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ninisdollie · 20 days ago

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kiss it better - nishimura riki 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“In which reader teaches her dear friend how to treat a woman right. Or in which reader teaches ni-ki how to give head”

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x ni-ki, friends to lovers, usage of riki and ni-ki, oral sex (f. rec), masturbation (f), reader is in charge, fingering, spitting, face riding, needy! ni-ki, pussy drunk! ni-ki (he’s a mess) grinding, coming undone, slight voye.

hate comments will be deleted and blocked !! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

Summer trip was always fun with your friend group. But this year was one of your favourites, there was nothing like spending the day on a tanning bed beneath the burning sun, chewing on fresh watermelon after a dive in the beautiful clear waters of the ocean, surrounded by your favorite people in the whole world.

The hotel pool glowed under the summer night, wrapped in string lights and the kind of drunken laughter that only came when everyone forgot about the world outside vacation. Music pulled from a speaker, bass steady. The air smelled like sunscreen and chlorine and you were tasting something fruity on your tongue from the drink you just finished.

You had just slid back into the water, the chill clinging to your skin as you moved through the shallow end. Your bikini hugged your body, still damp from earlier, and your hair stuck to your shoulders in soft waves. Most of your friends where on the deck now, draped across pool chairs or sprawled on towels, passing a bottle of tequila back and forth and yelling about nonsense.

Ni-ki was the only one still on the water.

He floated on his back with his eyes closed, legs lazily moving to keep him afloat, looking so relaxed like he didn’t have a single care in the world. So him.

You swam closer, water swirling around your waist, and nudged his side with your hand.

“You’ll drown”

“Let me.” He murmured, not even opening his eyes “Feels like a good way to go.”

A small laugh left your lips.

“Dramatic.”

Ni-ki opened one eye then, just enough to flash you a lazy smile

“Says the girl who almost cried when we splashed on her drink.”

“That was an expensive drink.”

“You’re expensive” He shot back, quickly.

That caught you off guard, and you blinked.

It wasn’t even that serious, just Ni-ki being Ni-ki. But still, it stuck. Hit something strange and sudden in your chest. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way his gaze lingered a bit too long before flicking away. You’d always thought he was cute. Objectively, anyways. It wasn’t like you were blind, Ni-ki was tall and lean and had that perfect face that made even simple hoodies and cotton sweatpants look good. He was your friend, sure, you’d known him for years now. The same friend that threw up on your lap in Sunghoon’s backseat last summer, the same friend that stole your notes because he never did his homework on time. But that never stopped the thoughts that stuck in your head sometimes, thoughts you never let stay.

But for some reason, tonight felt different.

He ducked under the water suddenly, disappearing from your view. You barely had time to react before strong hands grabbed your waist from behind and lifted you with a splash, so easily.

You shrieked, laughing, trying to escape.

“Ni-ki!”

He just laughed, breathless and smug as you turned and splashed him back, right in the face. You were both soaked now, your bikini clinging tighter to your tanned skin, water streaming down your neck.

Ni-ki was still close, enough to feel the warmth radiating off him even in the cool water. His hands already dropped from your waist, but you could still feel them.

You felt your breathing shake as your eyes met his. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite name. Like heavy and charged.

Then he blinked, swam backwards, and said casually.

“Alright. I’m bored.”

You barely had time to ignore the feeling before Heeseung called out from his chair, arms spread like he was announcing something big.

“Let’s play a game.” He said “Truth or dare.”

Jake made a face.

“We always do that. I’ve lost the count on the amount of times I’ve licked Sunghoon’s neck”

Your friends laughed at him, and you chuckled under your breath.

“Never have I ever then. Loser has to buy all our drinks tomorrow.”

Groans followed, but no one said no. You all gathered near the edge, some wrapped in towels and half-drunk already.

You ended up sitting next to Ni-ki, still damp, still trying to ignore the echo of his hands on your waist.

The game started innocent as always.

“Never have I ever lied to a date.”

“Never have I ever faked an orgasm”

“Never have I ever cheated”

The group slowly loosened between sips, laughter and more laughter, getting louder and messier by the second.

“Okay, I have one.” Heeseung then leaned in, grinning. “Never have I ever gone down on someone”

A few hands went up, including yours.

You didn’t look around, didn’t think much of it, but then you noticed that Ni-ki didn’t move.

He just sat there, calm, fingers tapping slowly on the ground. Then you turned your head.

“Wait, seriously?”

He looked at you, then shrugged.

“Yeah.”

Heeseung just stared.

“Wait wait wait - you’ve never gone down on a girl?”

Ni-ki shook his head.

“Nope.”

Sunoo gasped, hand flying to his chest

“What? Riki, oh my god!”

Heeseung was already laughing

“Bro. That’s practically illegal.”

Jake leaned in like he was interrogating him.

“You scared of it or something?”

Ni-ki scoffed and pushed him.

“Shut up.”

Sunghoon smirked

“So, what’s the reason?”

Ni-ki leaned back on his elbows, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look embarrassed, but he didn’t look thrilled by their teasing either. You didn’t expect it, to be honest, Ni-ki wasn’t exactly a playboy, but he wasn’t a saint either, you’d seen him a thousand times shoving down his tongue in random girls throats at parties.

“I just haven’t found the right person yet.”

That only made the boys laugh louder. Heeseung clutched his chest and someone said something about how he was a “certified mouth virgin”.

You watched Ni-ki stay still through it all, quiet.

Something in your chest pulled tight, and you sat up a little straighter.

“Okay, enough.” You said, cutting through the noise “What are we? Twelve?”

The group quieted a little, eyes turning to you.

“He’s just waiting for the right person, that’s not a bad thing.” You glanced at Ni-ki, met his eyes again. He looked back at you like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or grab your hand. “It’s not that deep. Honestly, most guys think they know how to do it, just doing it doesn’t mean you’re good at it.”

Ni-ki still hadn’t looked away from you.

But as the group moved on, laughing at the next prompt, the air between you didn’t shift back. It felt heavier.

The hotel was quiet now, after the chaos of earlier. You could still hear faint laughter from somewhere down the hall, someone’s speaker muffled behind the closed doors, but for the most part, you started to settle.

Your skin smelled like sunscreen and coconut from your body spray as you stood at the sink in your oversized tee and underwear, hair half-damp and twisted into a towel, the bathroom mirror foggy from your shower. Your limbs ached in a satisfying way that only summer could bring.

You were just about to crawl into bed when the knock came.

One, two, three soft raps, hesitant.

You froze for a second, staring at your reflection wondering who could it be this late at night. Then you padded across the room and peeked through the peephole, opening the door without thinking.

Ni-ki stood there, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, hair damp and curling slightly around his ears.

“Hey.” He said.

You blinked, a bit surprised about his visit and the unsettling look on his face.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

He nodded, but didn’t move.

Then you stepped back, opening the door a little wider.

“Wanna come in?”

He didn’t answer, just walked in, quiet, his presence filling your small hotel room instantly. You shut the door behind him, suddenly too aware of how you were dressed, and the silence between you two.

He looked around, then sat on the edge of the bed like he’d done it a thousand times before.

But now it felt different.

“You good?” You asked again, crossing your arms trying to play it cool.

He nodded again, slower this time.

“Yeah. I just… couldn’t sleep.”

You leaned against the dresser, watching him. He was staring at the carpet, then at his hands. Then up at you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” He admitted and your heart thudded.

“What part?”

“That it’s not about doing it, it’s about knowing how to treat someone.” He paused. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

You swallowed, his voice was lower now, like each word was deliberate.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you” you said.

“I wasn’t embarrassed.” He replied “I just… never talked about it out loud.”

There was a long pause, and you waited, but he didn’t look away.

“I think that’s why I came here.”

Your pulse skipped.

“To talk?” you asked, even thought you were sure that wasn’t what he meant.

He smiled a little but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Kind of.”

You stepped a little closer before you could overthink it, the soft carpet sinking under your feet. You were standing between his knees now, and he was looking up at you from the edge of the bed.

“Riki” You said softly “Why did you come here?”

You knew the answer.

But the silence that followed cracked open something between you, something thick and heavy and real. You felt it settle over your shoulders, wrap around your ribs. Your skin prickled with awareness, his breath, your proximity, the weight of what you weren’t saying.

“Because I want to know what it’s like.”

Your breathed deep.

“What what’s like?”

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“To be with someone who actually wants to teach me. Who doesn’t think I’m weird for not knowing. Who… wants me to get it right.”

You stared at him.

He wasn’t smiling now. He wasn’t teasing. He looked serious, vulnerable, even. And it did something to you. Twisted something deep in your stomach. This was your friend, that not only trusted you enough to ask you this but you also thought he was cute and hot and perfect.

The room felt hot. Too small. Too quiet. His thumbs rubbed slow circles into your thighs now, and you realized he hadn’t looked away from you once.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Then come here.”

Ni-ki shifted before he could even think, his hands sliding up to your hips like instinct. And when he leaned forward, lips brushing yours, it was cautious at first. Feather-light. Testing.

You tilted your head and leaned into it.

The kiss deepened slowly, like water spilling over the edge of a full glass. His mouth was warm, hesitant but eager, lips moving with just enough pressure to make your knees weaken. You could feel the tremble in him, like he was holding back, waiting to be told it was okay to want this. To want you. So you gave it to him. One hand slipped into his hair, anchoring, and the other trailed down his jaw, guiding him as your mouths melted into each other. His breath hitched against your lips when you sucked gently on his bottom one, and he made the softest, most desperate sound, half whimper, half groan. He opened his mouth and his tongue crashed with yours, wet sounds as you tasted his saliva on your own, sighing softly against him feeling how his fingers dig into the bare skin of your thighs.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth.

“Get on your knees, Riki.”

He blinked up at you, dazed, lips red, eyes wide.

And then he obeyed.

His hands slid down your thighs as he sank slowly to the floor in front of you. Kneeling. Breath shallow. Waiting.

Completely at your mercy.

He looked up at you, already breathless. You could see it in his face, that eager, desperate curiosity masked by restraint. Like he was doing everything he could not to touch. Not to beg.

You didn’t say anything at first.

Just reached for the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, intentionally slow. You felt his gaze drag over every inch of skin as it was revealed, your bare breasts in front of him, nipples hard the second the cold air of the room touched them. His pupils were already blown wide, jaw clenched like he was trying so hard not to react. You dropped the shirt beside you, left in just your panties.

The overhead light was off, but the warm hotel lamp behind him painted your skin gold, throwing soft shadows along your collarbones, the curve of your stomach, the tops of your thighs.

Ni-ki looked like he’d stopped breathing.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He nodded too fast.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just—fuck.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Rough and a little hoarse, like it had scraped his throat just coming out.

You slipped your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear.

His eyes dropped instantly.

You swore you saw his fingers flex again, digging into his jeans like it physically hurt not to reach for you.

You slid them down slowly, stepping out of them with a grace that felt foreign even to yourself, because god, the way he was looking at you was doing something to your head. Like you were the first naked girl he’d ever seen. Like he didn’t know what to do with the sight of you. Your bare intimacy was in front of him now, and you were dripping, glistening arousal that you hadn’t even noticed until that point, pulsing and needy and wanting him.

When you stood fully bare in front of him, you saw his throat bob as he swallowed. Hard.

“Still okay?” you asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at you like you were unreal. Like you weren’t even part of the same world.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathed out, like it slipped from him without warning. “I don’t—what the fuck.”

Heat crawled up your chest. You weren’t used to being looked at like that. Not with that kind of reverence. Not like he was wrecked by just seeing you.

“You wanna learn how to do this right?” you asked, stepping closer until your knees touched the edge of the mattress.

He nodded, already breathless.

“Yeah. I want to learn everything.”

You smiled, heart pounding, then gently climbed onto the bed.

“Then watch me,” you whispered against his lips, not kissing him yet. “And listen to me. I’ll show you exactly how it’s supposed to feel.”

Settling back against the pillows until you were laying flat, you parted your legs just enough to keep him staring.

His breath audibly caught.

From below, he had the clearest view. Your skin glowing under the dim bedside lamp, the soft rise and fall of your chest, your thighs spread open with nothing hidden. Your dripping, swollen pussy. You watched his eyes flick from your face to between your legs, and stay there.

“You still with me?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve never—fuck, I’ve never seen anyone like this. Like you.”

Your core tightened at the way he said it, raw, reverent.

You bent one knee, dragging your heel up onto the mattress, spreading yourself more for him, breathing heavily, your heart pumping against your chest and your pussy pulsing under his gaze.

“Then pay attention,” you murmured, bringing your fingers between your thighs. “I’m gonna show you how I like it.”

Ni-ki looked wrecked already, and you hadn’t even touched yourself yet.

You started slow, fingers gliding down to part yourself gently. Your other hand gripped the sheets beside your ribs as you circled your clit, slow and lazy. Soft breaths fell from your lips.

