#i was so little i had so much hope :( before anything shit had happened to me yet. or actually not really not at all. but before i’d | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dollfacefantasy · 2 months

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can't get started ♡

older bf!logan howlett x fem!reader

logan can't get it up one night and is humiliated. but that just means he'll have to prove he can still satisfy you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, age gap (reader in 20s)

a/n: the part in dpw where he said he's got whiskey dick with the claws turned me on too much tbh

This had never happened to Logan before.

That wasn't a lie he was telling you to make himself look less pathetic. It wasn't an affirmation he repeated in his own head to feel like he was still hot shit. It was the truth. One he would swear to on anything.

He'd never had a problem getting it up before.

Not with you, not with anyone. He thought the healing factor made him immune to whiskey dick or any kind of down-there dysfunction. But apparently not. Because the two of you finally had some time alone after being amidst the chaos of the mansion all day and his body was stalling.

The second he had the bedroom door shut, you were dragging him over to the bed and climbing into his lap. You were doing everything like usual. Your lips pressed against his, and then moved to his jawline and down his neck. Your hands glided across the firm muscles of his chest. Your hips rolled down against his lap, beckoning the appendage between his legs to reciprocate your desire.

But it just wouldn't. He tried to make it because it wasn't a matter of not wanting you. He wanted you bad.

He grabs your chin and brings your lips back up to his mouth so he can communicate his passion wordlessly. He digs his fingers into your hips, feeling the beginnings of where your flesh swells into your ass. He envisions how you'd been prancing around the whole day, cute tits pushing against the fabric of your t-shirt and calling out for him to grab.

You're so soft and warm. The little mewls that leave your lips sound like calls of angels up above. It doesn't matter though. His cock had clocked out for the night.

"God damnit," he grumbles before brushing you off his lap and bringing his fist down against the mattress. He sighs and his head hangs.

He can already sense the look on your face. Worry, hesitation, and affection swirling into one humiliating look. He feels your hand find his shoulder, the touch tender and accepting.

"It's ok, Logan. We don't have to," you say. Your tone is so soft and gentle, and it just drives him fucking nuts.

"But you want to," he says and looks over at you. The look in your eyes kills him. He knows you don't mean it, but it looks so patronizing. As if he's an old dog about to be taken out back and old yeller'd.

"Yeah but I don't want you to force yourself. We can just cuddle," you offer, sweet as can be.

"It's not forcing, I want to do this. I want you so bad," he says and cups your cheek. He pulls you back onto his lap and nuzzles your neck. "Been thinking about this all day."

You let out a little sigh as he lays some kisses on the column of your throat, and that gives him a spark of hope. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he doesn't have to be put out to pasture just yet. The two of you make out and grind and feel each other up some more. But eventually your tits are all but in his face and his dick still doesn't have a pulse.

He huffs and pulls back. 'Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says.

You watch him, the gleam in your eyes as adoring as ever. It was the same look you gave him when you'd have to explain a basic function of a cell phone to him.

"It's ok. You don't have to be embarrassed," you reassure and lean in to peck his cheek.

He groans and gently brushes you off. "Don't. I don't need you coddling me."

"I'm just saying. I understand," you say with conviction, hands splaying on your chest to physically convey your empathy, "It happens to lots of guys when they get older. You don't have to be ashamed of it with me."

And in that moment, he wishes he didn't have his mutation so he could just die on the spot from being utterly mortified. He'd actually have preferred if you laughed in his face and called him an old man. A sad, old, perverted fuck who decided to date some half his age even though he couldn't keep up with her appetite. If you'd told him you were gonna find someone who could satisfy you, it probably would've stung less than being talked to like a patient who doesn't know their cancer is terminal.

There was no chance in hell, you'd ever do any of that though. As much as he hated that fact right now, it was part of why he loved you.

All he does is mumble a thank you and kiss the corner of your mouth. He doesn't just cuddle you after though. He gets you off on his thigh. You were still going to cum even if he couldn't. When you're done, he holds you close and rubs your back till you're sleeping curled up to his side.

His night isn't very restful though. It's haunted with the prospect of future incidents like this, of your perception of him changing. The look in your eyes changing from admiration to pity.

He can't live with that. The next day for the two of you is super busy, but he makes sure there's a spot at the end of it for him to secure his redemption.

This time around it's him carting you away from the others once the sun is down, mouth on the curve of your neck before you even reach the bedroom. His hands grope your waist and paw at your tits. You stumble into the door, bumping it loud enough that you'd be worried about someone hearing you if they weren't all downstairs.

"Logan..." you giggle. You push your ass back against him and glance at him out of your peripheral.

"Not what you're gonna be calling me before the night is done, sweet thing," he grunts and boosts you up.

Your legs press into his sides to support yourself as he opens the door. He takes the two of you inside and kicks it shut behind him before heading to the bed and tossing you on the mattress.

You look up at him with a coy smile, arms propping you up and one of your legs extended to entice him.

"You know... you don't have to prove anything to me, right?" you say.

"Oh, I don't?" he asks and grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed so your hips meet, "You're too easy to please, babydoll."

Another laugh bubbles through your lips. Your legs drop to lock around his waist. "I'm just saying. It's like totally normal, and I don't want you to get all grumpy about it."

"Oh, I get grumpy, do I?" he asks as he leans over you. His large body envelopes yours on the mattress. He ducks down further to swallow your words up with kisses.

You hum into the exchange but pull back a little to finish your thought.

"Mhm, you do. And I just don't want you to feel that way cause I knew when we got together what I was getting into," you say.

Your confidence is so cute. You talk with absolute certainty, like you understand all there is to be understood about him. Like you'd known him forever and he hadn't been doing things like this for decades longer than you walked this earth.

His mouth crashes against yours again, his body weighing down on you and crushing you into the mattress.

"You did, hm? You knew what you were getting into? You got with me thinking I wouldn't be able to give it to you how you need all the time?" he mutters against your skin.

"I didn't mean it like-"

"Didn't mean it like that? How'd you mean it then, sweetheart?"

"I dunno..."

"Doesn't sound like you knew what you were getting into to me," he breathes.

That little sentence that you'd said in an attempt to comfort him unlocked something between the two of you. He felt his cock waking up and pressing against his zipper, eager to get out and slide home. It's hard to register your clothes being pulled off when he's got his tongue in your mouth and his fingers playing with your clit. In no time at all, he's got the both of you bare and his cock nestled between your thighs.

Like he already knew, the issue last night had never been about lack of desire. And he intended to prove that to you, fuck you so good it wiped your memory of any placating word that fell from your lips.

He ruts into you hard. The mattress rocks on the bed frame and threatens to slide off. His dick is big and even though it's not a new sensation for you, each time you take it is a stretch. It's even more so when he pushes you up by the back of your knees. You whine as you're folded in half. His thrusts hit your sweet spot every time at this angle.

"Thought you knew what you were getting into?" he teases as he pistons himself in and out.

You mewl and bob your head, though you aren't sure if you're shaking your head or nodding.

"Fuckkkk, Logan. 'm sorry," you pant. Your walls squeeze tight around his shaft as your eyes close up. He made every part of your body contract and feel like it was moments from exploding.

He simply laughs at your apology. "Don't gotta be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just showing you what happens when I get older."

His balls hang heavy and swing with each motion, clapping against your ass. The heat between your legs is enough to make you squirm. Constant whimpers pour from your lips as he fucks into you without mercy.

"I know," you moan, "You fuck me better than anyone else."

"That's right," he grunts, "Nobody else could fuck you like this. Just me."

"Mhm, just daddy," you slur and cling onto him tighter. Your arms hook around his neck and keep his sweaty skin flush against yours.

"Just daddy," he repeats, his tone smooth like silk despite his raspy voice, "You don't need anyone else. Not when I can take care of you like this."

His tip prods at your cervix, making you yelp and buck. He doesn't stop though, just keeps battering into you, hammering into your warm, wet hole.

"You don't need any little boys thinking they know how to handle you," he breathes and nuzzles your neck, "Your old man can handle you just fine, make you cum whenever you need."

A strangled cry leaves your lips. Your nails dig into his back so hard that it seems like you wanted to draw blood. His words just make you melt for him. Reduce you down to a compliant jumble of flesh for him to mold and play with how he wants.

"Needa cum right now, daddy," you whine.

"I know you do, spoiled girl. You act so understanding, but I know that little pussy is aching to cum around my cock. To get filled up with my cum," he murmurs.

You nod wildly.

He chuckles at your eagerness and snaps against you even harder.

"Hold on tight, baby," he whispers.

His hips ricochet off your ass, clapping against you with intensity that borders on violent. You squeal and hang on as directed. Your whole body rocks with his momentum. Your head bobbles around like it's empty, which it is. Empty of everything but him.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," you whimper.

"Let it out for me. Let me feel you burst, pretty girl," he grunts as he continues plowing into you.

Your body rolls. Your hips vibrate with the ecstasy release brings you. It crashes over you in one intense wave, like a gallon of liquid euphoria being poured over you. Your eyes flutter, and you bury your face in his neck like he has his in yours.

He fucks you through it. Coos in your ear too. "That's my baby. My sweet girl. Always sound so pretty when you're cumming."

One of your hands flies up to clutch at his thick, dark hair. Keeping him close keeps the words flowing.

"Getting so tight for me, fuck. No one can make me cum like you, honey. Drains me dry every fucking time."

Moments later he spurts into you, unloading thick ropes of his spend inside you. You let out another moan from that sensation alone. He growls and pants against your skin, his hands locking you in place as his hips pummel into your cunt and make sure every last drop has been released.

He lingers on you for a few moments before pulling out. His body feels loose in the afterglow. He stands at the edge of the bed and looks down at himself and then you. He knows he's gonna have to clean you up. Your inner thighs are shimmery with a mix of fluids, and the bush of dark hair at the base of his cock is in the same condition.

"Time to shower, baby?" he asks and pats your leg. You don't respond at first and he smirks. "Or did I tire you out too much?"

You whine something incoherent and shift to turn your face against the blankets. His smug look grows. He crawls over you again and nips at your jaw, rubbing his nose against your cheekbone.

"You know, it's ok, sweetheart. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's totally normal for pretty little things like you. I knew that going in."

His tone mimics your soft and understanding one from earlier. You make a little growl and swat at his bicep.

“Shut up, old man.”

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #marvel x reader #marvel smut

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nezuscribe · 1 year

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𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it

word count: 10.9K (whoops)

note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3

jjk masterlist

never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything.

you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights.

his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to.

and he seems to despise you.

you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore.

he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you.

but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back.

you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three.

but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed.

he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything.

after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up.

and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you.

ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans.

you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him.

not that it mattered now.

all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.

you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip.

whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry.

he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away.

you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else.

“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes.

“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left.

it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer.

sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up.

for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity.

but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from.

“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples.

“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone.

you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged.

he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies.

he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle.

it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak.

“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife.

if only you knew.

“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long.

you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say.

“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you.

“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it.

“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features.

and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show.

“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk).

he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.

“just tell them the truth.”

the truth.

tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up.

tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were.

tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms.

tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms.

tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position.

you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.

“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.”

you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.

the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind.

you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy.

“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him.

you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position.

but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.

“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door.

“i don’t-”

“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway.

you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself.

---

the feast of clans came earlier than you expected.

you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered.

you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury.

“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.

“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.”

he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside.

“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating.

you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen.

“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate.

“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such?

“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”

gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you.

“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement.

“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”

the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away.

you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking.

“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless.

gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite.

“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic.

“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”

“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.”

you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind.

a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.

“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”

“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly.

“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this.

“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”

your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.

“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it.

“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you.

you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around.

“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile.

“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response.

“if you want to hide, i’ll-”

“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!”

a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.

“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.”

you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch.

“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other.

“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh.

“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you.

his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature.

“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded.

you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance.

you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl.

she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions.

she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls.

you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat.

you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you.

you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.

---

gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him.

“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress.

“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down.

you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead.

so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other.

once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo.

you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased.

though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation.

“what you saw last night-”

“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.”

“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either.

“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables.

“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words.

“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.”

you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it.

you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck.

leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you.

you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so.

it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him.

“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door.

your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else.

“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door.

you didn’t answer, still, waiting.

“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door.

“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit.

you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table.

“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.

a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing.

---

gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day.

it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy.

you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time.

when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned.

“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down.

“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks.

“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet.

“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you.

your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis.

you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.

sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders.

myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing.

until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window.

“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.

his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw.

he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance.

“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her.

the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had.

“are you alright?”

you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being.

he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either.

“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly.

“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you.

“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.”

“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you.

“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.”

“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable.

“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”

you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three.

“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure.

“you are my wife-”

“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back.

“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man.

“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.

he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint.

he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks.

“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.”

you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self.

“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you.

“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself.

“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint.

he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw.

“what do you mean?”

you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin.

“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”

“letters? what letters?”

you glance at him, taking in his shaking form.

“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”

his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing.

“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.”

the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement.

“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks.

“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.”

you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words.

“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you.

“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations.

“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face, twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-”

“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull.

“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-”

“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.”

you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones.

“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago.

“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.”

a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it.

“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face.

“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself.

“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.”

he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters.

you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided.

it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours.

it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined.

“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love.

“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness.

he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you.

“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder.

“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again.

“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin.

“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name.

“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could.

“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them.

“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did.

“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one.

“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours.

“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago.

“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it.

“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.

“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”

“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips.

you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move.

his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give.

your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch.

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds.

“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin.

“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face.

his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.

“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him.

“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down.

he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this.

but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you.

you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.

he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.

he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most.

“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, ��don’t want them to come after me or something.”

he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye.

his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck.

it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be.

his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall.

“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response.

“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more.

his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more.

he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit.

“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision.

you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo.

“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.

“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over.

when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces.

he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest.

“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?”

he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you.

“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.”

you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you.

“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that.

“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.

“and then?”

your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face.

“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs.

“and then?”

“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.”

“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking.

“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain.

“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves.

“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x you smut #gojo x reader angst #gojo x you angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader fluff #gojou x reader

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jensthwa · 2 months

Text

show & tell (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

You have known Mingi since you both were fourteen. You’ve been by his side through thick and thin and you would do anything for him, really, considering he’s your other half. When he has an unfortunate bed experience and asks for your help and you say yes, he starts considering that, maybe, you’re just the best friend a guy like him can have.

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends to ?

WORD COUNT: 8k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit, hwa being the voice of reason, sex talk, pet names (love and also dude and bro but in a sweet way), mingi scaring the sense out of you, descriptions of female anatomy, kissing, dirty talk (sort of), teasing, a little bit of voyeurism, fingering, squirting, almost getting caught, unresolved feelings.

NOTES: had to do a lot of research for this one, so i figured nothing better to post as my first fic here! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 18th 2024.

masterlist. / part two.

“Delete her number right now!”

“She's such a bitch for saying that to you…”

“And over text too? Wow.”

“Yeah, no, I didn't like her from the start.”

Wooyoung’s living room comes to life once again that morning, voices echoing and insults flying out, all towards the girl Mingi’s seeing.

Was seeing. You're sure she's out of his usual rotation with the lovely shit show she just caused.

You stay silent, your eyes fixed on your best friend's expression, on his red cheeks and apologetic eyes because everyone told him that girl was bad news.

He should've listened to you when you told him you liked her friend better. She was a sweet girl, clearly had a thing for Mingi.

Unfortunately, Mingi has a type. And that type always ends up breaking his spirit one way or another.

But you stay silent, letting your friends have their little rants about how much of a bitch she is for hurting Mingi's ego like that, until he covers up his face with his hands and lets out a frustrated whine.

“That's enough, everyone. I think he got it.” You smile a little and everyone turns to you, Yunho’s chest heaving and everything but Seonghwa (who also kept his mouth shut all this time) interferes before anyone else has the chance to start again.

“You know you shouldn't feel ashamed for that, right?” he asks Mingi, who slowly lowers his hands to his lap and looks at you for a brief second. You nod, confirming what Hwa says “No one is born knowing everything and she shouldn't expect you to know how to make a girl squirt.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mingi whines again, closing his eyes “Don't say it like that.”

“How else should I say it?” Seonghwa is confused but he laughs a little bit and turns to you.

Being the only girl in the room, you think everyone it's expecting you to pick your friend up and join them in their insults but you can't (for Mingi’s sake). Instead, you let out a sigh “I mean, it's hard to even make it happen on your own without any help, Mingi. I don't know what the fuck she's on but…” shrugging, you extend your arm to pat him in the shoulder two times “Hwa’s right.”

“So you do know?”

“Woo—” Hongjoong reprimands right away and you turn to Wooyoung, confused.

“Huh?”

“You said that it's hard making it happen,” he explains, smiling because he just found a new target for the next few days “So you must know.”

