#if i knew life would keep sucking i would just gotten it over with

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Talk (Silence)

~

Danny has gotten used to not having to watch what he said as the years went by.

In Amity everyone basically knew he was Phantom and just treated it as normal, and he had already told his parents what had happened,

They did a total 180 on their opinions, now chasing after ghosts to question them about everything they could squeeze out of them.

They were very proud of Danny too, often helping him with their technology.

Having said that he got used to not watching what he said in Amity, everyone knew so why bother right?

Unfortunately he was not in Amity

He was in Gotham visiting Jazz, who had moved for University.

They were currently in a cafe catching up, talking as their used to.

Not realizing that their conversation without context sounded very worrying.

~

Jazz: " So how are mod and dad?"

Danny: "Oh you know the usual, they're making new weapons, hopefully this time they wont target me, getting shot sucks, but I prefer it over getting electrocuted "

Jazz: " Good luck!"

(TOPC)The other people in the cafe: What the fuck

~

Danny: " Vlad keeps putting cameras in my room, so I went and confronted him about it again, I don't care that he's the mayor! "

Jazz: " He really needs some therapy"

Danny: " He's a fruitloop, he's beyond help"

TOPC: *concerned side eye*

~

Jazz: "You know I was a bit more worried about the criminals here, but honestly weak, I miss actual competent villains"

Danny: "I told you!"

TOPC not sure if they should be offended or wary of where they live

~

Jazz: " You know I kinda miss the food back home"

Danny: "What that it would come back to life and fight you to the death?"

Jazz: " I mean that too, but I was talking about the taste"

Danny: " Oh yes the chemically contaminated food really has some extra flavor compared to this" *gestures at his plate*

~

Danny: " I went to the park to play with Cujo and got kidnapped and they almost cut me in half"

Danny/Jazz: "Typical Friday!"

TOPC recording on their phones to make sure they're not hallucinating, someone is live tweeting.

~

Just an Idea

[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

[ohsc]

₊˚⊹♡ mean | sam winchester x reader

requested - heyy could u make a sam x reader thing where he fucks rlly roughly but he’s really sweet during aftercare bc the idea that sam is rough during but sweet after makes me weak in the knees🫠🙏 (anon)

a/n - this is. probably the most filthy thing i’ve written. it’s just filthy smut. with a hint of sweetheart sam at the end. i need him so bad it’s not funny. still working on my longer plot fics but i wanted to get this out today to get back into writing!! hopefully you enjoy :) would very much appreciate feedback! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2.4k, nsfw 18+, meandom!sam turned soft!sam, oral f!recieving, praise, very mild choking, condescending words, p in v, mild overstimulation, tears, aftercare, fluff

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

She was convinced that Sam’s mouth was a whole new kind of heaven.

He’d already made her cum once with his mouth alone, large hands pressed into the plush of her thighs to keep them spread, her hips stilled, which were twitching with every sweep of his tongue. He was skilled, drawing the pleasure out of her like it was nothing. Sam had easily spent fifteen minutes down there, eating her out like a starved man, like it was all he wanted.

And she didn’t know how she was still breathing. There was a relief that ran through her that Dean and Castiel weren’t in the bunker that night, because even though they were shut away in the privacy of their room, she was sure that she would’ve been heard. Sam had been pulling noises out of her all night, obscene lewd sounds that she would’ve been embarrassed about being heard if it wasn’t Sam with her.

He always made sure that as much as he made her feel, none of it was embarrassment.

His tongue flattened against her, licking a stripe up between her folds until he pressed against her clit and she shuddered, a horribly whiny sound pushed from her lungs when he closed his lips around the bead and sucked, like he was trying to pull the life out of her. Her hips jolted, unable to go anywhere as he had her pinned down, and she was practically seeing stars as Sam worked down there. She wondered if he was even breathing.

“Sam- oh my god—” She whimpered, hissed in a breath when he licked back down to her entrance and his nose nudged against her clit, stomach clenching as she reached her hands down to grasp onto his hair, fingers curled into the soft strands.

And then he pulled away.

His hands left her thighs as his mouth left her, but she didn’t have time to whine her complaints at the loss of sensation as his long fingers curled around her wrists, yanked her hands out of his hair. “What did I say, huh?” The tone of voice made her pussy clench around nothing. “Hands to yourself. You’re pretty bad at listening, baby.”

Sam shifted over her, his face over hers as he pushed her wrists down onto the pillows above her head, and she almost squirmed when she saw the look in his eyes, the way his lips were wet with her.

“Are you listening?” He squeezed her wrists as a reminder, and her eyes quickly flickered back up to his eyes. “Do I need to tie you up, or will you keep these here for me?” She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do it. Sam could be such a soft lover — he’d kiss every inch of her skin, whisper praises and compliments, tell her he loved her a thousand times as he made love to her. But he could also be like this, mean and demanding as he fucked her silly over and over. She wasn’t sure which she liked more.

“I’ll keep them there.” She breathed out, her voice still a little too whiny. He’d gotten her so close to cumming again, the lack of stimulation was driving her crazy, her cunt throbbed as she stared up at him.

“Oh yeah?” Sam narrowed his eyes like he didn’t believe her, and let go of one of her wrists to take both into one of his large hands. Her eyes left his face to follow his second as it dipped down between them, fingering at the waistband of his boxers, until she heard a sharp, “eyes on me.”

Her gaze quickly flickered back up to his face. “See? You can be good sometimes, can’t you?” Sam cooed, boardering on condescending, as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mouth, allowing her to taste herself. “You just need some reminding, don’t you, sweetheart? Get so lost in that pretty little head of yours when I’m making you feel so good.”

She’d been so distracted by watching his face, head spinning with his words, that she didn’t realise that he’d freed himself from his boxers until she felt the head of his cock nudging between her folds, gliding easily against her with the slick and spit collected there, and she mewled at the feeling, eyes squeezed shut as he nudged at her clit.

“Eyes open,” his hands left her wrists — which she knew now to keep still — and his fingers splayed across her jaw, squeezing unkindly until she looked up again. “Don’t make me tell you again. You wanna be good for me, don’t you?”

She nodded dumbly, sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth as he rubbed her clit with his cock. Teasing her. “Mhm, I will.”

“You will?” Sam gave her jaw one more squeeze, just for good measure, before he wrapped his fingers around the bare skin of her throat. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t put any pressure, just held her, but the threat was there. The head of his cock rested up against her slickened entrance as his head dipped down, lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “what’s your colour?”

They had a pretty rigid safe word system set out — it was something he went over with her every time they had sex, especially like this, when he was mean and grabby and knew that she wouldn’t like it every time. If she so much whispered the word red he’d be up and off of her before she could blink.

But all that left her words was a whiny, “Green, please Sammy.”

She felt his lips curve up against her ear as he smirked. “Good girl.”

Without warning he pushed into her and she sucked in a sharp breath, her own fingers grabbed at each other in an attempt to keep her hands still, and she shoved a breath out of her throat. He’d worked her open with his fingers when he’d been settled down between her legs, but she still felt the stretch, the burn as he settled his cock deep inside of her, and for a moment she had to remember to breathe back in.

“Fuck honey,” he grunted in her ear, fingers gripped her throat just slightly tighter, still only enough for her to feel pressure. “So tight for me, baby. Can barely take it, huh?”

He pulled back before he rutted back inside and she whimpered, squeezing her own fingers together so tightly so she didn’t break his rule. Needing to hold onto him somehow, though, her thighs clamped harshly around his hips, already trembly from the first orgasm he’d pulled from her.

He thrust in again, and again, and again, and soon she saw stars, gasping and whimpering with every drag of his cock against her gummy walls, pleasure rippling through her in waves that made her stomach clench, her cunt clamped down so tightly around him it was a wonder he could move at all.

“So noisy baby,” he crooned on a particular harsh thrust that made her whine, fingers a little tighter around her throat. “Can’t help yourself, can you?” He huffed with another thrust. “Need me to do all the work, hm? Greedy—” he grunted, “greedy girl.”

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close again. Sam was fucking her with determination, grunted every time he pushed himself back in, the head of his cock nudged the soft spongey spot inside of her that made her shudder again and again and again until she was a mess beneath him, lewd wet sounds accompanying her whimpers with each shift of his hips, her pussy fluttering around the stretch of his girth.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t ease up, didn’t give her a breather. She was close to tears by the time she was almost there, already sensitive from her first orgasm.

She clenched around him and his fingers, in turn, tightened on the sides of her throat. She trusted him, she knew he wouldn’t push it too far. Just enough for her to feel a little dizzy, for the bliss to wash over her like a high.

“Sam- mm- Sammy—” She was practically blabbering as her eyes filled with tears, gasping with each thrust, each smack of his hips against hers.

“Oh honey,” he cooed, condescending, mean. “Too much, hm? Need something?”

His hand loosened on her throat and she inhaled a little shakily.

“Please—” she whined, blinking through tears up at him. She didn’t miss the flicker in his eyes as the tears dribbled down her cheeks, but she knew that he knew she’d tell him if it was too much. It had happened before, neither of them messed around when it came to their safe words.

“Please what, huh?” He thrust in harshly and she groaned, cunt fluttering, so close— “Ah-ah, not yet. Don’t you need to ask me something, dolly?” He squeezed her throat once. “You remember what happens if you cum without asking, don’t you?”

Of course she did. The week prior she’d cum too soon, and he spent the next what felt like hours edging her, too skilled with his fingers, words too filthy that they made her head spin. He’d made such a mess of her that she hadn’t been able to even get up off of the bed for a little while after he finally let her cum.

“Mhm, mm, yeah—” she inhaled shakily, whining, thighs clamped tighter around his hips. “Please- please can I- please let me—” she groaned.

“Let you what?” He was dragging it out, the fucker, grunting into her ear as he leaned down over her, pushed his cock so deep her vision almost whitened out. “Tell me, honey. Use those words for me, c’mon.”

The tears were bubbling over faster, rolling down her flushed cheeks. “Let me cum, baby, please.”

“Asking so nicely,” he grunted, pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear. “How can I say no to something so pretty, hm? ‘Course you can, baby, go ahead.”

It wasn’t his words that did it for her, but the hand that snuck between them and pressed down on her stomach, the press of his cock suddenly so much more delicious that she almost fucking fainted.

She came with a breathless whine, hips jerked as she finally gasped a breath and whined again, her cunt throbbed around his cock as he kept pumping, rode her through it entirely. Her head tipped back, his mouth on her neck as her eyes squeezed shut, colours danced on the inside of her eyelids, her own little fireworks display.

Sam came shortly after, groaned into her ear in a way that almost made her cum again, and he rutted into her a few more times before he stopped, warmth spreading through her as he panted against her shoulder.

“Fuck,” he huffed, his own chest heaved, brushing against her bare skin. “Oh sweetheart.” The shift in his demeanour was palpable, soft kisses immediately littered across her shoulder and collarbone, palms flattened to smooth over her sweat-dampened skin. He could be so mean in the moment, so dominating and controlling that he left her a fucking mess underneath him, but afterwards? He’d probably feed her grapes and fan her if she asked him to.

She was still gasping for breath, head spinning, and when she knew she wouldn’t be told off for it her hands lifted, immediately clung to his warm shoulders. She loved the way his shoulders felt underneath her touch, muscles rippling with every movement.

Sam kissed up her throat and jaw before he landed on her mouth, and he kissed her slowly, huffed breaths into each other's mouths as he licked between her lips, sweeped behind her top teeth, their lips both wet with spit.

By the time he had pulled away, he’d so thoroughly kissed her that she almost had her breath back.

“You okay?” His voice was so soft it was like there was an entirely different person on top of her compared to five minutes prior. His hand left her throat, smoothed upwards and cupped her jaw. She felt him thumb away tears that had fallen, some clung to her eyelashes, somewhat cool against her hot and flushed skin.

She nodded as she stroked her fingertips along his shoulders with her fingertips, like she’d committed him to memory. She had.

“Hey,” he lightly tapped her cheekbone with his thumb. “Need words, honey.”

She couldn’t help her smile. He was so caring she sometimes wanted to cry. “M’okay,” she whispered, voice soft like she’d shared a secret. “Really good. You’re so good, Sammy.” She praised, tilted her head to kiss his wrist, and he smiled and blushed like he hadn’t just been the one to fuck the life out of her.

“Says you,” Sam leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You’re perfect. Love you,” another kiss. “Love you so much.”

She smiled so much her cheeks hurt. “Love you too.”

Sam smiled too, that soft smile that made his dimples peek out, eyes crinkled at the corners, and he stroked her cheekbone again. “M’gonna pull out, okay?”

Only when she nodded did he shift, slowly pulled his hips back until she was empty, until all she could feel was the wetness coated between her thighs.

“Christ, made a mess of you,” he murmured, not in the condescending tone from before, instead something closer to admiration. “You’re so pretty when you cum, y’know that?”

She blushed, hard, and shrugged as her cheek dipped to meet her shoulder.

Sam laughed, rolled his eyes as he leaned in and kissed her again. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”

She was still blushing when he helped her sit up, fingers delicately curled around her elbows to pull her upright, her back also damp with sweat. They’d need to change the sheets.

“Two options,” Sam murmured as he gently stroked hair away that was stuck to her forehead, baby hairs that clung to her temples. “We take a shower and let me wash your hair and then go get food, or you let me run you a bath and you wait there looking all pretty for me while I get you something we can eat in there so I can dote on you.”

“You just wanna wash my hair huh?”

Sam smiled. “Guilty.”

Her fingers found his, intertwined with a squeeze. “Bath sounds nice,” she eventually settled on. “As long as you don’t take too long in the kitchen. I’ll miss you.”

He was laughing when he pressed another kiss to her mouth. “Of course. Promise to not take too long, okay?”

She giggled and nodded, smiled against his mouth when he kissed her again. “Okay.”

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

[wifeyoozi]

ot13 seventeen : backstage quickie

seungcheol : it took one pout from you after you saw him all dressed up in that sexy purple suit and slicked back red hair for him to pull you aside in an empty restroom. Didn't even bother taking off his clothes, just pulled down the zipper and took his dick out and railed you pinned to the wall. Precisely 15 minutes later he was scolded by the stylist for messing up the hair and getting all sweaty over the make up.

Jeonghan : he'd been making out with you right there in front of everyone, shamelessly, holding you down on his lap and grinding against you. Someone (seungkwan) begged him to get a room and not cum all over his pants in front of everyone.

Joshua : he'd gotten so horny thinking of how he'd be able to fuck you all night after concert since it was the last day and had a very embarrassingly visible tent in his pocket. He'd call you backstage and scurried you off to an abandoned room to have you up on his cock.