You let your eyes drift shut for a moment, focusing on the warmth building low in your stomach. But you could feel his eyes on you. Could almost hear the tension in his throat as he swallowed thickly, breathing uneven.

“Can you see?” you asked, voice hazy, cracked at the edges.

“Yeah,” he said, too fast. “Yeah, I can see everything.”

You glanced down at him through your lashes. He looked dazed. Kneeling obediently between your legs, jaw tense, his hands fisted at his sides like touching himself would break whatever spell you’d put him under.

“Does it make sense now?” you breathed, dragging your fingers lower to gather slick and bring it back up, circling with a bit more pressure. “It’s not about being rough. It’s about paying attention.”

Ni-ki exhaled hard.

“You’re fucking unreal.”

A faint smirk tugged at your lips. You were soaked already, turned on by your own touch—but also by him. The way he looked at you. Like he was watching something sacred. Like he’d get on his knees for you again and again if it meant seeing you like this.

You kept your eyes on him as your fingers moved, lazy, deliberate circles that made your hips twitch every now and then. You weren’t putting on a show. This was real. You wanted him to see what it looked like when it was good. When someone took their time. When someone cared.

And judging by the look on his face, Ni-ki was already on the edge of losing his mind.

Still on his knees, his jaw was tight, lips parted like he kept forgetting how to breathe. His hands had fisted into the hem of his hoodie, knuckles pale from the grip. You could see how tense his thighs were. You could see the bulge against his jeans, hard and throbbing. How his chest rose and fell too fast.

You tilted your head, voice smooth and low.

“You want to touch me, don’t you?”

His eyes shot up to yours, wide and ruined.

“So bad.”

You let out a soft hum, letting your fingers slow, just enough to keep the pleasure alive.

“I know,” you said. “You’ve been staring like you’re starving.”

“I am,” he groaned, frustrated. “You’re—fuck, you’re driving me insane.”

You gave him a slow, lazy smile.

“Good. That means it’s working.”

He let out a strangled breath, his hands twitching again, like he didn’t know whether to beg or fall apart.

“Can I… please?” he tried, his voice rough. “Just a little—let me touch you.”

“You are touching me,” you said sweetly, dragging your fingers through your slick just to show him. You brought them to your mouth, tasting yourself on them before sliding them between your legs again “With your eyes. Can’t you feel it?”

He looked like you’d punched the air out of him.

“Don’t worry,” you added, voice a little lower, “I want you desperate.”

He exhaled shakily, dropping his gaze to your thighs again. His whole body was tense, on edge, like he was fighting every urge in his body to crawl up the bed and ruin the distance between you.

“You said you wanted to learn,” you reminded him. “So listen when I tell you this, Riki.”

He looked up again. Waiting.

“Pussy isn’t about technique. Not really. You can memorize all the tricks, flick your tongue every direction—but none of it matters if you’re not obsessed with the way she tastes. The way she feels when she’s shaking under you. The way she moans when you find the spot that makes her legs tremble.”

He blinked like he wasn’t breathing again.

“And if you’re not ready to worship her,” you whispered, dragging your fingers slow and deep between your folds, “then you’ve already failed.”

“Holy fuck,” he choked out, his voice barely a sound.

Your smile turned wicked.

“I haven’t even let you touch me yet and you’re falling apart. What do you think’s gonna happen when I put your mouth here?”

He groaned and tilted forward slightly on his knees, like the weight of your words pushed him closer.

You paused your hand and raised a brow.

“Getting needy?”

He nodded quickly, voice rough.

“Please. You’re killing me.”

Your chest rose with slow, smug satisfaction. He was so close—so close to breaking.

“You wanna taste me that bad?” you asked.

He licked his lips.

“So bad I think I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

You let your hand drop from between your legs and spread your thighs a little wider, baring yourself completely for him, your wetness dripping between your folds until you were soaking the bed beneath you.

“Then come closer,” you said softly.

He crawled forward the second you gave him permission, kneeling between your legs like it was the only thing in the world he wanted to do. His hands hovered just above your thighs, like he still wasn’t sure if he could touch you yet. You reached down and threaded your fingers into his hair, gently tugging until he looked up at you.

“Slow,” you murmured. “I want you to take your time.”

He swallowed hard.

“Okay.”

“Start soft,” you said. “Don’t rush. Just… taste.”

He nodded, breath catching like he was trying to anchor himself, but his hands were already trembling as they finally landed on your thighs. His touch was reverent, almost like he thought you’d vanish if he wasn’t careful. He leaned in slowly, plump and wet lips brushing the inside of your thigh first, and you gasped at the contact. Just a kiss. Just barely there. But it lit up your nerves like a fuse.

The warmth of his breath followed, and your skin prickled with goosebumps. His mouth moved again, pressing another kiss, this time closer. He wasn’t rushing. He was listening. To your voice. To your breathing. To the way your thighs tensed when he got nearer to where you really wanted him.

You threaded your fingers tighter into his hair, guiding him, not forcing, just showing him you were there.

He looked up once, like he wanted to be sure, and when you gave the smallest nod, he lowered his head again, mouth finally dragging over your pussy, hot and open.

It was slow.

So slow it burned.

The first lick was cautious, just a flick of his tongue, but you moaned softly anyway, hips twitching up toward him. You could feel how his breath hitched in response, how the small sound you made seemed to fuel him.

His lips parted again, tongue sliding a little firmer now between your soaked folds, tasting like he’d never tasted anything before. Like he was memorizing every part of you. The way your thighs shook. The way your breath caught. The way your fingers gripped tighter at his scalp when he hit the right spot, tongue licking wet and hot and perfect over your swollen clit.

“Good,” you whispered. “That’s good… just like that.”

He let out a low sound against you, something desperate, something needy. His hands slid up to your hips like he couldn’t help himself anymore, holding you in place, mouth pressing deeper. The flat of his tongue moved in slow, indulgent strokes, and your stomach clenched, your toes curling against the sheets beneath you.

You exhaled shakily, fingers still buried in his hair, the sight of him between your legs already enough to keep your head spinning. He was trying, so hard, too. Tongue warm, mouth open, but a little unsure still, like he wasn’t convinced he was doing it right even though your thighs kept clenching around his ears.

“Riki,” you murmured, voice a little breathless, “slower—press your tongue flat. Yeah, like that.”

You felt him pause, adjust, and then try again, this time dragging the full weight of his tongue through your folds, slower, deeper, like he was tasting you properly now. Your hips lifted off the bed without meaning to.

“Mhm, fuck—just like that,” you whispered, your voice catching as a sharp pleasure lanced through your core.

You kept your eyes on him, watching the way he reacted to every sound you made. Like he was feeding off them. His lashes fluttered, lips shiny and swollen now, and when he glanced up at you, it was like he needed more. Needed to hear it from you.

“Circle your tongue around,” you whispered, tugging gently at his hair to keep him exactly where you wanted him. “There… slower. Keep it soft. I want to feel everything. Spit on it baby, get me soaked.”

His groan vibrated against you as he obeyed, the wet glide of his tongue sending another wave through your stomach, and then a thick string of saliva fell on your already soaked pussy. His hands clutched your thighs tighter now, nails pressing into your skin just enough to ground himself, like he was getting lost in it. In you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, letting the praise drip from your lips. You saw the way his eyes rolled back slightly when you said it. How his movements got a little more confident, a little messier, but somehow still just right. “Taste me—really taste me. Don’t just lick, use your mouth.”

He obeyed with a quiet desperation, sucking gently on your clit, tongue slipping lower before dragging back up again, slow and thick, like he wanted to devour every inch of you.

You gasped. Moaned. Tugged harder at his hair.

“Fuck, Riki—don’t stop—”

He didn’t. If anything, he got hungrier, greedier. His tongue started moving with more pressure, his lips sucking softly at the spots that made your thighs shake.

You didn’t even have to look down to know he was gone.

You could feel it, in the way his mouth moved, in the way his grip had turned bruising on your thighs, in the low, desperate sounds he kept making every time his tongue dragged through you like he couldn’t help himself.

But when you did look down, your heart almost stopped beating.

Riki’s eyes were barely open, glossy and wild, lips swollen, wet from you. His face was flushed, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and he was panting between licks like he physically couldn’t get enough.

And he kept talking.

Mumbling between mouthfuls, between kisses to your soaked skin, between long, obscene licks like he was drunk on the taste of you.

“Fuck—you taste so good…” he breathed, voice hoarse and wrecked. “S’fucking good… I can’t—god, I can’t stop.”

You moaned softly, hips rolling toward his mouth, and he whined into you. Actually whined.

“It’s the best,” he said again, more to himself this time, like he couldn’t believe it. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever had. I swear—fuck, I need—need to keep tasting you.”

His tongue flattened again, dragging up, slower this time, like he wanted to savor it. He licked you like it was holy.

You gasped, gripping his hair, pulling him tighter to you.

And he loved it.

Didn’t even flinch. He moaned loud into your cunt, licking deeper, rougher, sloppy now, his mouth messy and wet and insistent. Every word he slurred out came like a prayer, like he was in some trance.

“I wanna eat you every day,” he groaned. “Fuck, please let me—I’ll be so good for you, I’ll learn everything—just don’t make me stop—”

Your head fell back against the pillows, legs shaking. He wasn’t even listening anymore, just moving off instinct, tongue flicking exactly how you taught him, sucking just enough to make your stomach twist with heat.

“You like it that much?” you teased, your voice barely holding steady, but it was still firm. Still in control.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused but burning.

“I love it,” he said immediately.

Your legs trembled around his shoulders, and still—still—he didn’t stop. His tongue was relentless now, messy and hot and wet against you, every slow stroke making your stomach twist tighter, your breath hitch faster. But you wanted more. You could feel your body hovering right on the edge, just one touch away from snapping completely.

You slid one hand down, gently brushing your fingers through his hair, guiding him just enough so you could breathe.

“Riki,” you panted. He blinked up at you, dazed and glassy-eyed, his mouth still open, his chin glistening. “Use your fingers too.”

He nodded without hesitation, licking his lips like he didn’t want to waste a drop.

“I—I don’t wanna mess it up,” he said, breathless, hand twitching at your thigh. “Just tell me what to do.”

You grabbed his wrist gently, brought it between your thighs, your own fingers wrapping around his to help him feel you.

“Start with one,” you whispered. “Slow. Let me open up to you.”

He swallowed hard and did exactly that—one long finger slipping into your heat, careful, reverent. The moment he did, a soft sound escaped your lips, your walls fluttering around him.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, almost choking on the words. “You’re so warm. So—fuck—tight. Is that okay? Is that good?”

“So good,” you gasped, voice trembling. “Now curl it—just a little. Mhm… yeah, right there.”

He groaned at the way you clenched, and then his mouth was on you again—tongue working in tandem with his finger now, stroking inside while he sucked and licked and moaned like he was starving.

You let out a high, breathy moan, your hand still guiding his wrist, helping him learn the rhythm. Your hips rocked up to meet both touches, tongue and finger now perfectly synced, and he responded instantly, desperate to give you exactly what you needed.

“Add another,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “You can take it.”

He hesitated only a second before easing a second finger in, slowly, and when he felt your body stretch around him, another broken groan left his throat.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice wrecked. “You feel so perfect—I wanna stay here forever.”

Your back arched, thighs trembling around his head, and he fucked you with his fingers just like you taught him, curling them right, keeping his mouth exactly where you needed it, letting you grind against his tongue shamelessly.

“That’s it, baby,” you moaned. “Just like that. Keep going—you’re gonna make me come.”

And the second those words left your lips, Riki lost it again, messy, moaning into you, thrusting his fingers harder, tongue flicking faster. You felt your climax building like a wave you couldn’t stop.

His lips were slick and red, cheeks flushed, hair clinging to his forehead. But it was the way he was moving that really undid you, hips rocking slowly against the mattress beneath him, grinding like he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Like he physically couldn’t stop.

He was moaning into you, low, broken, filthy sounds muffled by your thighs, and every time you tugged his hair or praised him, his hips pushed down harder, desperate for friction.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your whole body twitching under him. “You’re so needy, baby. Can’t even control yourself, can you?”

He moaned again, loud and desperate, and nodded just barely, face still buried in you.

“I—can’t,” he slurred between licks. “You taste too good—I need it—need to make you come—please, I can’t stop—”

The grind of his hips sped up, his fingers curling perfectly inside you while his tongue flicked your clit again and again, completely in rhythm, completely feral. His thighs were trembling from the way he was using the friction beneath him, like he was getting off just from serving you. From the taste. From your voice.

From the fact that he was the one making you fall apart.

“That’s it,” you groaned, hips bucking up toward his mouth. “Keep grinding, baby. Fuck yourself while you eat me. God—look at you…”

But he wasn’t looking anymore.