Talking about sex with them was never difficult, it didn't make you uncomfortable whatsoever but you know what Woo is doing.

You look down at Mingi before answering though and his eyes are glued to the carpet, begging for the topic of his unfortunate encounter with that bitch to die on everyone's tongue.

So you take mercy on him.

“Oh. I mean… Yeah.” You shrug once again, leaning back against the cushions on the couch while Wooyoung claps like he just heard the most hilarious joke ever.

“You truly are amazing.”

Rolling your eyes, you get up from your comfy seat “Sure. But it took a lot of practice and the whole ordeal was frustrating for me, so, again, I don't know what the fuck she was on,” you say again, smiling down at Mingi before taking a few steps towards the door “It's noon already, by the way.”

“Shit.” Woo gets up quickly from his spot on the floor and everyone else follows suit.

“Alright, everyone out! We have a midterm to cheat on.” San calls out and everyone takes it as their sign to actually leave (not just hang around the apartment) and continue with their days.

This reunion was a little impromptu, just because Wooyoung texted everyone begging to come over and hang out with him and San before their online philosophy midterm.

“And by that he means that you need to stay,” Wooyoung hugs Seonghwa hard, almost begging him with his eyes “We didn't study… Don't look at me like that! Please?”

“I'm not doing your fucking midterm for you!”

You chuckle, leaning on the door and waiting for your ride home to get his shoes on. When you look down at him again, Mingi mouths a thank you and you blow him a kiss.

When you get downstairs, you swear you still hear Wooyoung begging his senior to take the test for him.

Everyone is quiet in the car. You can tell they're tired from exams and life in general, so you don't press them with questions and just let the music play in the background while you look out the passenger window and, eventually, at Mingi.

His grip on the steering wheel lets you know he's a little more affected than he let on back there. But, again, you say nothing.

You know better than to pressure him into telling you his feelings.

Mingi and you have been friends forever. He lived a few houses down from yours, becoming your first friend when you moved to the city. You both were fourteen when it happened, so you've known him long enough to know what happens when he gets his heart broken.

Not that Mingi loved that girl or anything, but he never really took embarrassment well. He didn't when the first girl he liked rejected him in front of the whole ninth grade class and he didn't when his pants ripped in the middle of the stage while performing a routine with his dance team on senior year.

You stood by his side every single time and every single time he waited to sit down and let everything out, collect his feelings and talk to you through his frustrations. You really loved that about him, because he never said anything he regretted just because he was upset at the moment.

Maybe that's why you two have been friends for so long. Opposites attract, or whatever your mother told you one time.

In reality, you think it's because you two complement each other well.

He knows when to speak his mind and you're kind of impulsive, heart on your sleeve and sharp tongue ready to defend your and your loved ones honor if needed.

That's why it takes a lot of strength for you to not pull up that girl's number from his phone and give her a piece of your mind.

One by one, you drop your friends off in different parts of the city and when it's time to go into your own house, you circle the car and Mingi rolls his window down.

He reads the look you give him a little too well, so he opens his mouth to stop you but you shake your head.

“Call me, come over or just let me know if you need anything,” you start before he says anything “If you need me to beat her up, I can do that too.”

He huffs out a laugh “You don't even know how to fight, love.”

You sigh at the nickname, he's been using it since the time you told him you had a crush on his friend, way bsck in highschool, and that you were positive you were going to get together and he would csll you love because that's what good boyfriend's do.

Turns out, you weren't exactly his friends type. Neither were the other girls in your school.

“I don't give a shit, I'll do it,” You two smile to each other fondly for a few seconds and then you tap the top of the car “Thanks for the ride, dude.”

“You’re welcome, bro.” He rolls his eyes, annoyed because he hates when you call him that, but waits for you to get inside either way.

And in the solitude of your room, you wait.

You distract yourself with papers that are due in a few days, you start studying for your finals even though they're months away and you even go downstairs to say goodbye to your parents when they leave for a fancy dinner with their colleagues before you hear your phone ring.

Mingi's FaceTime comes right on time, because you were getting really anxious from the radio silence on his end.

“I have a small query for you.” He puts on an accent that makes you grimace immediately and he laughs at you.

“Ew. Never do that ever again,” you beg, going back upstairs to your room “Go ahead.”

“How do you do it?”

“Excuse me?”

“How the fuck do you make yourself squirt, love?”

Oh.

Definitely not the conversation you were hoping to have with him.

It caughts off guard and you stammer your response “Um… You— I mean, it's not really a thing I can explain.”

“You have such a way with words, though.”

You stare at him through the screen, annoyed, and he just laughs again “Don't make me come over and beat you up.”

“Alright, alright,” his giggling dies out and you distract yourself from the heat you feel creeping over your cheeks while putting away your statistics prep for the quiz you have next week. There's a bit of silence and then you hear him sigh “I do really want to know, though.”

“If you're asking me this to then go over to her house and prove her wrong, I'm not telling you shit.”

“No! No, that's not it at all,” he defends himself quickly when you turn your head to the camera, scowl in your face “When she asked me to do it, I really did try to make her, you know…”

“You said squirt so freely a minute ago, Mingi,” you tease, smiling, but at his expression, you give in “What exactly did you do?”

“I tried to, you know, do it like they do it in the movies,” he demonstrates his point with his free hand, his middle and ring finger down on his sheets, pressing and moving side to side “And she was enjoying it and she came, but nothing really… came out.”

“Wow, first of all: you make her come and she has the nerve to give you shit over text? I hate her,” you shake your head, disappointment written all over your face “and second of all, that was a terrible mistake.”

“What? Going like this?” He does it again and you roll your eyes, laughing a second later.

“No, dude, trying to porno your way into making her squirt.”

“Oh.” His movements on the sheets slow down and you grimace again.

“Please stop doing that,” you beg and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you through the screen. You take your phone and move to the bed, resting your head against the pillows with a huff.

You ponder for a moment. You're sure telling him what he wants to hear it's not really a threat to your friendship, but it's also something that's very personal and intimate. You can talk about sex with Mingi and the other guys, sure, what doesn't mean you tell them about your sex life.

Maybe that's why Wooyoung was so excited earlier today, because you spilled something that involves you directly and not something vague and general like you usually do.

“Would it give you peace of mind if I explained it to you?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper as you sit straight on the bed.

Your best friend takes what feels like a lifetime to respond and, when does, it's in a hushed tone as well “Please.”

You groan and you comply either way, trying to find the right words to even start “Okay, I'm going to be very technical about this.”

“I wouldn't expect anything else from you.”

His teasing tone makes you glare at him for a few seconds before dismissing it with a click of your tongue “The very first thing you need to make sure happens, is that you wash your hands—”

“Yes, Y/N, I'm not a virgin,” he huffs this time, annoyed “I know all of that, just skip to the part where I make her squirt.”

“Jesus, fine! I also want to clarify that this works on me and I'm not really sure if it'll work on anyone else, alright?” he nods and you look away from the screen because you're not sure how to look him in the eyes “The first thing that I do— The first thing that you need to do,” you correct yourself quickly “Is make sure she's comfortable. And I mean, the space. Towels, water bottles… She needs to hydrate a lot.”

“Hydrate… a… lot…” You turn your head to the screen and your jaw goes slack at what you see.

“Are you writing this down?!”

“I’m making sure I don't forget anything!”

“You're unbelievable…” You let out under your breath and take a deep one before resuming the, apparently, class “Squirting can be confused as peeing and—”

“Shit, hold on.” He interrupts and you hear his mom’s voice at the door, asking him something you can't really catch through the shitty airpod audio “It's just Y/N… I'm not really saying anything so I don't understand how I'm being too loud for— Yes ma'am.”

You try not to laugh because he's literally being scolded right in front of you.

Old habits die hard, and Mingi's mom loves to put him on the spot.

Your laugh dies hard as well, because the next words, for some reason, make your heart drop to your ass.

“She's telling me to either cut it out or go to your house, so… I'm coming over.”

“Oh, I— Hello?” Your lockscreen mocks you because the call literally ended before you could tell him to go and fuck himself “Shit.”

You don't know why you panic, but you do. You tidy up the room, you change your pijamas into something more presentable and you try to remember what were you telling him before he pulls open your bedroom door.

“Mingi! Fuck, you scared the shit out of me “ you're panting, hand over your chest.

He’s also panting, like he runned to get to your house, but he looks dumbfounded by your reaction “Your mom literally gave me the spare keys in your presence.”

When he steps closer, you notice he's wearing cologne and that his hair it's a little wet, still, so you figure he took a shower before calling you tonight.

Which means he probably wanted to sleep everything off, like he usually does, but whatever this is made him call you.

“Yeah! But I thought you— Nevermind.” He shrugs and gives your hair a kiss before he moves to sit at your desk, the same way he usually does when he steals your laptop and notes to complete his assignments for the few classes you share.

God. Somehow, you wish he was doing just that so it brings back some sense of normalcy. Maybe then, your heart can calm down enough for you to understand why this specific situation has your senses going insane.

You sit back down on your bed and try to get your heart back to its place in the meantime.

“They're not home, right? I didn't see your dad’s car.”

“Company dinner.”

“Ah.” He nods and you both fall in uncomfortable silence. It shouldn't be awkward, but it kind of is, even if you laugh when he pulls out the notebook he was writing on from underneath his oversized shirt and steals a pen from your pencil case, it's still a little weird.

You gulp.

“So, squirting can be confused as peeing.” He recalls the last thing you said with a smile and then he turns to look at you for a second “Go on.”

You're grateful he's taking notes all of the sudden. He's turned to you, so you have a clear view of his back and you can freely take a grounding breath before continuing “It can make you feel very uncomfortable if you think you're going to pee yourself and that's really why most women don't squirt in the first place.”

“You sound like you're reading a text book.” He confesses with a laugh.

“I told you, I'm being very technical about this— Besides, I did my research when I was trying to…” you gulp again “You know.”

“You said squirt so freely a minute ago.” Mingi teases you the same way you teased him earlier and you squint your eyes in return.

“Very funny. Anyways… Yeah, when you feel that, you usually tense up. You need to relax before even making it happen,” he nods, writing it down quickly “I also read that, depending on the person, you can confuse the liquid with, like, usual… arousal? Yeah, arousal” you sound more confident the second time you say it, unsure on how to call it because you never really explained anything related to your vagina to anyone else.

He turns to you, confused “So… If she doesn't squirt a lot, how can I tell if she did it?”

“I guess you'll notice it in her reaction?” You shrug and then cough a little to try and get rid of the sudden lump on your throat “I mean, it's not my case, so I wouldn't… I wouldn't know that.”

Mingi, because -you guess- hates you, just raises a brow and looks you over one time before turning back to his notes.

“A-anyways,” you cough again “It's all in her g-spot. It happens because it gets stimulated and that g-spot it's like…” you, once again, try to find the ideal words to explain “It's like the upper wall of the vagina? No, no, that's not right,” you see him draw a line over what he clearly wrote down on the paper and you laugh, apologetic “It's more like the, uh… Like the front wall of it.”

“Front wall?”

“Y-yeah?” you offer, nervous and unsure “I mean… Ugh, let me explain again. Something that you need to take into account is that you can only find it if she's really, really turned on.”

“O… kay.”

“Sort of like when you get hard we, uh, also get hard. Just differently,” you notice he's no longer taking notes when you turn to him again and the room is suddenly very hot.

The AC’s on, right?

Fuck.

“And apparently it only really shows up when you're really aroused. The g-spot, I mean,” Quickly, you're up from your bed and walking around it, fetching your water bottle and taking a big gulp of it with your eyes closed.

Mingi clears his throat a second later.

“So it feels hard to the touch or…”

“Not really, um… It kinda feels like a berry.”

He laughs “What?”

“Yeah, it's kind of soft but it has a texture to it too. And we, uh… have this gland that fills up with the liquid— Kind of like a prostate gland! Yeah, that's what that article said,” putting even more distance within Mingi and you, you sit back on the bed, just on the other side “If you try to do it before it fills up, you end up with nothing. That's what frustrated me the whole time I was learning how to do it.”

“You didn't drink enough water?”

“No, no— It fills up when you get really turned on. And when I was trying, I was trying way too hard and didn't, uh… I didn't do a lot of foreplay before trying, s-so.” You nod, finishing the explanation in a softer voice.

Your cheeks feel hot and you swear your upper lip is sweating a bit. Why would you even say that?

“Y-you didn't touch yourself enough or…?”

“Exactly, I didn't, I just… Tried t-to stimulate it. Wasn't even wet enough so I used, uh, lube.”

“Oh… Lube. Sure, okay.” He nods again, and then moves his hand over his face, looking away for a second “And then?”

“I'm not really sure how to… Give me a second.”

What were you even telling him before exposing yourself like that? Before the tension in the room skyrocketed in a suffocating way? You're not sure.

Oh, foreplay. Okay, what's next?

“Fingering,” you say out loud when you remember and at the sudden word Mingi turns to you, eyes wide and you stumble over your words yet again “Y-you need to finger her to stimulate the g-spot, duh.”

“Don't duh me, Y/N, I'm learning!”

“Sorry!”

“Okay! Now what do I do when… fingering.”

That makes you frown. You're not really sure what to tell him next. So you look straight ahead and, unintentionally, move your ring and middle finger the way you do when you're touching yourself.

In the silence of the room, you audibly hear Mingi’s breath hitching and that draws you back to reality.

When you look at him, his eyes are solely focused on your fingers.

“I don't really know how to explain this next part.” You sound apologetic, your lips tensing into a straight line.

A bit passes.

And then another one and another one where Mingi looks at you with a weird, foreign expression on his face.

So you open your mouth to apologize to him, but he beats you to it.

“Then show me.”

You swear you never even heard him sound like that before. Or maybe you have, the tone of voice similar to when he just wakes up, low, grouchy, as if his throat might be dry.

It just never affected you this way.

“W-what?” you blink hard, a few times, trying to focus on whatever the hell is going on.

“Show me how you do it… I-if you want to.”

“Mingi!”

“I just— Look, you don't have to,” he says right away “If you don't want to, you can forget I ever asked but I'm so… curious”, he says, getting up from your desk chair and planting his knee into the bed “And I'm also really butthurt over what happened. I want to learn but I don't really have anyone else to ask.”

“What about, uh… Minseo! Yeah, what about her?” you offer quickly, also getting up.

“San's ex?!”

“I don't know any other woman that you also know, Mingi!”

He gulps and breathes heavily, gathering his words, his thoughts, just like he always does and you remember: This is Mingi. Your Mingi. The Mingi you've known for years and care about more than anything.

“I'm asking you because I trust you,” he says, looking you over once again “And because if I fail, you're not… going to make fun of me for it.”

There it is.

You soften at that and he seems to relax at your reaction. His demeanor lets you know he's not just saying that because he wants to see you touch yourself, he's being honest.

So you decide to be honest, as well. In a whisper, because your voice will tremble and give away how strongly you feel about his request.

“I've never done it in front of anyone before.”

“So no one has ever make you—”

“No,” you confirm before he even gets it out and you sigh “I never ask for it and I haven't really… I've only slept with—”

“Hangyeol.” He nods and scrunches his nose in disgust at the memory of your highschool boyfriend. They never really got along and it was a shame, because Han was a great guy, he just wasn't the one for you.

“Mingi,” you walk over to him and he straightens up his spine “This could really… I mean, there's no getting rid of me on this lifetime, buddy,” reminding him makes him smile and you do as well, nervous, your body on high alert “But this could mess us up.” You finish in a whisper.

“I'm not letting that happen.” He says back, eyes scanning your face before zeroing on your eyes “There's no getting rid of me either, love.”

That nickname is going to be the death of you, you're sure. It makes you suck in air you very much need at this moment.

Fuck it.

“I'll… get the towels, then.” You smile a little even though your cheeks are burning and you feel a little dizzy while holding his gaze, but you don't back down.

Before you move, though, he stops you with his hand holding your waist “I know where they are. Stay here.”

You could literally melt right now. And you know it's a short trip to the downstairs hallway closet from your room, so you make sure you strip your duvet before things get messy.

You should go to the bathroom, too, to clean yourself up a bit before Mingi finds out what you find out when you sit on your bed.

You're so wet.

And it's so fucking embarrassing, because you're not supposed to feel this way for him, for this.

Because, if anything, this is clearly just an educational experience.

And if Mingi’s excited look when he re-enters your bedroom tells you otherwise, you're choosing to ignore it for the clearly educational experience’s sake.

“These will do?”

You take the two mismatched towels and place them on the bed right away, not even looking at him.

“Yep.”

You think he nods but you're not sure, you just caught a glimpse of him moving towards your desk while you pretend to fix the towels in the bed to perfection.

“Okay, so… You need to, uh, be comfy and shit. Drink water, you just did that a few minutes ago…” when you turn to him, he's reading his notes like he's actually about to conduct an experiment and you chuckle before shaking your head “The… The foreplay part should be next, right?”