Junhui : the concert was starting in exactly 10 minutes and he had his fingers knuckle deep in you in the restroom. He knew everyone had been searching for him to get on his position but he also refused to let go of you undone.

Hoshi : it was just a simple good luck kiss which turned into deep kissing which turned into heated make out which turned into him ramming his dick in you as fast as possible which turned into the manager and stylist scolding him for the mess he's made of himself.

Wonwoo : he wasn't even that horny when he pulled you into the janitor's closet and lifted your skirt up and started scissoring you to prep you for his dick. He just thought the orgasm-induced endorphin and dopamine release would make him more energetic for the stage. And it was probably one of the best performances he's ever given, thanks to you.

Woozi : it wasn't his fault when you came into the green room wearing that tight red leather mini skirt to wish him goodluck, that too paired with the hot red lipstick. He's brain is just associated you wearing anything red with sex enough for his dick to come back to life immediately and having you take care of him backstage.

minghao : he was usually very self-composed and has a good control over his dick. But he is, at the end of the day, a man. And seeing you wink and openly flirt with him in front of everyone sends heat directly to his crotch. And since you caused it, you gotta sort it. He'll find you an empty room, lock it and sit on any available chair, giving you the liberty to sate his arousal however you can.

Mingyu : fucking before shows is a ritual. If he can't fuck you before show, he'll be (secretly) sulky the whole time. He's very adamant about blowing your back and filling you full of cum and have you keep that cum in you till the show ends.

seokmin : the first time he did it, he was so nervous, wanting to get done as quickly and quietly as possible. After a few times, he's confident enough to fuck you at his pace without having you shut up. If anyone hears, it's their problem to be wandering around unused changing rooms.

Seungkwan : he loooves the part where he fucks you. Gives him the energy pump needed to be the greater entertainer on the stage he is. Loves eating you out, your juices are his lucky potion. What he hates tho is when everyone started teasing him after he's come out of the restroom with you, all messed up. If the stylist scolds him, he'll whined and somehow pass the blame on you. Tho nothing will stop him from doing it again.

Vernon : I think unironically the only smart one because he'll have you suck him instead of getting in your puss cuz that's the least messy way to do it. He initially only did it that way to avoid cleaning up mess after but realised this way no one scolds him after he goes missing for some time for messing up his hair and outfit and make up.

Chan : excited and agrees immediately when you ask him for a quickie and steal him to the restroom. Locks you two in a restroom stall and sits on the bathroom seat before you ride him. You have to cover his mouth when you hear someone enter, for it to turn out to be the leader calling him to get his make up done immediately. He calls out five minutes in a shaky voice and you have to hurry yourself on him to get you both orgasm immediately.

Bonus : cheol scolded chan for not using condoms in the heat of the moment when he knows of it. How he knows of it? That's cheol's business how he looks after his kids.

[nana-au]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘

Satoru Gojo ♡ short drabble (pt. 2)

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: Your best friend gets jealous when your childhood friend reenters your life. Let him show you just how much better he is.

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: desperate gojo, p in v raw sex, quickie you have to hurry before your friend comes back!

₊˚ପ⊹ an: part two is here! haven't seen pt. 1 ?

₊˚ପ⊹ taglist: @shokosbunny (ty for the support lovely <3)

MDNI

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Satoru Gojo knew he had a limited amount of time with you, and he wasn't going to waste a single second of it. The moment your friend's headlight's pulled out of your driveway, your name fell out of his needy lips, his arms snaking around to your back pulling you into his lap.

"S-Satoru," you squeaked out, intoxicated by the foreign sound of utter want in his voice. His arms held you like a vice, pulling you into his chest like he was afraid you might try to run away from him. "What's gotten into you?" you ask him. His only response was burying his face into your neck, whimpering against the sensitive skin.

"Would it upset you if I wanted to kiss you?" he asked you bluntly, his mouth muffled by your skin. Shivers ran down your spine from the feeling of his lips against your pulse.

"What?"

He let out a quick huff at your lack of answer. Gojo rolled his eyes, "I know you understood me," his lips ghosting over the spot he wanted so badly to kiss. "Tell me you want me too," his voice was barely above a whisper, dragging his plump lips across the skin of your shoulder. He needed to hear you give him permission. He needed to hear you craved him in the same ways he craved you.

You were sat in his lap, mouth agape at the scene unfolding in front of you. The man you thought would never reciprocate your feelings; the man you spent night after night dreaming about was holding you in his lap, mouth touching your delicate skin but careful not to kiss it. The man you have always wanted was waiting for your permission to let him plant a kiss on your exposed skin. His thumb and forefinger played with the small strap of your tank top, his other hand still keeping you pressed tight against his form as he waited for your answer.

"We don't have much time," he was growing impatient, scared you were going to let the opportunity slip out of his fingers and he couldn't stand the thought of that. You needed to deny him. Slap him for ever daring to drag you into his lap, pressing his mouth hotly against your pulse. You needed to stop him if you really didn't want him.

But what you did after one full agonizing minute was tell him yes. It was quiet, almost hidden behind a shaky breath, but he heard it. That was all he needed.

His hot mouth opened to taste your flesh, sucking sweetly on your soft skin. He trailed across your shoulder, back up to your supple neck where he bit down. Your body was vibrating, the attention of his mouth on you had you mewling, pushing your chest into his. He just about groaned from the feeling of your breasts smooshing against his chest, his left hand making room for him to squeeze the squishy skin. You were breathing heavy now, whimpering as he played with your chest. He moved the fabric of your top down, exposing your bare nipple to his hand. He gently thumbed at the peak, his mouth still attached to your neck, now moving up to the skin below your ear.

"'T-toru," your voice shook, unable to keep your hips from grinding down on him for some release.

"Fuck-" he cursed, "keep calling me that," he pulled away to look at you. Your puppy eyes were wide open, not wanting to miss a moment of what was about to come and Gojo almost lost his resolve. "I wish I could take my time with you," he sounded genuinely heartbroken, wanting nothing more but to watch you come undone slowly as he carefully worked you up until you were putty in his hands. Unfortunately he was crunched for time. He had maybe 15 minutes to show you just what you meant to him. His right hand moved behind your head to grab the hair at the nape of your neck. Using his grip to pull you in. Both your foreheads touching as he spoke, "But we don't have time, baby. You're gonna be good for me though, right? Gonna enjoy every second?"

His sultry questions went straight to your core, pussy clamping around nothing, preparing for what his words meant. You nodded and he planted a quick kiss to your lips. They were soft and warm and everything you thought they'd be. He pulled back, giving you a reassuring look before fiddling with waistline of his sweats. He pulled them down to his thighs, the cool air hitting the wet spot of his briefs. You could see just how big he was even under the constricting fabric of his underwear. You had to fight the drool threatening to spill from your lips. As much as he enjoyed your ogling he had work to do, pushing aside the fly of his briefs to allow his cock to spring free. It was long, the tip red and wet with precum. Now free, he reached into your shorts, his intentions to rub your clit over your panties but he found that you weren't wearing any.

"If I didn't know any better I would think you were prepared for this to happen. No panties, baby? Fuck," his cold index finger slid down your slit, collecting your slick and rubbing slow circles across your clit. Your breath hitched, your body jumping up at the feeling of his digit teasing your velvety skin. His tongue poked out, wetting his lips, wanting nothing more but to be able to taste you. He didn't think he had that much time though, and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if you didn't cum on his cock. If Satoru wasn't feeling impatient enough before he really was feeling it now. His hand grabbed at the hem of your shorts, pulling them down. You adjusted to help him drag them all the way off, discarding them on the floor below.

"Gonna have to be good f'me," he told you, pulling you back into his lap, the hot tip of his cock now poking at your entrance. His grip tightened on your hips, wasting no time dragging you down onto his length. You gasped from the sudden pain of his dick stretching you out, and he shushed you the best he could. "M'sorry baby. There's no time. We have to be quick. You'll forgive me.. right?" his need was only growing. Your cunt gripped his cock, squeezing him in retaliation for bullying his way into you without preparation.

"'Toruuu," his name fell from your lips as he pulled out slowly, only to shove himself roughly back in. Your legs were spread wide to accommodate his thighs, allowing him to reach deep inside of you.

He soon set a rhythm with his hips, using his hands on your waist to help drag you up and down. Your top was still tucked under your breast, allowing Gojo to watch them bounce with each thrust of his hips. His teeth bit down on his lower lip, barely letting out needy moans as he took in how beautiful you looked in front of him. He was going to think about this forever. Your dripping pleasure coating his cock every time he pulled it out and how your face dusted red from the intense pleasure, lips forming a tight 'o'. He sucked in a tight breath, willing himself not to spill inside of you right then and there. He couldn't live with himself if you didn't finish first.

"You're s'wet. Mmph... sooo warm," his groans were high pitched and needy and everything you needed them to be. The sounds of skin slapping as he fucked into you and his high-pitched whimpers echoed off the walls of your living room. "Mmmm, Haah.." he couldn't hold back his sounds and you were glad he didn't. His need was obvious, he was unable to stay quiet from the feeling of you taking him so well. One hand moved down to tease your clit as he continued his assault on your puffy pussy. You were lost in the feeling of his cock stretching your gummy walls, hitting that spot deep inside you that had your back arching. You were so lost you didn't even notice headlights shining through the windows that overlooked the driveway.

"Fuck!" Satoru cried out, "Looks like we're gonna have to hurry baby. You gonna cum on my cock? We don't have much time," your body was alight with a pleasure you didn't recognize. Did you really enjoy the idea of getting caught?

Gojo knew he wasn't going to last long as he felt your walls flutter at his warning, wanting to curse you for being such a dirty girl. But you were his dirty girl, and you were going to cum and that fucking loser wasn't allowed to see it. "C'mon baby, haaaaahhh," he was so close, sweat dripping down his brow as his fingers on your clit sped up. He couldn't manage to draw circles anymore, only able to flick his two fingers as fast as he could against your sensitive nub. You didn't have time to process that you were coming, throwing your head back and moaning loudly as your gluey insides gripped onto his cock. He came too, moaning just as loudly, his sticky fluid coating your walls; dick twitching with each spurt of cum he released into you. Heavy footsteps on the porch joined the sounds of both of your releases.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

The door opened and you both greeted your friend as he placed the pizza on the coffee table in front of you. You managed to adjust your clothes in time and you were slightly out of breath from your hurried movements. Your friend looked at you, taking in your appearance. Your hair was tousled, lips wet, and cheeks dusted with a wild blush. You smiled sweetly to him, urging him to sit down next to you so you could all start the next movie. Gojo didn't bother to possessively pull you in - after all, his cum was leaking out of you at that very moment. Your friend's gaze was suspicious, unable to focus on helping you choose a movie. No - he was too focused trying to figure out if you had that bruise on your neck this whole time. He looked up to find Satoru watching him, the white haired devil shooting him a subtle wink when he met his cerulean eyes.

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Lego Flowers

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Nerdy!Nat x Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, college AU, sub!Top Nat, Natasha has a penis, oral (r), needy Nat, unprotected sex, creampie,

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: Natasha invited you to build some flowers but you get distracted (based on a request)

You watched how her hands fiddled with the lego pieces she was piercing together, her veiny hands looking so big on the small pieces. Instead of your usual plans for the weekend, getting black out drunk, you opted for building LEGO flowers with your new girlfriend. You had eyed Natasha for weeks now, the dorky nerd who had offered helping you with your assignments once or twice. Something about her shy demeanour and thick glasses drew you in. 

“Are you almost done yet” You asked, teasingly your hands gracing over her biceps, the muscle flexing under your touch. “It would be faster if you’d help” She stuttered her eyes fixating on her open hands to not get even more distracted. “Mhm… but I couldn’t focus on that if you’re so distracting” You could see the redness creeping up on her face as your hands traveled down in her lap “I-I’m not”. You giggled enjoying how flustered she could become even though this was far from your first time together. 

“Not what?” You teased your hands unzipping her jeans to reveal the bulge in her jeans. “Someone’s excited.” You could feel the pre cum already wetting her underwear. “Baby please” her hands were gipping the fabric of her jeans to somehow keep posture. “I- I wanna eat you please” She pleaded, turning around to try and catch you in a kiss, abandoning her Lego pieces on the floor of  the dorm room. 

Your hands found her shirt pulling her closer until you were both flat on the ground, her breath was heavy as she left messy kisses all over your face. Your lipstick was smudged over your mouth as you focused on Natasha on top of you. Her hands fumbled with your shirt pushing it up to reveal your bare breasts. “D-damn princess all for me?” You nodded and pushed her head down to your breasts, where you needed her. 

Natasha made out with your breasts, licking over them, peppering kisses. You moaned under her touch arching your back towards her. “Please baby, I- I need you” She whimpered as if she was the one being touched. “Come on Natty, eat me out” She nodded her hands tugging on your sweatpants. She kissed your pubic bone over to your pretty pink panties, you knew she loved. She licked over them pulling them from your hot cunt with her teeth before she let them go again, snapping against your cunt. You let out a loud moan not caring for the thin walls in the dormitory. 

She licked over the already drenched cloth enjoying how you tried to squirm away from her touch. She pushed your panties to the side, not bothering to remove them. She licked all over your core moaning and whimpering into it like a starved woman. She was lost in the pleasure of the sounds she made you do. Every moan, every cry, every whimper made her more needy for you. “Fuck Natasha” You moaned “You’re so good for for me” She took your clit in your mouth sucking on it like her life depended on it. Your hands found her hair tugging on the roots of her red hair. You buckled your hips against her face feeling the bump of her nose against your cunt. You tried closing your thighs against her head, wanting her trapped against your heat. But her strong hands kept your thighs open for her. 

“You taste so g- good, I could do this all day” She hummed against you. She knew you were close, so damn close for her. “Come for me, baby please” She cried out her tongue licking over your heat to give you that final push you needed. And it worked, she was met with a gush of your cum which she licked up until you were clean again. You pulled her back up by her collar seeing how fogged up her thick glasses had gotten just by eating you out. Her face was a mess with your juices but she didn’t mind. “Did I do well?” She asked, her voice still a little shaky.

“Very well baby” You pulled her closer to kiss her “Get on the bed baby, I wanna ride you” She scrambled to stand up getting rid of her pants and shirt before sitting up on the headboard of the twin bed. You had to smile at her eagerness. You straddle her lap sinking down on her hard cock. She let out a long moan feeling your tight walls hugging her so neatly. You were surprised by just how thick she was ´´ but you didn’t mind feeling so full at all. 