His eyes were squeezed shut now, brows furrowed in focus, mouth and fingers soaking wet, hips stuttering with every moan. And from the way his body was shaking, you knew, he was so close. Without even being touched.

You were shaking, heart hammering, your breath catching in short, ragged gasps. Every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers sent sparks rushing down your spine, your thighs trembling around his head. Ni-ki didn’t slow down, if anything, he was more focused than ever, like every sound you made fueled him. Like he needed to pull you apart, needed to feel you break for him.

You could barely keep your eyes open, barely breathe with how good it felt, how intense it was. His hands gripped your thighs like lifelines, grounding himself there, mouth working like he was starved and you were the only thing he’d ever wanted to taste.

Your hips jerked. You were so close it hurt.

“Riki,” you gasped, your voice cracking. “I’m gonna—”

“Come, please, need to feel you come on my mouth baby” He whispered, breathless, sucking your clit so hard that you cried out.

That did something to him. He moaned again, deep and wrecked, and it vibrated against you, just enough to push you over.

Your back arched off the mattress, your fingers tightening in his hair as the world blurred and broke around you. The orgasm tore through you in waves, sharp, warm, overwhelming. You cried out his name, legs closing around him, but he didn’t move, didn’t stop. He held you through it, mouth still soft, slow, working you gently as you came down.

When your muscles finally stopped trembling and your breathing slowed, he looked up at you.His lips were swollen, eyes glassy, flushed and ruined, and he was still panting because he came too, hard and soaked and messy against his jeans from just eating you.

You reached down and stroked your thumb over his cheek.

“You did so good,” you whispered, still breathless. “So, so good.”

And the look in his eyes when you said it? Like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted to hear.

You were sure you created some kind of monster.

It was like something had snapped open between you and Riki that night, something hungry and undeniable. He hadn’t touched you in front of anyone since, but you could feel it: the way his gaze followed you when you walked past in your bikini, the way he’d bite his lip when he thought no one was looking.

But it was worse when you were alone.

Because now, it wasn’t just once. Now he wanted you constantly.

You hadn’t even made it out of the hotel earlier that morning without him pulling you back into the bathroom, dropping to his knees like it was the only place he belonged. He’d barely said a word, just looked up at you with those dark, desperate eyes and mumbled something about “missing the taste of you.”

It had been messy. Rushed. You had to muffle your moans into your hand and clamp your thighs tight around his head just to keep quiet.

Now, three days later in the afternoon, you were sitting under a beach umbrella with a drink in your hand, pretending like you weren’t still flushed from the memory. Pretending like your legs weren’t shaking.

Ni-ki was stretched out on a towel a few feet away, sunglasses on, the sea breeze lifting his hair. He looked calm to anyone else—maybe a little too calm—but you saw the truth. The tension in his jaw. The slight curve at the corner of his mouth when he caught your eye.

And then he mouthed something at you across the space between your friends.

Please.

You blinked.

What?

He glanced toward the beach showers. Then back at you. And mouthed it again:

Please. Just five minutes.

Your heart stuttered.

You shook your head. Barely. But your thighs pressed together instinctively, heat blooming low in your belly. He tilted his head, still pleading, like he was barely holding it together.

He wanted it again.

He wanted you again.

And it hit you then, this wasn’t just about curiosity anymore. This wasn’t a one-time thing.

Ni-ki was hooked.

The sun was beginning to dip lower, casting everything in a hazy gold, and the breeze off the ocean carried laughter and music from your friends further down the beach. You were pretending to still be sipping your drink when Ni-ki brushed past you, close enough that your knees touched for a second.

No one noticed. Or so you hoped.

He didn’t say anything, just walked towards the showers without looking back.

But you followed.

Your heart pounded as you crossed the sand, the faint sound of water trickling from a half-open faucet masking your footsteps. The beach shower area was quiet, stone walls, open-air, private enough if you were quick.

You slipped inside, and there he was.

His back was against the tiled wall, hair tousled, lips parted, like he’d barely been breathing since he left you on that beach chair.

“I thought you said five minutes,” you whispered, stepping in closer.

He shook his head, chest rising and falling beneath his shirt.

“That was a lie.”

You raised a brow, teasing.

“So you dragged me out here to lie to me?”

“No,” he said, voice low, hoarse. “I dragged you out here because I need you.”

And that was all it took.

You kissed him first, quick and hot, stealing his breath. But he dropped to his knees before you could blink, already pushing your swimsuit bottoms down your legs with shaking hands, reverent and hungry.

“Wait,” you breathed, glancing toward the open side of the shower. “Someone could—”

“I don’t care.” His voice was wrecked, hands firm as he pulled your thighs over his shoulders. “I’ll be fast. I promise. I just—fuck, I missed you.”

And then his mouth was on you.

The rush of it stole your breath. The contrast of the cool tile behind you and the burning warmth of his tongue had you clutching the stone wall for balance. He moaned into you, shameless, like the taste of you alone was enough to undo him. You bit your lip, trying not to make a sound, failing as a gasp slipped out when he flattened his tongue and really got into it.

“God, you’re so good,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “So greedy—”

He groaned, grinding against nothing, his fingers digging into your thighs as he pulled you impossibly closer. His mouth was wet, messy, insistent, and every time you tried to look down at him, you saw how gone he was, red cheeks, glassy eyes, flushed and panting like he needed this more than air.

“Riki,” you warned, breath hitching as the pressure built again, sharp and fast. “We don’t have long—”

“I don’t care,” he mumbled against your skin. “Let them see. I’d still stay right here.”

That nearly ended you.

You didn’t even hear the footsteps pass nearby over the sound of the waves and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You just held his face, riding the edge, knowing it wouldn’t take long.

By the time you stepped out of the beach showers, your legs were still trembling.

You’d tried to fix your hair in the tiny mirror, smooth out your expression, but your mouth was swollen and your swimsuit still clung awkwardly to your damp skin. Riki walked a few steps behind you, his shirt thrown over one shoulder, cheeks still flushed, his lips a little too red.

And worst of all, he was smiling.

You elbowed him as you walked, muttering under your breath,

“You’re being obvious.”

“I am obvious,” he said softly, brushing your fingers with his as you passed a stray towel on the sand. “And you liked it.”

You glared at him—only half-serious—and picked up the pace, ignoring the way your thighs still ached.

When you reached your friends, Jake was the first to spot you.

“Well, well, well,” he grinned, raising his sunglasses. “Look who finally decided to rejoin society.”

“We weren’t gone that long,” you said quickly, dropping your towel back down like nothing happened.

Jake squinted. “You guys missed the watermelon. And Sunoo was telling this insane story about—wait.” He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why do you look like that?”

Your stomach flipped. Riki coughed behind you.

Sunghoon glanced up from where he was drying his hair.

“Yeah. You guys look kinda… flushed.”

“Hot out,” Riki mumbled.

“Hm,” Jake said slowly, like he didn’t quite believe it.

You sat down quickly on your beach chair and took a sip of your drink, trying to will your heart rate back to normal. But Riki flopped down next to you, casually propping his sunglasses on top of his head, lips still a little too pink.

You glanced at him.

“You’re enjoying this.”

He smirked.

“A little.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“I won’t.” He leaned closer, voice dropping so only you could hear. “Unless you want me to tell them how good you taste when you—”

“Riki.”

He grinned wider and leaned back like nothing happened.

You tried to look normal. Innocent. Unbothered.

But the looks your friends kept throwing your way said one thing clearly:

They knew something was up.

And if they didn’t know now, they would soon, because Riki’s knee was already brushing yours under the towel, and the second you leaned towards him, he gave you that look again.

Hungry.

Summer trip this year had just started.

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iydiamartinx · 2 months ago

Text

GOD SAVE THE PROM QUEEN

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @omi-resources word count: 1.2k synopsis: Crowned prom queen, she waits for Jason Todd—never knowing he died that night, betrayed by the mother he hoped would love him. a/n: This is pure angst

No one ever thought you and Jason Todd would end up together.

You were the golden girl—popular, bubbly, a social butterfly who floated from group to group with effortless grace. You knew everyone’s name, everyone’s birthday, everyone’s favorite coffee order. You had that kind of charm that made teachers forgive late homework, and classmates fight for your approval. People naturally orbited around you.

And Jason… Jason was the boy who stood alone.

The charity case. Bruce Wayne’s rough-edged, sharp-tongued “adopted street rat,” as the crueler whispers called him. A scholarship student wrapped in too much leather and too little patience, with bruised knuckles and the kind of eyes that had seen too much too young. He stalked the polished marble halls of Gotham Academy like a stray that hadn’t decided if it wanted to bite or bolt—silent, coiled, simmering with something cold beneath the surface.

But somehow, despite all odds, you found each other.

Or maybe it was more than luck. Maybe you saw him before anyone else did. Not just the scowl or the temper, not the bruises he didn’t talk about or the chip on his shoulder the size of Gotham itself—but the way he flinched when kindness came too close. The way he looked at the world like it was always about to hit back.

You were his first real friend.

Then his first real kiss.

Then—somehow, impossibly—his girlfriend.

You, the glittering darling of Gotham Academy.

Him, the boy no one accepted.

And tonight—tonight was supposed to be the proof that fairytales existed. Even here. Even for people like him.

Prom night shimmered around you like a dream made of gold and silk and champagne bubbles. Fairy lights clung to the columns. Strings of live violin music floated through the ballroom like perfume. Everything was perfect. Or it would’ve been.

If only Jason had shown up.

You stood at the edge of the gymnasium-turned-ballroom, the lights from the crystal chandelier scattering across the glossy floor like broken glass. Laughter and music swirled around you in an endless tide. Your dress shimmered under the lights—custom-designed, pearl-dusted tulle hugging your frame like magic. But you didn’t feel like a princess. Not tonight.

You clutched the corsage in your hand, petals bruised and wilting from how tightly you were holding it.

You kept glancing at the entrance.

Any second now.

He promised.

Jason Todd had never wanted to come in the first place. He thought it was stupid. A waste of time. A glittery charade for people who didn’t know what the real world looked like.

But you had begged him. Pleaded. Teased him until he sighed dramatically and muttered something about you being “a pain in the ass,” even as his lips curled at the corners. You had taken his hand in both of yours and asked for just one night. One normal night. One where you could pretend you were just two kids in love and not walking toward two very different futures.

He’d promised. He said yes.

And Jason never broke his promises.

Which is why your stomach kept twisting tighter with every passing minute.

You tried not to let it show. You laughed when your friends came up to talk, smiled for photos you didn’t want to be in, let them drag you across the dance floor. But your eyes never stopped scanning the crowd. The doors.

The night blurred around you. Until—

A hush fell over the room. The headmaster appeared at the mic. “And now,” he declared, “your Prom Queen for the Class of Gotham Academy…”

He said your name.

There were cheers. Applause. Screams of delight.

Hands pushed you forward. You walked up to the stage, smile fixed tight, heart racing—but not from nerves. From disappointment. From dread.

They placed the crown on your head. Not some plastic tiara. No—this was Gotham Academy. The crown was real silver, hand-crafted, inlaid with pearls and tiny diamonds. Cold and dazzling and utterly meaningless. Applause echoed through the ballroom, thundering against the marble columns and crystal chandeliers, but it all felt distant. Muffled. Like you were underwater, watching your own life from behind a pane of glass.

You stood beneath the spotlights, all eyes on you, smiling like you were supposed to, the symbol of perfection. Of success. Of everything Jason Todd had said he didn’t belong to. Meanwhile, on the inside your heart quietly splintered beneath your ribs.

You smiled for the pictures. Smiled as the camera flashes blinded you, one after another like gunfire. Smiled even as your hand tightened around the crushed corsage still clutched at your side, the satin ribbon frayed from hours of waiting.

Still, you told yourself—maybe he would come.

Maybe he was just late.

Maybe he was on his way, grumbling in that low, familiar voice, cursing the idea of prom while secretly tugging at the collar of a rented tux. Maybe the night would still end with his arms around you, forehead resting against yours, whispering something only you got to hear.

But Jason Todd didn’t show.

Not for the crown.

Not for the dance.

Not for you.

When you got home, you didn’t speak a word. You walked straight past your parents’ smiles, straight up to your room, and locked the door behind you. You stood in front of the mirror and stared at yourself—at the girl everyone had cheered for. The girl draped in silk and pearls and promises.

And then you tore the crown from your head and threw it across the room.

It hit the wall with a dull clatter and landed in the corner like a discarded lie.

You cried that night.

Not the soft, pretty kind of tears—the kind that stained silk pillows and left glitter-smudged mascara streaks. These were the messy kind. Ugly. Violent. Hot, angry tears that came with clenched fists and broken sobs. You cried until your voice gave out, until your chest ached from the effort of keeping yourself together.

Downstairs, you didn’t hear the phone ring.

Didn’t hear your mother answer it with a quiet hello.