“Right…” you drag out, biting the inside of your cheek before he looks back at you.

“You look really tense, Y/N,” he deadpans, looking down at his notes again “You need to relax so it can happen, right?”

“You're about to see me touch myself and you think I can relax?”

“Oh,” he frowns, immediately and then blinks a few times to refocus, you think “I'm not the one doing it?”

“Uh… Yes? Later? I thought you wanted to see me first, y-you… You asked me to show you…”

You can feel him think, the gears on his brain twisting and you think he's going to backpedal at any second because he's not really saying anything. Then you see it, the moment the image crosses his mind.

And the next second you have him in front of you, towering over your form and then he's not.

Getting on his knees, he tentatively places a hand on your knee and parts your legs so you can make room for him to touch the end of the mattress with his chest and raise his chin just enough to make you think he's asking you to kiss him.

Oh God, you want to kiss him.

His voice is a sweet murmur when he speaks again “Show me how to get you there, love,” he sounds like he's pleading, like he's begging you to instruct him and your breath catches when he moves his hand up your thigh “What do you like?”

Your mouth moves before you can even think “Kiss me.”

You don't even notice you're leaning forward until his breath fans against your chin and he tilts his head even more so that your noses touch.

“How do you like being kissed?”

You breathe out a laugh, a little annoyed by his constant questioning “Figure it out, Mingi.” And then the last thing you see is his smirk before his mouth presses against yours.

It's not what you expect. If anything, you expected him to take the lead. Han used to do so, all the guys you've ever kissed did it as well. You don't really know why his patience surprises you, but it does and if your heart could race even more, it would.

Because he waits for your guidance, waits for you to grab his shirt and jank him closer, waits for you to sigh against him and then returns the gesture when he feels your fingers move upwards and tangle in his dark hair.

His mouth is complying to yours, his tongue is exploring it and wetting your lips in the process and you've never felt this good with anyone before.

That's something you'll need to unpack later, but your brain disconnects when your best friend lets out a noise the second his hands touch your waist under your shirt and you forget, for a split second, that the point of this is to have you on your back pleasing yourself for him to learn.

Because you want nothing more than to hear him make that noise again.

The kisses grow needy and so do you when he trails a path with his wet lips from your chin to your neck and the next thing you know is that your back is against the towels you laid down before and his mouth is kissing the valley of your breasts over the cotton of your shirt.

You look down and it takes a second for him to feel you staring before he looks up at you “Should we take this off?”

Your voice gives away how gone you are when you reply a simple yes and your shirt is on the floor the next instant.

Now, you're sure this is not the first time Mingi has seen you in your underwear. You both have gone swimming before and he has walked into your room a million times while you're getting ready. You're even sure he's seen you walk out from your bathroom in this specific bra before… But he's staring at you like it's the first time he's been able to trace the way your breasts spill a little bit over the fabric of this old bra you decided to wear today, like it's the first time he's allowed himself to enjoy it.

Like it's the first time he's allowing himself to feel any sort of attraction for you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, shallow breath hitting his cheek when he returns his mouth to your jaw “Let me… Come here.”

You scoot up until your head rests against your pillows and he follows, resting his body weight on his side and chasing your mouth when you turn your face to him.

You should speed this up. There's no way you're not going to feel like shit if tomorrow you wake up and remember you're letting yourself enjoy this more than you should.

There’s no reason for you to lose your breath when his fingertips trace softly the skin under your breasts or for your legs to grant him access so quickly when they reach your belly and bypass every other part of your body before going straight in between them.

And he notices it too.

“I don't know why I asked you so many questions before,” he starts, turning his hand so that he back of it and his nails start caressing the inside of your thighs through your sweatpants “I know what you like. I pay attention to you whenever we're talking about sex with the guys.”

You frown, about to remind him that you never speak directly about your own experiences but he continues his ministrations, giving your other thigh attention “I usually watch you closely in case any of it makes you uncomfortable, but I notice your reactions when they speak about something that you like.”

Oh. Heart on your sleeve, your biggest flaw.

“Like that one time Woo was going on and on about marking and you couldn't stop fidgeting on your seat…” his nose traces your jaw softly before his teeth take the skin underneath it and you gasp just enough to prove him right “Or that time Yunho said he hated teasing because he's an impatient little shit” he chuckles, his index finding the spot next to your mound and going down slowly until his knuckle graces the crevice where your leg and your hip connect “and you defended it until we had to stop you guys from yelling each other over it…”

Your breath shakes and your eyes close at the sensation “Mingi…”

“Am I wrong?”

You shake your head no and you can all but hear him smile when he speaks again.

“Of course I'm not.”

You open your eyes and expect him to look at you the way he does when you're unable to defend yourself against his quips, but he's not. His eyes are following his own actions and his bottom lip is pulled by his teeth when he takes the fabric of your sweatpants and pulls it up, enough to give you some friction where you need it the most.

“Can I take this off?”

“Fuck, y-yes.”

Joining your shirt on the ground, you're left only in your underwear while Mingi is fully clothed and it bothers you out of nowhere.

“You're so wet already…” he observes and you blush, puffing some air and covering your eyes with you hand. He just laughs “That's a good thing, it means that I'm doing okay.”

He's doing more than okay. Damn all the experience he has and the way he reads you so well.

But his sweet tone gives you some clarity and you support your weight on your hand to fix your position on the bed.

“Alright, let's… resume the lesson before my parents get home.”

“They probably won't for now. The company dinners last until like… two in the morning, usually, right?”

“That's when they decide to go out for drinks.”

“Your mom always wants to go out for drinks.”

“Let's not talk about my mom right now!” you beg and he laughs again, making you chuckle alongside him and you're glad he's talking all of this -the kissing, the teasing, the sweet-talk and the wet patch on your underwear- so well.

The awkwardness from before dissipated the moment he got on his knees in front of you and all that followed was this lovely tension you're dying to keep between the two of you forever even though you shouldn't.

“Show me, love,” he pleads and you sigh, his mouth finding your cheek for a quick second, encouraging you “And then you can show me how to make you feel good, too.”

You stare at him for a few seconds “Damn, you're good,” he shakes his head and you smile, getting rid of your underwear and pushing the quick moment of embarrassment being bare with him in the room gives you “Remember that this is what works for me, okay?”

He nods and then props himself up so he can see it better.

You take a second before your fingers dive into your wet folds and, when you do, you gasp at the feeling.

You've never been more wet just for kissing and teasing before. What the fuck.

You do what you usually do when you're alone for a while and try to contain yourself from moaning because Mingi's eyes keep moving from your fingers to your face. Then, you remember you should be talking him through it, as well.

“You see how I'm building it up?” you start, chest heaving and he hums as his reply “I'm not trying to make myself come but I'm kinda just… edging myself a little bit.”

“Edging,” he repeats and then hisses when he sees your thumb pressing into your clit just how you like it, making you sigh heavily “I know all about that, that's good.”

“Y-you do?”

“You'll be surprised,” he smiles, proud of himself.

“Okay,” you continue, taking a deep breath “Then you know about prepping, too,” he nods “So, a finger first…” you say, swallowing hard when your index makes its way into your cavity without much effort.

Dragging back and forth for a minute or so, you're incapable of containing yourself any longer. Air leaves your mouth in pants and your eyes close when you drag the pad of your finger upwards, locating your g-spot with ease because you're used to it.

“And then, two fingers.”

“Mhm.”

“Look at the position of my hand. I read that these two fingers work the best because they're longer than the rest, although…” you look at Mingi's hand over your belly. You didn't even noticed before this that he was touching you, but he is and his thumb is tracing a pattern that both relaxes you and sends shivers down your spine “I'm sure that it won't be a problem for you, huh?”

He sends a cocky smirk your way and you would've smacked him if you weren't so… preoccupied.

Pressing your precious spot and then dragging back and forward, you stop the movements altogether. It felt too good, way more than good and it's a different sensation of what you're used to.

And it's all because of him.

You look at his side profile, his eager eyes commiting to memory what you're doing to yourself, probably taking mental notes now that his notebook is long forgotten over at your desk and…

He deserves this. He deserves to be the one to have this, just tonight.

You hate to leave what feels like it's about to be your best orgasm in the hands of someone who's just learning, yet alone a man.

But Mingi is not just any man.

“Mingi,” you call and his curious eyes leave your heat a second later “your turn.”

“Did you… Did it happen? I didn't see anythi—”

“No,” you interrupt him, your fingers leaving you and you turn to him, your clean hand finding his face “show me what you learned.”

His mouth parts, but you have a newfound confidence and a glint in your eyes that is new, so nothing comes out.

“Prove that bitch wrong.”

That seems to do it.

His eyes go from being confused to spark with determination and want and electricity runs through you again because he seems so relieved he gets to touch you sooner than expected.

Shyness and nervousness buried six feet under, you both smile to each other before you feel him.

His fingers gathering your wetness, his thumb finding your clit with ease and expertise.

“Wettest pussy I've ever touched.” You can tell he's a little lost in the heat of the moment but it's okay. So are you.

Fuck.

It's been way too long since someone else touched you this way, so you all but melt at the circles he draws on your clit. He paid close attention before, because he's touching you just the way you like it.

“That feels so good…”

“Yeah?” he asks, dark eyes finding yours before a particular stroke forces you to close them. And then he gathers enough slick to insert his ring finger inside and you can't help the moan that slips past your lips.

You lift your hand to cover your mouth, but Mingi clicks his tongue in feign disappointment “I want to hear if I'm making you feel good, love. Don't hold back on me just because this is unconventional.”

The worries die altogether with that.

And now that you have free reign to stop containing yourself, you don't know how to stop.

It's not long before his index joins his other finger but he doesn't go for it right away. He fucks you slowly, allowing you to get used to the unfamiliar stretch of his way longer, way thicker digits until they slide in and out with little effort.

His pace picks up after what feels like ages and your hand fists his shirt for the second time tonight, nodding and moaning in encouragement.

“Deeper,” you instruct “curl them upwards and go deeper, you'll feel it then.”

He obeys immediately, his chest heaving and his mouth parting in delight when he finds it. The pad of his finger presses down on it tentatively and your grasp on his shirt hardens.

“Is that it?” you nod and he does it again, which earns another moan “What do I do now?”

Before you completely get lost in the feeling, you decide to drop the step by step bullshit aside and give him the full instruction in hopes that he'll remember it all without fucking up: “What works for me is pressing… Fuck, yeah, just like that a-and then…” you take deep breath “Just a little harder… Yeah, then rub it in a circular motion while maintaining that same pressure… Fuck, Mingi!”

He's a little too good at following instructions, because he touches you like he's been doing this forever and soon you feel the familiar swell, the usual buildup of it all and he's taking you over the age like it's nothing.

You forget how to speak, you forget how to tell him what he needs to do next and so, when you finally explode, you take his wrist and place his two fingers over your clit.

When you move them side by side, he lets out a fascinated giggle but knows exactly what to do.

A second later, your release is coating your thighs and the towels underneath you and you don't register anything else because your ears are ringing.

Did you lose consciousness for a second? It feels like you did.

That was the best fucking orgasm you've ever felt in your entire life.

And when you come back down, you only register the sound of your breathing and plump lips kissing your face, his fingers stopping their pace once he realizes you're done with it.

Opening your eyes, you stare at your popcorn ceiling for a second. Then, you look at Mingi who's already staring at you with a what the fuck just happened expression.

It makes you laugh. Softly at the beginning, post-orgasm bliss takes over but then Mingi laughs too and your whole chest swells with inexplicable pride.

You don't think twice before kissing him again. When you realize you did it, you pull back and blink at him like he didn't make you see stars three seconds ago.

“That was…” his eyes do the thing he usually does. You never notice it until now, but he scans your face so frequently you've grown used to it, but now… It feels different. His teeth nip his bottom lip and he shakes his head before speaking “Come here, love.”

And then he's kissing you again, slow, intimate, beyond the stupid lesson you just taught him.

But you don't mind it one bit.

You sit up, getting on your knees on the bed and basically forcing him to do the same. Ignoring the gross sensation of the wet towel underneath you, you pull him further into you until his chest presses against yours, until his hands roam your body and settle on your waist, securing the embrace.

This time, when you pull away, there's this whole unspoken new thing between you.

“That was…?” you press, smiling a bit, pulling both you and him back to reality.

Right now, with you half naked and his hard-on pressing on your belly, it's not the time to discuss your feelings.

“Possibly the coolest thing I've seen,” he starts, giggling when you roll your eyes “and the hottest thing I've seen, too,” you shrug, dismissing his stare because it's making you feel hot all over your body, again “and I'm really, really grateful you said yes, love.”

The soft tone he uses to say the last bit relaxes you and you nod, deciding it's not the time to tell him you never even came like that on your own.

Instead, you decide to grasp this intimate moment and extend it as much as you can. You can see Mingi is not expecting it when you reach his sweatpants and let your shaky thumb trace the outline of his cock.

Closing his eyes, he lets out a pleased sigh before he grabs you by the back of your neck and rests his forehead against yours.

“This is supposed to be purely educational, Y/N”

“Is that what you want it to be?” you softly ask, pulling your hand away but then his hips buck and chase after your touch, making you smile despite the emotions swelling in your chest “Let me help you… Please…”

“Fuck, don't beg me, love.”

“Don't make me beg, then.”

What the fuck are you even doing?

“Y/N, I—” he stops suddenly and you're too lost in the moment to notice why.

But then the sound of keys and a door closing downstairs scares the fuck out of you and you push Mingi away without thinking it through.

He lands with a thud on your bedroom floor, next to your discarded clothes.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he whispers-shouts, both shocked and offended, but you're getting off your bed and picking up your clothes and the soaked towels so you don't really care about his feelings right now.

“Bathroom. Now.”

You're so blessed for having your bedroom right next to the upstairs bathroom. And so blessed that it is your bathroom and you don't have to share it. You’ll get on your knees and thank your gods afterwards, but right now you can only think one thing.

Don't get caught.

Lord knows you'll never hear the end of it if Mingi walks out of here with a hard-on. Your dad will kill him, your mom will cheer because she loves the idea of you and Mingi together and you'll probably pack your bags and move away if it happens.

When you lock the door behind you and make a quick show of putting your underwear and pants back on, you hear Mingi chuckle.

“We can always tell them we're having a sleepover, Y/N, you didn't have to karate kick me off the damn bed!”

“Hush!” But he just keeps giggling at your very obvious flustered state.

You're about to rip him a new one when he takes two strides, backs you against the bathroom sink, and catches your lips in a quick, sweet kiss and all your worries dissolve just like that.

“Guess they didn't go for drinks after all..”

“You think?” cocking your head to side, the smile on your lips can't be fought at this point.

He returns it and leans in for another kiss, longer this time and you sigh against his mouth before pulling away because you really, really shouldn't be doing this right now.

You hear your mother calling your name and then footsteps up the stairs. A murmured she must be sleeping and a hum from your father before they pass the bathroom door. You truly only relax when you hear their door closing at the end of the hallway.

“Okay, we're safe now.”

“When were we ever not safe?”

“When I was half naked on my bed, Mingi!”

He shakes his head with a smile and takes a step back.

You clear your throat.

“I really did want to help you out but—”

“Raincheck?” he asks and at you hesitation to say yes, he continues “If you want to. If you don't, it's okay. We… We'll figure it out, okay?”

“Okay.”

He smiles again “Good, uh…”

Mingi seems unsure on what to do next. Feeling the same, you decide the best thing to do is to get him out of here.

Opening the bathroom door, you carefully peek into the hallway, taking his hand in yours and beckoning him to follow you down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Shit, your shoes…” you whisper.

“I don't think they noticed if they didn't barge into the bedroom to check on us like they usually do, love.” He returns, in the same tone.

That does nothing to ease your mind, but he makes sure to put them on quickly and then grabs your shoulders, shaking you in a teasing manner.

“Quit worrying, Y/N. I can feel you thinking.”

Of course he does. There's no one, in this world, that knows you better than him.

It makes your heart flutter and it shouldn't. But you're getting on your tippy toes and stealing a parting kiss before you think about it too much.

It's irresponsible for you to do so, but Mingi grabs your waist and extends the duration of the kiss and suddenly you don't give a fuck about your parents or anyone else finding out about this… shift in your dynamic.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks against your lips and you nod.

“See you tomorrow.”

And with that, he leaves.

You lock the door and practically run to your room after.

What the fuck have you done?

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and since it’s an open ending (sort of), let me know if you want a second part!