She could barely function because she was so focused on not cuming inside you immediately. You moved up and down her length making as her eyes followed your jiggly tits, you noticed her longing looks as you moved her hands on your breasts. Within the next seconds her hips chased yours before it happened. “Fuck I- I’m so sorry” She apologized profusely moments after her hot cum was shot inside you. 

“Baby it’s okay” You kissed her cheek, her face turning away out of shame. “You already lasted longer than last time besides I came already… this was all about you baby” You kissed down her neck still warming her cock. You settled against her chest, her shaky hand  playing with your hand. 

@widowyouknow

[missfertileandferal]

lowkey super anxious to post this but im missing you guys so much <3

i plan on a solid return soon! i just wanted to get off my chest whats been going on:

Earlier this year, I dealt with an awful situation of my kinky stuff leaking into real life. My insane coworkers found my content and as I was serving on the clock, proceeded to show my customers and all the staff. then i was fired. Im traumatized to say the least but I over came it.

Come mid summer, I planned so step back for a little bit to move apartments no more than a couple weeks. What happened was both my job (i worked with close family friends so stressful) and a really bad situation with a companion found about my kink stuff. i never expected or was prepared for the humiliation, deception, and pain that would come from my fetish journey

My last job was such a loss. I had been blessed with a cute job as a medical office assistant without any credentials (i wasnt doing anything out of my capabilities of course) it was so peaceful and perfect compared to the drama of my last gig plus working with familiar people felt just like home honestly. Then I got covid. I was out for 2 weeks, at the same time i was moving into my new place. I tried calling them back to let them know I was cleared and ready to get back to work. I received a humiliating text. I was dismissed. That turned into a crippling anxiety of them confessing to my family what I do in my past time

The following week I was met with more disappointment. Ive said this before but I dont have many people in my corner. It used to suck to admit but I stand with pride now knowing those who are around me love me 100% regardless what I do or dont do.

One of my dearest dearest friends, who I had previously communicated what I do (not to a full extent they always respected it) called me very dramatically only a week before I planned to see them (they live across the country and we ALWAYS visit each other when in our cities) It still doesnt feel real tbh, the call only last 40 seconds. I was informed that “I was going on the wrong path” and could no longer be associated with. That’s alls that happened. 8 years down the drain

I was informed by outside sources that my hometown opps had gotten hold of my content (who my ex friend still associate with but I despise bc they’ve always been obsessed with me but in a bad way) and they had confronted him about being my friend. he pussied out and cut me off. they also mass reported my last instagram account😡🤬

I had to take some time back to seriously debate if these loses were worth it. I was swallowed with so much anxiety knowing that an uncomfortable amount of people in my zip code knew what ive been up to. its already complicated being into this and while at the same time not being in a plus size body. thats another conversation tho

That debate has turned into me accepting these events as the universe weeding out people/things that no longer serve me. This has shown peoples true colors, if I am not to be associated with because of my sexual freedom, body acceptance, and undoing of fat phobia then PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.

Im recovering ❤️‍🩹 but my heart and hedonism can’t be helped. i love being a kinky lil gut slut. its helped me grow in so many ways from acceptance to living an esoteric dreamy life. i love all the hot girls and guys that i see on my timeline. they hype me up and vise versa. i love this little corner of the internet. my fellow freaks keep me going. i’ve been so on and off online but every time i come back to the sweetest words and support. thank you guys for your patience and consideration

my anxiety is to the roof as im typing. its crazy that these privacy problems havent been within the actual community. funny. if your still reading this I love you extra. ill be streaming on ig on my comeback day!

new ig acc @missfertileandferal💘

[leviismybby]

Birthday wish

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Nsfw 18+, mdni, happy birthday to Levi and Merry Christmas everyone!

Levi didn't wish for many things in life, he wasn't selfish enough to do so. The moment he blew out that candle, everyone around him cheered, he was grateful for the effort others put in to make his birthday memorable but he hated it. It wasn't for him, all the gifts, all the noise, it wasn't for him at all. His eyes closed for a second, he probably won't wish for anything, he didn't last year or the year before that, why would this year be different? But this time, he did wish for something, he wished for you. He knew better than anyone that he shouldn't, it wasn't the right time or the right place for such distractions yet you managed to crawl so deep init his mind that he is able to see you anytime he closes his eyes.

He wished for your body to be pressed against his, his lips making his way down your body. You smelled so good, Levi could recognize your smell anywhere. His hands caressed your thigh gently, hands going up your skirt more and more. Your moans are music to his ears, it's a sound he wouldn't mind repeating over and over again. "Can I?" His voice is hoarse, dripping with desire and hunger for you. "Yes." As soon as your soft voice permits him, Levi pulls your shirt over your head, your upper body exposed to his hungry gaze. He doesn't waste a second before his lips are nipping and kissing at your exposed shoulders and collarbones.

You moan as his lips move down to your breasts, he bites into the plush skin, leaving a mark behind. This was all he wanted. You sitting on his lap like this, he wouldn't ask for anything more. Levi takes your bra off, his hands grab your hips, grinding you on his erection. "Fuck..." He growls before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking eagerly. The noises you're letting out just fire him up more, you were so sesntvie to his touch, he loved it. His mouth moved onto your other nipple as his hands traveled to your ass, squeezing it as you grinded on his cock.

The skirt you wore irritated Levi, it was in the way and he couldn't wait to take it off. He lets go of your nipple with a pop before looking up at you. "Let's get this fucking thing off you, princess..." He literally rips it off, tearing it in half, he bites his lips when he sees that you were wet through your panties. A clear sign that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you. You lean down to kiss him, Levi grunts into the kiss and hooks his fingers on your underwear before sliding it down your legs. The kiss was passionate and long, he was addicted to the taste of your lips, he could kiss you for hours.

When you pull away from the kiss, breathing heavily, you yelp as Levi's cold fingers tease your pussy. "So fucking wet...good girl." His lips return to your neck, his fingers getting more and more hasty. Levi pushes a finger into you making a whimper space your swollen lips. "Captain..." That tone in your voice makes Levi growl, he could his finger inside of you, you were so tight, so perfect and read for him. You start to rock your hips, wanting to feel all of him and Levi adds another finger, preparing you for him more. Your pussy clenched around his fingers as he managed to hit that spot, you knew Levi was skilled with his fingers but this was another level, no guy has actually gotten you to cum on their finger before.

It was a sensation you never felt before, his fingers hit every spot as he pumped them in and out of you, his lips were now marking your collarbones, your voice was turning into whimpers. "You gonna cum for me yeah?" You grip onto his shoulders, trying your best to hold back an orgasm which proves to be impossible especially as Levi starts to move his fingers faster, your moans grow louder. "Levi fuck! I am gonna cum!" Levi looks at you again, keeping his eyes on your face as you squirm and cum all over his fingers. "That's my girl, fuck you look so fucking pretty like this." He pulls his fingers out softly and puts them in his mouth to taste you. "Taste so good...I just want to eat it...but that is for later..."

Your eyes open and you look at him, you run your fingers down his abs to his belt, undoing it quickly. Levi helps you, he pulls out his hard cock and you live your lips. Lifting yourself up slightly, you rub his cock at your entrance, Levi places his hands on your waist, his eyes watching as his cock slowly disappears into your wetness. "Fuck..." He breaths out feeling your warm walls around his length, his arms tighten around your waist. You moan as you lower yourself on him completely, Levi lets you cockwarm him for a little bit so you adjust to his size.

"Can I move?" He asks as his hands move back to your hips, you nod your head, letting him take the lead. Without further question, Levi starts to move you up and down on his cock, his breath getting quicker with each slam of his hips. Your arms wrap around his neck and you bury your head into his shoulder feeling his cock pound into you. Levi's grip on your hips is tight, you're sure that it will leave marks but it doesn't your concern at all right now.

Rocking your hips, you start to move in sync with his thrusts, Levi groans and starts to move faster. "So fucking good....such a good pussy..." You hear him mutter, his voice is deep and almost needy. He noticed that you got tired after some time so he helped you by switching the position quickly. You're pushed back on the bed and Levi never pulls out of you, he takes your knees and pushes them up to penetrate you even deeper, your eyes roll back, a loud main of his name leaving your lips. He was quick with it.

This position was perfect, Levi was able to fuck you better like this, and his hips moved harder. Your nails were digging into his back as he slammed into you, your body was arching, carving for more. He moves your legs around his waist, his length diving deeper into you. "Oh yeah...that's it. Fucking...fuck." Levi leans in and kisses you, his tongue enters your mouth, this kiss was messy, it was proof of how passionate and intimidate your moment is.

Your pussy starts to clamp down on him, he knows you're close. "Fuck yeah, cum for me, let me see you fall apart." Levi starts to fuck you faster, his thrusts getting sloppier. You both cum at the same time, Levi growls slightly as he pulls out, cumming all over your skin....

"Levi, what did you wish for?" Hange's voice made Levi snap out of his thoughts. Levi looks around realizing that he wasn't even there with you, it was all in his head. He looks around the room, his eyes land on you as you hold a wrapped present for him with a smile. Levi looks at you for second before returning to look at his friends. "Nothing. I wished for nothing."

---------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @youre-ackermine @humanitys-strongest-bamf @romantichomicide95 @mrsackermannx @sixpennydame @svftackerman @hhighkey @cometlevi @notgoodforlife @levisbrat25 @randomlevithoughts @ackermendick @saenora @loveackermannn @levismylover @laurenzitaa @missyasma @sad-darksoul @thebobaprincess @la-undercover-latina @levilxvr @bpdtistic @erwinsmithsmissingleftarm

[reiderwriter]

can i request for a mean!spencer x bau!reader? like they are not enemies but there's just this really intense sexual tension with prompts 2, 30, 48, and 49? thank you!

#2 "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last person on earth.” #30 "You're not as hot as you think you are.” #48 "You belonged to me before I even made you mine.” #49 "I'm so fucking obsessed with you.”

A/N: Thank you for requesting! Sorry it took almost an entire season to get it done 😭 I hope it's as good as you expected it would be :D

Warnings: slight BDSM themes, Dom!Spencer, dry humping, choking, thigh riding, finger sucking, cum play, facial, penetrative sex, use of contraception, probably more that I don't remember right now... 18+ Minors DNI

There was no one you wanted to spend the night with less than Spencer Reid.

He was annoying, and frustrating and most importantly never knew when to shut the fuck up.

No one was better at getting under your skin, and no one seemed to relish it quite like he did. It wasn't that you hated the man, just that he had the presence of an unkillable mosquito in your life.

He was irritating.

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

“I try not to make a habit of it,” you rolled your eyes, pushing past the man as you both finally made it to your motel room for the night.

You weren't sure if this was divine punishment or Emily's idea of a joke, but you'd ended up with Reid as your roomie for the next week.

As your case location was remote and as back waters as it could get, you'd ended up needing to bring Penelope Garcia along with you physically. And with only four rooms available, the eight members of your team had to all scramble for acceptable roommates and, having gotten off the jet last, you'd drawn the short straw.

Rossi had been quick to pair up with Luke, citing Spencer's snoring habit as reason enough, and the girls had happily fallen into two pairs. It was your lucky day.

With your hands busy with your bags, you tossed the key to Spencer quickly and waited for him to unlock the door, eager to escape the cold chill of the night.

“Hurry up, Spencer, or we'll both turn into popsicles out here.”

“Not only is that physically impossible, but it also isn't that cold out here, Y/N. Don't you think you're being a bit sensitive.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and he let out a sharp chuckle as he finally managed to unlock the door.

Despite your best wishes, stepping over the threshold didn't solve your problems. Instead it seemed to present even more.

“Fuck, how is it colder in here than it is out there?” You said, shivering violently as you stood in the doorway. If you thought that was reason enough to cure though, you thought you'd practically spit fire when you saw the sleeping arrangements for the night.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your body forgot its fight to keep warm, letting your blood run cold as you found yourself face to face with one singular, though large, bed. Another cursory glance around, and the heart motifs on the walls and pink themes cushions on the bed suggested that this was likely the motels joke of a Honeymoon Suite.

“Emily did mention that we booked out their last four rooms.” Spencer said, walking up beside you and frowning deeply as he took in the same scene you did.

“She said nothing about the rooms being igloos though, Spencer. I never thought hypothermia was going to be my cause of death after spending the night with you in the room.”

“You think I'd shoot you.”

“I think I'd shoot myself.”

He scowled a little at that and moved to check the room's thermostat. Although it was presently reading 215° so you didn't know how much good that could do.

“There's no sofa,” you grumbled as you watched Spencer move to the small bathroom.

“And there's no hot water. And according to the sign on that table, there's nothing we can do about it until the morning.” You picked up the sign yourself, just to verify and practically moaned in frustration.

“This is insane, we'll freeze to death.”

“It has to drop below 32° in here for us to even possibly freeze death. There's no wind, rain and we have blankets, so maybe you should focus less on being dramatic and more on what we can be doing to warm up.”

“I'm sorry, Doctor Genius, whatever can I do to warm up? Please impart some of your wonderful knowledge on me, I beg.” His eyes flashed with some annoyance and you quietly enjoyed the expression, happy to have affected him as much as he affected you.

“You can start by stripping.” It was his turn to enjoy the abject look of horror that crossed your face in that moment, and you were convinced that of he let even a hint of a laugh out, you'd throttle the man.

“I'm sure you'd just love that,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well, there's no water, no thermostat and no other source of heat, so if you're so worried about hypothermia, there's only one solution viable to us right now.”

“You're joking. You want us to huddle together for warmth?” You backed yourself into a corner as you tried to distanced yourself from him as he suddenly began divesting himself of clothing.

As soon as he reached the top buttons of his shirt, you let out a quick squeak and turned around.

“Unless you want me to watch you get undressed too, I suggest you hurry up and do it before I get into bed.”

You quietly cursed and started unwrapping each of your layers, fingers fumbling with the cold already seeped into your skin.

“I am not getting naked, Spencer Reid.”

“I didn't ask you to. Just get comfortable.” You turned around to shoot him a glare, but when you noticed his back was turned - and bare - you lost all memory of the purpose of the movement.

You'd never quite realised before how broad his back was. His shoulders looked strong despite his lithe frame, twisting rather attractively as he pulled his nightshirt over his head. You were almost disappointed that he wasn't facing you, suddenly curious about Spencer Reid's happy trail.

You snapped yourself out of it and continued to change, wrapping your coat around your waist to hide your legs as you switched your pants to your sleep shorts. It was an awkward fumble, but at least the lights were low.