Didn’t hear her voice tremble as Bruce Wayne—Jason’s guardian, Jason’s father in all but name—asked if you were awake.

He didn’t know how to say it.

Didn’t know how to explain what had happened.

Didn’t know how to break the kind of truth that didn’t just hurt—but hollowed out everything inside a person.

Because while you stood beneath golden lights, crowned and smiling through clenched teeth, Jason Todd had been bleeding out in the dark.

Alone.

Bloody.

Betrayed.

Chasing a mother who’d never loved him.

A woman he had gone halfway across the world to find, carrying nothing but hope and the naïve belief that maybe—just maybe—someone he shared blood with could want him back.

He had found her.

And she had handed him over.

Sold him out to the Joker like he was nothing. Like he hadn’t once been a little boy who only ever wanted a home.

You didn’t know—not yet—that while you danced beneath chandeliers and swallowed your heartache like champagne, Jason had already taken his last breath.

You didn’t know that while your name was being called, while the crowd cheered and the cameras flashed, Jason Todd was lying broken on cold concrete—his blood painting the floor, his body mangled and bruised, a cruel echo of the boy you loved.

He hadn’t stood you up.

He hadn’t broken his promise.

He had just trusted the wrong person.

And paid the price.

Next Chapter →

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd one shot #jason todd fic #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #batman #jason todd angst #jason todd killed

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xoxojuyo · 6 months ago

Text

Out of reach pt.1 - jungkook

𐙚 summary: you meet the man of your dreams during a flight, but he seems to be out of reach…

𐙚 pairing: lawyer!jungkook x nepobaby!reader

𐙚 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS SERIES CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT

𐙚 word count: 1,8k words

𐙚 warnings: jungkook is older than reader, they get very comfy with each other super quick, hold ing hands, kissing, jungkook has a gf, infidelity

𐙚 a/n: this is meant to be a series, it’ll get filthy in the future. Hope you enjoy it 🤍 pt.II

The soft hum of the airplane engines filled the air as you settled into your seat in the first-class cabin of Flight KE902 from Paris to Incheon. You tucked your Hermès blanket neatly around your lap, ready for the long journey home. The lavish seat next to you was meant to remain vacant—an indulgence your parents had arranged for your privacy. After all, the daughter of South Korea’s leading pharmaceutical magnates and Cartier’s latest muse wasn’t accustomed to sharing space, much less during a 12-hour flight.

You glanced out the window, watching the Paris night fade into streaks of neon blue runway lights. You had just begun flipping through the latest issue of Vogue when a deep, polite voice interrupted your tranquility.

“Excuse me, miss. It seems this is my seat.”

You looked up, momentarily caught off guard. A man stood before you, tall and striking, with features so sharp they might have been carved from marble. His tailored suit spoke of understated luxury, and the faint shadow of a smile hinted at an effortless charm.

“There must be a mistake,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “This seat wasn’t supposed to be occupied.”

The flight attendant quickly stepped in, bowing apologetically. “Ms. Choi, I’m terribly sorry. This is Mr. Jeon Jungkook, one of our Diamond members. Due to unforeseen circumstances, we had to reassign this seat to accommodate him. I assure you it won’t affect your experience.”

You hesitated, your mind whirring. Jeon Jungkook? The name sounded familiar, but before you could piece it together, he spoke again.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Jungkook said, his tone professional yet warm. “I’ll do my best not to intrude.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Jeon Jungkook? The lawyer?”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a modest nod. “I see my reputation precedes me. And you must be Choi Y/N. I’ve read about you in Forbes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You read Forbes?”

“I do my homework,” he replied, settling into the seat beside you. “It’s useful to know the people shaping the world around me.”

You couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Flattery doesn’t work on me, Mr. Jeon.”

“Good to know,” he said, leaning back. “But who said I was trying to flatter you?”

The tension melted into a curious ease as the plane taxied for takeoff. As the flight attendants began their safety demonstration, Jungkook turned to you.

“Paris, huh? Business or pleasure?”

“An event with Cartier,” you replied, your voice laced with practiced grace. “And you?”

“Business, mostly. Though I was hoping for some pleasure before a client emergency pulled me back.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “You don’t strike me as someone who gets flustered by emergencies.”

“I don’t. But I’ve learned that flying halfway across the world is part of the job description,” he said with a rueful smile. “And you? Flying solo?”

You hesitated for a moment. “It’s… just a preference of mine.”

Jungkook chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Let’s just say the airline played matchmaker tonight.”

You smirked, feeling the ice between you dissolve. “A bold assumption, Mr. Jeon.”

“Call me Jungkook,” he said. “If we’re stuck together for the next 12 hours, we might as well get comfortable.”

As the plane ascended into the midnight sky, the cabin lights dimmed to a soft amber glow. You adjusted the recline of your seat, sneaking a glance at Jungkook as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. He caught you looking and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Long flight ahead,” he said. “What’s your go-to in-flight entertainment? Movies? Reading? Sleeping?”

“None,” you replied, crossing your legs elegantly. “I usually work or… just stare out the window.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Workaholic?”

“Efficient,” you corrected, your lips curving into a small smirk. “What about you?”

“Depends on the company,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks but masked it with a soft laugh. “And here I thought lawyers were all business.”

“We are,” he admitted. “But even we need a break every now and then. Maybe this is mine.”

You talked intermittently for the next hour, the conversation flowing effortlessly from topics like your favorite cities to your least favorite airline meals. Jungkook’s laugh was infectious, and you found yourself smiling more than you had in days.

At one point, the flight attendant approached with the dinner menu. Jungkook, ever the gentleman, gestured for you to choose first.

“The lobster risotto.”

“Good choice,” Jungkook said, handing his menu back. “I’ll have the same. Can’t go wrong with a classic.”

“You’re copying me?” you teased.

“Or I trust your taste,” he countered smoothly.

As the hours passed, your initial formality faded into a comfortable camaraderie. After dinner, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, glancing at the champagne flute in your hand.

“Celebrating something?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you said, swirling the golden liquid. “It’s not every day you survive a Cartier event without collapsing from exhaustion.”

“Impressive,” he said, lifting his own glass in a mock toast. “To surviving the glamorous life.”

“And to lawyers who manage to look good while working too hard,” you quipped.

You clinked glasses, your eyes locking briefly. You felt your heart skip a beat, a warmth spreading in your chest that had nothing to do with the champagne.

By the time the plane was over Siberia, the cabin had grown quiet. Most passengers were asleep, but you and Jungkook were wide awake, leaning toward each other as you whispered.

“So, what’s the first thing you’ll do when you get back to Seoul?” Jungkook asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Probably dinner with my dads,” you said. “We have this tradition where our chef cooks my favorite meal whenever I come back from a trip.”

“That sounds nice,” he said, his expression genuinely interested. “What’s the dish?”

“Kimchi jjigae, with extra tofu,” you said. “And you? What’s the first thing you’ll do?”

“Go straight to the office,” he said with a wry grin. “Not as exciting, huh?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. Something about you being so dedicated is… admirable.”

Your gazes lingered, the silence between you charged with an unspoken tension. Jungkook reached for the blanket draped over his seat and, without a word, tucked it around your shoulders.

“You looked cold,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

It felt natural when your hands brushed against each other on the armrest. Neither pulled away, and moments later, Jungkook laced his fingers gently with yours.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing.

“Maybe it’s the altitude,” he joked, though his voice was soft, sincere. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Your heart raced as you looked down at your entwined hands. “Do you always move this fast, Jungkook?”

“Only when it feels right,” he said, his eyes meeting yours.

You and Jungkook were still wrapped in each other’s warmth, your voices a murmur as you traded soft laughs and tender glances. His hand rested over yours, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin.

But then, Jungkook’s phone buzzed against the tray table. His expression stiffened as he glanced at the screen, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I need to take this,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

You frowned slightly, sensing the shift in his mood. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, though his tone didn’t quite match his words. “It’s work. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He stood and slipped toward the bathroom, phone in hand. You watched him go, a strange unease settling in your chest.

Inside the restroom, Jungkook answered the FaceTime call. The face of a woman appeared on the screen.

“Jungkook,” she said, her voice gentle. “I was worried when you didn’t answer earlier. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, his tone measured. “Just caught up with work.”

The woman smiled faintly. “I can’t wait to see you. We have so much to talk about.”

He forced a small smile. “Me too.”

The call ended, and Jungkook stared at his reflection in the mirror, his expression conflicted. He lingered for a moment before returning to his seat.

You looked up as he sat down, your eyes scanning his face. “Everything alright?”

Jungkook hesitated, his hand brushing the back of his neck. “Y/N… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach tightened. “What is it?”

He exhaled deeply, unable to meet your gaze. “I have a girlfriend.”

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind. You blinked, processing, before narrowing your eyes. “What?!”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “But I can’t ignore how… how good it felt to be with you tonight.”

Your jaw tightened. “So you just conveniently forgot about her while holding my hand and—” you stopped, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t want to lie to you.”

You turned away, staring out the window as anger and hurt bubbled inside you. But even as the rational part of you screamed to push him away, your heart ached to stay close.

“Don’t say another word,” you said, turning back to him. “For the next hour, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Just… don’t ruin this.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. “Y/N—”

“Shh,” you interrupted, leaning closer. Your hands found his, and despite the anger simmering beneath your skin, you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug.

You stayed like that for a moment, the world outside the plane shrinking away. Then, almost without thinking, you tilted your face up toward his. Your lips met in a slow, hesitant kiss that deepened as you clung to each other, as if trying to capture something fleeting.

The announcement of your descent broke the spell. As you disembarked and retrieved your bags, an awkward silence stretched between you. Jungkook carried your carry-on for you as you walked toward the airport exit.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stopping in the middle of the terminal.

“For what?” You asked, your tone sharp. “For kissing me? For holding my hand? Or for confessing you have a girlfriend after letting things get this far?”

“All of it,” Jungkook said, his eyes downcast. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. But I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

Your breath hitched. “Then why can’t we—”

“Because I can’t walk out on her like that,” he interrupted, his voice heavy with guilt. “It wouldn’t be right.”

You stared at him, anger and heartbreak warring within you. “And what about me? It’s okay to just walk out on me like nothing happened?”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, but he took a step back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry y/n, If destiny brings us together again, I promise you I’ll make it up to you.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the crowd.

You stood frozen, your hands clutching the strap of your bag as your mind raced. You were furious, confused, and utterly disappointed. Yet, beneath it all, a part of you longed for the man who had just walked out of your life.

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook fic #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook smut #lawyer jungkook

1K notes · View notes

ssahotchnerr · 9 months ago

Note

begging for nanny!reader x hotch

aka aaron discovers reader is going on a date, our man gets a bit mean and jealous, things get a bit steamy and it ends with him begging reader not to go🙈🙈

right now

🤭 cw; fem nanny!reader, jealous and some possessive!aaron 😵‍💫, slight bratty reader?, heavy suggestion - minors dni wc; 1.2k

"Homework is done. Soccer bag is packed for tomorrow, but uniform is finishing up in the dryer now." You relayed everything on your internal to-do list, mentally checking off each box. "Oh, he has a permission slip for a class trip in his folder that needs signing. I reminded Jack to remind you, but just so you're aware, too. He's eating at his friend's, so you don't have to worry about dinner."

Aaron nodded along to your instructions. You looked throughout the kitchen, as if something would pounce out and remind you of something you'd potentially forgotten.

When nothing availed, "Okay, that should cover it."

"You're amazing, per usual." Aaron complimented, exhaling an at-eased breath. He glanced around the clean apartment, before discreetly admiring you. "I can't tell you how nice it is knowing things are taken care of here. I'm able to come home and breathe. Jack adores you. Seriously, what would we do without you?"

You blushed at his praise, warmth sweeping through you. "Happy to help."

"How was he today?" He asked, swiftly grabbing the mail from the table, beginning to poke through it.

"Perfect. Per usual." You shared, tossing Aaron a grin. Jack made your job tremendously easy - he was cooperative, kind mannered, overall the sweetest kid. "Although, I did have to remind him to stop leaving his shoes in the middle of the entryway." You added jokingly, as if it could be an inconvenience.

Aaron chuckled. His eyes squinted humorously as he quipped in return, "I'll have a chat with him."

Your smile lingered, fading away gradually as you began packing yourself up. "And thanks for relieving me early. I know how busy you are, so I really do appreciate it."

Nervousness pumped through your veins at the thought of your evening plans. You've been in the Hotchners' lives for a few months now, so casually discussing your plans should've come naturally, easily, but it didn't. Not with all things considered.

"No problem, happy to accommodate. You deserve to relax too." His eyebrows furrowed, tossing aside unimportant, junk mail. "If you don't mind me asking, what're you up to tonight?"