#ateez #ateez x reader #song mingi #song mingi x reader #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez hard hours #mingi hard hours #mingi hard thoughts #first post!!!#pls tell me if u like it or if u dont or anything pls my askbox is open #<333 #fic; s&t

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sanarsi · 1 month

Text

Euphoria

professor!Joel Miller x student!f!Reader

Summary: One wrong call led to this, that instead of your boyfriend, it's your professor who picks you up from the party. Warnings: +18, MDNI, mention of drugs and alcohol, use of drugs (by reader), being under the influence of drugs, protective!Joel, angst, professor-student relationship, age gap (not specified), kinda perv!Joel(??? idk you'll judge), blowjob, pussy eating, cheating (kinda), protected PIV (he had a vasectomy), creampie, dom!Joel, no-outbreak AU, Sarah’s alive and happy, dubcon kinda? Wordcount: 8,1k An: Hiii, I would like to ask you to read the warnings before reading. If you are comfortable with the topic of drugs, angst and sex under the influence, I invite you to read and I hope you enjoy it. Meal is a meal and professor Miller is professor Miller so… this is just a good shit. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! <3 Music I worked with: Make You Mine - Madison Beer

Masterlist

The music was getting louder in your ears. Pushing through the sweaty, dancing people was becoming more and more of a challenge. Everything was starting to spin. You needed some fresh air.

The pills you took didn't work as they should have. Maybe you drank too much before, maybe you had a bad day, or maybe the guy had some shitty stuff.

Your lungs started to collapse more and more as you tried to take another breath. You panicked. You started pushing through the crowd faster and more aggressively. They didn't give a shit about you as much as you didn't give a shit about them.

Here, everyone lived their own life. Everyone had fun. You wanted too.

Until now.

A silent scream tried to escape you as you began to gulp air. You couldn't breathe any other way. You were getting weaker and weaker. Everything was getting hazy. The music was getting less and less distinct. Everything was like behind thick glass.

And right in the middle, in a little glass box, was you. Locked away with no access to oxygen and no cry for help.

You were alone.

Just when you thought the crowd would swallow you, you saw the door. A light at the end of the tunnel.

Something inside you, some instinct, forced your legs to move towards the exit. Your body acted as if it was programmed, like you weren't the one controlling it. Some greater force was moving you like a puppet.

The same force made the mysterious man appeared in front of you. You stopped, frowning and trying to focus your vision to identify his identity. But his face was blurry. Just like the touch of his arms, which wrapped around you to stop your body from falling.

"You've had enough for now," he said, slightly amused, and began to pull you towards the exit. You knew him. His voice was like a breath of fresh air and his arms gave you a false sense of security. You liked that voice. You liked the feeling that allowed you to take a moment to rest amidst the chaos around you and inside you.

"Call Joel," you mumbled indistinctly.

You reached your hand into the back pocket of your jeans and tried to pull out your phone a few times, but your strength disappeared. You couldn't even bring yourself to clench your fingers around this damn thing.

You were helpless and barely conscious, which made tears appear in your eyes.

Why did something like this have to happen when you finally wanted to break free and needed it more than anything else?

Why couldn't you have fun like the rest of them for once?

Why was it always you who got screwed?

"What's your password?" The pleasant male voice spoke again.

You frowned, closing your eyes as you tried to force yourself to think, or worse – say it out loud. The wind blow across your heated skin, making you shiver. You were freezing cold despite it being the middle of summer.

You felt bad and it was getting worse with every passing minute.

"Four zeros," you managed to choke out and looked around shakily. You were standing at the top of the stairs leading to the house.

When had you two left? You didn't register that moment.

The arm around your waist dug harder into your flesh as your knees buckled beneath you. You gasped, trying to keep your weight on the unstable sticks which were your, not so useful right now, legs.

The slightest gust of wind, or even a slight tilt of your head, made you swung like a blade of grass in the wind.

The feeling of falling sent panic through the corners of your brain, but your eyelids continued to droop heavily, blocking your vision. You braced yourself for the pain that was about to dull the rest of your senses, but all you felt was something hard under and behind you. After a moment, a cold sensation appeared around your head, which brought you no small amount of relief.

You purred with pleasure, snuggling closer to the metal railings by the stairs. Your friend looked down at you with concern before he went back to searching for the right contact in your phone.

And that's when the first problem appeared.

You had two phone numbers saved the same way.

Joel.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath and selected the first contact.

Seconds passed, another ring sounded by his ear until automatic voicemail went off.

In that case, it had to be the second number, he thought. Since the first one was inactive, the second one had to be the good one, right?

Bull's eye.

After the third ring, a sleepy 'hello' sounded in the speaker.

"Hi, sorry to wake you up, but your girlfriend isn't in the best shape," he started immediately, glancing at your semi-conscious figure, cowering on the stairs. “’think she took some crappy stuff and is goin’ down the drain. She told me to call you. Can you come pick her up?”

There was silence on the other end.

A long silence.

A drawn-out silence.

He had to check phone to make sure the call was still going.

“Hello?”

“Give me the address.”

A quick exchange of the most necessary information ended the conversation. That was enough for Joel to appear in the district where the address was located in less than twenty minutes.

You were sitting cuddled in the arm of your friend, who was soothingly stroking your back. He didn't know if you had fallen asleep or if you were just that calm. He only hoped that you weren't struggling too much in your head after taking some shit. You weren't able to help him find out what and who you took it from.

His attention was drawn to the car that stopped in front of the house.

"Joel came to pick you up," he whispered with a smile and noticed that you woke up a bit at his words. You blinked a few times, raising your gaze.

"’s not that Joel," you mumbled.

He frowned, surprised by your reaction, and looked towards the man who just got out of the car and headed towards you.

At first, he couldn't recognize his face, but the closer he got, the clearer it became.

Indeed, he didn't look like your boyfriend. He was... too old to be in a relationship with you. He looked more like your father.

Maybe he was your uncle and he just got you into trouble? Damn it.

"You're not her boyfriend," he stated as Joel stopped by the stairs. His gaze was fixed on you and this sight definitely didn't satisfy him but he tried to didn't show it.

"Do I look like him?" he muttered unpleasantly and looked disapprovingly at the young boy who was holding you in his arms.

His silence was quite telling.

"What did she take?" he asked glancing at your barely conscious form.

"I don't–"

"Wonderful." The rough answer, silenced him effectively. "Did she have some stuff with her?" The next question only stressed the young boy out more.

"Are you her father or somethin’?" he asked, a bit skeptical of the older man.

"I'm her teacher," he replied, pressing his lips together tightly at the sight of you.

No one expected such an answer.

A quiet voice in your friend head blamed him for confusing the contacts and calling a strange guy instead of your boyfriend. What confused him more, was reason, why you had your teacher's number in your phone. And what was even more interesting, was why he picked up at such a late hour and decided to come pick you up.

"I–" he began, not very convinced by the fact that he had to hand you over to a strange guy who was your 'teacher'.

"I'll take her home," he cut him off firmly before he could express his distrust.

Without waiting for the boy to answer, Joel approached you and took your jaw in his hand. You frowned at the sudden movement, because your head was spinning in a bad way. Your gaze was absent as he tried to assess your condition.

Fact, you were in bad shape. He didn't even know if you were able to recognize him, which made the situation a bit more difficult.

"Sweetheart, tell me what you took," he said in a soft but firm tone.

You snorted sweetly, because his voice had a strangely soothing effect on your insides. You couldn't recognize his blurry face, but his touch was familiar. Warm, thick fingers that sent warm shivers through your body. You wanted to melt in his hand, and that's exactly what you did.

The entire weight of your head flew towards him, which made him tighten his grip, digging his fingers into your cheeks.

"Sweetheart..." he repeated softly to get your attention.

You opened your eyes with a blissful smile and tried with all your might to remember who those dark chocolate eyes belonged to. But it was his glasses that made a light bulb go off in your head.

“Just one blue pill, Professor,” you replied, causing relief from Joel and surprise from your friend.

"What are the blue ones for?" he asked, returning to his cold tone as he looked at the young boy.

"I– I don't know," he stuttered, frightened by sudden change in man’s behavior towards him.

"Then find out," he growled, nodding toward the house. Not a second had passed when the boy hurriedly disappeared behind the door.

Joel looked at you again with concern. You didn't look as bad as you had a moment ago. In fact, you looked like you were having a great time. Maybe you had a slightly wandering look, but the smile on your face and the sparkles in your eyes gave a misleading impression.

He knelt down in front of you with a quiet groan and looked at you from every side. There were no signs that anything bad had happened to you.

One stone from the heart. You were safe and sound. A little high, but healthy.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked and with his other hand he fixed the hair that was falling over your face. You watched his movements as if enchanted.

Everything had more vivid colors. His eyes were darker, deeper; you could drown in them. Every move he made seemed to play out in slow motion, giving you all the time you wanted to admire him.

"Joel Miller," you replied, smiling wider. "I didn't know you liked parties," you added before he could say anything. You threw him off balance with that.

He frowned, looking at you closely and he had to admit that he himself had once been young and had done a lot of... illegal things; that's why he decided to go in the direction you had imposed.

"I don't, but sometimes it happens and I end in places like this. I'm a little too old for such fun, you know?" he smiled gently, seeing that you were feeling better and better or the opposite – the drugs were starting to work.

"Just like me. But I'm young." You laughed charmingly, to which he laughed too and nodded. Your burst of energy was starting to worry him a little, but he'd rather that than you having a bad trip.

"So... since we're both not into parties, how about I take you home?"

He was treading thin ice to see if you'd cooperate with him. Unfortunately, your smile suddenly disappeared and he cursed in his mind.

"I can't, my parents think I'm at a friend's," you explained, rubbing your arm nervously.

Okay, that wasn't the answer that would put him in a bind.

"Then I'll take you to your friend's," he suggested but all he got in response was a negative shake of the head.

"She left."

That was already causing a bigger problem.

Joel tried to think quickly. All the possibilities flew through his head, choosing a few that he could test.

"Your friend said something about your boyfriend," he remembered, feeling that this was the way out of the whole situation. Your boyfriend, who was supposed to come here instead of him. At least that's what he concluded from the call he received.

"That asshole stood me up. He was supposed to come here with me, but he went with his friends to who knows where," you snapped, feeling furious at the jerk who dared to call himself your partner. Maybe you would regret this relationship if it wasn't for the fact that you were together for sex. Actually, apart from that, you didn't even like each other that much.

Despite that, he was good in bed, he took care of you at parties and other outings, and his name was Joel.

Exactly.

You were with him because you could shamelessly scream his name while you fucked, while really thinking about someone else. But that was your sweet secret. Sweet secret that held your jaw, staring at you through the lenses of his glasses.

"You don’t have anyone I could take you to?" he asked, increasingly helpless.

You smiled sweetly and shook your head in denial. "Nope."

A quiet sigh left his lips as he tried to think of a way out of this situation.

The worry in his eyes didn't match your current mood. You didn't like the fact that he was sad around you. You wanted to have fun, be happy, forget about all your problems for a moment.

"That's why I have to stay at the party until the morning," you said with a wide smile, at which he frowned.

"No," he ordered seriously, surprising you a bit. You rarely witnessed Joel addressing anyone like that. Especially you – his favorite. "I won't let you stay here when you're under the influence of some shitty pills."

"But–"

"No," he cut you off immediately. "I don't want to hear a word of protest. I'm your teacher even outside of working hours. I have to take care of your safety." His tone clearly indicated that he didn't want to hear your reasons for staying.

How could you argue with a man whose every word was sacred to you? Even if you wanted to, you couldn't because your friend came out of the house, catching your attention or at least Joel's attention, because yours was still focused only on him.

A smile bloomed on your face again as you could look at him with impunity.

Oh, he was handsome.

Deadly handsome for a man his age. Your father was younger than him and he looked much worse.

How was it even possible that you started to be attracted to a man older than your own father? You didn't know that, but you weren't going to delve into it because you liked the feeling he aroused in you.

"She took ecstasy." You heard from somewhere behind you before Joel looked straight into your eyes again as if he was looking for something. You didn't know for what, because he couldn't be looking for you; you were right in front of him.

"Come on, sweetheart," he sighed with a warm smile and slowly stood up. "I'll take you home, okay?" he suggested, holding out his hand to you.

You looked up at him with doe eyes and nodded silently. You didn't want him to be mad at you.

You didn't want to let him down so you politely gave him your hand and let him pull you up. It took a moment for your legs to get used to doing their duties again before you could fully stand on your own but despite that, Joel still wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you tightly to his side.

He didn’t want to risk you falling and cracking your head. Fate liked to play games with people and he had learned that the hard way many times. Way too many times.

Without any additional pleasantries, he led you to his car and sat you in the passenger seat. Your head was getting heavier as you tried to watch his movements; the way he fastened your seatbelt, the way he made sure you weren't sick, the way he ran his gaze down your body to make sure everything was okay.

But all he had to do was close the door and your eyelids closed by themselves. The car was quiet, nice and warm. You felt safe and the delicate scent of perfume he used only relaxed your muscles more.

Joel got into the car and before he drove away, he glanced at how you were trying not to let your eyelids fall. He sighed quietly, shaking his head in resignation and slowly drove out onto the street. Silence fell between you due to the fact that you had lost the fight with tiredness and simply fell asleep.

And at the same time he was struggling with his thoughts of what he should do. What was appropriate for him to do. He should have taken you home. Even if you were going to have a row after crossing the threshold. It was none of his business what happened to you after he got you to safety.

But another thought lurked in his mind. An idea that shouldn't have been there. Had no right to be there. Yet this thought overshadowed what was right.

Because Joel had long since admitted to himself that you were more important to him than the rest of the students. He had stopped denying how much he enjoyed sitting with you in his office in the evenings, helping you study. After many months of struggling with himself, he realized how much he appreciated your company, your attention, your smile, all of you.

That's why the thought of taking you home and witnessing the fight immediately slipped of off his mind.

He didn't want to cause you any trouble at home. The fact that he found you in such a state only proved that you had enough to worry about. Why would he give you more? He didn't like it when your pretty little head was filled with problems he couldn't help you with. But with what was happening now, he could help you.

That’s why after twenty minutes he stopped in front of his house.

You continued to sleep soundly, not worrying about anything anymore and he didn't have the heart to wake you up. You looked too innocent for him to interrupt your peaceful state of unconsciousness. The smudged mascara and a bit of glitter on your eyelids only added to your charm.

Joel really wanted to hate himself for the way his heart beat at the sight of you, but he couldn't. He couldn't hate the feeling you evoked in him. Because this feeling was good. Warmth spread across his chest and more wrinkles formed around his eyes from the wide smiles you caused in him.

You were like a ray of sunshine. Why would he hate the sunbeam that fell on him?

He knew he shouldn't feel this way. You were his student, the best he'd ever had the chance to teach. But he couldn't fight it. Not when you were pushing yourself into his arms. When you gave him your full attention. When your hand touched his every chance you got. He just couldn't.

That's why it didn't bother him at all to carry you home. Actually, he did it with all too much desire. He couldn't resist the feeling of holding you in his arms as your head rested peacefully on his shoulder.

The door closed behind him with a soft click as he slowly walked down the hallway. Darkness reigned everywhere after he was suddenly yanked out of bed. Now there wasn't much left of his desire to sleep.

He carefully opened the door to the guest room and tightened his arms a little as he walked with you over the threshold. As if to spite you, your phone began to vibrate, which made you grumble anxiously. He quickly laid you on the bed and reached into the back pocket of your pants. The bright screen forced him to squint as he tried to see who was calling you at this hour.

Joel.

He frowned, glancing at you and then back at the phone. Before he could think about his decision, he clicked the red receiver, rejecting the call and muted your phone, placing it on the cabinet next to it. Just in case, he did it in such a way that another incoming call wouldn't be visible.

Your quiet groan caught his attention so he didn't wait for you to wake up any longer and carefully started to take off your shoes; right after that, socks. He couldn't let you sleep uncomfortably after, what was probably a pretty lively, party. He felt that he had to take care of not only your safety but also your comfort, so that you could wake up in the morning without any consequences after tonight. And only because of that reason, his gaze wandered to your legs covered in jeans.

He cursed himself in his mind because of the ideas that started to come to his mind.

He couldn't.

He should leave you like this and go back to his bedroom.

He should have done it.

And yet, he leaned closer to you and gently stroked your cheek. "Sweetheart," he said quietly, wanting to wake you up.

Although there was at least that much common sense left in him.

He smiled fondly when he saw that you opened your eyelids a little with a grunt. "Lift your hips," he ordered and all he got in response was to do as he asked. No questions or comments.

Feeling the growing tightness in his chest, he unbuttoned your button and zipper. Deep down he knew how fucking wrong it was. But he couldn't fight it as his fingers began to slide the material of your jeans down your hips.

Another grievous sin was added to his mental list as his gaze fell on your underwear. The lump in his throat began to grow with every second his eyes were fixed on your black panties.

So damn plain black cotton panties.

Then why was this the sexiest sight in his whole life?

"Fuck," he cursed in a whisper and pulled your pants all the way down. Then your hips fell back onto the mattress with a quiet sigh.

He felt like a pervert, seeing you like this when you were on the edge of reality and dream so he forced himself to leave the room while he still could.