When you were finally ready, your steps back to the bed were hurried and near painful as you felt colder than ever.

Spencer was already there, and without a second thought, you pulled the quilts up and plastered yourself to his side. He was the only thing in the entire room offering you a modicum of warmth, and you weren't going to let your personal hot water bottle go just because everything that came out of his mouth was hot air.

“So you're a big fan of this now, huh?” He said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in. Your back was pressed against his chest as you both laid on your sides, piles of duvet and blankets laid out on top of you. You hated to admit it, but this position was comfortable.

Maybe it was just months of working cases non-stop and perpetual singleness, but the feeling of a man at your back was infinitely pleasing.

“Don't expect anything more Spencer Reid. I wouldn't have sex with you if you were the last man alive.” The words were harsh, and if you were being honest, a little bit untrue. Your small peak at his back earlier had definitely sparked an interest in you that was bubbling up in your throat. Like bile.

“You don't have to worry about that. You're actually not as hot as you think you are.” His words were tinged with the same faux bitterness as yours, but you refused to hear it. Instead all you felt was another unpleasant heat spreading throughout you, quiet anger plotting in your stomach.

You knew you probably shouldn't push it, but you needed Spencer to eat those words. Desperately.

Your mind ticked through a few options before landing on one. If you were so unattractive, then surely there's no way he'd physically react to you.

Scooting your body closer to his, you take advantage of the less than comfortable bed, making each of your movements similar to ones you would make when getting comfortable. Except, of course, with the added bonus of making sure your ass pressed directly up against his crotch, moving up and down and grinding into him.

You felt him slightly stiffen behind you, and decided that a few we'll time groans of frustration could go a long way to spurring him on.

So you began letting little gasps and sighs out, graduating to moans when you thought he wouldn't question it, each small movement rubbing against him deliberately.

What you'd failed to remember though, was his hand on your waist. Although you knew he was awake beside you, despite the now late hour and somewhat comfortable bed, his hand held you firm. Or it did until you risking bounced yourself gently against him, and his now limp hand slipped underneath your shirt.

The moan you released then was genuine, the cool touch of his fingers against your burning skin causing you to flush and shiver at the same time. You cursed your earlier self for valuing your comfort over your general peace of mind, because as Spencer's hand once again settles centimetres away from the edge of your boob, you desperately wished for your bra back.

You stopped moving, hoping that if you just pretended to sleep for a few minutes, his hand would reach higher and he'd prove to you that he did think you were attractive. He didn't though, showing off how gentlemanly he was. It pissed you off. Most of his good qualities pissed you off, and you were sure that said more about you than him .

You tried your best to just give in, to even out your breathing and let the black haze of sleep take over but his hands on you were maddening, and you found your body reacting in much the same ways you'd wished him to react.

It didn't help that he'd casually shifted his lower body away from you slightly in your stillness, letting himself fall onto his back rather than his side. As he made this shift, his hand trailed across the expanse of your body before cutting all contact with you altogether.

So much for huddling for warmth if all he had to do to return you to record heats was stroke you like that.

You needed to feel him again, so, feigning the most realistic sleeplike movements you could muster, you turned your body in his direction, and placed your head over his chest. You weren't finished, just proceeding with caution. Your hands obviously fell over his chest, if slightly lower than you'd expect.

It was only when your leg finally came up over his that he broke his silence.

“I know you're awake, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear, a solid hand on your thigh holding it down right over his crotch. You felt your prize and grinned in your sleep.

He was hard. You'd won. It was time to play.

You opened your mouth to purr victoriously at him, but he moved so abruptly you were never expecting it.

Shifting his hands to your ass, he hauled your body over him, letting his hands stay on your hips as he began to help you shift them back and forth. You moaned at the friction, even as your head stayed rested on his chest. The movements were shallow, just a teasing but you already felt more aroused than you had in months. Slowly, your hips started moving for themselves and his hands moved onto more important things.

“Am I suddenly the last man on Earth, Y/N?” He smiled, tipping your head up so you could make eye contact with him.

“Go to hell.”

“I think we're already there, don't you?” With that, his large hands sat you up, meeting with no resistance as you let yourself become pliable.

“Show me.” He whispered, hands right on your hips, pushing into your flesh just a touch part forceful.

“Show you what?” You narrowed your eyes, but you knew exactly what it was he wanted and that you weren't going to out up much a resistance before giving it to him.

“Show me how much you want to fuck me. Since your mouth isn't honest, I'm going to have to listen to your body.” You let your hands fall to his chest, pushing lower until you reached the hem of his shirt. He'd pushed the quilts off of your torso, letting the cold air attack your upper body, so you knew your hands were cold, and the hiss he let out at the contact was satisfying enough to shut up and actually start following his directions.

You shifted your body up and down, grinding and dry humping his crotch, wishing for him to stop being a tease and just get it over with.

He wasn't letting you compromise, though. Each small sound that left your body met with a soft smirk from him, each halt in your movements a prod from his hands. You'd tried to still your hips entirely once out of frustration, but he'd delivered a slap to your ass that had you gushing, desperate to reach a release even if he'd only allow you it this way.

“I don't think you're trying hard enough.” His voice was lower than before, something gravelly to it as he began pulling your clothing off one item at a time. Your sweater went first, before he flipped your positions and shimmered your shorts off your body, taking underwear soon after and then you were bare to him and he was rolling you once again.

“That's better. Now, where were we?” He moved your hips for you again, but his eyes stayed focused in the rigid peaks of your nipples, bouncing with each rock of your hips. You weren't sure if it was the cold temperature of the room or your sheer need to cum that had them reacting, but you knew he was seconds away from wrapping his tongue around one and giving into you, so you just accepted it.

His hands stayed put, still on your hips, though the direct contact was heating you slightly more. If you looked down, you were sure you'd see a wet patch against his sweat pants, so you didn't.

You just moaned and whimpered searching for your orgasm on top of him.

“What's wrong, Y/N? Do you need my help to finish?” He noticed your every insecurity, your weakness and exploited it. You were running close to inconsolable, desperate to hit that climax now, more than ever before, so you just nodded at him profusely, desperate for him to touch you in whatever way he could.

It wasn't his hand you felt on your clit, though. It was your own, he wrapped a hand around your fingers and bought them up to the correct stop, showing you exactly what he'd like to see.

“Touch yourself, Y/N. Touch yourself and wish it was me.” With the friction from grinding against him for so long, the satisfaction from the rigid tent underneath you and your hands taking his guidance, it was really not long before your pussy finally twitched familiarly and sighed, soaking his pants underneath you as you shuddered in delight.

He had to ruin your moment of bliss by talking.

“Is that enough, slut? Or do you really need to be filled right now?”

You didn't care if he saw you sticking your tongue down his throat as you collapsed on top of his chest as an answer to that question, or if he saw it as what it was - a desperate attempt to shut him up. All you knew was that he tasted sweet and hot, and that his hand wrapped around your throat was also hot as he pulled you up and off of him.

“Let me be clear. I am in charge.” A simple shift of his legs was enough to flip your positions, landing on top of you ungrateful, but you didn't care.

Using his new high ground, he wedged your legs open and slid a single finger inside you as you moaned. He too found success in silencing you by sticking his tongue down your throat, forcing you to battle him for dominance you knew he'd never allow you.

Having cum only moments before, you truly believed that there was no way he was going to push another one out of you after so little time. The night was full of surprises though.

As you relaxed into his intrusion, he opened you up with a second finger, then a third. You already felt yourself building towards your end goal, but it was his head dropping to tour cold nipples that finally had you cumming around his fingers. His mouth was wet, tongue warm against your skin, and he toyed with you so effectively, you practically forgot your previous qualms.

“See? You belong to me before I've even made you mine.” It irked you that he was right. Had this been any other man, you're sure you'd be bragging about such passionate sex for weeks with your friends. You were resentful that it was him, but you didn't want it to end yet.

Your arms pulled up to hide your face as he traced kisses up and down your chest, fingers coming free to pay attention to your since abandoned nipples.

“I can't wait to fuck you. You're going to feel so good wrapped around my cock,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your arms away from your face, making sure your eyes were focused on him before his next line.

“You have no clue what you started. I'm so fucking obsessed with you.”

His hands fell to your face, where his thumb pushed against your lips, slipping into your mouth where you sucked on it, getting it wet as his cock teased the folds of your pussy, running up and down with each gentle push of his hips. You entertained him for a moment before pushing up slightly, his thumb falling from your mouth as you blindly reached for the bedside table. Pulling it open, you were relieved to find what you were looking for.

“If you're so fucking obsessed with me, Spencer, show me.” Carefully unwrapping the package, you grabbed his dick and gently slid the condom onto him, making sure it was secure before you propped yourself back on the pillows, waiting for him to initiate once again.

“Pillow princess. You're acting like I haven't been dreaming of exactly this for the last 12 months.”

You couldn't waste time processing those words before he again ran his cock through the folds of your pussy, then sank himself deep inside you. And you meant deep.

The sudden impact robbed you of your thoughts, pushing out every miserable thought and leaving you with just Spencer and pleasure. The two concepts soon became synonymous as his hips lazily sent him careening in and out of you.

His strokes gained speed gradually until the only words shared between you were the animalistic pants of pleasure, his voice driving you insane as you tried not to get overstimulated before you could cum for a third time.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, Spencer-” your moans turned to screams as your orgasm rolled over you, his dick hitting just the right spot inside you that forced your nails to bite his skin, and forced your voice to scratch at your throat as it pushed up from your gut.

Noticing your relentless twitching, Spencer immediately pulled out of your cunt, allowing you a moment of reprieve. Pushing up to his knees, he moved to your side, his crotch parallel with your face as he rolled the condom off his dick.

Stroking himself to completion, he came right over your lips, your eyes dripping with lust as you licked them clean, catching the dribbles that fell down your chin with your fingers and popping them into your mouth as well.

After your whorish display of desperation, it took a full ten minutes for your brain function to resume.

In that time, Spencer had cleaned both of you up speedily with a hotel towel, wrapped an arm around you and began spooning you once again, his chest warm and comfortable against your back, his scent intoxicating.

It didn't stop being so when you finally came down from your post-cum bliss.

“You're not allowed to tell anyone what happened tonight,” you said, turning over to look him in the eye.

“Nothing from tonight, got it. What about tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, am I allowed to tell them how I plan to wake you up tomorrow, and how your current state of dress made it possible, if not directly invited it?”

You flushed at his words, tingling already at the mention of tomorrow.

“We're sharing a room, Y/N. If you think I'm not going to be inside you whenever were both free, you're entirely mistaken.” His voice was clear - not even a hint of hesitancy in his voice.

“I'm not letting you go that easily, Y/N.”

[munsonthings86]

sunshine

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a love-struck steve cooks you dinner for the first time

warnings: cursing, alcohol, bit of backstory, oversimplified summary, steve's parents kinda suck (when do they not), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, soft!steve

an: i think this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written. i'm so in love with these two. i hope you all enjoy this one as much as i do. * don’t copy my work * (also pretend there's a big city near hawkins for the sake of this pls)

wc: 6.0k

“Ow!” Steve hissed, nicking his finger yet again as he made his best effort to dice pesky onions. The knife was razor-sharp as it was fresh out of its packaging, having never been used yet. Frustrated, he squeezed the band-aid he'd spent a solid ten minutes looking for, tighter on his finger, earning a harsh sting.

"Goddamned knife," he whispered, tightlipped, but as soon as the complaint left his lips he wished to yank it back in. It was the chef's knife you'd bought him along with many other thoughtful housewarming gifts to celebrate Steve moving into his first apartment. Steve had insisted that you return some of the gifts, noting that "one gift was more than he could ever ask for".

In spite of his pleas, you didn't return a single gift. Of course, you didn't. You had bought items you knew Steve would need but would ultimately forget to buy for himself. Just to name a few, you'd gotten him a trash bin for his bathroom, a record player, and the best utensil set that the rest of your Family Video paycheck could buy.

Peering at the odd assortment of household objects you'd lugged into his barren apartment with a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips, an expression of gratitude and bewilderment claimed his face. Steve's round, chestnut-brown eyes ogled yours as you ranted and raved, explaining your thought process behind each purchase.

The record player was for nights like these. Peaceful nights indoors, simply enjoying each other's company without the tense presence of his parents who would shout for him to turn that damn music down if he even thought about letting the needle hit the groove of the record.

"Now we can play music as loud and as much as we want to," he remembered you saying, blushing at your use of the word "we". Though you two were only best friends and have been since grade school, Steve couldn't help but fantasize about a life with you. You, drowning in one of his bigger-than-you t-shirts, prancing around the apartment as you listened to some your favorite records.

He'd begun pondering on how he would rearrange the bit of furniture he had, that'd allow for space for your belongings as well, before you lured him out of his thoughts, defending the bin.

From what he gathered, you bought the garbage bin due to his burning inability to keep his bathroom clean. Steve was someone who took great care of his appearance, always well-kempt and attentive to even the smallest of details.

His bathroom did not reflect this, whatsoever. He had a bad habit of harboring empty cans and bottles of Farrah Fawcett spray that littered the already limited counter space he had in his en suite bathroom.

Steve was such a boy when it came to tidiness.

Everyone knew that about Steve, though. What they didn’t know, however, was how skilled he was in a kitchen. After being left to his lonesome whenever his parents would venture off to one of their many business trips, Steve spent his nights learning to cook after his allowance dwindled and he couldn't afford pizza delivery anymore. The second he'd clock in for his shift at Family Video, he'd make a beeline to where you stood, stocking VHS tapes, and instantly began buzzing and bustling about the new recipe he tried the night before.

You had begged him to let you come over one night to taste one of his home-cooked meals, but his response was always the same. "You can't rush perfection, sweets. But I promise, when I'm ready to grace the world with my master chef skills, you'll be the first to know."

You would roll your eyes dramatically at him but admittedly, you felt a sense of pride wash over you whenever Steve would tell you about his cooking endeavors. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but you knew how much his parents being so negligent, so often, bothered him.

Though they were never the most warm and affectionate, there seemed to be a colder chill and heavier sense of loneliness in the house when they were gone. That's why you never denied Steve whenever he'd call late at night asking if it was okay to spend the night at your house.

He always felt at home there.

Steve learning to cook for himself meant that his parents' absence was finally beginning to help him grow; no longer craving validation and tenderness from his family. He got that when he was with you. That's what the utensil set was for. A silent sign saying that though his parents weren't there, you were.