"I, um," Your gaze dropped, grabbing ahold of your bag. Your cheeks flushed, suddenly feeling very guilty. You took your time answering, "I have a date, actually."

He stopped stifling through the mail at once, his gaze lifting. "A date?"

"Yeah." You continued to pack up, throwing your bag over your shoulder and avoiding his eyes altogether. "A date."

"With who?" Aaron's words were harsher than he anticipated, causing you to freeze this time. He didn't like the concept of you seeing someone, not a bit.

Your eyes finally met his - his hardened stare. The expression awakened something in you, and you reciprocated back, your words equally as blunt. "Nobody you know."

You've never witnessed Aaron like this, and likewise, it brought something out in you as well; a newfound attitude. You wanted to disobey, solely to see how he reacted. He clearly wasn't happy, and you were entranced to find out more; curious as to what he would do, and hoping it was what you had in mind.

Aaron stood there rigidly, silently seething. The atmosphere had changed completely. No longer was it a light, witty one - but filled with the utmost tension.

"Well, thanks again-" Your hand found the doorknob, pulling the door open a few inches. You didn't make it far; Aaron's hand found the door above your head, pushing it shut.

"What's he like?"

You always caught whiffs of Aaron's cologne all throughout the apartment, whether he was in the residence or not. It was spicy, yet subtly sweet; suitable for him.

But now with his close proximity, mumbling into your ear, it was dizzying. You couldn't think straight even if you tried. You turned, coming face to face with his chest. His button-up was stretched tight against his torso, adding to the illusion of the strong muscle he possessed underneath. His arm had also stayed put, to the right of your temple.

You were caged in, and not complaining.

It had a notable effect it had on you. You wanted to be all consumed by him; you needed him to take charge, and you'd willingly allow it.

Your back met the door, as well as your head as you gazed up at him. You were lost with words, your heart thumping wildly in your chest, restricting any normal breathing.

"What's he like?" He repeated, urging you to answer. While his voice remained taut, it was joined by a condensing tone. As if he knew better. Knew you better, and you weren't the one to object.

Needless to say, he was enjoying this: making you noticeably squirm, and the fact it didn't take much to do so.

Your breath hitched, going fuzzy at the edges. "I don't know. A friend set us up."

"I think you should cancel it."

"Excuse me?'

"By all means, you can go. Only," His eyes flicked up and down your body, slotting a thigh between your legs. "What you're exhibiting tells me you'd rather not."

You resisted the urge to grind down on his leg, attempting to remain as neutral as possible. "Are you profiling me?"

"Maybe." Aaron smirked softly. His eyes were dark, a deep contrast to the glow you had witnessed earlier. "Maybe I have been for a while."

"Okay." You challenged him, forcing yourself to speak up. With an arch of your eyebrow, "What have you noticed?"

A delightful little laugh escaped him. As stern as he was portraying, there was still a gentleness to him. "You want me to touch you right now."

"What?" You squeaked out. He wasn't wrong.

"Don't interrupt. Let me finish." He leaned in closer, his hands itching to make contact with your waist - to firmly hold you - to dig his fingertips just enough into your hips to leave marks. "I see the way you look at me. I always have. Similar to now, only your pupils are dilated. Your breath has picked up so dramatically, it's almost amusing."

You remained silent, holding your gaze, while he continued.

"This is the closest we've ever been to each other, and by no means are you trying to move away. You have the space to." He relaxed his stance, to emphasize his point. "You're in no hurry."

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to squirm. You were getting worked up, arousal pooling in you - it didn't help with your need for friction.

"I haven't done anything yet, and just look at you."

A soft whimper left you as you forced your posture to straighten, slowly perching up on your tiptoes. Your lip ached to meet his. The gap between the two of you was maddening; you needed him on you, you on him, you didn't care. As long as the contact was there.

"Do you want me to? I need a yes, sweetheart." He inched closer, his lips dangerously close, centimeters apart.

And with that, you succumbed to him completely, scrambling to throw your arms over his neck and pulling his body to yours.

"Yes."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut

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chrissv4mp · 27 days ago

Text

♱ ONE DOOR DOWN

warnings. smut, use of y/l/n, masturbation, p in v, unprotected sex, subtop!billie, dirty talk, mild praise kink, language.

synopsis. your counselor asks you to ride along with the track team while they're on their tournament. you're not particularly happy about it, until rooms are assigned and billie texts you late at night.

au. g!p jock!billie × leadership/cheerleader!reader

words. 3.7k

letters. quickest thing i've written in a while, WHO CHEERED 😛

you found out during sixth period. just before class ended, your name was called over the intercom to come to the counselor's office, and your leadership advisor had told you there was some kind of last-minute shuffle, that the chosen leadership rep had something come up and they couldn't make it.

she follows up by saying you're the next best choice because you're "reliable," "organized," and "a good presence for the younger athletes." along with a quiet comment about how you were the first choice, but they decided to give someone else a chance.

you want to say no. want to point out the large stack of homework on your desk that you'd usually have done by now but got too busy, the group project in history that no one else is working on, the way you hate long bus rides and shared hotel rooms and being in charge of a bunch of kids who don't listen.

but you don't.

because you're reliable. organized. a good presence.

so now it's friday night and you're standing in an—almost empty—hotel lobby six hours away from home, sitting and staring at a man arguing with the front desk ladies.

the head track coach is listing off room assignments, voice heavy with exhaustion and irritation from the long, rowdy bus ride here. people are cheering tiredly once they hear their names together, some groaning, and others immediately rushing down the stairs and to the elevators in an effort to beat the other there.

you're leaning your chin against the palm of your hand, nearly asleep, when you hear your name being called.

"y/l/n," coach avery murmurs. "and... eilish. rooms 129, 130."

billie glances over at you, backpack slung over her shoulder, duffel bag hanging loosely on her other. her lips twitch up in a small smirk as she nods at you, the hall, and then gets up without another word.

you follow behind her slowly, feet dragging against the carpet as you make your way to the elevators. it's quiet until you reach the second floor and check into your room, the door shutting behind you. that's when you finally let out a groan of exhaustion.

before anything else, you drop your backpack in the corner along with your suitcase, unpacking your toothbrush, hairbrush, and makeup. you set everything in the bathroom, then go back out into the room and unpack your outfit for tomorrow, setting it on the little desk by the tv.

with that done, you turn off the overhead lights, strip out of your clothes, climb under the sheets, and flick on the bedside lamp, getting comfortable beneath the soft comforter and trying to ignore the hard feeling of the pillows.

then a door opens. and it's not the room door.

it's the adjoining door between yours and billie's rooms. your eyelids flutter open slowly as you prop yourself up on your elbows, squinting.

she's leaning against the door frame, towel slung around her neck, sports bra hugging her chest, collarbones still a little damp from her shower.

"goin' to bed so soon?" she asks, voice smooth, low. teasing.

you pretend not to look at her chest. or the way her shorts hung low on her hips. you fail. miserably. so, you try to brush it off with a reply. "that bus ride was hell. i'm surprised you're not dead asleep right now."

billie grins, stepping into your room. "can't go to bed without a kiss, boss, you know that."

that stupid nickname. she'd started calling you that recently, and ever since, it stuck with her. and you hated how much it actually effected you, how much you loved hearing the way it rolled off her tongue.

"mhmm," you deadpan. "well, tonight, you're going to."

she groans loudly, exaggerating the sound and acting like you just stabbed her right through the heart. billie fake-limps toward the bed, fingers curling at the edge of the mattress and frowning when she sees you roll back onto your side.

"baby," she whispers. "you're, like, a different person when you're tired. it's kinda funny." you roll your eyes at that.

when you kick her from under the sheets, she jumps back. "but alright. whatever you say, boss."

"take your ass to bed, billie," you grumble under the sheets.

and she does, muttering a small "i love you" before she pads back into her own room, not even bothering to lock the door behind her. when she leaves, you think it'll be easier to get to bed. but it's quite the opposite, especially with the loud ac humming in the room and the thoughts of c's and d's filling your grade book when you get back.

the missing assignments you had were already starting to pile up, and you couldn't afford to get kicked off the leadership team this late into the year just because mrs. johnson is on top of everything with her grading technique.

so you slip the covers off your body and walk over to your backpack, grabbing your laptop from inside of it and crawling back into bed. the bright screen so close to your face makes you flinch when you open it, not used to the lighting this late at night.

you go through multiple assignments in the span of 15 minutes, answering test questions like they're preschool topics, along with fixing up the weekly newsletter that always seemed to have a million typos although the writer was your english teacher. you couldn't blame him through, you always saw mr. grayson falling asleep behind his desk while flipping through a powerpoint.

the chill of the ac makes you shiver. and it's nearly midnight when your phone dings, lighting up on the bedside table and catching your attention.

shutting your laptop and setting it on the table where your phone was placed, you grab the small device and unlock it. it's billie.

bils, 11:48pm: it's cold without u

bils, 11:48pm: keep turning over like ur gonna be there

bils, 11:49pm: wanna feel your skin on mine.

your breath hitches, eyes flicking over the words over and over again like if you re-read them you'll maybe see something different. but, nope, it's exactly what you think.

she was always like this. bold. shameless. never scared to send something risky. and this just proves it.

but you don't give her the satisfaction of your real reaction.

you, 11:51pm: you should've stretched harder today, eilish. maybe you'd be faster at getting over yourself.

the message doesn't even read 'delivered,' it just flicks to 'read' as soon as it's sent. you see the typing bubble appear as you laugh, then they disappear.

no reply for a few minutes.

you blink once. twice.

one message, plus an attachment.

you open it. and—god, this girl might be the death of you.

billie. lying in her already messy bed, sheets pulled down low on her body. bare chest on full display, the swell of muscle visible under soft skin. she has one arm bent behind her head, the other resting low on her stomach. your eyes trace over the faint lines of her abs until you realize it—her hard, thick length protruding from between her legs.

the tip is red, swollen and dripping with precum already. it's resting against her lower stomach, veins running up the base and making your stomach twist.

your mouth goes dry.

the text under the photo doesn't help.

bils, 11:57: need u bad. pls come over here.

you let out a small sigh, shaky and desperate as your eyes flick to the door. it's cracked open just a bit, giving you the smallest opening to peek through. but all you can see from your bed is the edge of her mattress.

so you get up, slowly, pushing the covers off and stepping onto the soft hotel carpet. your heart stutters as you reach for the door handle, fingers twitching—but then you hear it, and you swear your heart stops for a moment.

quiet whimpers, shaky gasps, broken moans of curses and—and your name. repeatedly. those words catch your attention before the fast, wet squelching sound does. she's touching herself. couldn't even wait until you got there.

it makes you even wetter than before.

you twist the handle slowly, pushing the door open all the way and freezing in place when you finally see her. billie. at the edge of the bed, one hand wrapped around her length as the other gripped the sheets so tight her knuckles bled white. her skin was shiny with a thin layer of sweat, strands of hair sticking to her neck and forehead as she stroked herself.

her room is darker. warmer. it smells like vanilla lotion and her arousal. you can hear the faint voice of some sports commentator on the tv, but nothing can overpower her desperate moans and the sound of her hand pumping up and down her dick.

when you step in and shut the door behind you, billie finally looks up—eyelids hooded, lips parted and swollen from biting down so hard, cheeks flushed. she moans quieter, hand stopping at the tip of her length.

"knew you'd come," she smirks lazily, voice low. needy.

you swallow hard, hands moving to grip the dresser like you need an anchor.

"you're insane," you breathe. hardly a whisper.

"'nd you're late," she murmurs, eyes dragging hungrily over your body. "missed you." she whines, and your knees almost give out beneath you.

her breathing becomes even less even than before as you slowly stalk over, brows furrowing like the space between your two bodies physically aches. because it does.

she watches as you cross the room. slow. cautious. like you're afraid she'll disappear if you blink.

you stop just a few inches from where she's sat at the edge of the bed. her head tips back to look you in the eyes, seeing the desperation swirling in your irises even in the dark atmosphere of the room.

"please, c'mere," she begs, breathless.

the rapid beating of your heart against your chest is so loud you swear she can hear it. but you step closer anyway.

her hands find your hips immediately, pulling at the hem of your shorts and whining when you place your hands atop of hers, stopping her movements. you watch as her hips buck instinctively when you lean down to press a kiss to her lips—a quick one, leaving her wanting more when you pull back.

a small grin pulls at your lips when you feel her fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts.

"been thinking 'bout you all day," she says quietly, lower lip trembling. "watchin' you—mm, boss everyone 'round, lookin' so pretty in your little leadership shirt... had—god, it drove me crazy."

your breath stutters.

her eyes meet yours again—dark, needy, so full of longing to feel you against her, to feel you around her.