How long before he gave in?

It took a trip to the bathroom and his room.

Then he reappeared by the bed where you were lying half naked; with his old t-shirt in one hand and micellar fluid in the other. Having a daughter had many advantages, so he knew that falling asleep with makeup on was not something pleasant.

That's why for the next ten minutes he gently wiped your face with soaked cotton pads. He sat by your side, carefully wiped off the smallest traces of makeup and had to admit, that it was also refreshing even for him. A moment of silence helped him calm his thoughts, and the sight of your innocent face only confirmed that he had to take care of you. That was all that mattered now.

Until the moment you purred and delicate smile spread across your lips.

That was enough for a burning heat to appear in his chest again.

"This feels nice," you whispered in a slightly hoarse voice.

Joel was just finishing cleaning your cheek when your eyes began to stare at him. This time you didn't have a wandering gaze. You seemed... normal.

He quickly believed it because he wanted to believe it. He wanted you to be sober at the moment when you were closer than ever before. When you were in his house. Lying in his bed. On his sheets.

"How do you feel?" he asked, placing the cotton pad on the cabinet next to him, not taking his eyes off your shiny ones.

"Good." Your smile didn't disappear for a moment as you watched him carefully. You definitely weren't complaining about seeing him, but you wondered about other thing. "Where are we?" After that question, you looked around the dark room a bit. You didn't remember ever being in this place. It was too pretty here compared to the places you usually stayed.

"In my house," he replied, a bit afraid of your reaction.

Maybe he really should have taken you to your house despite the problems that were to come?

Maybe he went too far by bringing you to his place without your consent.

It's true that at university you were close, but it was always at the university. Never outside of it.

"It's nice here."

Your comment dispelled all his doubts. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath when a sigh of relief finally left his lungs.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, wanting to get back on solid ground.

Your presence of mind would allow him to pull himself together. All you had to do was say you were tired. That you wanted to go to sleep. That you wanted for him to leave you alone.

Anything that would indicate that he should go and leave you alone.

"Can I have a glass of water, please?" you asked, looking at him as if the request was too much to ask for.

You had already violated his hospitality. He had picked you up from a party in the middle of the night and brought you to his house. You were slowly starting to feel like an idiot.

"Of course," he nodded and left the room, leaving you alone.

You rubbed your face with your hand and slowly sat up. A penetrating feeling of shame crept into your head as you began to look at your thighs.

Did you undress yourself or did he undress you? You probably didn't want to know the answer to that question.

You felt like you'd already made a fool of yourself. You couldn't even tell if the drugs were still affecting you. You felt light, good, but your mind was starting to work differently. You didn't know what to focus on what to think. There were so many things happening that you should have been in control of right now and yet you sat there helplessly, staring at your flesh.

You came to the conclusion that you probably didn't have the strength to feel ashamed of what was happening now. You were too tired. Your mind wouldn't cooperate with you, so the best option was to face everything in the morning.

Despite your momentary sobriety, you still couldn't fight the feeling that was growing in your belly. Like a big warm ball was warming up your insides and giving you pleasure. That was the only reason you had a constant blissful smile on your face. It felt good. Focusing on that feeling was much more enjoyable than trying to think.

Joel returned a few minutes later with a glass of water, finding you dressed in his shirt and sitting on the edge of the bed with your head down. He swallowed hard, fighting the feeling the sight of you had stirred in him. He didn't want to admit what it was doing to him.

“Here,” he said, catching your attention. You looked up at him, your eyes so big and shiny that he had to clench his jaw to control his emotions. It wasn’t until a moment later that your gaze dropped to the glass in front of your face and, with a silent 'thank you', you took it.

In silence, he sat down next to you and watched as you took small sips. The cold water brought you some relief and tasted much better than usual. Only when you had drunk half a glass, you put it on the cabinet next to you and wiped your lips with the back of your hand. The silence echoed in your ears, making you focus more on the growing feeling of pleasure in your body.

You had to do something to not fall into this.

"I'm sorry," you said, starting to gently bite your lip. Despite the whole situation, you wanted to smile. "This wasn't supposed to be like this."

"And what was it supposed to be like?" His question made you look at him. Warmth radiated from him. He didn't seem angry. He didn't seem like he blamed you for your irresponsibility. It was a strangely pleasant change from what you usually experienced with your father.

You laughed quietly and looked down. “I don’t know,” you admitted, shrugging. You didn’t even know how to answer that question. Because what exactly did you expect? “I wanted to escape reality for a bit.”

“Aren’t there other ways to do it?”

“There probably are, but that was the only one I know of.”

You might be ashamed of it, but it was the truth. There was nothing in your life that would allow you to forget, even for a moment, all the shit that was going on around you.

You didn't want to think about it at a time when you felt light as a feather. You clenched your fists tighter into the mattress to hold back your smile because all you wanted to do was gasp while laughing at how good you felt.

Joel didn't seem to notice. He felt like you were struggling with negative emotions and he wanted so badly to help you get rid of the thoughts that were occupying your mind. You looked like you were at least physically in pain as your entire body tensed up as if searching for the slightest point of contact. Without thinking too much, his hand covered yours. You let out a shaky breath as his large fingers tightened around yours. It was a comforting gesture on his part, but to you it was like pouring gasoline on a fire. His touch was all you could focus on. The hot, large hand that was touching your small, cold one.

You began to tremble. Everything inside you began to crave more of that feeling, even though his hand alone was enough to make a moan die in your throat.

"I want to help you."

His offer hung between you like heavy clouds. His words had no second meaning, and yet you took it that way.

He wanted to help you. But how?

How could he make your mind stop running with tormenting thoughts?

You searched for the answer to this question in his eyes and even though this was an ordinary question, something else was lurking inside him. Something that you caught. Or at least that's what you thought.

However, thinking at a time like this wasn't working out very well for you. That's why you didn't know how your lips found their way to his. You couldn't remember when you got so close, pressing a strong kiss to his mouth.

You squeezed your eyes shut, frozen and waiting for his answer but Joel was in too much shock to do anything. Even breathing seemed like a superhuman ability now. That's why after the seconds dragged on, you pulled away with a sense of shame. Seeing the shock on his face, you really felt like an idiot but you couldn't control yourself. You didn't even know how on earth you decided to do something like that. How on earth did you decide to cross the sacred border.

"Professor, I'm sorry-" you tried to explain yourself but then his hand found its way into your hair, pulling you firmly only for him to initiate the kiss this time.

You moaned not expecting such a turn of events. His stubble pleasantly irritated your skin, sending waves of stars all over your body. A smile spread across your lips as his proximity began to stimulate you. Soft lips perfectly matched yours. Every kiss he gave you was like you had done it a thousand times before. His tongue was delicate and sweet, making you purr with pleasure. Every second of his closeness gave you more strength.

He and drugs were the most addictive combination you had ever had the opportunity to try. Apart from the fact that all your desires, that you had for this man for a very long time, were coming true.

Neither of you even thought about how fucked up it all was. You both wanted this too much to care about anything but each other's touch.

Even Joel started to feel like he was high. Your soft lips and quiet sighs gave him shivers of desire. He couldn't remember the last time his cock hardened as quickly as the moment your hand started to travel up his thigh.

He couldn't hold back a groan when your fingers gently tightened around the bulge in his sweatpants. The mere fact that he was so turned on by you, sent waves of arousal through every corner of your body. Heavenly feeling overshadowed all your senses.

“Please,” you whispered desperately into his mouth.

You felt his hand tighten around yours, making him moan, and you took that as an answer. You hooked your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, silently asking him to take them off. And that’s exactly what he did, without thinking too much, he lifted his hips and slid everything in your way off of them. Your kisses became sloppier and deeper as your hand found its way to his cock again.

Cold fingers wrapped around his hot, throbbing friend. The skin-to-skin contact elicited a throaty groan from him.

He was thick. You could barely contain him as you slowly began to pump him, up and down, letting more precum wet his tip. You gently ran your thumb over his head to spread everything. His cock trembled in your hand, trying to escape the too intense feeling.

His fingers tightened on your hair and his lips stopped coordinating with yours. You smiled widely and synchronized your kisses with the movements of your hand. With your tongue, you collected all the moans that came out of him. Joel felt like he was in a trap that he didn't want to get out of. Your gentle kisses and touch were driving him to the limits of his self-control.

And any remaining control disappeared the moment you fell to your knees before him.

You settled comfortably between his thighs, licking your lips. Joel sighed at the sight and propped himself up on his hands, leaning back a bit to get a better view of the way a string of saliva flew out of your mouth. His cock didn't even have time to twitch at this feeling because his tip disappeared into your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he inhaled loudly.

You didn't give him a chance to get used to your warm tongue before you swallowed him halfway. He winced at the sudden surge of pleasure and looked at you with his mouth parted. You began to work your head, taking him deeper with each pass.

You were determined to swallow him whole, despite what you were capable of. You needed to prove to yourself that you could do it, that you could do more for him than for others.

“That's right, baby,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Hearing the praise from his lips, you felt like you were capable of anything. And that's exactly what you did, swallowing him whole.

A loud moan bounced off the walls as your throat tightened around his tip. He thrust his hips, trying to go deeper, and you let him. You pressed your nose into his flesh, holding him completely in your mouth. Joel watched everything with delight. Every twitch of his cock causing your walls to tighten around him.

He tried to breathe calmly but he couldn't focus on anything except how wonderful it felt to feel your mouth on his dick. He preferred not to admit how many times he had seen this sight before his eyes when he masturbated. Now, when he was experiencing it firsthand, he felt like he was in heaven. His imagination couldn't even match up to how skillfully you drove him crazy.

You started to choke so you immediately pulled away from his crotch. A string of saliva was the only thing that connected you two as you raised a tearful gaze at him. Joel was breathing heavily as he stared at you with adoration. And even though he wanted to feel your lips around him again, he couldn't stop himself from feeling them on him again.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a hard kiss and covered your cheeks with his hands, forcing you to stand up. You didn't resist his movements, allowing him to pull you onto his lap. His cock throbbed, hitting your lower abdomen, causing another wave of arousal to start leaking out of you.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, deepening the kiss and allowing yourself a moment to play with his tongue. Joel was more than willing to let you do whatever you wanted to him. He gripped your ass tightly, earning a moan from you.

The hot ball inside you turned into a real fire between your thighs. The feeling was starting to overwhelm you, forcing quiet squeals out of you as you rubbed against his hard cock over and over again.

You needed to get rid of this feeling.

You needed to relieve yourself of the pain of arousal.

“Please, I want you inside me.”

Your silent plea didn't have to wait long for his answer. In one movement, he turned you over, letting you fall onto the soft mattress. You gasped when he suddenly pulled away from you and practically ripped your panties off. All the wetness smeared across the inside of your thighs but Joel was too busy to notice. He squeeze your panties in his hand, feeling the black material was completely soaked and shamelessly inhaled your scent.

Your pheromones awakened things in him he didn't know existed. Like in a frenzy, he hid your underwear in the pocket of his sweatpants and blindly threw his glasses on the table. He didn't really care that they probably broke when you writhed in anticipation on the bed in front of him.

"I've been waiting ages to find out what you taste like," he said, more to himself than to you, and grabbed you tightly by the hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. Your breath caught in your lungs as his hands began to roam your body in a possessive way and right under your shirt.

But when his face disappeared between your legs, you couldn't take the tension anymore and you threw your head back with a moan. Just the feeling of his breath and the knowledge of how close he was to your pussy was driving you crazy. He didn't have to do anything at all to make you writhe under him.

Every muscle in your body tensed as you felt him start to lick everything that smeared on your thigh. You began to pant heavily, feeling as he got closer to his goal with every second. Until finally, he planted the wettest, deepest kiss on your slit. You moaned loudly, arching your back at the overwhelming feeling. His tongue ran along the length of your pussy and with a growl of satisfaction, he sucked on your clit.

Instinctively, you clenched your fists tightly on the sheets and tried to move your hips out of his reach, but his hands on your waist effectively stopped your movements.

The sting of his beard perfectly matched his agile tongue. You were shocked at how quickly a familiar feeling began to gather in your lower abdomen. You couldn't remember the last time someone had brought you to such a state.

You didn't know what was causing it. The drugs that were still circulating in your blood, your desire for him or his amazing abilities. It was also possible that all of them at once made your legs tremble.

You wanted to scream, squeal, tell him to stop, tell him to continue. You couldn't decide but he made the decision for you, pulling away and depriving you of your orgasm. You opened your eyes, searching for him with your gaze and you wanted to beg him to come back to his place.

Seeing your gaze, a smirk appeared on his face. Having you in such a state made him feel like a god. He had already forgotten what it felt like to have such power over someone, to experience someone looking at you with such desire as you did for him when he took away your opportunity to come.

"You'll come with my cock inside you," he decided.

You blinked a few times and closed your mouth in shock. It was the first time you had witnessed such a change in his behavior and you had to admit that you liked him even more this way. You loved his gentle nature that surrounded you every day but his possessive version aroused a wild desire in you.

You wanted to dig your nails into his flesh until it bled and beg him to come inside you so hard and deep that you would see stars. But instead of saying that, you nodded, barely able to say a quiet 'okay'.

Your answer satisfied him.

Your submission satisfied him.

Holding his cock stiffly, he positioned himself between your legs. You felt him right at your entrance and you shuddered, clenching around nothing. Joel looked with satisfaction at the mess that you were. Disheveled hair, shiny eyes, his shirt that now revealed more than it covered.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispered affectionately at the sight of you.

Your breath caught in your throat when you locked eyes with him. But your eyes rolled back in an instant when his hands gripped your hips tightly and in one movement he pulled you to him, impaling you all the way on his cock. The cry that came out of you was the most animalistic sound he had ever heard. He shuddered with a moan feeling your tight pussy pulsating around him. He couldn't even experience this feeling in his dreams.

"I knew you'd be perfect," he gasped and slowly pulled out of you only to thrust hard back.

Another scream tore through your throat like fire but it didn't stop him from slowly setting the perfect pace for himself. The sound of flesh slapping flesh echoed through the room.

"Soaked, warm and tight."

He thrust harder and harder and you couldn't shake the feeling of him going so damn deep inside you. The arousal overshadowed the pain he was causing you. You weren't used to his cock. It was thicker and longer than the one you usually had inside you.

"Made especially for me," he growled, digging his fingers deeper into your hips.

You wrapped your hands around his wrists and dug your nails into them, silently begging for him to be more gentle.

You never expected someone like Joel to be so domineering in bed. In your fantasies, it was always you who was finishing him off, not him finishing you off.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” he panted, searching for your gaze until he finally found it, completely cock drunk. You winced as he thrust hard into you once again, not giving you a chance to catch your breath. He saw how bravely you were struggling with what he had given you, how you were trying to get used to his size. He felt you still clench around him tightly and if you could, you would rip his cock off. "To who?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows encouragingly.

For a guy his age, he held himself surprisingly well despite how fast he moved his hips, impaling you over and over again with his entire length.

"Toyoutoyoutoyou," you hissed in one breath and began to pant heavily, feeling the increasing tension in the muscles between your legs.

Joel smiled, pleased with the state he had brought you to, and pushed harder into you. That was the first time you saw stars and your lungs forgot how to breathe.

"You're right, to me," he nodded, leaning towards you. His hand slid under your shirt and after a moment it squeezed pleasantly painfully on your breast. You whimpered from the new stimulant that echoed off your clit. "And you know what I don't like?" he asked, teasing your nipple with his thumb, while slowing down the movements of his hips, entering you more passionately. "Sharing," he answered before his question even reached your consciousness.

Longer and longer moans accompanied every movement of his hips. His cock smoothly began to rub against that perfect spot in your pussy. You felt like crying from the pleasure that intensified the feeling of ecstasy inside you.

"Do you think your boyfriend will be happy when you tell him who's going to fuck you from now on?" he purred, rubbing his nose against your cheek. The scent of desperation filled his nostrils. You needed to come. You needed to be free from this burning feeling in your mind.

"What boyfriend?" you asked, overcome by the approaching fulfillment.

Joel smiled against your face and began to place wet kisses on your neck. You closed your eyes, tangling your fingers in his hair and fully surrendering yourself to everything he was giving you. His cock gently stimulated your cervix and the rest of his length created the perfect friction that drove you crazy. His hand sensually stroked your thigh and the other caressed your breast. This deadly combination quickly took away the last of your ability to think.

"Will you come for me, pretty girl?" he whispered, gently biting your skin. "Cum for me and let me fill you."

The only answer you were able to give him was a long moan as you reached your peak. You could dimly hear his praises and how proud he was of you. The feeling of euphoria spread through your body in strong waves, reaching the furthest corners of your body. Joel watched with fascination as the orgasm took over your body, the way you began to arch beneath him, the way you clenched your fingers tightly in his hair in need. This sight was something he feared he would never see again in his life. And yet, it was you lying beneath him, satisfied, overcome by pleasure.