"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, I love the gift, but why's this knife so funny looking?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes at the sharp object that looked like it was from some alien universe. It had three square-like holes infiltrating the blade, and the tip came to an up-turned point that split in two. The handle was the only average looking part about it.

"That, my friend, is a cheese knife," you answered matter-of-factly, gazing at the box that had all of the included utensils neatly labeled.

"They make knives specifically for cheese?"

"Apparently, yeah," you snorted, tossing the empty box off to the side of the room with the other discarded cardboard that you made a mental note to move to the recycling bin on your way out. Steve never recycled. Bad habit he picked up from his parents, you figured.

"Well, I can't wait to use my weird new knife. Thank you. Seriously," Steve smiled softly as he watched you with those big brown eyes that voiced his gratitude and sentiment louder than his words ever could.

"The best weird chef has to have the best weird equipment. You're welcome," you grinned, toying with the loose thread dangling from your distressed band tee, as your eyes collided with Steve’s.

Looking at Steve was hard.

In the midst of quiet and almost intimate moments like these, the nerves bolting through your body screamed at you to look anywhere else, but the greed of your heart yearned for you to keep drinking in the deep chocolate pools that were Steve Harrington's eyes.

The two of you gazed at each other for another second, though it felt identical to a blissful eternity, until Steve furrowed his eyebrows after registering what you'd just uttered. "Did you just call me weird?" He asked, hand on his hip as if he's offended, though he truthfully isn't because he's positive you're infinitely weirder than he is, and he's more than willing to debate with you for hours on that topic.

"Nooo," you sang, quickly turning away to distract yourself with some unpacking that Steve had called you over to help him with, which you happily agreed to. A little extra time with him was time well spent.

"Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. He happily tucked away the flashy silverware he'd poached from his parent's kitchen into the darkest corner of the drawer, leaving the less flashy but much more appreciated utensils you bought him, front and center, ready to be shown off.

"Oh those? My best friend got them for me. Aren't they nice? Did you know they make knives for cheese?" He imagined himself saying, hoping he'd get the opportunity to boast about them to his guests some time soon.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory, angling the cutting board that harbored a pile of diced onions that he'd at last conquered, into a bowl, sliding them off with the blade of a knife that was a lot less odd shaped compared to his trusty cheese knife. It didn't even have to be that specific memory. It could've been any imagery of you being the effortlessly sarcastic, intelligent, breath-taking person that you were, and it would be the warm light to inevitably guide him out of whatever dark mood that dared to plague him.

Steve was so helplessly in love with you.

April 14, 1978, he could never forget the day, was particularly dreary. So dreary it made Steve begin to question why the spring time was thought to be such a radiant, pleasant season when all it ever did was bring rain and provoke people with allergies. Steve slammed his blaring alarm off with a groan, never bothering to pry open his tired eyes.

The sky was dark and dreadful, concealing the golden rays of the sun he yearned to see. As he trudged through the house, reluctantly gearing himself up for yet another torturous day of middle school, Steve silently prayed for some unorthodox happenstance that would call for the canceling of school.

But much to his dismay, that wasn't the case.

When the bell pierced through the classroom speakers, alerting the beginning of Steve's favorite class, P.E., he rushed to the locker room, jumping into his gym uniform, as he was determined to continue his unfaltering streak of dodgeball victories.

Steve was in the zone, taking out his opponents left and right as if it was nothing. If dodgeball was an Olympic sport, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could've won multiple gold medals.

Then you came.

Sauntering into sixth grade gym class, adorning a lengthy, bright yellow dress with your hair done up, looking as anxious as can be. It was your first day at Hawkins Middle and you'd just transferred halfway into the semester, all thanks to your parents decision to move to the small town, leaving New York City and all your friends behind.

Everyone turned their curious heads to peer at you, whispering amongst each other, prompting you to clutch your books tighter to your chest as if to shield yourself. Your soft smile as you looked around at your new classmates instantly made Steve's chest and stomach warm and gooey inside, making him want nothing more than to walk up to you and convince you to be his friend. Steve hated how gossipy his classmates were, as it clearly made you uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

The way the illuminous medallion hue complimented your skin tone was nothing short of art. To him, you were the sun personified. The sun he was so eager to see.

Due to your lack of sports attire, Coach Daniels had you sit on the bleachers, watching as the other kids resumed their game of dodgeball after mumbling a "warm" welcome to you, per Coach's request.

Steve lost his first game of dodgeball that day. He just couldn't seem to focus when you were perched just a few feet away, thumbing through your withered book, looking like one of the prettiest girls he'd ever laid his adolescent eyes on. Steve, or the boy with the hella good hair as you dubbed him in your diary later on that night, was too enamored with you to be bothered by the taunts coming from his friends. He jogged over to you, offering to keep you company until fourth period began, which you happily accepted.

And ever since then, the two of you have been as thick as thieves.

"Hawkins PD, open up!" Steve recognized your muffled voice, though you deepened it, to imitate a police officer. Your signature three knocks followed, urging butterflies to erupt throughout his stomach, as he longed to see you. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the two of you had last seen each other, but even one hour without you was an hour way too long for poor Steve.

"It's open", Steve called, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, setting the stove ablaze, planting a pot over the flame. Right on time, he thought.

"Hey, Harrington," you smiled as you struggled to enter, cradling two bottles of rosé wine and your purse in your arms, pushing the door open with the help of your hip.

"Hey, sunshine. Lemme get those for ya," Steve offered, stowing your bearings on the counter gently, while you kicked your shoes off, mumbling a "thanks".

A warm amber light casted from the ceiling of the kitchen spilled into the shadowy living room a few feet away, like a neglected can of paint. The only thing that remained un-melted by the darkness was the quiet record player, as if the generous light knew you'd be looking for it the minute you walked in.

"How was your day?" Steve smirked as he watched you rush over to the object he swore was the only reason you liked to come over, sifting through the vinyl's searching for your favorite one. What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Steve spotted it before you did. Absentmindedly, you responded, “Not too shabby, ya know? How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

You crouched down to the two tier storage table, running a finger across the spines of the records, searching for your beloved song. It quickly became the song you most adored when you'd bought the tape for your Walkman a few years prior. Your days weren't complete unless you played the song at least twice, so much so that Steve found himself quietly humming the song to himself whenever he'd miss you. He even caught himself doing that dumb little finger dance you normally did whenever you listened to a song you really liked. He'd never tell you that, though.

Much to your dismay, you couldn't seem to spy that sneaky record. You dropped your hand disappointedly, faintly fearsome that it'd been misplaced. Steve's apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tidy either. “It’s right there, sweets. To your left.” So you diverted your attention to the left. No Tina Turner. “No, your other left.”

“Here?” you pointed. Steve hummed in confirmation.

“Well, that’s not the left, Steve. That’s the right,” was your response that you punctuated with a roll of your tired eyes. Apart from knowing how to get to Skull Rock with his eyes closed, the boy had zero sense of direction. It was something you found both endearing and infuriating. It depended on the day, really.

“Potato, potahto.” Oh, Steve. Melting butter into the burning pan in front of him that he almost completely forgot about, all thanks to your beautiful presence, he began sautéing his diced onions along with some fresh garlic. "Well, speaking of 'potahtoes' you need to be cooking some, 'cause you promised me dinner tonight," you smiled tight-lipped, cocking your head at an angle.

You felt the unpleasant sensation of your stomach growling, cursing you, at the heavenly thought of food as your shift at Family Video earlier today was unforgiving to your non-existent breakfast. You fumbled with the vinyl a bit as the mouthwatering aroma of home cooking stormed your senses and Steve spoke once more. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Just a tad," you laughed quietly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but tonight we're not having potatoes. I'm making your favorite," he pointed, shuffling the pan to give it a gentle stir. He made sure to turn to face you in time to see your hopefully delighted reaction. "Alfredo?!" you spun around with a glittering grin, almost knocking over Steve's plant. A fake one, of course. A real plant was a bit too much responsibility for him.

At the nod of his head, your cheesy smile soften to a smaller, less toothy one as you watched Steve while he resumed cooking. What you failed to share with your best friend was that the last phrase you'd actually use to describe your day was "not too shabby". Besides waking up almost an entire hour past the start of your shift (Keith made sure to give you an earful about that) and everyone and their mother in town deciding to be at Family Video today, it seemed like your day was never-ending. The only thing keeping your mood from turning stink to sour was the idea of going to see Steve.

Steve was kind of magical in that way. Anger, sadness, anxiety, you name it, it was no match for Steve. Though he was no poet, he had this way with words that would never fail to make you feel so comforted. So safe. Any instance where Steve had to talk you out of whatever mental turmoil you were enduring, it felt you were being endlessly wrapped in a cozy, tight blanket, sheltering you from all the darkness.

How Steve knew you were having a shit day and needed your favorite meal along with your favorite boy? Lord knows. His ability to read you without even needing to be near you was nothing short of wizardry. But like you said. Steve was magical.

"You're the best," you proclaimed, prompting a mumbled sly remark from your chef for the evening, before the music began. Being here, along with the divine sound of Tina's ethereal voice and pasta boiling in water, was more than enough to make you feel like you were right at home, though your true address was miles away. When the time to depart would make its cursed arrival, it was never easy to leave, especially with the way Steve begged for you to stay, using those unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes that paired beautifully with his lengthy lashes, against you.

And it always worked. Well, not always. You had some degree of self-control. But more times than not, you couldn't help but to cave in to his protests. How could you resist? It was Steve.

With a satisfied grin that carved deep smile lines into his blushing cheeks, he'd tuck his sheets snug around your body, repeatedly asking you if you were comfortable enough. His bed was cloud-like, plush and doughy and his pillows smelled like his shampoo and conditioner, a hint of cologne on his comforter. It was like you were trapped in a cocoon of Steve. You wanted to tell him you were beyond comfortable, that there, in his bed, you were in just about your favorite place on Earth but, habitually, you concluded that a simple nod would suffice.

Crawling onto the empty space beside you, he made sure to face you, leaving a soft squeeze on your shoulder before humming "G'night, sunshine," closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. And like always, Steve was a perfect gentleman, dead set on never getting under the covers himself when you'd sleep over.

Guilt would disrupt your relaxation at the sight of the brisk night chill building little hills on his freckled arms, though you selfishly loved the way he'd cuddle up to steal some of your body heat. His plump lips would part as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, light snores and chirping crickets being your lullaby.

You hoped to have another night like that soon.

In the midst of times like those, storms of wonder and doubt raged on. Was Steve like this with everyone else? Were you being silly thinking that you and Steve could be more than friends? Being Steve's best friend for nearly a decade, you knew he wasn't exactly a prude. His King Steve era was honestly one of your least favorites. Though he reserved his usual tenderness and affection all for you, you've witnessed a whole slew of girls enter and leave Steve's life, and none of them looked like you.

You wanted nothing more than to be one of the girls he'd have leaned up against his locker, arm resting next to their head, cheeks fanned by his minty breath as he whispered honeyed words. You craved dates at the drive-in theater in Steve's burgundy 1983 BMW only to neglect the movie and end up making out, like he did with other girls.

When Steve would bring his latest lover around, desperately, you did your damnedest to bury your jealousy and and fill its grave with merriment for him, because if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve. But the girls at school only wanted to be with Steve because of his status and all the flashy things he could buy them.

The flashy things were dull to you, though.

You wanted to be with Steve because you wanted to hold his hand and press soft kisses to his cheek. To hug him a little tighter and little longer than a best friend normally would. To run your fingers through his fluffy hair whenever he would grow stressed because you knew it calmed him down. To make him breakfast in bed when he was sick and even when he wasn't. To love him your fullest potential.

But you had to settle for this. Calves tucked under your thighs with a blanket draped over your legs as you stared off into space, longing for someone you thought you couldn't have, not knowing he was stealing glances of you wondering what was running through your pretty little head.

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, holding your head up, your lips were downturned in a pout, eyebrows pulled together as you studied the throw pillow a few inches away from you. A little pillow can't be that interesting, something has to be bothering you, he thought. He was unapologetically curious to know if pressing his lips against your own would make that frown melt into that sweet smirk you usually had.

Steve hated when you were unhappy. It made his mind race. Did someone say something to you? Did someone do something to you? Did you eat today? How was your shift? Why did you lie when you said your day "wasn't too shabby"? Obviously it was shabby. Look at your face. That tired and troubled, cute little face. What can he do to fix it? You were his sunshine, you deserved to be happy, always.

Giving the pot a final stir and turning the flame off, Steve carelessly tossed the grease-stained hand towel flopped over his shoulder, down by the sink, strolling over to where he'd earlier set down the two bottles of wine. White Zinfandel. Neither you or Steve were wine connoisseurs, but when you called Nancy panicking about how extensive the selection at the liquor store was, she swore by it.

Balancing two glasses and a single bottle of the rose-tinted alcohol, Steve took an extra glance at your face, deciding to scoop up the second bottle into his arms. By the looks of it, it was gonna be one of those nights.

You tried to hide your smile as you noticed he was coming over, a slight grin on his face as he set the glasses down. You and him both knew he was only coming to cause trouble. He set the delicate haul down on to the thrifted wooden coffee table in front of you, slipping you one of those comforting 'Steve smiles' he usually did.

Like the forgotten towel, he threw himself down on the couch next to you, warm hand having a much softer landing on the plush of your thigh; a familiar and welcomed touch. Habitually, you curled up closer to him, no longer able to hide your smile.

"Why so glum, chum?" He tilted his chin down, slightly poking his bottom lip out, as he looked at you through batting eyelashes.

Laughing through your nose and subsequently parading a grin that displayed nothing but teeth and hollow happiness, you remarked, "What do you mean? Don't you see me smiling?"

You were fooling absolutely no one. Steve knew you were sad. And, goddamn it, he was gonna get it out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean, you weren't smiling just a few seconds ago until I came over. You're welcome, by the way, I'm flattered that I have such an effect on you," he smirked, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"Okay, now I'm glum again," you roll your eyes at his not-so discreet cockiness. You hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on Steve's shoulder. It was hard with muscle, but soft with tenderness and safety. "I was smiling at the wine, for your information."

The palm of your hand that pressed against your face muffled your words, but Steve could still understand what you said, it was evident in the way your tone was laced with satire.

"Ah, yes, that makes way more sense" Steve replied, monotone. His thumb began coasting along your skin as he urged you, "Alright, jokes aside. How are you really feeling?"

Hoisting your head up, you almost answered before he continued, "And don't give me that 'not too shabby' crap 'cause that frown you had going on earlier already snitched on ya."