"billie, you can't just—" her lips find yours before you can finish your sentence, kissing you like she's been waiting for this since the moment she stepped on the bus.

and she has.

the second her tongue slips between your lips, you lose any ounce of self control you might've had left. her hands tug harder at your shorts, huffing in frustration against your mouth when you deny her once again.

billie whimpers against your lips, eyes fluttering open. "i'll be so good for you tonight."

and how could you not believe her? you always do.

still, you remove her hands from your hips and nod over toward the headboard. billie gets the message quickly, scooting back onto the mattress until her back hits the board. you rid yourself of your shorts, hearing billie's breath hitch at the sight of your curves in the shadows.

you crawl onto the comforter, eyes flicking to the way her cock stands proudly between her leg—9 inches. that's what she'd always brag about over calls when she was away for meets, games, tournaments. just whenever she was away from you for more than a day.

you'd only ever seen her once. just taking her into your mouth was a struggle by itself—you have no idea how big she'd feel inside of you.

billie shivers when you straddle her lap, hovering over her just close enough that it drives her crazy. lips close enough to hers that she'd feel your breath fanning across her skin, to watch the way her eyes search yours like she's trying to figure out if you're actually real.

"prove it to me," you whisper.

and billie wastes no time.

not rushed, definitely not slow—but intentional. she straightens up, hand sliding down your side until it rested on your hip, tugging you gently to fully sit down on her lap. her lips brush your collarbones, free hand pulling the strap of your tank top to the side so that she'd have more access to your smooth, soft skin.

her mouth is warm. lips pressing the most gentle, caring kisses along your neck, jaw, and cheek, until she reaches your lips and she really can't continue with the softness.

you kiss her back with the same amount of fervor, hands reaching around to tangle in her hair, nails digging into her scalp and massaging softly—so soft it elicits the smallest whine from billie.

the tips of her fingers tease the edge of your top, sneaking under the hem, not quite waiting for confirmation but not exactly rushing it either.

"couldn't wait 'til after your meet tomorrow, could you?" you tease against her lips, pulling away just to see her.

she shakes her head quickly.

you pause. "use your words, track star."

billie's cheeks flush in embarrassment at the name. "y'looked too good to wait. needed my hands on you now."

her hands slide around, moving to your back slow and reverent, pulling your shirt over your head. you shiver when the cold air hits your skin, but her hands are warm and grounding and right there, soothing the chill and teasing the clasp of your bra.

your lips curl into a smirk when she doesn't undo it, pulling away just enough to take her in, your eyes dark and teasing.

"gonna do something or are you just gonna stare?"

billie huffs, pouting and working her fingers quickly on the clasp, undoing it and watching as you slide the straps off your shoulders, throwing it to the floor without a care in the world.

"you're so pretty," she mumbles, leaning close and pressing sloppy kisses down your sternum. "so perfect."

you tilt your head back, eyes fluttering closed as you bask in the feeling of billie's plump lips wrapping around your nipple, tongue flicking along the bud until she feels it harden beneath the stimulation. she moves on, her hand coming up to palm your breast as she wraps her lips around your other nipple, earning a pleased moan from between your lips.

her hand grabs your thigh so tight you're sure it'll bruise in the shape of her palm, dragging you down closer on her lap where she's already so hard it makes your head spin.

you grind into her mindlessly, hips moving on instinct. she lets out this soft, broken sound against your skin that makes your entire body throb, arousal pooling into your panties and forming an obvious wet spot. her hips buck up, eyebrows furrowing in painful pleasure.

"please. please, baby," she begs, letting your nipple go and resting her forehead on your chest. "want—fuck, i need to be inside you so... so bad."

"show me," you say, just as needy. "be good like you promised."

her eyes flutter shut at your tone, her trembling lip caught between her teeth. her hands slide back down to your hips, lifting you without struggle, bucking her hips up against the thin fabric separating your arousal from hers.

she breathes heavy into your neck, whining and whimpering as she rocks her hips against the warm fabric, feeling your sticky slick even through your panties. "take 'em off—"

"s'no time," she cuts you off with a moan, a few octaves higher than before. "can't—baby, i can't w—wait anymore."

"then don't."

billie shivers when it reaches her ears, one of her hands coming down between your legs to push your panties aside. you hover over her, lips parted slightly as you slowly lower yourself down onto her cock. you choke on a moan before you're even past the tip, feeling just how big she really is.

what she feels somehow seems more enhanced—especially with the way she's shaking and gasping and digging her nails into your skin. she can't take her eyes off the way your pussy swallows her so well, taking inch by inch with hardly any pauses.

your fingers pull at her hair harsher than before, unable to contain yourself once she finally bottoms out.

"fuck, fuck, fuuckk—so... you're so tight, ma," she whimpers, stumbling over her words, cock throbbing. "feels... s'good."

a moan of her name rips through your throat when she bucks her hips up without control, both of your eyes squeezing shut at how good it felt. she grabs your hips tight, thrusting up in sloppy, deep motions that make the whole hotel room fade away until it's just you, billie, and the heat blooming in your stomach.

every time she brings you down, she whispers something.

"so tight."

"missed you."

"wanted this so bad."

"wanna make you cum," she whines, head falling back against the headboard when she feels you clench around her throbbing length.

your jaw falls agape when billie's hand sneaks between your thighs and starts to rub tight, controlled circles on your puffy clit, urging your hips to move forward against the extra stimulation.

when your bounces start to get slower, billie whimpers and quickly—but gently—flips you over, your back on the mattress and her body hovering over you. her hips never stop moving, thrusting faster and deeper and maintaining a steady pace.

"bein' so good f'me," you praise between moans, nails dragging down billie's back and leaving a trail of marks. "fuck, don't stop, bil."

she whimpers directly into your ear, her rapid breath fanning across your neck and sending goosebumps all along your body. your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her closer and causing her dick to slide deeper into your cunt, her tip kissing your cervix perfectly.

billie gasps loudly, brows furrowed and face red—you kiss her without wasting another second, not wanting her coach or one of her teammates to come knocking on your door telling you to be quiet. the teasing would be terrible for the next few months.

"gotta be quiet," you mutter against her swollen lips, "can you do that f'me, pretty girl?" you ask, voice broken.

she nods eagerly, lips finding yours again to shut herself up—she doesn't trust herself not to make more sounds with the way you're squeezing her so tight, the warm feeling in her belly nearly overwhelming.

you cum without warning, moan muffled against billie's lips, legs wrapped tightly around her waist as she fucks you through it, her hand between your bodies and rubbing your clit to help you ride your high through every last aftershock.

the feeling of your walls fluttering around her length had her head spinning, mouth running dry, the knot in her stomach about to snap. she just needed to warn you before—

"baby—oh fuck—baby, m'gonna cum," billie whines, hips stuttering, "can't—oh my god, i can't—"

you can't even process how billie pulls out just as she lets herself go, sticky, white ropes of her arousal pooling onto your skin and the ruined fabric of your panties. her breath comes out in fast, sharp gasps as she comes down, fingers wrapped around her length and pumping quickly to prolong her orgasm.

her hips still buck subconsciously even when she pulls her hand away, cock going soft.

the both of you just sit there for a few minutes, staring at the mess that billie made, breathing heavy in the warm space of the hotel room that you're realizing is really quiet now that you two aren't lost in the pleasure.

you see billie finally snap back into reality the second she hears your quiet giggles, eyes flicking up to yours. her cheeks flush under your gaze, hands moving to find the comforter and hide herself under it. she's so shy now that she isn't so needy. it's adorable.

"m'gonna go get a towel," billie murmurs quietly, fingers brushing along your thigh as she scoots off the bed and pulls on her discarded pajama shorts from before you came over.

she comes back from the bathroom after a few minutes, a damp towel in one hand. she parts your legs with her other hand, dragging the warm cloth along your skin to clean up her arousal. you shiver beneath the ticklish feeling, earning a small smirk from the girl between your legs.

"sorry," billie looks down again, clearing her throat. "...think i pulled out too late." she murmurs, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

a soft grin pulls at the corners of your lips at her words, your hands coming down to grab at her forearms. billie gets the memo, tossing the towel aside and crawling over your body. she can't even look you in the eyes she's so shy, so ruined.

"wasn't your fault," you say, trying not to giggle. "you looked so pretty trying not to fall apart. seeing that was an apology in itself, so don't feel bad, bil."

that's when she finally gathers enough courage to look at you, the fog in her head slowly starting to clear out and get replaced with her usual smug personality.

she pulls the covers over your body, fingers finding your hips and pulling you close to her under the fabric, lips finding your shoulder, your neck, your jaw—anywhere she could manage to reach, she pressed a kiss there, each one sweeter than the last.

"...still got that goodnight kiss," billie murmurs quietly, smug, a grin forming on her lips like she's proud of herself. "you said i'd have to live without out, but here i am."

"kissing you anywhere i want," she brags softly, laughing against your skin as she does exactly that.

you roll your eyes, "yeah, well those goodnight kisses better be worth whatever shit we'll have to face tomorrow."

she goes silent immediately, pulling away from your body only to stare you dead in the eyes like you just confessed your undying hatred toward her. you laugh at the way her cheeks flush 10x redder than before. but then she shrugs, leans forward, and presses her face into your neck again.

"worth it."

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @dyingbymistake @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises

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eraserbread · 3 months ago

Text

megumi's babysitter x dad!jo

"and they lived happily ever after... the end."

next to you, tucked politely under his covers, megumi scowls at nothing, soft cheeks all bunched up and unimpressed. he doesn't like bedtime stories, but his dad insisted he open his imagination at least once a day. come to think of it... his dad has quite a few odd requests he insists upon.

"even you don't believe that, do you, nana?" for his age, megumi is extremely well and thoroughly spoken. he calls you by a nickname, because he prefers it over yours, and his dad introduced you as a nanny, though you were more his babysitter. you just let the kid say what he wants, correcting him isn't what you should spend your energy on.

"in some circumstances, yes," you mutter, kicked up in his big, downy bed. he's so babyish when he's sleepy, trying everything to keep his eyes open so he can hear your response. you laugh softly. "alright, megumi. I'll stop bothering you."

"is my dad home?" he asks as you slip out of his bed, eyes finally fully shut. glancing at the clock on his bedside, you nod.

"he should be. i'm sure he'll come kiss you goodnight."

"don't want him to kiss me goodnight." he grumbles, then succumbs to the throbbing pressure of sleep. it happens so quickly with children, you're almost jealous of how peaceful he looks when he's asleep.

you laugh at his early set pessimism, turning around to leave the room and him to his sleep.

you're humming a tune buried deep in your mind as you gently close megumi's door. the lights in the hallway are off, just like you left them, but towards the kitchen, a warm spill of light coats the expensive wood flooring.

you smile, knowing there's only one person flicking on that lamp. as you approach, familiar laughter booms from around the kitchen, your silent footsteps are strict and strong as they make their way to your... boss.

yeah, boss is easy enough.

"ah, suguru, you know that's not true. i only told her what she wanted to hear." gojo leans over his counter, freakishly long forearms resting on the cool marble. he's yapping about on the phone, messy, light bangs covering his beautiful face.

"look who it is!" he notices you immediately, holding the phone from his ear so he can shoot you a wave. "is megumi asleep?"

"won't be for much longer if you keep yelling like that."

he laughs again, sending a silvery hot wave of shivers through your body. there's something here with you two. something both of you partake in and never mention outside of the headiness. a piece of you knows it's wrong, taboo, almost. but gojo is so well-behaved around his son that it doesn't really matter. megumi could be in the attic, and he in the basement, and gojo would still never utter a curse.

let alone show you any ounce of devotion or sensuality.

you're not quite sure why that concept is barreling toward a change tonight.

maybe it's the way he looks in those pressed, black dress pants or how his gold rings shimmer on his long, long fingers. perhaps it's that special, sharp-toothed smile that does you in, but you're in,

and you're drowning.

"well, that's not a very funny joke."

"i don't joke." you don't mean to sound aloof or off-putting, and gojo understands that. he thinks you and his megumi are very much alike in terms of personality. it seems he reels in the quiet, mysterious kind with his stupid dad jokes and caring archetype.

"'course you don't." gojo mutters, then turns back to his phone conversation. "megumi's babysitter’s in the room, I'll call you back... alrighty friend... see 'ya..."

"he had the rest of his noodles from yesterday for dinner... made sure he did all of his homework and cleaned out his backpack for him, too."

"and you made his school lunch?"

"yes, sir."

"and a nighttime bath? they're his favorite."

you nod. "hair washed, too."

"good, good." he stands up straight, blue dress shirt clinging to his familiar, dewy skin. you can't help but trail your view from his glimmering lips, down to the gold on his neck that runs into the collar of his shirt... so mystifying...

he's getting less strict around you, now. you can tell when he walks over to you, smirking the corners of his lips up. instantly, you're standing up straight, lips parted as he closes in.

he's not usually so careless, but you look so beautiful right now. you treat his baby like he's your own and are thoughtful and motherly to the core. it's based in everything you do, even to the way your hand reaches up to cradle his cheek when he kisses you.

this is your reward for a night well done. a kiss to the lips, his long arms crossed around your waist, and your name in the air. one kiss doesn't suffice, he has to pull you in closer, arching your back with the strength of his grip as he kisses you again.

then, again.

and again, this time. tilting his head so he can deepen it. his tongue is peeking from his lips, sliding against the swell of yours before they're tasting your sweet warmth.

he only pulls away because he's breathless. so are you -- flushed to the core, as well.