The throbbing of your cunt and just you in yourself, drove him mad. Orgasm shook his body as if the last time he fucked was thirty years ago. The pleasure overpowered his ability to breathe. He froze, letting his cum fill you completely.

It felt like when he first discovered what his hand could do.

Overcome by the experience, he didn't even notice you watching him in silence, trying to calm your breathing. Your eyes sparkled as you stared at his tired face. You couldn't accept the fact that you had just experienced what you had dreamed of for a long time. And for the first time in a long time, you were just so fucking happy.

"Thank you," you whispered, placing your hands on his cheeks and lifting your head to connect your lips in a gentle kiss. Joel didn't resist even a second as he deepened the kiss, crushing you with his weight.

In that moment, you could admit that you forgot about the whole world. It was only him.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #sanarsi fic

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luveline · 3 months

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could you write bau!reader x aaron, reader is pregnant and baby is so restless and kicking a lot as reader is at her desk working and aaron is the only one who can calm baby down

ty for requesting <3 pregnant!reader, 1k

“Woh,” you mumble, almost clipping your head on your desk as you lean forward. “Oh, my gosh.”

“What’s wrong, mama?”

You wave your free hand weakly at Derek, the other to your bump. “Nothing’s wrong, handsome.”

Derek laughs warmly and stands from his chair. “I don’t believe you. Come on, tell me what’s wrong. Or I’ll go get the big man and he can force it out of you himself.”

Hotch’s never forced anything out of you, but he has kissed a confession from you before. He could do it again easily.

You right yourself as the baby’s rampant kicking makes you feel as though you’ll pee your pants. “Derek, there’s some crazy stuff happening inside of me right now.”

He smiles at you fondly. “I bet there is.”

“She’s kicking the shit out of me.” Sitting up, your back twinges and relaxes, the weight of your baby bump spreading out. You’re very pregnant and the baby is extremely active. She kicks pretty much 24/7 these last few days, and it’s driving you crazy. “Do you wanna feel?”

Derek presents his hand for feeling. You stand up, and Derek lays a hand across your bump. You don’t have to move it anywhere: the second he touches you, he can no doubt feel the baby’s aggressiveness. She’s aiming her little feet almost like she knows where your most fragile organs are.

One rough kick has Derek taking back his hand. “She’s beating you up, mama.”

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Spencer says, twirling in his chair to give one of his innocuous tidbits of information, “babies kick for all sorts of reasons. They kick when they’re hungry, or after you’ve just eaten because of the extra glucose shared via the placenta. Sometimes they kick because they can feel sensation through your skin.”

Spencer stands up. You raise your brows. “You wanna feel?” you ask.

He grins and offers his hand. You take it and place it against the baby’s restless feet, smiling at Spencer’s smile, a little enchanted by how fascinated he seems. At Spencer’s touch, she starts to kick quickly like she had been with Derek, and eventually you have to move his hand in the hopes she’ll stop. She slows, but the occasional stretch pokes at your stomach. You can see the distension of her limb even through your shirt.

“She’s really going for it today,” you say. “Maybe I had too much brown sugar in my oatmeal.”

“You know babies can tell the difference between hands?” Spencer asks.

“I sort of guessed,” you say distractedly, rubbing at the baby’s kicking with the crest of your palm. “She doesn’t act like this with Hotch.”

“Good to know he has that effect on everyone,” Derek says with a laugh.

“I might go and ask him to make her stop. I’m gonna need a change of clothes if she doesn’t.”

Derek laughs again, full-bellied, his arm wrapping around your shoulders in a pitying hug. “Aw, sweetheart, you’ll be okay. Just two more months and this will all be over.”

“Well, you never know. The longest overdue pregnancy in human history was almost a hundred days, that’s more than an extra three months.”

“Spencer!” you say, not truly shouting, but your volume escaping you as the horror of a year long pregnancy sinks in. “Don’t jinx me.”

Your loud voice, or perhaps Derek’s roaring laughter, draws the attention of JJ and Hotch, who appear from the depths of his office with matching curious expressions. JJ begins down the steps to the bullpen, while Hotch stays at the balcony waiting for an explanation.

“Baby Hotchner’s giving it large,” Derek says, rubbing your upper arm.

“She won’t stop,” you complain, relieved to see your stern husband. “Can you come and set her straight?”

You aren’t always so quick to complain to him, but this is too much. It feels as though she’s about to start doing spin kinks against your spine —it’s honestly the most she’s ever moved. When you were just a few weeks pregnant you’d longed for her to wriggle and show you a sign that she could feel you, but now you’d appreciate a few minutes of calm.

Hotch follows JJ down obligingly, and he, surrounded by your curious coworkers and colleagues, without any hesitation (but certainly some care), slips his hand under your blouse to feel at his baby’s sharp kicking. He presses against what might be a foot for a few moments, his smile barely hidden, his palm warm.

“She really is giving it large,” he says, the deep softness of his voice like a signal.

The baby’s kicks soften, until, barely ten seconds later, they stop. Your spine ceases vibrating, and you can finally stand there without having to press your thighs together.

“Thank you,” you say, holding Hotch’s elbow. He’s well and truly saved you.

He rubs your stomach with his thumb. His dark eyes stay set on your bump. “You’re welcome.”

“I guess baby just missed her dad,” JJ says.

You look at Spencer. He doesn’t say anything. “No correction?” you ask.

“No,” he says, pouting that you’d ask. “Either she missed the sound of his voice, or your reaction to seeing him has calmed her down. That’s not a big difference.”

“It’s both, I think,” you say, paused by a big yawn.

“Are you tired?” Hotch asks.

“Urgently.” You let yourself sag forward toward him, gesturing for Spencer, Derek and JJ to look away. “Thanks for your help, boys, but I need something no one else can give me.” You collapse into Hotch’s chest for a hug.

The bump is very much in the way, but he reacts accordingly, ushering your chest to his, cheek pressed gently to your forehead. “She’s exhausted you,” he teases under his breath.

“She really has.”

“I love how she settles with me,” he says, rubbing your back for a long, slow handful of seconds, before he pulls away enough to grin at you. “But I suppose she gets that from her mother.”

“You’re very calming.”

“So I’ve been told.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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parfaitblogs · 1 month

Text

guess ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer really likes changing the way in which he wakes you up.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: soft dom!spencer. oral (f receiving). spencer bought the underwear r is reading (it's described). very brief nipple stuff bc i hate writing that word xoxo. healthy sex discussion midway through!! communication yippee!! desired somnophilia (it doesn't actually happen). fingering. spencer's a little shit (who's surprised). not proofread! word count: 2.5k a/n: the lacy black pair with the little bows 💃💃 the ones i picked out for you in tokyo 💃💃💃imagining s13 spencer specifically in that episode he has his firearms exam. u know the one mhm mhm!

You were indescribably pretty, in Spencer Reid's very professional opinion.

In every form. Even your sickest, most disgusting form — according to you — when you had gastroenteritis that one time after being away on holiday. You were pretty when you dressed up for a date with him or drinks with your friends. When you had just gotten out of the shower and had wet hair and were wearing your pyjamas (either being a matching set or one of his stolen t-shirts). And, his most recent obsession; while you were sleeping.

Which might be sick in some way shape or form. How much he liked watching you while you slept. The rise and fall of your chest, the blankets bunched up and falling just below your hips — showing the skin of your legs, because the weather was warm and Spencer's apartment was always warmer.

Yes, it probably is sick. But it's not like he did anything about it. In fact, he usually just watched you until the clock ticked to a time he deemed unreasonable to still be in bed, and he got up and went on about his day (thinking about you the entire time, of course).

But it was a Sunday, and you had made him promise to be there when you woke up that morning; too sick of finding him out in the kitchen already showered and making food. When all you wanted was to lie in bed for — at least — an hour with him before your days began.

Your rule was probably the only reason Spencer's mind wandered away from their usual thoughts about you in the morning. But he also wanted to blame it on the fact that your hair was freshly washed and his sheets now smelled of your shampoo, and your legs brushed against his own so many times he thought you might be awake already.

You were just so, so pretty. And his shirt on you had risen just the right amount, your stomach peeking through, and really, Spencer should not be held accountable for any of his actions that morning. He was but a man, at the end of the day.

Despite everything he wanted to do to you, he was still a gentleman, and this was a boundary of consent you were yet to cross together. Hence; the arm snaking around your waist, pulling you into him, and the kisses he had begun leaving along your cheek, jawline and neck, hoping to coax you awake, gently.

Hope that had been answered, because he heard you groan quietly beneath him — the sound, embarrassingly so, shooting straight to the pit of his stomach like he was a teenager. But you were awake.

"Good morning to you too," you had murmured, voice riddled with morning husk and a layer of exhaustion no doubt still there.

"Morning, honey," he answered, lifting his face from your neck to your own face, lips twitching a little as you blinked your eyes open. He was quick with it, connecting his lips to yours and eliciting a quiet squeak from you, which simply had him smiling.

"I have morning breath," you said, though both of you knew he could not care less. He never did, which was almost laughable for a man with such a big phobia of germs.

"I'll need to brush my teeth after this too, anyways," he had replied, and your stomach flipped in the best way possible.

"What's this?"

"Hopefully," he began, placing one last peck to the corner of your mouth, before he shifted your bodies enough so he could trail kisses down to your peeking collarbone. "You'll like it."

"Promise?" you asked him as he hooked fingers beneath his t-shirt, eyes searching yours for approval, before he pushed it up and over your chest.

"Promise," he said with a confirming hum, trailing kisses down your sternum, before kissing back up and taking a nipple into his mouth.

He decided he liked you like this; still waking up, too out of it to properly silence yourself the way he knew you would if you were in any fully conscious state of mind. It was arguably his least favourite trait of yours — how much you hid when all he wanted was to hear every little noise you made (a thought that shocked him too, the first time he thought it).

But your back arched and barely functioning limbs pressed down against the mattress when you mewled, and it was beautiful and he was repeating the motion of his tongue flicking over your nipple once, then twice, just to hear it again.

He smiled at your breathless whimper of his name when he detached his mouth, a hand dropping to your hip and rubbing gentle circles into it.

"So impatient when you're tired," he murmured, almost scoldingly, gaze flickering up to catch your expression. Not that there was much to look at — you were watching him through half-shut eyelids, lips pulled into a content smile. He moved his head to take the other nipple into his mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and so he comforted the other (now neglected) peak with his thumb.

But, he was a man on a mission. And so despite how much he wanted to tease you, he had other, far more exciting plans for you.

Lips kissed down your stomach, stubble scratching delicately at your skin, making you squirm and evoking a hum from Spencer, who glanced up at you with an arched brow.

"Stubble," you explained, almost breathlessly, and his lips pulled into a smile in acknowledgement. Which was sweet.

What wasn't sweet was the way he grasped your hips between his hands and pushed them into the mattress and said, in his (incredibly arousing) low voice, "Need you to keep still for me."

"You don't want my hips punching you in the face?" you asked. He laughed at that — it had happened one time.

"If I can help it, no," he punctuated his sentence with his fingers squeezing your left hip, and you only hummed in response. Then, "Aren't these the ones I bought for you?"

You looked down, and his fingers were hooked under the waistband of your underwear, black bows resting on either side and flipped up on his fingers.

"Uh... yeah. I must've put them on by mistake last night," you told him, and his eyebrows only rose. "What?"

"By mistake?" he mused, one of his hands letting go of the waistband to trace his knuckle across the top and down over the centre of them, eliciting a shudder out of your lips.

"I haven't done laundry?" you offered your second excuse. His bewilderment only deepened and he pulled his hand away from you.

"You wanna tell me the truth?"

Damn him. "Okay, so, I was planning on trying to do something with you last night. I did an everything shower and everything," very complex sentences you were creating, clearly. "But then I fell asleep."

"I see," he said, and amusement crossed his features.

"I wear them all the time!" you protested. "They're comfortable. Also they're really pretty. You would know if you tried to have sex with me more often."

He laughed, only because he could see the faux pout on your lips, and he knew you weren't serious. "I already have sex with you a lot."

"Twice a week isn't a lot."

"I'd argue it is," he said, placing a kiss to the inner side of your thigh — the recognition of what position you two were in whilst having this conversation being somewhat jarring, but mostly humorous. "Do you want me to have sex with you more often?"

"If I say yes, will you?"

"I'll do whatever you want me to," he answered, hair tickling your skin as he tilted his head to the side, resting it on your thigh.

"Then yes," you breathed out.

"Okay," he nodded his head, picking it back up to refocus on his task at hand. "Can I take this underwear that you apparently wear all the time off now?"

"Yeah."

Even in the warmth of his apartment, you shivered when he tugged the black lace down — with some resistance he no doubt expected, but still reacted to with a barely audible hiss. You smiled at that.

"So pretty," he murmured, like it was the first time he was ever seeing you.

He met your eyes one last time, and you watched that stupidly gorgeous smile stretch across his lips, before he was leaning forwards and licking a stripe down the centre, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips.

He was painfully good at this — a fact that popped into your head every single time he had his mouth on you. You wondered if he was simply born with the knowledge of your body already catalogued in his brain, because even the first time he ate you out, you were immobile for thirty minutes (though, he did make you come four times at once, so maybe it was that).

"Angel," you felt a nip on your thigh, and your head snapped down, eyebrows furrowing when you met Spencer's gaze. "Focus on me."

"I am," you huffed in response.

"Really?"

In theory, yes. You were thinking about him. Just a distant, past him.

"Am I boring you already?"

"Maybe. You might wanna speed up," you replied, always taking the opportunity to have some form of attitude towards him.

"I miss when you were half-asleep," he sighed, but he gave you what you wanted regardless.

Lips attached to your clit and his tongue flicked over it, and any retort you had died on your tongue. He liked to shut you up this way, it seemed. Hands that were still holding your hips pushed you into the mattress instinctively, having premeditated the bucking of them. A whimper escaped you when he sucked, head pressing down into the pillow beneath it, and you could feel the muscles of his face move as he smiled against you.

He always ate you out like he was starved, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was. He was almost pathetically down bad for you when he was horny, though, and even if you were promising him pleasure, his mouth would find its way to you no matter what. Something about being a service dom or whatever. He had told you about it one time while he was knuckle deep in you, and you clearly didn't retain much in that state.

"Oh," you breathed out when he dropped his head lower, his tongue circling your entrance, nose bumping your clit.

You could feel his eyes on you when he flattened his tongue, watching every micro expression you made.

Now, Spencer Reid was never smug about his knowledge. All those memories and his ability to quote just about anything at the drop of a hat and he never bragged about it. But knowing you? That he could brag about for hours and then some. Because truly, he knew you.

He knew he could make you come just like this; obscenely eating you out. In fact, it was quite easy to. But he found no fun in giving you what you were expecting. It was the only reason he was returning his lips to your clit, a hand dropping down from your hip, sliding over the skin of your thigh, before brushing through your folds, teasingly.

"Spencer."

He repeated your name in the same whiny tone of voice as your own, mockingly so, and if you weren't so hellbent on reaching an orgasm, you probably would've kicked him.

A finger pushed into you embarrassingly easily, and you moaned, louder than you had yet that morning, which he knew.

Indecent sounds left your lips continuously, and you eventually stopped fighting them. Much to his satisfaction, clearly, because he had curled his finger in just the right way at the same time he sucked on your clit and you were crying out and hands that had otherwise been heavy on the mattress were flying to his hair.

You felt and heard him laugh at your reaction, only for him to do it again before you could argue.

"Fuck, Spencer."

"I know," he said, lifting his eyes back up to meet yours, twisting his finger and flicking his tongue over your clit. "Taste so good, angel. Could stay here for hours, you know?" You did know. He probably would, unless you had a mass protest to hold.

"Please," you gasped out, pathetically so.

"Please what?" he mused.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he chose that exact moment to push another finger into you, cutting any sentences you had off with a moan.

"You've gotta use your words, sweet girl." You shot a glare at him, and he barked out a laugh. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

He was sorry, because he resumed his ministrations without so much of a delay, both fingers pushing in and out of you, filling the air with vulgar wet sounds to accompany your gasps and moans.

You moaned his name again, and he mumbled another gentle, "Yeah?"

"Wanna come," you said.

"I know," he said, voice oh so soft, juxtaposing his every action. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling," you replied, almost huffily, and he laughed, increasing the pace of his fingers only slightly.

"You don't wanna ask me?"

"Do I need to?"

"Maybe you should start."

"Spencer."

He laughed again, and you felt him nod his head against you. "Okay, okay. Making you come. Relax, sweet girl."

Arguably, you were the most relaxed you could possibly be. But you no longer had enough fight in you to argue, because he was rutting the tips of his fingers up against that spot inside you, and his tongue was moving faster, and you were gone; seeing stars.