When the hell did he get so observant? Steve was no idiot, but sometimes things needed to be spelled out for him. But come to think of it, you never had to spell things out for Steve whenever it came to you. He just always had a way of knowing.

"I don't know, Steve. Honestly. Some days are just a bit tougher than others. Today was one of those days," you murmured, avoiding the attentive gaze he was burning into your shifty eyes.

He slowly nodded as he processed your words, head falling on top of yours as you again found comfort on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as you began mimicking the affection he was giving you on your thigh, rubbing his arm through the creamy cotton material of his crewneck. You hadn't seen it before. This one was new. So were the jeans he'd paired with it.

"Why're you dressed so nice, Harrington?"

He laughed more to himself than to you. "Well, the food can't be the only thing that looks good, you know? Wanted to look nice too. It's our first dinner together, after all," he mumbled the last bit.

Steve felt the skin around your eyes tighten against his shoulder as your eyebrows scrunched together. "We've had dinner together before, though."

"This one's different," he replied, almost instantly. You'd hoped Steve's eyes were still closed so that he wouldn't see the bashfulness you were weathering, plucking the corners of your lips into a soft smile.

A silence fell between the two of you. Not unusual. Not awkward. Never unusual or awkward. There was a mutual cherishment of moments like these. Shamelessly invading each other's personal space on the couch as if it was made to only fit one person, music playing lowly the distance, but preferring to listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"How can I make you feel better, sunshine?" Steve questioned, voice still hushed. The volume of your voice wasn't much louder as you responded, thoughtlessly, "You don't have to ask me that. You make me feel better without even trying."

"Oh yeah?" He craned his neck so that his head was impossibly closer to yours, awaiting your confirmation. Steve knew that you enjoyed his company, as he did yours, but he was only joking earlier when he gushed about having such an effect on you. It was now his turn to hide his blush, when you hum, nodding your head fervently.

These were the warm moments that confused you so much more than any subject in school ever did. And unbeknownst to you, it messed with Steve's head too. He'd never been this close with anyone before. Especially not with any of his "girlfriends" in the past. Sure, they'd cuddle and talk about their feelings. But it never felt the way it does with you. Steve was in love with you. It was hopeless.

And he had to make it known. Soon. If not, he swore he'd explode.

"Ready to eat?"

"Mhm," you buzzed, untangling yourself from the envelop of Steve. As he pressed his knuckles into the sofa, willing himself up, you reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, but your hand only made it so far until it felt the sting of a petty swipe from the boy next to you. "Ah ah, missy, dinner first. Lord knows how many hours its been since you last ate."

You snorted, "Relax, it hasn't been that long."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?" He looked at you with raised eyebrows and an expression that said he already knew your answer was going to be ridiculous. And if there was anything you learned tonight, it was that Steve was highly skilled at knowing when you were lying, so instead, you left him with a goofy smile and giggle that told him he was absolutely right in his assumption.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the spot where he sat went cold as he left to the kitchen, fixing two plates for the both of you. You moved the drinks and glasses over to the dining table, using a nearby lighter to ignite the accompanying lavender and vanilla scented candles. Tina Turner's vinyl was replaced with Tears for Fears' album Songs from The Big Chair instead, as Steve used his elbow to dim the kitchen lights, hands full with heavy plates of pasta.

"Oh my gosh, this looks so good! Good job, Stevie," you cheered, as he set your plate down in front of you, pouring you a much needed glass of wine. Your hands shook with hunger or excitement, or both, as you picked up your fork, ready to dig in. "Yeah, don't get too psyched yet. Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"I'm sure it does."

His knee rests against yours as he sits adjacent to you, gathering food on his fork, though his eyes are peering at you, awaiting your verdict. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, butter, cheese and other heaven-sent elements overwhelm your nose and you feel like you can't eat it soon enough. You pause for a beat and so does his heart, hand over your messy mouth as you chew. Steve's hand twitches as he contemplates wiping the sauce from the corners of your lips and licking his finger clean.

"Steve," you begin, eyes flickering shut. "I'm gonna need you to cook for me every night. This is so fucking good." The tension in his face eases at your palpable delight, mission well accomplished. He was proud of himself. Very proud. Almost as much as you were of him.

You throw your head back, the purest form of satisfaction consuming you. "I'm glad you like it, I've been trying to nail it for weeks," Steve laughs, finally taking a bite for himself.

"Well, you've succeeded," you beam, washing it down with a sip of wine. Everybody Wants to Rule the World begins playing and you smile at Steve, knowing it was his favorite song at the moment. You nod your head along as Steve hums. A truly peaceful pocket in time.

Through the large windows opening the living room to the rest of Hawkins, you had the perfect view of the bright lights and mountainous buildings from the neighboring city. It was like the sky had flipped on its axis and the stars weren't in the sky anymore, they were among the trees and high rise properties.

"Steve, look how pretty," you point towards the window as his gaze shifts from you to raindrop-riddled glass. "I love being able to see the city so close. Sucks that we can't see the stars, though. I've always wanted to go stargazing."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that a while ago. We gotta go one of these days," he replied, shoving a forkful of alfredo into his mouth.

"Oh, did you wanna go too?"

He shrugs his shoulders, chewing before speaking, "Eh, I'm not really a big stars guy. Besides, if I wanna see a pretty little light, all I gotta do is look at you," he says inattentively, going right back to eating as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you.

"Shut up, Harrington," you roll your eyes, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you take your last bite. How could he flirt with you so easily? So carelessly? Couldn't he see that you loved him and that whenever he says things like that it does something to you? Clueless boy.

"I'm serious. Why do you think I always call you sunshine?" He replies, not a hint of irony in his face.

"Steve," you warn, sitting back in your chair. You didn't know where this conversation was going, and you'd be damned if you got your hopes up for what you always got whenever you did: absolutely nothing.

"It's why I love when you wear yellow. Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you," he pressed. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clueless girl.

"Steve," your voice wavered. "What? Why do you keep saying my name like that?" He laughed, dryly.

He grew worried that he was saying too much. Saying things that a person shouldn't say to their best friend. He took a sip of his wine. Then another. Then another. He was considering just downing the whole glass. Maybe he was saying too much.

Screw that, he was in love with you.

"What're you saying to me right now?" You charged, voice a little harsher than what you'd intended, but you demanded an answer. A straightforward one. "I'm saying that I'm done hiding it."

"Hiding what?"

"That I love you."

The revelation yanks your parted lips shut, unsure of what to say next. You had dreamed for what felt like a lifetime for Steve to say those words to you and at last, it was no longer a dream, but instead reality. The rapid pace of your heartbeat could be felt in your chest and ears, and the butterflies in your stomach were more wild and untamed than ever before.

Steve's eyes didn't leave yours, though the stillness from you was killing him. The silence between you two that was once never awkward or unusual, was now painful and nearly unbearable.

Your dilated pupils scanned over his face, relentlessly. The jokey, teasing grin that he often sported when he was messing with you was unaccounted for. Holy shit. The gate to your thoughts opened once more. "You're serious," you whispered.

"How could I not be?" Steve watched you with adoring eyes, the warm light of the candle giving the melted chocolatey pond the sweetest infusion of honey.

"Kiss me."

Forks and butter knives fall to the ground with several, loud unpleasant clanks as Steve leans over the square dining table, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His lips are garlicky and a little chapped, as yours probably are as well, yet the kiss is nothing short of perfect.

His mouth does a passionate dance against yours as you follow his lead, embracing the plush little pillows with your own. It was both everything you've imagined it'd be and nothing like you'd thought at the same time. You already knew Steve was an amazing kisser. Anyone who went to Hawkins High knew it. But experiencing it for yourself was completely different and new. It was euphoric.

The two of you have to reluctantly pull yourselves off of each other to catch your breaths. This moment was a long time coming.

Steve's hands are still holding onto to either side of your face, unwilling to let you go just yet. Truly savoring every second of the present. His breath fans across your cupid's bow, as he smiles against your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Giggling, you wrap your palms and fingers around his wrists, rubbing your nose on his. "Sorry," you shrug, feeling his thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

"Don't be," he shakes his head, engulfing your soft lips into another kiss.

message from jojo: pls comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot <3

[theemissuniverse]

“TURN” LIU KANG X FEM!READER

SUMMARY : Something is troubling Liu Kang and he is taking it out on you

WARNINGS : (MDNI) smut, p in v, cumming, slight dirty talk, dom liu kang, fingering, rough sex, temperature play, probably some other stuff I forgot

A/N : You people keep begging me to write something with Liu Kang lmao

MASTERLIST 1 , MASTERLIST 2

You didn’t know what had gotten into Liu Kang. It’s like something inside of him snapped. This wasn’t the Liu Kang you were used to.

Liu Kang had you roughly pinned up against the wall and was kissing you with force and passion. You could barely have time to react.

Luckily for him, you were wearing a night gown. Liu Kang’s hands went under it and completely tore your underwear apart.

He pulled away from kissing you. He licked his fingers and then went to kiss your neck before plunging his fingers inside of you.

You moaned at his kisses and he began to move his fingers inside of you at a steady pace. “Oh my gods.”

Liu Kang’s free hand gripped your night gown and he mad the executive decision to just tear it apart completely. You gasped at this action.

You felt the cold breeze on your nipples. Liu Kang detached from your neck and went to suck on your right breast. His pace did not stop while pumping into you.

Your hands tangled into his hair. So much so that the headband Liu Kang wore slipped off his forehead and fell to the ground.

This Liu Kang excited you.

When he felt you were ready, Liu Kang pulled his fingers out of you. Then he took you to the kitchen table.

Liu Kang pushed a lot off the table. Even plates and cups that soon shattered when they hit the ground.

Even though his actions were a little rough, he made sure to pick you up gently and place you on the table.

His lips made it to yours and he once again kissed you with the same force and passion as he did before. You moaned into the kiss.

As much as you loved this, you still felt like you had to ask. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Why do you ask that, love?” He asked while still continuing to kiss you.

“You just don’t normally act like this when we have intimacy.” You said in between kisses.

When you said it, it made Liu Kang snap out of it. He pulled away from your lips and looked you in your eyes. “Am I being too rough? Do you not like it?”

“No, no. I do.” You reassured him. “I like it a lot. I just-“

That’s all Liu Kang needed to know. He went back to kissing you as if his life depended on it. His hands cupped the back of your head. He gave you one last kiss before pulling away.

His hands went to his pants. He slid them off quickly then pulled his boxers down. It always amazed you at how big he actually was.

Liu Kang pulled you to him a little and kissed you while he slid inside of you. The two of you moaned into the kiss.

Even though he was a little rough, he made sure to move slowly in you at first. “Oh my. Liu Kang.”

The moans of pleasure encouraged him to go a bit faster. You held onto him tightly as he thrusted in and out of you fast.

Liu Kang kissed all over your shoulder as thrusted inside of you. The feeling of you clenching onto him felt better than good.

“Oh my god. Yes.”

Hearing you moan, Liu Kang was losing himself. He pulled out of you. He then pushed the wooden chair that was next to you two so hard to the ground that it broke in an instant.

He then took you off the table and aggressively turned you around. He bent you over the table and then went back inside of you.

The new position made you squeal slightly. You didn’t normally do this position unless you asked him to do it. So, this was new.

Again, he thrusted in you a little slowly as he knew that the new position would hurt a little. He rubbed all over your back soothingly while thrusting carefully.

Your hands gripped the table. You felt the overwhelming pressure constantly be inside of you and it made you whimper slightly.

When Liu Kang found that you were used to it, he went a bit faster. He gripped your hips as he fucked you from behind.

You moaned loudly. “Oh my god. Liu Kang. Oh my god.”

Moaning made it worse. Liu Kang let out a grunt and went harder into you. Everything that Liu Kang didn’t manage to throw off the table was falling off the table and breaking on the floor as he thrusted in you.

Your mouth fell open. He fucked you like he hated you. (Which was ironic because he was actually doing it because he loved you.) Your nails dug deep into the table.

The sound of skin to skin contact along with your moans were the only thing being heard. You felt that if Liu Kang didn’t slow up, he was going to break the table with you on it.

Liu Kang moaned at the sight of your ass bouncing against him again and again. His hands rubbed it soothingly before then smacking it. You yelled out.

His hands then gripped your ass. “Mine. All mine.” The thought of what had happened earlier today came to his head and he couldn’t help but be mad. He started to thrust in you even harder than he already was. “Only I can make you feel this good. I am the only man for you.”

You were now completely lost. Liu Kang was never a possessive person in general and he wasn’t like it during sex either so you wondered what had happened earlier for him to come home and do this.

You weren’t really complaining though. While he was fucking you rough, it was good. “Liu Kang. Just like that. Please.”

Liu Kang let out a string of moans as he watched you throw your ass back onto him. He closed his eyes tightly. He felt his release inching very closely but he would wait for you.

“Oh yes. Liu. You make me feel so good.”

Liu Kang opened his eyes. He pulled out of you, much to your disdain, until he turned you back around. He gave you a very sloppy kiss.

You returned the kiss but it soon ended. He picked you up and placed you on the table but this time he laid you completely on the table.

He pulled you a little closer to the edge and went back inside of you.

Without warning, he went back to his fast and hard pace. You moaned loudly. “Yes! Yes! Oh yes!”

The table wobbled greatly as he pounded into you. He had only hoped the table would not collapse.

Heat came from his hands. Not fire. Just simple heat. His hands were placed on your stomach. He didn’t even realized his hands were producing heat.

You were thankful for it because his heat felt so good on your skin. It made you moan louder. “Oh shit. Oh god. Liu Kang. Fuck.”

Knowing you didn’t swear while you were around him that much, he knew you were enjoying it all too well. His right hand that was still producing heat went to your neck while his left still stayed on your stomach.

He wasn’t choking you. Just was placing his hand there. “Liu. Yes. Oh god yes. Fuck me just like that. This pussy is yours.”

Liu Kang would never dirty talk like that but he did enjoy it when you did it. He let out a moan at your words and accidentally let himself apply a little pressure to your neck. Luckily for him you enjoyed it.

His hands were now placed on either side of you on the table. “Do not talk like that. I’ll end up breaking this table.”

“So break the fucking table and keep fucking me.”

That did it for him. Liu Kang felt the fire produce from his hands and he snapped himself out of it. He removed you from the table and watched it as it broke into pieces completely.

You didn’t seem to care though. Your lips went immediately on his and he accepted your kiss.

It was your turn to be aggressive. The two of you walked around the room while you kissed passionately. You found your way to the couch and you pushed Liu Kang onto it.