"wh-what was that for?" you're looking away, pressing the back of your wrist to your lips as you blush uncontrollably. he's just smiling at you, still holding you tight.

"a bonus for a job well done." then, he's pulling away, leaving you cold and touchless.

he's never done more than that, and that's the most he's done. you understand it's out of respect for you and professionalism, but when you're being pulled into rooms and kissed while on the job, it's inevitable that those lines start to fade together until they dissipate completely.

but you don't want any lines with your boss. you want him on top of you. you want to tangle your hands in his hair and stare into his freakish blues until his gaze feels like home.

"again - great job, today. gonna go kiss my megumi goodnight. feel free to take your leave whenever you're comfortable!"

"uh-" you start, but he's waving you off, back facing your reddened face. "okay..."

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cherryyluvs · 2 months ago

Text

Just for Practice

What started as homework turns into something else entirely… and it involves kissing Mark

⋆₊˚⊹♡ ───〃★Mark G. x fem!reader| Warnings: best friends kissing, light angst, first kiss / making out, awkward post-kiss vibes.

You were supposed to be doing your homework, that was the plan.

But Mark wanted to play video games and how could you say no to him? The TV screen was glowing with the menu of the game you both stopped playing after who knows how many rounds.

You were lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, notebook sitting beside you while Mark lied next to you, shoulders touching yours every time he moved around. It was quiet, usually it didn't feel awkward or anything but tonight was off.

You weren't sure why till Mark spoke.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” breaking the silence. The question hit you like cold water, It was so sudden and unexpected. You blinked at him. “Ye- I mean… no. Is that weird?”

Mark laughed softly. “I'm not judging! I just thought.. I dunno, someone would have kissed you by now.”

Your cheeks turned slightly pink, he said it so casual, like of course someone would have kissed you by now. But you still havent had your first kiss, not yet. Unlike the rest of your friends you were still waiting for that moment.

You sat up, crossing your legs. “Well, they haven't.” you mumbled, eyes darting away as you felt more heat rising onto your cheeks, Staring at the floor. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Wanna practice? I mean we ARE best friends. It’s not weird, right?”

You froze in place, heart racing. “You're joking, right?”

“No”, he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks flushed pink, “ i mean.. Unless you want me to be.”

Your heart was beating so fast. You swear he could probably hear it from where he sat. Hell, you could feel it in your throat,

Your thoughts were spiraling, your best friend, Mark wants to kiss you!? Do friends do this? Was he serious? Was this really happening?

“Okay..” you said quietly.

He blinked. “Okay??”

“Yeah.. I trust you.” Which was no problem to you but the REAL problem was how your stomach flipped inside out just thinking about kissing him, noticing how long his lashes are and how soft his voice sounded when he was nervous.

His eyes widened slightly, as if he wasn't expecting you to actually say yes, but then he nodded,

the two of you slowly leaned in. Your noses bumping into each other. Causing you both to laugh and you almost called it off out of embarrassment. But Mark gently shoved you down.

Your head softly hit the pillow, the soft cotton felt cool but your face was hot. Is this what it feels like? Your heart was pounding against your chest and in your ears.

His soft lips touched yours, it was soft, tentative, gentle, almost like he was unsure? The kiss deepened slightly as you kissed back, his lips pressing against yours more firmly. You felt his knee between your thighs, parting your legs slightly.

This was supposed to be a quick thing. Innocent.

All your friends talked about this and giggled about boys they kissed at parties or crushes they met behind the school building. You always nodded and smiled, pretending you knew what they meant but this? This wasn't just some random guy from a party.

It's your best friend, Mark.

He pulled back and kissed your jaw, then lower, lips pecking at your neck and up again. Mark kissed you, this time the kiss was slow and sensual. Taking his time to explore every inch of your mouth with his tongue. He tasted like mint and something else that you can't get enough of.

God, your mind went blank.

You were almost out of breath but this felt so good, it happened so quick and it ended fast. Mark pulled back, lips pink, wet, eyes half lidded. And a thin string of saliva connecting your mouths before it broke.

Both of you were gasping for air, chests rising and falling with fast breaths, You blinked up at him. Mark’s cheeks were red and pupils wide.

Then it hit you.

You just kissed your best friend! No- made out with him. The way his knee was placed between your legs, you didn't even notice but you could feel how wet your panties were.

“So… that was…” Mark started, clearing his throat.

“Awkward?” you replied, not even sure what to say anymore.

He didn't respond immediately, just looked at you., “We’re best friends.” You stared at him, still catching your breath, “Yeah..”

“We’re best friends,” he repeated, like saying it out loud would make this less… intense. Like it was some kind of reassurance.

Yet… nothing about this felt like a friendship.

“We’re still friends right?” He asked, running a hand through his hair.

“Of course.” you said, but even your own words sounded empty. You weren’t sure anymore.

He looked away. “Cool. Cool..”

You sat up quickly, grabbing your stuff, avoiding his gaze, too embarrassed to stay any longer. “I should probably head out. It’s late.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice normal now. “I’ll walk you home.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. I’m like two blocks away.”

Another awkward silence.

“Text me when you get home?” he said quietly, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom as you stepped out into the hallway.

You didn’t answer, just nodded. Your heart was still in your throat.

Once he heard the front door shut behind you, Mark just stood in his bedroom, his heart was still racing, ears ringing with silence now that your footsteps had faded. He sat down on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees.

Then, his phone buzzed.

Y/N: Got home safe.

He stared at the screen for a second too long before tossing the phone onto his nightstand. Then, slowly, he raised his fingers to his mouth. He could feel where you kissed him. Like a ghost of your mouth lingering on his. His fingertips brushed over the slick layer of lip gloss clinging onto his lips.

He whispers to himself, “What did we just do?” The question hangs in the air, unanswered “Shit…”.

That kiss wasn’t supposed to go like that. It was supposed to be quick. Dumb. A joke, maybe. But it hadn’t been. Not even close.

“Her kisses were so moist,” he muttered under his breath, “That sticky-ass lip gloss…” He doesn't even like lip gloss. It was messy and it got everywhere.

But now? Now he couldn't stop thinking about the way it felt. How it turned innocent into something more complicated. How he wanted to kiss you again, just to feel that sticky lip gloss getting on his mouth again. Just to taste you.

He groaned and fell back onto the bed, arm over his face.

You’re his best friend.

#invincible #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mark grayson #invincible season 3 #reader #kissing #practice kissing #GIMMIE MARK

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pomegranatelifethis · 1 month ago

Text

I won

The hum of Gotham’s streets was a lullaby you’d long grown used to, a gritty serenade that cradled your reckless spirit. At sixteen, you were the youngest of the Wayne family, a footnote in a sprawling saga of heroes and vigilantes. Damian, your older brother, was the closest in age, but even he seemed light-years away, his world consumed by the mantle of Robin and the weight of being the "true heir." You? You were just… there. A shadow in the Wayne Manor, flitting through its cavernous halls, unnoticed by the family that was too busy saving the world to remember you existed.

It wasn’t always this way. You vaguely recalled nights when Dick would ruffle your hair or Tim would help you with math homework, but those moments had faded into the fog of time. Now, the Batfamily was a machine, each cog turning with precision—Bruce with his mission, Dick with his charm, Jason with his rebellion, Tim with his genius, Cass with her silence, Steph with her fire, and Damian with his blade. You didn’t fit into their puzzle. So, you stopped trying.

High school was a blur of half-hearted attendance and naps in the back of class. Gotham Academy’s teachers had given up on contacting your family years ago; the Wayne name was a fortress, impenetrable and indifferent. You’d skip entire days, sneaking out to the edges of Gotham where the city’s pulse beat wilder. That’s where you found the races.

Illegal car races were Gotham’s worst-kept secret, a haven for thrill-seekers and outcasts like you. The roar of engines, the screech of tires, the electric buzz of danger—it was the only time you felt alive. You weren’t a driver, not yet, but you’d wormed your way into the scene, charming mechanics and betting on racers with the pocket money you swiped from Bruce’s study. You were good at it, too, with an easy laugh and a disarming smile that made people forget you were a Wayne.

Tonight, the air was thick with exhaust and adrenaline. You leaned against a chain-link fence, a cherry slushie in hand, your oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder. The race was about to start, and the crowd was a sea of restless energy—shouts, laughter, and the occasional clink of beer bottles. Your eyes scanned the lineup of cars, picking out your bet for the night: a sleek, modded Supra driven by a guy named Rico who’d never lost a race.

“Yo, kid, you in or what?” Rico called from his driver’s seat, grinning as he revved his engine.

You smirked, tossing your hair back. “Hundred on you, Rico. Don’t make me regret it.”

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Never do, princess.”

The nickname made you roll your eyes, but you didn’t correct him. You liked the way the racers treated you—like you belonged, not like you were some fragile heiress. You sipped your slushie, the cold stinging your teeth, and turned to watch the flagger prep the start.

That’s when you felt it. A prickle on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. Not the usual curious glances from strangers; this was heavier, sharper. You scanned the crowd, but no one stood out. Just hoodies, leather jackets, and the occasional drunk stumbling through. Shrugging it off, you turned back to the race, chalking it up to paranoia. Gotham had a way of making you feel like prey.

The flag dropped, and the cars screamed forward, a blur of neon and chrome. The crowd erupted, and you whooped, jumping onto a crate for a better view. Rico’s Supra was holding the lead, weaving through turns with a grace that made your heart race. You were so caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice the figure slipping through the shadows behind you.

☆☆☆☆

Jason Todd wasn’t supposed to be here. He’d told himself he was just scoping out the races for intel, tracking a lead on some smuggler who’d been funneling cash through Gotham’s underground. But that was a lie, and he knew it. The truth was messier, uglier. He’d heard rumors—whispers of a girl who sounded too much like *you*, throwing herself into the kind of trouble that got people killed. He hadn’t believed it at first. You were the baby of the family, the one they all assumed was tucked safely in bed, too soft and sweet for Gotham’s underbelly. But the more he heard, the more he couldn’t shake the gnawing dread in his chest.

Now, watching you from the edge of the lot, Jason felt his stomach twist. There you were, all reckless laughter and bright eyes, perched on a crate like you owned the damn place. You didn’t look neglected, not in the way he’d imagined—starved or broken. You looked *alive*, vibrant in a way that made his chest ache. But you were also sixteen, alone, and surrounded by people who’d sell you out for a quick buck. The thought made his blood boil.

He pulled his hood lower, blending into the crowd as he moved closer. You were cheering for some guy in a Supra, your voice cutting through the chaos like a bell. Jason’s jaw clenched. Did you even know these people? Did you have any idea what kind of danger you were in? He doubted it. You’d always been too trusting, too quick to see the good in people. It was why he’d kept his distance after he came back, why he hadn’t reached out. You were too pure for someone like him, stained as he was.

But this? This was different. You weren’t supposed to be here, in this world of speed and sin. And the fact that no one—not Bruce, not Dick, not even Damian—had noticed you slipping through the cracks? That lit a fire in him he couldn’t smother.

The race ended with Rico’s Supra crossing the line first, and you leapt off the crate, whooping like you’d won the lottery. Jason watched as you darted toward Rico’s car, tossing your empty slushie cup into a pile of trash. You were all smiles, high-fiving the driver and collecting your winnings with a grin that could’ve lit up the night. For a moment, Jason almost smiled, too. You looked… happy. Free.

Then he saw the guy next to Rico, some sleaze with a neck tattoo and a leer that made Jason’s fists itch. The guy was looking at you like you were something to be won, and you didn’t even notice, too caught up in the moment. Jason took a step forward, his instincts screaming to drag you out of there, to lock you in the manor where you’d be safe. But he stopped himself. Not yet. He needed to be sure.

You laughed at something Rico said, oblivious to the eyes on you—both Jason’s and the sleaze’s. The night was young, and Gotham’s streets were hungry. Jason melted back into the shadows, his mind racing. He’d keep watch for now, tail you until he knew you were safe. But this wasn’t the end. You were his sister, and he’d be damned if he let you slip away again.

☆☆☆☆

Back at the race, you pocketed your cash, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the shadows. The night was perfect—loud, chaotic, yours. You didn’t need the Wayne name or the Batfamily’s approval. You had this, and for now, that was enough.

But as you turned to head back to your spot by the fence, that prickle returned, sharper this time. You paused, glancing over your shoulder. Nothing but darkness and the flicker of neon. You shook your head, laughing at yourself. Gotham was just messing with you, as always.

