’s pressed right up against you— like now, with you in nothing more than a lewd mating press position. your legs would be sprawled all up, maw dangling open and your eyes criss-crossing each other each particular second.

“shit, what a fuckin’ mess,” he grumbles, such sharp hips smack into you at full force that you can barely react in time. it’s so deep, you moan, pawing and clawing your hands at his tense back muscles. he grunts, feeling your fingertips carve into his skin, scratching his back all up. you’re decorating his back with multiple marks, marks that he loves to show off after the night ends. toji’s rhythm was simply overzealous — insanity at its finest. with a big hand, he cups your chin before giving you a wet kiss. you whine into his mouth, just a doll being rigorously pounded into the frame, mixing his saliva with yours before he pulls away. “keep moanin’ for me like that ‘n i’m really gonna get ya pregnant, girl.”

“s—so do it then, toji.” you spat, your own breaths betraying you with how quick they came and go. you felt like you were ruining a 5k marathon, such wind snatches out of your chest as he makes sure to thrust deep to where his cum that was already inside of you from before stays right in it’s place. he narrows his eyes at you before snickering, pulling you into another deep kiss.

this time, it’s more sloppier. teeth clashing, tongues tango and tangling amongst each other.

his breath was abnormally warm, you taste the lingering tang of booze on his tongue as he rocks his beefy body against yours. you’re about to break, his thrusts became so slow yet deep—the right amount to make you lose your mind.

“toji. . . ?” he sneers, using a thumb to pull your bottom lip down. dark green eyes watch as you’re right at your peak practically. your legs quiver and quaver as he’s just jackhammering his thick cock into you repeatedly in such a rude provocative way. “didn’t know we were on a first name basis, sweetheart.”

“d-daddyyy,” you mewl out, feeling his fat base just thwack against your entrance. previous strings of his own sweltering cum sticks against your skin— each time he pulls himself back to fuck back into you, it smears against your thighs and it’s such a mess. he wraps a hand around your throat, a thumb gliding down the middle part and he feels the sheer vibrations of each individual whine that departs from your mouth. “fuck, fuck, ah ah ‘m gonna cum soon, daddy.”

“bet ya fuckin’ are. ‘specially with a pussy this sloppy ‘n wet. should be ashamed of bein’ this soaked all on me,” he snarls right up against your ear— even his voice has you sopping, your cunt pulses with each word that comes from his mouth that it’s just pathetic. you were no match for his pace, his hips, even his dirty talk. your heartbeat was racing through your ears, rapidly. by now, you were just a pocket pussy—a mere fleshlight, the bed jolts and oscillates from each impactful hit that it even starts moaning itself, as if it’s competing with you. “i’ll give you twins, ‘s that what you want? or are you more of a triplets kinda gal?”

“just give me a baby, daddy.”

“just give me a baby, daddy.” he repeats your tone before cackling—so mean, he watches the pout go against your lips before he greets your wet pussy with a rough spank. you wince, the sting from the entire hit makes your cunt throb at a more quickened pace. you’re so dumb, not a single thought in the world except the fact that you’d be having more ropes of toji’s warm cum oozing out of you in just a minute. just the thought makes you salivate. “greedy . . fuckin’ . . pussy . . holdin’ . . me . . hostage,” he enunciates between each pausing thrust. you writhe underneath him before you end up finishing the same time as him—a loud ear shrilling whimper leaves your throat and he’s pouring another sweet amount of cum into you, this times it’s a lot though. he groans, canines digging into your neck softly as your legs lock around him tightly like a vice.

and as he’s still spewing out such ropes, making sure your pussy is grateful and soaks in ever single drop, he grabs your chin. “now tell me, little girl,” and he kisses you for about a millisecond before continuing his sentence with a sly grin, “are ya ready to be a single mother?”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“oh, boo. is my future queen already too full?”

such playful words, the gravelly rasp in his tone only makes you ten times more dripping wet.

with your back pressed against him—you’d be facing yourself in front a mirror, struggling to take one out of two of his thick staggering cocks. one of them was idly resting on his tummy—angry red tip, glistening with a pretty translucent color of his own fluid. “more, m-more ‘kuna.”

“when i’m in the process of breeding you, it’s 'my lord', woman.” he warns you, his lower arm out of the other three wraps around your body. his lips press up against your ear and you lean back against him— he chortles, watching your cunt slowly swallow him up again. so tight, so warm, it makes him suck his teeth in contentment at the way your body always responds to him. just a single touch from sukuna and you were on your way to the fifth climax of the night, “you got me?”

“y—yes, my lord,” you moan, feeling the fat tip of his cock ferret all throughout your gummy walls. instinctively, you compress and brace all around him. his jaw tightens, infamous fangs poking out of his lips before he resumes to guide your cute hips. your rhythm was a bit slow . . . it’s simply because he’s so fucking big, sukuna’s so beefy too. two of his extra arms spreads your legs just a bit wider and you let out a cute shriek once he successfully locates your secretive g-spot. he knows your anatomy like it was the back of his hand. you’re spasming, drool seeping from the corners of your mouth as you feel his claws gingerly scrap against your curves. “breed me, pleasepleaseplease.”

he jeers in a low tone— the fact that you’re making an entire mess on his own personal throne like this. the audacity, but maybe he’s even got a little soft spot for you.

“my obedient girl,” he words warm its way into your heart before you’re bouncing on his shaft now— your breathing becomes insignificantly heavy and you grip onto his knees before he brings another lower arm between your cunt. “hm. if i spank this disgraceful pussy will it give me a baby sooner? let’s try it.”