You climbed on top of him and his hand’s immediately went to both sides of you. You slid onto him and you both let out moans.

You didn’t waste any time. You started to move on him up and down at a fast pace.

Liu Kang’s hands dug into your skin. His head flew back at the amount of pleasure he was facing. “Oh my love. You feel too good.” He told you.

Your hands felt on his chest and you were glad he was wearing a button up shirt. With all your strength, you ripped the shirt open completely and rubbed all over the exposed area.

Liu Kang’s dominance was failing him and he felt even more submissive to you. He didn’t want to hurt you so he placed his hands on the couch cushions and when he did, he ripped some of it apart.

“Oh god. Liu Kang. I’m so close.”

“Me too.” Liu Kang tried to grab your hips in order to move you so he could be on top of you but you resisted. “Love-“

“It’s okay. Let me take care of you.” You kissed him sweetly on his lips and then on his neck softly. “I love riding you.”

Liu Kang was gripping onto you so tight that he would eventually cause you to bruise. He felt himself pant heavily. “(Y/N). I cannot.”

You kept giving him sweet kisses on his neck. “Yes, you can baby. Fill me up. I want it all.”

Both of you were a panting mess. The constant pressure you had on your clit as you went up and down was all too much. “Oh. Liu. Yes. Yes.”

You felt your orgasm hit you and it felt utterly amazing. Liu Kang helped you move your hips up and down as you finished on top of him.

Your clit was beyond sensitive but you forced yourself to keep moving on top of him until he had came. He wasn’t far from you.

Liu Kang’s hands gripped the top of the couch to the point that he was ripping the fabric off the couch. “Oh my love. Yes. My love.”

“That’s right baby. Cum inside of me.”

“(Y/N). I’m cumming. I love you. I love you.” You felt his cum erupt inside of you and Liu Kang continued to mumble things as you rode out his high.

Before you could get off of him, he grabbed your chin and kissed you. You accepted the kiss and you almost felt like wanting him to have you all over again.

The two of you pull away. You get off of him and stretch. Liu Kang sits there for a second trying to gather his breathing.

You sit next to him. “I’d figure the fire god himself wouldn’t be so easily tired.”

Liu Kang chuckled. “Oh hush.”

Now, you felt the time to address the ‘elephant’ in the room. “Not that I didn’t enjoy every second of that but…are you really okay? You never done before.”

Liu Kang sighed slightly. He scratched the back of his neck before speaking. “I was battling Shang Tsung today. He a made a comment.”

Shang Tsung was the sorcerer that was entirely too obsessed over you. Usually, Liu Kang was good at ignoring his advances. Maybe even too good but today had been different.

“Oh?” You questioned. “What did he say?”

“There is something that I have kept from you…and I know I shouldn’t have.” He said. You waited patiently for him to reveal it. “In a previous timeline - you were not good. You were evil. You were an Earthrealm warrior that craved power. Shang Tsung had that power. So, you fell in love with him.”

Your eyes widen at this reveal. It was something you definitely did not expect. “Are you serious? I fall in love…with that?”

“Shang Tsung found this out and claimed that I could not stop you two from being together. That history would repeat itself shortly.”

You weren’t necessarily mad at him. You couldn’t blame Liu Kang for what had happen in the past and for him not wanting to think about it.

The thought of you ever being in love with Shang Tsung disturbed you although.

You rested your hand on his shoulder. “Liu, I get it. I wouldn’t want to think about that either.” You grabbed his chin and faced him to you. “But I love you though. I’ll always love you. Don’t let him get in your head.”

Liu Kang looked at you, eyes full of love. He leaned over and kissed you softly on the lips. “I love you so much.”

You kissed him again before pulling away. “You completely destroyed this house I hope you know.”

Liu Kang looked over to everything. To your torn clothes, to the broken plates and cups, to the broken chair, the broken table, and to the ripped up couch.

He rubbed his temples, slightly embarrassed. “I will get it fixed.”

You laughed at him try to hide his face. You moved his hand and pecked his lips. “It’s okay. It was hot.” Your hands run up and down his chest. “How bout a round two?”

Liu Kang smirked slightly to you before pushing you back on the couch. “You’re playing with fire, love.”

[bachiras-toaster]

It’s Yoichi’s birthday! Any thoughts about him? Maybe some dom Isagi where he’s a little feral after a game or smth? Idk, have fun with it ya know?

dom!isagi after winning a match : ̗̀➛

YOICHI ISAGI x f!reader

a/n: i loved this request! i realise i havent even written a standalone fic for isagi yet so i thought this would be the perfect first one

wc. 1.6k

contents. smut

The rush of winning a game that he carried on his shoulders is a feeling that wasn’t so commonplace in Isagi’s life. While players like Rin or Nagi probably knew the feeling all too well, Isagi couldn’t say that it was actually that often that he knew he was the reason that his team won a match.

That’s why today, after scoring half of the team’s points and even making the final goal, causing their victory by the tiniest margin, Isagi was on a high. The energy that bubbled inside of him was overflowing to the point where he genuinely couldn’t hold himself back when you reunited with him after the game. When you greeted your boyfriend with a wide, congratulating smile, your arms spread to embrace him into a tight hug, you half-expected to run into your body laughing with excitement like he always does. And, of course, he did, but in a way that was a bit more extreme than you anticipated.

After letting himself get squeezed in your warm embrace, he swiftly broke away from your grasp and squeezed his palm around your wrist to drag you back into the building and into his room. And as soon as the door was locked, he spared no second before he began peppering you with rough and passionate kisses across your cheek and neck, subtly pushing you against his bed.

“C’mon, take it off…” He muttered against your skin, his hands running up your shirt. He was already breathlessly when he pinned you beneath him, and it didn’t seem like he wanted to waste his breath on any words that weren’t demands for you to undress.

“What’s gotten into you?” You giggled as he forcefully pulled your top over your arms and tossed it to the side, continuing to kiss the bare skin that was now revealed to him. “Let’s at least celebrate that game a little—“

“What’s gotten into me is this game winning goal.” He interrupted, his eyes brimming with pride to see your skin uncovered. “The feeling of victory, knowing that I carried this team to victory. This is my celebration.” He huffed before kissing your collarbone and sucking on it.

“You don’t even wanna throw a little after-party with the rest of your team before we—“ Before you could finish your sentence, he immediately sealed your lips off with a passionate kiss as he worked on pulling down his shorts, his tongue slipping into your mouth to silence you with the breathless action.

His sudden move caught you by surprise, his tongue invading your mouth and his hands squeezing your thighs tightly. Isagi pinned you down to ensure you couldn’t struggle, but his lips against yours proved that he wanted nothing more than to kiss you over and over again. Though his hands were a bit too rough in how he squeezed your thighs, his kisses made you melt the longer they lasted. It was a weird feeling, wanting to squirm and wanting to be embraced at the same time.

“…Take off your panties.” He mumbled against your lips, his breath coming out as hot puffs on the surface of your skin. He felt it, and he knew that the feeling of victory wasn’t enough to keep him satisfied anymore. He was desperate to keep this overwhelming desire going, his hands itching to explore your skin from head to toe as you stayed under his grasp.

“Cutting the foreplay, are we?” You giggled as a tease, but he seemed to be seething with desperation. His eyes were dominant and demanding, his patience cut short from the game.

“Stop talking and just do as I say.” Isagi’s lips travelled to your ear to let out that dark whisper, licking his teeth as he bit on his lips. His cock had already been pulled from his boxers and was carried proudly in his hand, so now he was just waiting for you to do your part and remove your underwear just like he asked.

“Aye-aye.” You responded with a grin as you removed your panties just as he requested, letting your legs wrap around his waist when he forcefully pushed himself into you— Not a single warning or sign.

As his cock plunged into your already slick folds, it forced a loud gasp from your lips as the unexpected action had caught you do off-guard. When you allowed yourself to be wrapped around his waist, Isagi huffed and began taking on a very rough approach with you, the desire he held making him rough around the edges. His grip tightened, but his movements quickly became more forceful, biting and nipping at your neck as sweat dotted his face.

“W-Wait, I think we should slow down a second, what if the team is looking for you—“ You moaned out, only for him to clasp his palm over your mouth and keep thrusting into you.

“I don’t give a fuck if the team could be looking for me. I’m doing something, am I?” He cast his eyes over to you, which you could see were ripe with ambition. His words were a little choppy thanks to the breathing pauses he took, but it still maintained that dark edge. “So I don’t want you to say anything unless it’s my name, or ‘harder’.”

Your face flushed as you gulped, clutching his muscles as he practically shook the bed with his thrusts.

“H-Harder, Isagi…” You whimpered.

“There we go.” His voice remained just as dark as it was before, his smile curling upwards as his hands squeezed onto your thighs to push his movements more.

While his face usually held a very calm, laidback expression, the desire he was feeling was enough to make him lose all of it. Unlike his usual composed demeanor, his palms squeezed tighter around your thighs, waist and hips, leaving it red and marked by the amount of pressure he exerted. His eyes were dominant, and they were locked onto your body, desperate to know and see what lies underneath the layers you usually hid behind.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Isagi asked, his voice a low husk before he leaned in to whisper the question against your skin. His lips made soft noises as they grazed along your neck, trailing down to your collarbone before coming back up to your face. His hands then moved to find yours to interlock your fingers so he could press the back of your palms right against the bedsheets. “Who do these hands and this body belong to?”

“Y-You, Isagi—!” You whined, feeling your back arch a little while your chest flushed with excitement. You couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle along with your choked-out response— Turned out your boyfriend after an intense match was a guilty pleasure of yours.

“That’s right.” Isagi’s voice remained husk in its tone as he smiled at the way your body reacted to everything he did. He pushed his lips roughly against yours, his fingers digging into your skin but he didn’t seem too bothered by the small pain he was inflicting. The way he acted only fed his ego further, and he smirked at the way you squirmed a little with excitement.

Isagi let out a satisfied grunt the louder you got before placing a tight, controlling kiss right on your lips. He was taking away the chance you had to think, all because he wanted to satisfy this selfish desire he had to feel power over something.

“Isagi, please, it’s too early— I’m gonna cum—“ You whimpered, making an attempt to push him off you, only for him to push himself further in.

"Don’t hold back. Give it all to me." Isagi breathed out, squeezing your chin tighter as his voice dripped with satisfaction. He smirked against your skin before leaning back in to let out a bite right on the side of your neck, taking his time to suck on the same spot as his hand squeezed your palm.

“I-I can’t—“

“Yes, you can.” He demanded, maintaining the same rough pace he had done until you felt yourself unravel and finish on his dick.

He continued to pump himself into you, allowing a creamy ring to appear around the base of his cock as he went to catch his own high, desperately wanting his moment to finish inside of you too. His hands began to move between several parts of your body, like he didn’t know what to hold before he shot his load. Before long, he found his hands right where they always were— on your thighs— And the moment he had been building to finally arrived.

His pulsing cock reached its climax inside of you just like he had hoped, but he had even pulled out his dick to continue jerking it off just to make sure he was able to squeeze every last drop of himself out. His red and throbbing tip continued to shoot out weakened loads of cum onto your pussy, which already dripped with a mixture of both of your satisfactions. He was pumping himself dry, not stopping until he was absolutely sure that he was done.

When his movements finally got slower and the both of you started to steady your breathing, you were finally able to look up at Isagi with a cute smile, gazing longingly as he leaned back up and dabbed the sweat from his blushing face.

“You need to have matches like that more often.” You commented with a grin, your face still warm with pleasure.

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen reader , Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.03

“If you come to Dragonstone with me, I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Your lower lip wobbles. You wanted to leave with him, but realistically, it wasn’t plausible. “And what happens once we arrive at Dragonstone? Your mother and Prince Daemon just accept me with open arms?”

Jacaerys looks down at his feet. He knew they wouldn’t trust you, nor would they likely wish for you to be in their home. “No, they wouldn’t at first,” he gulps down. “But we could make them see you played no part in the plan of usurping my mother's throne.”

“I didn’t even know my father had died until servants were sent to help me get dressed for Aegon’s coronation. How can I prove that?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Whatever road I take, I’ll end up in the same situation.” Feeling uncomfortable, you unconsciously pick at the skin surrounding your finger nail until it bleeds. “If I return home without Stark’s backing Aegon, I will need to face the wrath of being a failure and disappointment to my family. If I go with you to Dragonstone, and I bend my knee to Rhaenyra I’m leaving my sister and her children with the vipers.”

Suddenly your hands are pried apart. “Stop hurting yourself.”

The authority in Jacaerys tone takes you by surprise. Like most dragons, he had a fiery temper, but this was different. It was as if he was putting all his built-up rage aside to protect you. Meekly, you say, “habit.”

Jacaerys inspects your fingertips, frowning as he takes in the older cuts along with the newer ones. He turns your left hand over and runs his thumb over your palm. “I remember playing outside in the gardens when you fell and cut your hand. I’m surprised it didn’t scar.”

“I remember…” Despite your eyes becoming glossy, a chuckle escapes your lips. “My mother somehow blamed you for my falling, and you hid in your quarters for days.”

“I hid in my quarters because Ser Harwin saw me attempt to kiss your hand; I thought my mother and father would be mad when he told them.”

You smile; this was the first time you heard his version; all you remember clearly was your mother yelling in the privacy of her apartments that the ‘eldest bastard’ was to blame. “I’m guessing they weren’t?”

“Once I explained that I wanted to comfort you, she went to visit King Viserys and proposed our betrothal.” He lets go of your hands and moves his own up to gently cup your face.

“Things could have been so different if my grandsire hadn’t gotten into my mother's head. Do you think we would have been happy?”

“We still could be.”

You feel as if the air has been sucked from your lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Wh-what do you mean?” Jacaerys couldn’t possibly be implying what you thought he did. “What do you mean we still could be?”

“Marry me, here in Winterfell.”

“You have more courage than any knight I know for even suggesting such a thing.”

A smile curls on his lips. “It’s not a jest. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember; if you say no, I will respect that. But if you agree, for the rest of my life, I will spend every day loving you and keeping you safe. Nobody will ever be able to hurt you again.”

His eyes follow your movement as you bring his fingers to your mouth and plant a gentle kiss on them. “My sweet prince, we cannot. Aegon told me, If I betray him, then it’s your life he will take.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

—

Since Northern wedding vows were shared in front of a weirwood tree in the presence of the old god that they believed in, you wanted to be careful not to offend them with your Old Valyrian custom, so Jacaerys purposed you did the ceremony yourselves, outside, surrounded by nothing but the moonlight and your dragons flying above.