Maybe one thing he loved more than eating you out, was making you orgasm from eating you out. The way your fingers that almost always ended up in his hair scratched at his scalp, your thighs clenching around his head just enough that he had an excuse to pin them open, your voice going breathless and high-pitched. He had watched and felt it happen so many times it was burned into his memory, and yet he was still in awe of you regardless.

Coaxing you through it and teetering on the edge of overstimulation was another bonus, because your breathless moans turned into whines and you always, always tried to escape him, and he got to remind you how much stronger he was, arms hooking under your thighs and tugging you closer.

"Spencer," you whimpered. "No more. Please."

That was his cue to stop, and he pulled back, lips upturned in a lovesick grin as he looked up at you, face glistening.

He pecked up your body until he had reached your face, and then he was kissing you again, regardless of the remnants of your release covering his skin.

"Did so good. You're always so perfect for me, sweet girl," he murmured against your lips, swallowing your quiet whines.

"Love you," you managed to mumble out, and he smiled against the cheek he was now kissing.

"Love you too."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut

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logansdoll · 2 months

Note

Heyyy. Ok really cheesy but I’d like to request a Logan x reader friends to lovers where it’s like an accidental confession. Maybe someone makes fun of the reader and Logan without thinking about it just starts yelling and defending why the reader is great and everything he loves about her? Ik it’s a little OOC but maybe he gets so mad (as Wolverine does) that he gets all mushy without realizing lol. Thanks ❤️❤️

lotus

while on library duty, Logan overhears two girls talking shit about you... and corrects it quickly.

CW: sorry i went in a little different direction, suggestive, profanity, takes place during the timeline of the og X-Men, these girls are bitches, etc.

"I just don't get what's the big deal about her," Maya scoffed, resting her cheek in her palm as she thoughtlessly flipped through her biology textbook.

Talia nodded, glancing up from her notes with an excitement that screamed nothing to do.

"No, seriously," she agreed. "Like we get it... you can grow shit. Big deal."

That piqued Logan's interest.

With Jean and Scott off on a date, the professor away, and you and Ororo teaching a joint class, he was slapped with library duty—watching the kids during their scheduled study period.

Now, originally, he planned on simply plopping himself down in a corner and puffing his cigar, hoping to fall asleep and just ride out his sentence.

And he was halfway there, too.

But just as he was about to catch some Zs, his hearing picked up on a conversation between two older girls who seemed to be trash talking his girlfriend.

"Word," Maya turned the next page, a grimace settling on her face when she noticed the image of a flower.

One you were very vocal about liking.

"She won't shut up about these stupid lotus flowers either... Hey! Did you guys know that the lotus is considered sacred in many Eastern cultures? And it often symbolizes purity, beauty, and rebirth!"

Talia let out an obnoxious snicker, the impression not nearly as funny as what she was making it to be.

But maybe she just hated you that much...

"You sound just like her," she commended, very much amused. "Only she's always smiling. Like I've never seen her frown before... it's almost creepy."

"Seriously creepy. But Peter can't get enough of it... you know he has a crush on her, right?"

"Seriously?!"

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, tickled by the news.

He'd caught the boy staring at you during a few Danger Room sessions, but didn't think much of it, assuming he'd just caught him while he happened to be looking in your direction.

Oh, how wrong he was...

He couldn't wait to tell you later tonight.

"Mhmm. Half the boys at school nearly fall over themselves to make sure they're not late to her class... It's almost funny."

"Funny, my ass. Why'd it have to be Peter?" Talia huffed, tossing her pencil at the textbook in frustration. "She's not even that pretty. I've had dogs that look better than her."

Maya attempted to muffle a snicker, but Logan heard it loud and clear, his brows furrowing at the horrible comment.

"I'm serious. She puts up this whole nice and innocent act, but I bet she's a raging bitch behind closed doors."

That was it.

All the stuff before was just normal, teenage jealousy; something he'd—albeit reluctantly—let slide.

But calling you out of your name?

Insulting your character?

Comparing you to a dog?

A line had to be drawn.

"Tali, you can't say that," Maya chuckled, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

"Like I care," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I'd tell it to her face if I ever got the chance. Just walk right up to her and say—"

"Say what?"

The girls nearly jumped out their skin, whipping around, only to be met by Logan's arched brow, the man leaning up against a bookshelf as he puffed on his cigar.

They were at a loss for words, unable to say anything under his imposing presence.

"Don't get shy now," he goaded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Go on. Tell me what you're gonna say to Dr. (l/n)."

The two were practically frozen, frantically glancing at each other for assistance, Logan's eyes flicking between the two expectantly.

"Nothing?" he hummed. "That's funny... 'cause you both seemed to have plenty of shit to say earlier."

Both their faces fell almost instantly, the color practically draining from Talia.

"You heard that?" Maya squeaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Every word," Logan nodded. "And what I managed to gather from it was that you both just can't stand her because she's kind, passionate, pretty, and beloved."

He listed each trait off on his fingers, glancing at the two for confirmation.

"How's that? Am I in the ballpark?"

They remained silent, hanging their heads in embarrassment as Logan's confrontation had garnered the attention of the whole library.

"Well, then, how's this..." he pulled the cigar out his mouth. "I'll let you both off this time with a warning... but if I catch either of you trash talkin' anybody again, teacher or student, you're grounded."

"'Til when?" Talia asked, nervously.

"'Til I tell you you're not."

The end of day bell punctuated his statement, a flourish of shutting books and closing pencil cases muffling the girls' sighs of relief.

"Now get outta here."

He had never seen two students pack up so fast.

They were gone in T-minus ten, and once the library was cleared out, Logan allowed himself to sit down, letting out his own sigh.

He could've tore into them infinitely worse—and he honestly wanted to for that dog comment—but he figured that was the right, and legal, amount for a teacher.

But even still...

'I dunno how a girl who can only float two inches off the ground is talkin' about (n/n) havin' a shitty power...'

#james howlett #james howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #wolverine x reader #x men #x men x reader #wolverine

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onmykneesformatt · 2 months

Text

too tired. -m.s.

⭐️hey sluts!⭐️

warnings: softdom!reader, kind of sub!matt, riding, praising, sleepy sex, cockwarming, unprotected p in v (WRAP YO SHIT UP!!!!), no use of y/n bc i hate it🤞

synopsis: after slightly ignoring matt before bed, you show him that you can be just as much of a tease as him.

a/n: HIIIII!!! sooo this is my first fic so i’m so very sorry if it’s bad!! but i’m so excited for y’all to read this is not even funny. anyways, enjoy!!

it wasn’t out of the ordinary for matt to stay up late. it was actually more than normal. especially if he were playing video games.

it was 2 am. 2:06 am, to be exact. you were laying in matt’s bed, doom-scrolling tiktok half-asleep as matt was focused on fortnite with nick and chris. they weren’t filming anything, but every few nights, they like to get nostalgic and just play video games all night.

“chris, you’re too fucking loud.” matt exclaims.

“no, i’m not!” chris retaliates, which you hear through the floor and matt’s headset.

matt turns back to you with a “can you believe this kid?” look on his face.

you giggle when you see matt gesturing to his headset and shaking his head.

you go look back at your phone as matt yawns while stretching, reaching his arms up. his shirt lifted a little, exposing his boxers under his blue pajama pants.

he caught you staring, realizing what simple things had an effect on you. the ball was in his court. although you loved the idea of late night sex, you didn’t know how matt would feel.

so, you just laid there, waiting until you physically couldn’t stay awake.

matt saw your eyes flutter open and closed, how your hand would slowly droop down the whip back up when your eyes opened.

he came over, shut off your phone, pulled up your blanket, and kissed you on the forehead.

just then, you heard matt whisper over his headset.

“hey, she’s falling asleep, and i’m feeling pretty tired. goodnight.” matt states.

“aww, goodnight matty.” nick replies.

chris, being chris, replies with, “yeah, you’re gonna go to ‘sleep’.”

matt rolls his eyes as nick laughs. he ends the conversation and turns his whole setup off.

you feel his mattress dip from behind you, right as you feel two warm arms wrap around your waist from behind.

his touch wasn’t helping the thoughts you were having right now. you wanted him. but didn’t even wanna open your eyes.

to send a signal, you started to adjust how you were laying, carefully moving your hips to perfectly rub against matt’s hips and thighs.

your subconscious must’ve known what was gonna happen to you tonight, as you went to bed in matt’s baggy briefs and one of his shirts.

no underwear, no bra.

you were more comfortable that way, and so was matt.

matt groaned quietly as he slowly moved his head into the crook of your neck, leaving soft pecks.

“goodnight, my girl. i love you.”

you didn’t respond.

matt was a little offended by the loud silence that followed his sentence.

“baby? you already asleep?”

honestly, you were about to be.

a soft groan left you as you shook your head.

“what’s wrong?” he asked.

“nothin’. just too tired to even think right now.”

he knew when something was wrong.

the way your voice got low, your head would lightly shake side to side with every “reassuring” sentence, and how you’d lack in responses in total.

“well, somethin’ is wrong. tell me, baby. what’s on your mind?”

you could feel him getting hard as you kept adjusting your hips.

every. single. inch.

“if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, then i’m just gonna go to bed.”

silence.

“alright. your choice.”

you felt him turn over as his arms left your side.

you just ignored him.

bad idea.

“wait.”

you turned onto your back, leaning on your elbows as you tried to peek at matt’s face.

he didn’t even move.

“matt. baby.”

no response.

boy, did that pill hurt to swallow.

“baby, i’m ready to talk. amongst.. other.. things.”

you were hoping he was gonna catch your drift.

you assumed he did when he only turned his head to look up at you. the dim light coming from a warm, vanilla candle on his desk made him look more irresistible.

“what.. other things?”

“baby. you know what i’m talking about.”

“mmm. not too sure i am.”

he put on a smug look, acting stupid.

that’s how he would punish you.

whenever you would tease him or treat him like he was the needy one in public.

you sat fully up, now leaning on your left hand, still looking down at him.

“i wanna.. you know..”

“ohh.”

maybe he would be nice and give in tonight.

“mmh. too tired.”

nevermind.

“matt!”

you whisper-yelled. loud enough to grab his attention, but quiet enough that you couldn’t even hear it in nick or chris’ room.

“look, i’m sorry i ignored you earlier. i really am! but-“

“but what?”

his deep voice made you feel knots in your stomach.

the way his curls laid perfectly on his head.

the way his tattoos complimented his veins.

everything about him made you snap out of your sleepy haze.

you reached over to his hip, pulling him flat on his back.

you swept your leg over his hips, leaving you perfectly sat onto his lap.

he acted tough, but you knew you could make him do anything you wanted.

“the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

matt’s voice was stern, but you knew he wasn’t actually upset.

how?

by the way the bulge underneath your core was getting harder and harder.

“i’m sorry for ignoring you.”

you left a kiss on his neck.

“i’m sorry for not switching the laundry earlier.”

then his collarbone.

“i’m sorry for not being a good girlfriend.”

then his chest, with the collar of his shirt lightly pulled down to give you easy access.

you didn’t actually think you were a bad girlfriend, but you weren’t trying to guilt him.

you were teasing him.

his least and most favorite thing in the world.

“no, baby. you’re all i want and more.”

matt’s hands caressed your sides.

once he reached up high enough, he realized you didn’t have a bra on.

you could see his excitement.

and feel it.

“then prove it.”

he immediately sat up and pulled his shirt off.

it was like out of a movie.

sloppy kisses as you both started to get undressed.

next thing you know, you’re completely naked and all he has on is his boxers.

“can you take your boxers off for me? i need you as close to me as possible.”

you pushed yourself up slightly on your knees, giving him enough room to slip his boxers off and throw them somewhere on his floor.

he laid back, giving you the sweetest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen.

you grabbed his length, teasing your own entrance, knowing it was just as bad for him.

you kept eye contact the entire time, making sure to see his eyebrows furrow as soon as he was inside of you.

once he was, it was like he had melted.

slow, sultry movements of your hips was enough to make him twitch.

low groans had left his mouth, making you closer and closer the the edge.

after a few minutes of little praises from both of you, you both felt your highs getting closer and closer.

“just like that.”

“you’re doing great for me, baby.”

“look at my pretty girl.”

matt’s hands gripped his sheets, proving his release was getting closer and closer.

the sight of his veins was enough to make you moan his name.

he looked up at you, praying his brothers didn’t hear.

not that he would be too upset if they did.

“can i- mmph..”

you were waiting for him to ask, as you needed to release the knot in your stomach.

“go ahead, baby.”

you felt the warmth of his release inside of you, mixed with your own.

you slumped over, laying on his chest.

he played with your hair while you both attempted to catch your breath.

light sweat was making his hair stick to his forehead.

you lightly kissed his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

you felt safe with him.

the way he was never ashamed to open up to you, nor was he judgemental when you opened up to him.

“can i.. maybe.. keep it in? y’know, while we sleep?”

“let’s clean up, then of course. anything for my pretty boy.”

after you showered together, with light kisses and washing eachothers bodies, you went back to bed.

you stayed undressed.

as he slipped back into you, eliciting light moans from both of you, he wrapped his arms back around your waist.

“was that enough proof? or should i give you more?”

you chuckled, knowing how tomorrow morning would start.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #matt sturniolo fanfiction #Spotify

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ariestrxsh · 15 days

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🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, teasing, masturbation, edging, innocence corruption, blowjob, mommy kink, praise, small age gap, pervy!virgin!chris, sub!chris, older!reader, softdom!reader, slow burn

🖤 author' note: 🖤 spoiler - there's a scene in this fic where chris saves the reader's nude without her permission. please don't ever do this irl. it's messed up.

🖤 summary: 🖤 chris might be a virgin, but he's certainly not innocent. while helping chris study for chemistry 101, he admits to you he's never done anything sexual, but the whole time he's undressing you with his eyes. you're both stubborn and waiting for the other person to make the first move. who will cave first?

Thank you to @jakewebberswifee for the pervy!virgin!chris idea. I immediately saw the vision when I saw this one in my asks, and I hope that you think I did it justice. (':

'chemicals' part one

"Do you understand how I got this answer?" You asked Chris, and his gaze flicked up from your bare thighs to your eyes at the same time that you looked up at him from the page of his chemistry textbook. He was too busy imagining them as earmuffs, dreaming of diving between your legs to get a taste..

You guys sat side-by-side on his bed with the book between the two of you that contained diagrams and big words that Chris didn't really care to understand.

Chris wasn't doing well in his class, and his brother Nick had asked you if you could help him understand some of the concepts, considering you'd taken the same course your Freshman year of college a few years back and aced it.

He stared at you in silence. "Come on, Chris. You've gotta understand ionic bonds if you're gonna pass this class. Focus," you smiled at him, playfully slugging him in the arm while he wondered how that black, leather miniskirt you had on was conducive to him focusing on anything you had to say, much less anything having to do with Chemistry. Unless it was the sexual chemistry between the two of you.

"No, I get it. The elements share electrons and shit," Chris stared at your full lips while he nibbled on his own stuck in a fantasy about how they'd feel wrapped around the tip of his cock.

"But do you understand how many electrons they need to share to become a stable compound?" You intently looked at him, studying his expression while his perverted mind pretended that was some sort of lustful euphemism by some stretch of the imagination.

He had some electrons he wanted to share with you to help stabilize your compound.

"You know, I'm so sorry. I can't learn anything right now. My mind is somewhere else.." Chris shrugged at you. "Where's your mind?" You asked him, narrowing your gaze. In the gutter. "Just on some personal stuff," Chris replied, being as vague as possible to avoid telling you the vile thoughts about you that were clouding his focus.

"You know, you can talk to me about anything," You caressed his arm, and the feeling of your fingernails tracing against his flesh made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He dreamt about how your french tips would feel carressing his back while he plowed you.

Why not use this as an excuse to get a little sympathy out of you?

"You know, I'm just a little nervous about this being my first year of college and being so.. inexperienced," he smirked. This surprised you to hear, considering the sex appeal Chris gave off.

"Weren't you in a long-term relationship in high school?" You inquired. "Yeah, a year and a half. But she was a good little Christian girl. Wouldn't fuck me no matter how much I begged," Chris bit his lip, lowering his voice.

You shifted around uncomfortably on his bed. The thought of Chris begging had you entertaining thoughts you weren't proud of.

"Anyway, we ended things right before summer started," Chris shot you a fake disappointed look. He wasn't lying about what had happened, but he'd had time to process it and wasn't actually affected by it anymore. However, you didn't need to know that.

"Awh, Chris," you said sympathetically, cradling his face and caressing his cheek with your thumb. His cock twitched in his pants at how caring your voice sounded while you consoled him. He imagined how the pad of your thumb would feel grazing his other head.

"Yeah, it's been really hard. And lonely," he told you, glancing down at his lap, secretly referring to his cock. His voice was drenched in lust. Chris might have been a virgin, but he certainly knew what he was doing.