“s—sukunaaaa,” you’d whine out, his touch making your nipples perk up. you were so sensitive—especially after your most recent screaming orgasm that had your throat clinging onto its last and final pipes. each smack he makes against your wet cunt was so slick, saturated with your own arousal that he smears it all over folds. your swollen pussy was awaiting more satiny ropes as he’s just mindlessly pumping in and out of you. he groans, feeling a twinging burn underneath his calve as he holds you down. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, pleaseee.”

“dumb woman, thought i told ya to not call me sukuna when ‘m inside this pussy?” and he holds your head up—with your mouth all open, eyes droopy, tips of your ears burning, you felt everything. you’re so stupid that your thighs ache, your brain short circuits, you’re almost frothing. the more his thick cock pummels into you— the more your ears fill up with straight fuzz. “i’ll let it slide just for today, you’re lucky i like you.”

his words were a mere purr to you, so seductive.

with two rough hands, he makes you grind against him instead of bouncing—purposely making sure that you feel every single inch, every entire being of his hardened cock. he pulses inside you, and you whine before slumping right against his broad lap. the ancient markings that perfectly decorate his skin graze against your back and you whimper before he starts to feel his breathing pick up. “f—fuck, bare around me like that, good girl, goooood,” and as he still has your spasming hips in place, he spanks your ass before it finally arises. sukuna shoots inside of your cunt, a hefty amount of cum that spits right inside of your folds. “. . ah,” he gasps, and for a second you could almost hear him whine. you jitter your hips forward a bit, making sure a drop doesn’t spill out before he snickers right against your ear, lifting you up from his lap to realign himself. “cute. but let’s try to make you even more full with two cocks, yeah?”

☆ GOJO SATORU

he wouldn’t even realize he has a breeding kink until he’s literally guts deep inside of you.

gojo’s a simple man, he likes to return home from a long mission + day at work to his pretty wife. correction, his pretty wife with no panties underneath. the moment he crosses your path near the kitchen, he brings you into a rough kiss, hands finding its way towards the back of your ass. he gives it a tight squeeze, leading you straight towards the bed—he doesn’t even have to say a single word either.

he’s a simple man, he knows what he wants, and he wants you.

“t-toruuu,” you’d gasp out, scratching up his back with various marks. he never minded, if anything it only turns him on. he was so deep, a feral gaze meets yours—hooded eyes and he’s breathing in and out, cloudy puffs of air ghost from his lips as his thick cock just pounds straight into you at full throttle. missionary—a simple yet straight forward position that he always loved to do whenever he was feeling lazy. especially now, your legs were cutely raised up, weight bouncing and bouncing as he briefly holds up your leg to run his tongue against your ankle. “fuck, fuck, fuckkk.”

he’s whimpering himself, white strands sticking to his forehead like hot glue before he rocks against you further—clenching his perfectly chiseled jaw as he hitched his breath. “ohhh fuck, ‘s good, ‘m gonna cum again, baby. so wet, gonna milk the shit out of me.” and his hips frantically stutter, right in front of your eyes—you squeeze him with all your might before momentarily, he dumps another sloppy load into you again. by now, you lost track—you were just stuffed, hot cum seeps and dribbles out of your swollen glistening cunt before he leans into your neck. “. . . ugh,” and he sounds like a alluring harmony, even his grunts were blissful and melodic. “not enough, still not enough for my baby.”

“so full, ‘toru,” you’d mewl out, shivering once he softly bites his pearly whites into your neck. doing so, his own muffles and a certain itch in your brain gets scratched once the crown of his dick batters strenuously against your most sweetest spot. “ohmygod right there, please.“

“y-yeah?” he swallows, and his cologne runs against your nostrils—even his loud scent had you drenched, you throb as he frowns once he suddenly feels his own seed pouring all down your thighs. he stares at it and it’s so much, with a cute attempt to fuck it back into you—his hips grind slowly against you, a soft little pout stretching against his pink lips as your legs wrap around his slim waist oh so tightly. “i missed this,” he rasps, and he starts to ram his cock into you again. it goes on for hours—with gojo satoru, stamina for him is practically non-existent. “i missed my f-favorite pussy so bad, fuckkk.”

so whiney, he couldn’t help it. your tongue lolls out and you’re sure he’s already broken you—you whine at his rhythmic speed. it’s so hypnotic, it’s so salacious. the way his hips dance against yours at such a rough pace was just purely euphoric. clammy hands of yours grab onto his bulky thighs and you you moan before you end up being too loud so he covers your hand, whispering lowly. “listen to it with me.”

so you do—you grow quiet the moment his big hand goes against your face, shielding your moans any further and the bed just squeaks in squeaks. as if your body was in sync, in harmony with his, minutes pass before he ends up cumming again. gojo’s buried all the way down to the hilt, fat balls smacking against your entrance in such a mean way before you hear the little squelches spurt right into you. it was so messy, he looks down before pressing a hand against your plump tummy. “god, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he utters in a hoarse voice, leaning in to kiss all over your face. you’re so dizzy—your cunt was now over flooding with nothing but his thick cum. “we’re gonna have the prettiest babies, promise.”

and then he watches as you try to catch your breath, sprawled all out whilst he’s still inside of you—dick still twitching inside before he kisses the tip of your nose. “you’d be such a good mommy for me, such a good mommy for satoru fuckin’ gojo.”

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