You cut each other's lips with a blade made of dragonglass. Jacaerys cuts his hand and rubs a mark on each of your foreheads to signify the continuation of your bloodline. You pledge to each other, “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

“I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao.”

“My sweet Jacaerys, I feel the same way.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and saying everything you wish becomes difficult. Jace leans down, pressing his cold lips against your own. An electric spark you’ve never felt passes through you; it was strong enough to make the snow nipping at your skin momentarily disappear. You wanted this; you wanted him. Jacaerys finally being yours felt surreal—a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

He pulls back slightly and mumbles against your lips, “We should go back inside. I don’t want my bride to catch a cold.”

—

Nervously, you walk towards the bed covered in layers of fur and find yourself almost digging at your nails again, but when you feel a gentle kiss pressed to the back of your neck, the tension you're holding eases slightly, but the butterflies in your stomach aren’t completely gone.

“We don’t need to do anything,” Jacaerys says quietly. “We are married now; there is no rush.”

You did want to be intimate with Jace, but now that you were standing here, you felt unworthy of him. Bruises from Aegon holding you tightly still lingers on your skin, and it made you feel disgusting.

“I do, but... I’m afraid of what comes next,” you admit. “The repercussion of—”

He cuts you off with a kiss and says, “Whatever happens next, I���ll protect you.”

For once you hold your tongue, not wanting to loudly question how impossible that would be, You sigh, “I wish I could turn all the thoughts in my brain off, even for a short time, so I could revel in my husband's warmth.”

“I could help with that.”

Curious, you lock eyes with him. “What do you mean?”

“I could make you feel good without having sex, but only if you wish it.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan was, but you trusted Jace enough to follow through with his words. Taking your hand, he guides you to lay back on the bed. He kisses down your neck. “Promise me, you’ll tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I promise.”

Jacaerys kisses down your clothed body until he reaches your thighs. He pushes your skirts up to your waist, then slowly pulls your small cloth down. You await the stinging stretch of Jace pushing his cock into you at any second, but instead you feel his hot breath on your core. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“I’m going to taste the sweetest thing the gods ever made.”

“Do you mean—oh fuck!”

Jace spreads your folds open with his fingers, then dips his tongue inside of you.

“Gods, that feels good!”

One of your trusted ladies in waiting once told you that a gold cloak had ‘eaten her cunny’ and shared how good it felt. Ever since you had been curious about the act, this was far better than anything you could have imagined. Jace hooks his arms around your thighs, holding you in place while turning his attention to your clit and flicking over it with his tongue.

Lewd moans fall from your mouth as the coil in your stomach snaps, and you reach the first climax a man has ever given you.

Jace wipes his glistening lips and chin with his sleeve before moving up the bed and laying beside you. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, then gently caresses the soft flesh of your thigh. “We don’t need to go any further.“

“I want you, Jace; I want this.”

Hearing those words fall from your lips, he quickly lowers his breeches until his hard cock springs free. Jace rolls over, lines himself up with you, and slowly begins to push inside you. His thrusts are gentle as his touch is soft, making you feel cared for, almost safe. Jace peppers your neck in kisses while bringing his thumb to your clit and starts to rub it, taking great pleasure in how tightly you squeeze him. “Gods,” he moans. “You’re so perfect, my love; I think you were made for me.”

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, but you fight to hold them back, not wanting to ruin the moment. Jace notices and immediately stops his movements. “Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, keep going, please, please!”

Slowly he starts to thrust into you again; he seems unsure until you wrap your legs around his waist, which encourages him to go faster again. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak for the second time, and Jacaerys isn’t far behind.

—

Your fingers glide over Jacaerys bare back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The both of you were sticky with sweat, but you’d stopped caring hours ago.

While being so caught up in making love, Jacaerys hadn’t noticed the bruises on your body until he collapsed, panting and gasping beside you. If it wasn’t for exhaustion overtaking him, he would still be expressing his fury.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, his voice laced with sleep.

“How the sun is rising.”

Looking out the window, you can see the orange and pink hues of the sky, and the snowfall is becoming heavier. You take a deep breath, feeling the cool morning air fill your lungs.

Whatever happens next, you must remember that you’re the blood of the dragon, and you must be strong.

I’ve always loved you — I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao

[unsolved-duvall]

okokok HEAR ME OUT but eddie falling asleep with his head between your legs??? he just loves the feeling of your legs around him and how you taste, and he’ll literally go until you can’t take anymore and he’s just slowly licking up his mess and just. falls asleep sucking on your clit 🥺 please i can’t keep this to myself anymore

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞, 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 - 𝐞.𝐦. (𝟏𝟖+)

He’s just so so desperate to make you feel good. he genuinely believes there is nothing better than the sounds you make when he’s going down on you, your little moans and whimpers that fill the room. He will eat you out for his own enjoyment, perfectly content to give up breathing if it meant he got to live between your thighs for eternity, your soft hands running through his loose curls, quietly begging him never to stop.

He had gotten home from a long day to see you lying on your shared bed, you’re on your back and you have a book resting on your chest, you’re barely even reading it at this point, your eyelids so heavy you’re struggling to take in the words on the page. Eddie doesn’t even say anything as he walks into the bedroom, he just takes off his shoes, t-shirt and jacket until all he has on are his jeans. You look up at him, and even in your exhausted state you can tell from that look in his eyes what he wants.

You put the book down and reach a lazy hand out, grabbing at the air until Eddie gently throws himself on top of you, lacing his fingers through yours and pinning your hand to the bed as he mouths at your neck. The breathy way you say his name has him thanking whatever sort of god that might exist for letting him have you in his life, and in his bed.

You hear him whisper a pleading “can I taste you, angel?” into your neck, already covered in blossoming purple lovebites from last nights antics between the two of you. Eddie was insatiable.

You hum out in agreement and before you have time to kiss him Eddie’s slid himself down the bed to rest his between your legs, pulling down your pants and underwear in one smooth, rehearsed motion.

He paints your thighs in sloppy, open mouthed kisses before he turns all his attention to your cunt. Your eyes falling shut in perfect content as that familiar feeling of Eddie’s tongue on you comes flooding back.

He alternates between running his tongue through your folds and sucking on your clit, your breath hitching and back arching desperately off the bed every time. But Eddie isn’t doing this to make you cum. Not that he didn’t want you to. But he was doing this out of a selfish desire. He needed to taste you. Needed to hear your desperate pleas. Needed to be between your thighs. If you came (which you definitely did, that was inevitable with the way he was touching you) he wouldn’t stop. he just kept going, and going, and going.

You could be seeing stars and lose all control over your own body and Eddie would still be eating you out. Of course, you had a rule in place. Three taps to his shoulder and he stopped. Immediately. It would happen occasionally, Eddie would have been eating you out for an hour? two hours? you didn’t know anymore, and your clit was so swollen and your arousal was dripping down your thighs and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

The first time you tapped out you had apologised more times than you remembered, you knew Eddie needed this. Needed to go down on you to ease the stress from his aching body. So you felt horrible when you had to stop him. Eddie had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that you were never to apologise for telling him no or stop ever again. He felt like he’d failed you if you thought you had to apologise.

But tonight was perfect. Not too much, not too little. Perfect. You needed this as much as he did. Your hand held his as he went down on you. You could tell he was tired from the way he was slowing down, his hold on your hand getting that little bit looser.

Trying to catch your breath that Eddie had stole from you with every movement of his mouth in you, you breathed out his name. He didn’t even look up at you, his head resting on your thigh as he sucked on your clit. You knew he was barely there anymore. You tried to shift yourself away from him, to let him sleep.

But even in his half-awake state, his free hand gripped your thigh tight enough to leave bruises. His eyes were shut and he was barely moving his mouth on your dripping cunt anymore, but he couldn’t let you go.

You eased your body into the sunken mattress below you and settled in for the night, with Eddie between your thighs and his hand holding onto yours.

[sim0nril3y]

I’m LITERALLY screaming at ghost with a praise kink !!!!!!! That was so fucking good I am foaming at the mouth!! Was that part of the 12 days of kinkmas thing? Also, side note, can we read all of these as civilian!reader? Or will the 12 days of kinkmas be outside that little au?

Also, if I may be so bold, could I request ghost with a breeding kink, perhaps? 🫣

Note: Firstly, thank you so much for sending this request, you have no idea how much I needed to write this down! As for your questions, anything that comes before the 14th of December is totally just for fun and part of my normal writing so these types of things aren't part of the 12 Days of Kinkmas. Also, the Kinkmas will continue to be part of the Civilian series but honestly you can read my fics in whatever way makes you happy! Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, teasing, breeding kink, P in v sex, lots of talk about pregnancy and knocking up, unprotected sex, canon-typical swearing.

There was no denying that Simon was in a strange mood. Where usually he rarely touched you in public now his arm was draped over your shoulder like some kind of accessory or his hand lingered on your lower back and even drifting down to cup your bum. He’d lean down and whisper into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Everything he seemed to do only lead to you feeling a little warm.

It was just unlike him. Simon was usually very reserved in public, sometimes even holding your hand was too much affection for him.

All day you wracked your brain trying to figure out what had changed or what had sparked this sudden alteration in Simon’s mentality. As instructed you were stood by the hob, slowly stirring a pot of whatever Simon had prepared. You had been so deep in your thoughts you hadn’t heard Simon approaching from behind, slinking up behind you, strong arms tying around your middle and sucking you back against his form.

Those skilful lips found your throat, humming as Simon pressed a couple tender kisses to the areas of skint that were exposed. “Si, what has gotten into you lately?” You giggle was breathless, wooden spoon long forgotten in hand as your head tilted back into his shoulder. “Fuck~”

Simon continued to kiss and suckle at your throat before muttering out coldly. “Y’gonna think it’s stupid…” Then resuming his attack on your throat. “You know…” Losing track of your words as his lips nipped at your earlobe playfully. “Nothing… nothing you could say… would ever be… stupid…” The words seemed to trail away pointlessly.

For a few moments Simon remained painfully quiet, his hands roaming around your mid area, rubbing and soothing his hands against it. “Fuckin’ hell…” Like always when frustrated or a loss for words Simon growled out the expletive. “Fine…” He muttered, keeping you firmly facing away from him so that he was able to try and form a sensible sentence. “Been havin’ this dream lately…” Simon let out a low huff. “Sound so fuckin’ stupid…”

“A dream?” You quizzed, pinch forming between your brows. “What kind of dream?” “A dream… it keeps coming back…” Simon smirked. “I don’t dream ever but this one… this one won’t get out of my fuckin’ head.” Those strong hands continued to stroke and caress your stomach before finally he allowed the truth to spill from his lips. “You were pregnant.” The hands on your stomach were so soft and soothing, like trying to manifest his dream in reality. “You were pregnant with my baby… and you looked so fuckin’ good…” The word rolled off his tongue like it was dripping in sin and you knew then you were going to need to change your panties.

A big grin found your face. “Is that right?” He growled in a moment, yanking you over to bend you over the kitchen table. “Simon, the dinner-” “Don’t worry. I’ll fill you up.” Simon growled, yanking down your sweats and underwear in a quick moment. “Need to get this dream out of my head, babe. Can you… can you let me do this… please…” There was almost pleading to his tone and it caused you to rub your thighs together as you leaned over the table, his hand pressed between your shoulders.

“You can do it.” You confirmed gently and in the moments that followed Simon was kicking your legs apart to exposing your sopping cunt. “Look at this…” His hand cupped your sex, watching you shudder on the table. “Looks like you like the sound of my dream too, love.” A couple fingers slipped into your cunt, spreading your walls wide around his thick fingers and making you whimper against the table. “Is that right, baby? You want me to fill you up? Want me to pump you full of cum?”

A tight couple whimpers came from your throat. “Please. Please. Please.” You whimpered lowly, shunting your hips back to practically ride his fingers as they spread you wide. “Please, need you… need you inside me…” It was as if that was all the encouragement that Simon needed, because in the next moment he was unbuckling his belt, taking his rock hard cock in hand, massaging and rolling back the uncut skin as he pressing himself against your tight open and letting out a low groan as he sank inside, feeding you inch after inch until he reached the hilt, hips firmly pressed against your rear. “Good girl… Good fuckin’ girl takin’ every fuckin’ inch of me like I taught you.”

After allowing you a couple moments to finally adjust to his immense size Simon drew back and began to fuck into you, hard and fast, one hand braced on your shoulder whilst the other cupped under your knee to lift onto the table. “Feel… so fuckin’ good…” He growled out, teeth grit, muscles strained, wound so tight you wondered if he might snap, or if this was maybe him snapping. “Gonna look… so good filled up with me… know you’re gonna look so good, baby.”

“Simon-” “I know, baby. I know.” His hips shunted faster and shallower, hardly removing his cock halfway before shoving it back inside of you. “Fuckin’… tight cunt…” He cried out lowly. “Can’t wait… can’t wait to see you dripping… dripping with me…” Simon let out a low groan. “I’m gonna… gonna keep pumping you full… full until you’re bursting.”

The kitchen was filled with wet, slapping sounds. The sound of Simon fucking into you with so much love and adoration. The promises of a future. The prospect of having a full life together. It was enough to make your walls begin to squeeze and tighten, that and the feeling of your clit rubbing awkwardly against the table with each brutal thrust from Simon’s strong hips into your own, pistoning his thick cock relentlessly.

“There. There. There.” Your voice was begging and then following by a couple moans and squeaks as your cunt spasmed and squeezed around him. “There it is…” Simon hissed. “There it is, baby. Fuck, feel so fuckin’ good…” He growled, tilting his head back. “Tell me… Please… Tell me you want it… B-beg for it…” His hips snapped erratically, trying to stave of his own end even as your cunt milked and tried to force it from him.

“Simon~” You squeaked. “Simon… Simon, please… I need… I need your cum… I need you to fill me up… I need you to knock me up…” The words flowed so easily, unsure if you even believe them or wanted it to come true, but it seemed to be enough to throw him wildly over the edge, growling, huffing, snapping his hips aggressively and finally pumping you to the brim with his cum. It was a feeling unmatched, the warmth spreading throughout your walls leaving you humming lowly from the table. “Thank you…” Simon whispered into the air, leaning over your frame to press a couple kisses to your shoulder. “Thank you, babe.”

The two of you stood there, panting and slowly coming down from your highs, the kitchen table completely disgraced from your actions, his cum seeping out from your cunt and around his cock to seep onto the wood, the dinner completely forgotten about and burnt beyond recognition by now and the two of you left with a lot to think about.

Masterlist | Ask | 05-12-2023