"Let me know if you ever need help with it. I mean, if you ever need someone to talk to," your eyes widened as you tripped over your words, picking up on Chris' signals and pulling your hand back from his face.

You could have sworn he was flirting with you and making you all flustered on purpose, but you couldn't tell if he was the one being a pervert or if you were. A slight smirk came across his face as he relished in your slip up.

"Anyway, we don't have to study this tonight. You clearly have a lot going on right now. When I get back to my dorm, I'll just send you my notes from a few years ago if I still have them," you smiled at him, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it. I'm sorry if you feel like I'm wasting your time," Chris apologetically looked up at you. He was lying. He loved wasting your time.

You paused, giving him a sympathetic look. "Chris, of course not. I'll see you again tomorrow for another study session," You rubbed his arm and smiled at him. "Text me if you need anything at all," you offered as you got up to walk out.

Chris was sad to see you go, but he loved to watch you leave. He was entranced by your ass, the shape of it in your leather skirt, and the way it slightly jiggled as your hips swayed while you strutted out of his room. Chris couldn't help the effect you had on him.

The second you closed the door to his dorm, he pulled off his shirt and took out his cock. He started fondling it while his mind was flooded by thoughts of you, keeping his strokes long, slow, and steady. Chris loved to tease himself. He almost adored it more than the act of actually getting off.

And after his relationship with his ex ended, Chris discovered the attention and reactions he'd get from women for still being so pure. He could have his way with almost any woman he wanted, but he was also holding out for the right one.

However, not in the same way as his ex. He was holding out because he liked dangling his virginity in front of women, seeing what kind of responses he could get out of them. Especially women who were a little older and a little more experienced. They'd often answer sympathetically and in an almost maternal manner, and nothing got him going more than that.

Some would get uncomfortable, some would flirt back, and some would outright throw themselves at him. He loved that he knew how to elicit their pity and also their desperation. Some of the more shy women would fumble over their words and blush while he taunted them with his innocence.

It was somewhat of a front, but he really hadn't had sex. He hadn't even gotten a blowjob or handjob before. The most he'd ever done was one night on his ex's couch when they'd gotten carried away in a heavy make out session, and she'd let Chris reach under her top and graze her nipples with his fingers. He could still remember how they hardened under his touch and the way she had mewled against his lip when he did this.

But he liked being a tease, and it forced him to empathize with his ex. He knew he probably could have had his way with you in his dorm room that night if he wanted, but he adored the slowburn. He liked the chase, and whether he was doing the chasing or being chased didn't really matter much to him.

He took his nails and ever so gently ran them up his length, biting his lip due to how amazing it felt. He took the pad of his thumb, trying to match the same tempo and pressure you'd used when you rubbed his cheek, and he started running his thumbprint over his tip, smudging the clear fluid that leaked out while he shut his eyes, shuddered, and smiled to himself.

He continued caressing the swollen mushroom-shaped head while he started to gently stroke his shaft, but he kept the pace unhurried and his touch soft, eliciting a wonderful feeling and stimulating all of his favorite nerve endings while he moaned your name.

He wondered what kinds of noises you'd make and how your face would look while you were being pleasured. He pictured you in all kinds of different positions while he pumped his hand back and forth a bit faster. His chest rose and fell at a quicker pace as his breathing pattern sped up.

He felt a familiar sensation in his stomach as he neared sweet release, but he reduced the speed of his strokes to draw it out a bit longer. His cock was already so sensitive, and the way he edged himself increased the sensitivity even more.

Chris did this for the next half hour, bringing himself as close as he could get to orgasm and then slowing down or stopping to savor the sensation a little longer. His mind swirled with images of you while he brought himself to the edge a final time.

He couldn't take it anymore. His cock was so responsive to his touch.. It begged for relief.

While delicately, expertly, and relentlessly teasing his tip, his dick started to pulse, and a rope of his hot, sticky fluid erupted with incredible pressure behind it, and painted his stomach, his chest, and a bead of it landed on his cheek. "Fuuuckkk," he let out in a shaky moan while he finished, draining every last droplet from his member.

His orgasm lasted several glorious seconds, the sensation rhythmically washing over him and leaving a buzzing feeling all over his body and a ringing in his ears once it ended. He slowly came down from it like a feather floating to the ground. He laid there with his eyes closed, wiped the drop of cum from his cheekbone, and smirked while his breath found its way back to him.

Later that night, you were in your own dorm room, reflecting on the study session you'd had with Chris. You couldn't put your finger on what it was about Chris that made you so wet for him, but you'd been thinking about it since you'd left his room.

Maybe it was his innocence. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't innocent at all. Maybe he knew what he was doing. Maybe he'd found a way to get inside your head, and it was driving you crazy.

You couldn't stop replaying the way he was looking at you earlier with his tempting blue eyes and the way he spoke to you, his inflection coated in a layer of seduction.

Was that how he meant for it to come across? Or were you perverting the situation? When he told you he was a virgin, was he hoping you'd offer to show him how good it feels to fuck? Did he know you wanted to?

Before you could continue to spiral and overthink the interaction, you remembered - the notes! You pulled out an old crate in your closet that had all your assignments in it from every college course you'd taken to date. You knew it'd come in handy one day.

You found your notebook from Chemistry 101 and flipped to the section on ionic bonds and stabilizing chemical compounds, and you took pictures of the pages on your phone. You found Chris' contact and started sending off the pictures when a diabolical idea crossed your mind..

While flipping through your camera roll and selecting pictures to add to the message, your thumb hovered over the last nude you'd taken. It was a subtle but risky way to find out where Chris' head was at, to see if he wanted you as bad as you wanted him. You quickly selected the risqué photo of you and sent it off.

When Chris checked his texts, his jaw dropped when he came across the last one. It was you, sprawled out on your bed, laying on your back. Topless. It was actually an extremely tasteful photo, the kind you'd see in a dirty magazine or a boudoir shoot. He admired the curves of your body, your beautiful breasts, and your seductive expression as you looked into the camera.

Another text from you came in almost immediately. "OMG!! Please ignore that last picture! I didn't mean to send that.."

But Chris knew better. He was familiar with this game. He had triggered your pity, and now your desperation for him. He bit his lip, knowing he'd worked his magic on you, and you were now caught up in his spell. He decided to throw you a bone and flirt back, knowing that's what you secretly wanted.

"I could study that for hours.." he texted back, but followed it up with, "the notes I mean. ;)"

You blushed when you read his response. "Please delete that. I'm so embarrassed!" You replied, trying not to be too obvious about the chokehold Chris had on you.

"Of course. I'd never keep a photo of you like that without your permission.." Chris typed out as he devilishly grinned and saved it to his camera roll. He couldn't let such a beautiful photo go to waste. It was against his moral code.

He slipped his hand into his waistband and took his time rubbing another one out while he savored the picture of you, hoping to burn it into his memory so he could access it whenever he wanted.

The next day, after you attended all your classes, you wandered over to Chris' room again. You hesitated for a moment before knocking on his door. It swung open and the gorgeous boy you couldn't stop thinking about stood in the entrance, and when he saw you, his pupils dilated and he very subtly glanced you up and down, his gaze lingering on your chest for a moment, remembering the photo of you.

Chris noted how snugly your plain white top fit you and how short your denim skirt was, the hem barely hitting your mid thigh. "Hi," he shot you an innocent smile. "Hey, Chris," you responded, nervously biting your lip. You wanted to address the elephant in the room - the nude you'd 'accidentally' sent Chris the night before, but you weren't going to be the one to mention it first.

"Almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on," Chris teased you. That didn't take long.

"I'm so sorry, Chris. I didn't mean for you to see me like that," you blushed, avoiding eye contact with him. "Sure you didn't," Chris whispered, maliciously smiling at you and giving you a look like he wasn't buying it.

"Anyway, let's get into the elements again. I think we need to go over some basics before we start getting into covalent bonds," you said, changing the subject and pushing past Chris to get into his room. He checked out your ass as you walked past him.

"Who do you have for Chemistry again?" You asked out of curiosity. "Mr. Reid," Chris stated. "Oh, I had him," you responded, plopping down onto his bed. "Yeah, did you like him?" He wondered, retrieving his textbook from his desk.

"He was a good enough teacher. But he would always invite me over for dinner and a bottle of wine when I was only 19. He was kind of a pervert," you told him. "A pervert? Damn, don't you hate those," Chris devilishly grinned, basking in the irony. "So, that's how you aced his class," Chris insinuated. "Oh my god, Chris! No. I never went over there!" You laughed.

The two of you sat side-by-side on his bed, and you flipped to the periodic table diagram, and you and Chris started going over the way they were organized on the page. "Show me which ones are the alkaline metals," you told him, glancing up at his plump lips. He gazed up at you and then back at the page, pointing to a group of elements. "Good! That's right," you praised him.

"Thanks, mommy. I mean, teacher. I mean.." Chris nervously giggled, looking back up at you. It wasn't actually a slip-up. He just wanted to see how you reacted to being called mommy.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you raised your eyebrows, and your lips fell open slightly. The way Chris referred to you made your pussy throb. You tried to hide how much you liked it, but Chris could see through you. "You're such a good teacher. I wish you could teach me everything," Chris whispered, his eyes dancing across your expression while he licked his lips.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath as you dropped your pencil, completely caught off guard by how Chris was speaking to you. You were about to bend down to pick it up when Chris stopped you.

"I got it," he smiled as he fell to his knees in front of you. He was at eye level with your crotch, and he couldn't help but gaze up at your red underwear that peeked out from under your tiny jean skirt.

His eyes lingered for a suspicious amount of time before he retrieved your pencil. "Here," his lustful blue eyes met yours while he handed you your pencil, still kneeling on the floor in front of you.

Seeing Chris in such a submissive position had your imagination running wild. You fantasized about grabbing ahold of his luscious hair, tugging on it until he was whimpering, and stuffing his head between your legs. "Good boy. Make mommy cum," you imagined yourself saying to him while he hungrily lapped you up.

He slowly stood up and sat next to you again while you brushed off your disgusting desires. Chris could tell how hot and bothered he had you, and he wanted to see how much further he could take it.

"You know, something I find fascinating about chemicals is the way they react to one another. It's like they can't help it. Some of them reject one another. Some of them explode when they get near each other. Some get along really well. Some can't stay away from each other. Like people," Chris stated, lowering his voice and moving closer and closer to you while he maintained eye contact.

You thought for just a moment that you might kiss.. But Chris wasn't done teasing you. His eyes wandered your face, landing on your lips again, but he pulled his gaze away quickly and brought his stare back to the textbook.

The two of you were playing a game, trying to see who would cave first. You both wanted each other badly, but you were both stubborn and loved the anticipation and fervor that existed between two people right before they kissed or fucked for the first time.

It was like a limbo, a liminal space, a transit between point A and point B. You both liked it, suspended in time in a place that only the two of you could experience. It was where the imagination would run the wildest, shuffling through the possibilities of what could come next.

"I never thought about it like that," you swallowed hard. "What elements would we be? And like what chemical compound would we make?" Chris smirked at you. "I-I don't know," you stammered, not understanding where he was going with it. "Well, what elements can't stop thinking about how badly they really wanna fuck each other?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes.

It wasn't even a clever pick-up line, but the way his voice came through so sensually had your skin crawling with lust. Chris didn't need a clever way to flirt with you. He could have said, "Did you fall from heaven because suck my cock," and it would've worked on you. But you couldn't let him know. You wanted him to directly ask for it, to crave it, to need it, to get down on his knees and beg for it.

"Chris.." you started to say, pulling your eyes away from his. "I'm just saying out loud what we're both thinking," he smiled at you. "Let's get back to the textbook," you said, turning down his advance.

"You telling me you haven't thought about it? You telling me that picture you sent last night was an accident?" He teased you. "It was," you declared, clearing your throat.

"Sure it was. I might believe that if this were the first time this kind of thing happened to me," he rasped, getting closer to you again. "What do you mean?" You looked at him inquisitively.

"I know how women like you are. I tell you I'm a virgin, and you go absolutely feral. My innocence turns you on, doesn't it? You wanna be the one to show me about sex, hmm? You wanna be the first one to make me cum?" He cooed, narrowing his stare and practically reading your mind. You looked at him wide-eyed and speechless. You weren't sure whether to deny his claims or to fall to your knees and beg him to let you suck him off.

"No one's made you cum before? Ever?" You inquired as if that were the only thing you heard out of everything he'd just said. "Nope. No one's ever touched it or put it in their mouth.." His voice trailed off, and he bit his lip, giving you a sweet, innocent look. It was getting impossibly hard to maintain your composure.

"You mind if we take a break from studying? I can't learn anything with my dick this hard," he smirked, starting to unbutton his jeans. "What are you doing, Chris?" You asked, your eyes dropping to his cock as he took it out. "I just need to take care of it really quick. You don't have to stay if you don't want to watch," he peered up at you innocently as he started slowly teasing himself, but you stayed put.

You admired the way it beautifully stood straight up, the one rather intimidating-looking vein that traveled from the base of his shaft all the way to his tip, and the way the head was shiny with a layer of precum. It looked so pretty.

You watched Chris' ritual, the way he softly trailed his fingertips up his length. He began to stimulate the most sensitive spot, running his thumb over the pink, dome-shaped end. He let out a soft whimper and shivered in pleasure while he maintained eye contact with you.

You couldn't take look away. Your clit practically had its own heartbeat at this point. He knew how badly you wanted to put it in your mouth. It was written all over your face.

"Fuck, you're tough to crack," he whispered while he stroked his gorgeous cock. He couldn't take it anymore. He needed to know what it felt like. If you weren't going to make a move, he was.

"Please, mommy. Please put your mouth on it," he softly begged, his eyes and his voice drenched in desire.

Finally. You had him right where you wanted him.

"Good boy. All you had to do was ask nicely," you responded, pushing him back on the bed and crawling between his legs. He looked down at you wide-eyed, full of excitement and anticipation. He released his grip on his member, and you replaced it with your own. You felt his dick twitch against your palm.

"Tell me what you want, baby," you responded, taking your thumb and gently caressing the tip like you'd watched him do earlier. You could tell how much he loved it by the way he gasped and smiled at you while you did this.

"Please suck on it, mommy," he pleaded with you. You hovered just above his cock, nearly drooling at the idea of sucking on it, and you stuck out your tongue, just barely licking the slit where all his precum had pooled up. His eyes widened and he moaned, throwing his head back. So responsive.

The next time you went to kiss it, you wrapped your lips around his sensitive nerves and started gently suckling. "Wow," he whispered. It felt better than he could have ever imagined. His hands found their way to your head, and he started combing through your hair with his fingers while you stimulated him in the most incredible way.

You wrapped your lips around him again, taking the tip all the way into your mouth, and then you slid it down even further. While you bobbed up and down on his length, your tongue grazed that big, juicy vein on the backside of his cock, and he started whimpering even more as you let the tip of his cock tickle the back of your throat.

"Mommy, it feels so much better than when I touch myself," he smirked, biting his lip and furrowing his brow. He took in the sight of you, seductively looking up at him while your full, pink lips swallowed him. You slid back up and started paying attention to the head again while you stroked him. "Good boy," you winked at him. He moaned and shuddered back in response.

You absolutely adored the way Chris' nervous system reacted to every little touch, every caress, and every lick. You could get off just to the way he sounded, looked, and writhed beneath the feeling of your mouth.

He looked at you with a softer expression, one that told you he was nearing the tipping point. You decided to kick it up a notch, pumping back and forth faster while your mouth moved messily, drooling all over Chris' cock, a stark difference from the slow, controlled demeanor Chris had when playing with himself. But he fucking loved it. He was discovering just how much he loved receiving sloppy head.

"I'm getting close," he said urgently, half-expecting you to remove your mouth from his special place, but you only did long enough to mutter, "Good boy. Finish on my tongue." His eyes widened at the realization that you wanted to swallow his seed.

The feeling of your wet, velvet-like tongue dancing and swirling all over his tip had him in shambles. His body began to tremble, and he gripped the sheets beneath him until his knuckles started losing color, his hips bucking up, asking for permission to burrow deeper into your mouth.

"Mommy, you're gonna make me cum," he whined as his cock started twitching in your mouth. The knot in the pit of his stomach snapped while his toe-curling, earth-shattering, mind-blowing orgasm swallowed him whole before spitting him back out.

He could feel every sensation, from the way spurts of his thick, sticky load shot onto your tongue while you swallowed to the way the speed of his blood increased while it rushed through his veins.

Once his soul returned back to body, he was staring at you in a shocked and fully satisfied kind of way, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. "That was the best orgasm I've ever had, and I usually edge myself for like, a long time," he whispered, giggling.

"You did so good for me," you praised him, wiping your saliva mixed with his cum from the corner of your lip and imagining how hot Chris looked edging himself all alone in his bed.

"I love blow jobs," he smirked.

part two posted here 💖

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