If only you knew how close the shadows were, and how tightly they were closing in.

☆☆☆

The neon haze of the race lingered in the air, a fading echo of engines and adrenaline. You stuffed the crumpled bills from your winnings into your hoodie pocket, your sneakers scuffing against the cracked asphalt as you made your way through the dispersing crowd. The night was still young, but the thrill of the race was ebbing, leaving you restless. You didn’t want to go back to the manor—not yet. That place was a mausoleum, all cold marble and colder silences. Instead, you decided to head to your favorite dive, a greasy 24-hour diner on the edge of Gotham’s Narrows. It was the kind of place where no one asked questions, and the coffee was bad but cheap.

You slipped into the night, unaware of the shadow trailing you. Jason Todd moved like a wraith, his boots silent against the pavement, his red hood a stark contrast to the gloom. He’d watched you all night, his chest a tangle of anger and something softer, something he didn’t want to name. You were so careless, so *fragile* in this world of predators, and yet you strutted through it like you were untouchable. It infuriated him. It terrified him. He’d lost too much to let you become another casualty, another name etched into Gotham’s endless gravestone.

He kept his distance, blending into the flicker of streetlights and the shuffle of late-night stragglers. You didn’t notice, too busy humming a tune under your breath, your hands shoved deep in your pockets. Jason’s jaw tightened as he watched you dodge a group of drunks stumbling out of a bar, your laughter bright and unburdened. Did you even realize how close you’d come to trouble? How many eyes lingered too long on you in that crowd?

You reached the diner, its flickering sign buzzing like a dying insect. The bell above the door jingled as you pushed inside, and Jason hesitated, slipping into an alley across the street. He could see you through the smudged glass, sliding into a booth with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times. You were a regular here, he realized, and that only deepened the ache in his chest. How much of your life had he missed? How much had they *all* missed?

Inside, you waved at the waitress, a tired woman with a smoker’s rasp named Bev. “Usual, kid?” she called, already pouring you a cup of sludge-like coffee.

“Yup,” you chirped, slumping back in the booth. You pulled out your phone, scrolling aimlessly, your other hand drumming on the table. The diner was a bubble of warmth, a stark contrast to the chill of Gotham outside. You liked it here—the chipped Formica tables, the hum of the jukebox, the way no one cared who you were. It was yours, a slice of freedom in a life that felt increasingly like a cage.

But freedom was an illusion in Gotham, and Jason knew it. He leaned against the alley wall, his eyes never leaving you. He was torn, caught between the urge to storm in, grab you by the arm, and drag you back to the manor, and the need to stay distant, to understand just how deep you’d fallen into this reckless world. He settled for watching, for now. But his patience was fraying, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back.

☆☆☆☆

Back in the diner, you sipped your coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. Bev slid a plate of fries in front of you, and you grinned, tossing her a mock salute. “You’re a saint, Bev.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, but there was a fondness in her eyes. “Don’t stay too late, kid. Streets ain’t safe.”

You shrugged, popping a fry into your mouth. “I can handle myself.”

Bev shook her head but didn’t argue. She’d seen you come and go for months, always alone, always with that same easy smile. She didn’t know you were a Wayne, and you liked it that way. The less people knew, the less they could use against you.

You were halfway through your fries when your phone buzzed with a text. It was Rico, the racer from earlier.

*Rico: Yo, princess, you up for another round tomorrow? Got a big one. Double or nothing.*

You smirked, thumbs flying over the screen. *Count me in. Better not choke, Rico.*

His reply was instant. *Never do. Bring cash, kid.*

You leaned back, satisfied, already imagining the roar of engines and the rush of the crowd. The races were your escape, a way to drown out the emptiness that clung to you like damp rot. You didn’t need the Batfamily. You didn’t need their rules or their pity. You had this.

But as you stared at the flickering jukebox, a flicker of unease crept in. That prickle from earlier, the sense of being watched—it was back, stronger now. You glanced at the window, but all you saw was your own reflection, pale and ghostly against the dark. You shook it off, blaming the late hour and the shitty coffee. Gotham was just like that, always whispering danger in your ear.

☆☆☆☆

Outside, Jason’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, a message from Tim lighting up the dark.

*Tim: Patrol’s quiet. You good?*

Jason’s thumb hovered over the reply. He could tell Tim he’d found you, that you were out here playing street rat while the rest of the family thought you were asleep in your room. He could blow the whole thing open, force Bruce to deal with the fact that his youngest was slipping through his fingers. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the way you’d looked tonight, so alive in a way he hadn’t seen in years. Maybe it was the guilt gnawing at him, the knowledge that he’d been part of the machine that left you behind.

He typed a quick reply. *Fine. Just checking a lead.*

Then he pocketed the phone and pushed off the wall, his eyes locked on the diner. He couldn’t keep this up forever, tailing you like some ghost. Sooner or later, he’d have to act. And when he did, he wasn’t sure if he’d be saving you—or breaking you.

Inside, you finished your fries and tossed a few bills on the table, waving to Bev as you headed for the door. The bell jingled again, and you stepped into the night, pulling your hoodie tight against the chill. You didn’t see the figure across the street, didn’t hear the soft creak of leather as he moved. But Jason was there, and he wasn’t alone in watching you.

High above, another shadow crouched on a rooftop, silent and still. Damian’s green eyes glinted in the dark, his katana sheathed but his mind sharp. He’d followed Jason, curious about his brother’s late-night wanderings, and now he saw you—his little sister, the one he’d dismissed as weak, unimportant. You weren’t supposed to be here, in this filthy corner of Gotham, surrounded by scum. His lip curled, a mix of disdain and something darker, something possessive.

Damian didn’t know why you were out here, but he didn’t like it. Not one bit. And as he watched you disappear down the street, he made a decision. You were a Wayne, his blood, and that meant you belonged under his protection—whether you wanted it or not.

The shadows of Gotham were closing in, and you, oblivious, walked right into their embrace.

#batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfam x reader #bruce wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #the neglected reader #batfamily x neglected reader #batfam x neglected reader #neglected reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem reader #yandere jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #yandere damian wayne x reader

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lilolebambi · 4 months ago

Text

just a taste.

dealer!reader x client!chris blurb. he can't take it anymore.

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ: switch chris. switch reader. big dick chris. (🤸‍♂️🤸‍♂️) fingering, unprotected p in v. (#wrapthat) riding. use of ma. possessive chris. creampie... thas abt it :)

Chris finds Matt annoying ninety percent of the time, but times like this? Oh, he could kiss the ground he walks on.

He can't sleep. Again. And he can't talk to you, he still hasn't figured what that werid feeling in his chest is.

When Matt gave him that joint, he smoked it and napped hard. Expected, but wasn't expected was him waking up and feeling the bass of a speaker in his chest. He forgot all about the party tonight. He's been so busy with actually going to his classes, homework, and avoiding you.

It's been weeks since you guys last talked, and he knows you're going to be here tonight—There's no way you're not. Matt begged the president of their frat to do this theme for you.

He's still a little high, which is amazing. If he wasn't, he'd probably be freaking out. He groans, feeling the music get louder every second. He's not in the mood tonight, to be ogled by girls, to have to take disgusting shots, to see the neon clothes everyone is going to be wearing.

He doesn't even have clothes that even fall close to fitting the theme—But, whatever. He can't go back to sleep when all he can hear is people screaming.

Chris is fucking wasted. He didn't mean to drink this much. Honestly. Beers just kept finding their way into his hand. Especially when his eyes finally laid on you, cuddling up all pretty on the couch with Matt and his friends, giggling at the stupid, unfunny jokes they make.

Tonight's outfit beats all of your other ones by far. Most people just came in neon but you, oh you put thought into yours. The rollers in your hair, the plain white tank that brings attention to your tiny light pink shorts, god, don't get him started on your makeup. You look like someone just dragged you out of the house in the middle of getting ready, but in a good way. Because you always look good. Because you're fucking perfect.

You shouldn't be next to Matt or his terrible friends. You should next to him. With him. But he can't just drag you off to his room— "Hi."

He jumps out of his skin. You scared the shit out of him. You tilt your head at him again, annoyingly, and give him that shit eating grin. "You were staring." He was. He'll admit it. He takes a swig of his beer and locks eyes with you. Oh, you're high as hell. He doesn't think he's ever seen someone get eyes as red as yours.

"Didn't know you were so close with all of them." He nods his head towards the couch, you giggle. "Most of my clients all come from Matt. He keeps my rent paid." Chris would've laughed at that if that didn't mean that you were meeting up with these guys on the regular.

"You're too pretty, too gorgeous to have to deal with talking to those assholes." Is what he wants to say, but since he doesn't wanna deal with the repercussions of that, he just stares at you and watches you squirm.

He smirks. "Do... do you like my outfit?" You mumble out, giving him a spin and a perfect view of your ass hanging out your shorts.

"Mhm." He nods. "Look perfect, baby."

"Thanks." He watches you mess with hem of your cropped shirt. It's addicting to watch you squirm under his gaze. The way you shift from foot to foot, slightly bit at your lip, and refuse to meet his eyes....he can't take this anymore.

He takes one last sip of his beer and places the empty can on the counter. "Kid."

You press your thighs together and play with a lose strand of your pinned up hair, "Huh?"

"Squirming n shit..." He mumbles, "Just say you want me to fuck you."

"Wha...?" The way your eyes widen is cute. He wonders if you'll make the same face when his dick enters you. "Heard me. Look at you right now, squirming and pressing your thighs together. You can say it's okay."

"Chri- chris -" The stutters cute too. He cups your face in his hands. He's glad the music is as loud as it is so he can get away with this. "C'mon. You got it. Say it."

"Want you...wan' you to fuck me." His smirk widens. "Finally got it out. Good girl."

You taste heavenly, like peaches and weed. Godsent compared to the beer he drank. The way you wrap your arms around his neck and grab at his shirt, you're perfect. Just perfect.

He throws you onto his bed, his knees pinning you under him. You gulp. "Don't be scared. You were beggin' for this." He says against your lips, pushing your shirt up, you gasp into the kiss. He takes that as an invitation to slip his tongue into your mouth.

"Mhn— Chris—" You whine. He pulls back, a string of saliva trailing between you two. "Needy already, princess?"

You nod slowly, embarrassed. He laughs. "Baby, don't be embarrassed... gonna take real good care of you." He says, tugging at your shorts. "Lift up for me, ma.. there ya go." He throws your shorts to the floor. "Pretty," He spreads your legs and presses a kiss to your clothed nub, making you squirm. "So pretty." He moves to your inner thighs, pressing wet kisses there.

"Chris— Chris, please—" You whine, your legs threatening to close. "That needy? Not gonna even let me have my fun?" He coos, preventing your legs from closing. Slipping your panties down.

"Please— Please— Need—" He nudges one finger at your entrance and you gasp, "Need me to make you feel good, I know, mama, I know."

You moan when his finger actually enters you, he groans. "So tight. Been a while, huh?"

"Y-yeah—oh!" You throw your head back when a second finger enters you. "Chriiiis—" You drag out. "G-god! Ohmy—" He makes scissor motions, making you let out even more moans. When he adds a third finger, is when you almost lose it. "Chrischrischris—"

"Yeah? Gonna cum?"

"M— m gonna cum—!"

"Cum all over my fingers, baby." You let out a moan loud enough for the entire party to hear as you cum.

"Good girl." He praises, pulling his fingers out slowly and licking up your jucies. "So sweet."

You pant softly, staring down at him. "Kiss."

"I just—"

"Kiss, please." You whine. Pulling him into a kiss by his hair. It's messy and breathless. He's surprised you don't care that you're tasting yourself. "Thanks."

You're adorable. Saying thanks to him kissing you after he just made you fall apart on his fingers. "Ya good?" Most of the rollers that were in your hair fell out. "Mhm." You nod.

"Words."

"M good." His eyes can't help but trail down your body. "Still want me to fuck you?"

"Think I let you lead me all the way to your room just for you to not fuck me?" He laughs. "Jus' making sure you're not tapping out." You pull him into another kiss, giggling against his lips. It's so....intimate. His other hookups aren't like this, but he doesn't mind. The way your hands slip into his hair and scratch at his scalp is something he never wants to forget until you start tugging on his hair and he starts moaning. He knew he was into it he just didn't think it was moaning worthy.

It's embarrassing.

"Kid—" He starts, getting interrupted by his own moans. You tug harder, and he lets out a whimper he hopes you don't catch. "What the hell are you doin'—?"

"You like this."

"No."

"You whimpered." Fuck.

"No, I didn't—"

You tug harder than the last, and his eyes roll back with a groan. "Hot."

He glares at you. "You're moaning because I'm pulling your hair, that's h—" He swiftly covers your mouth. "Shut the fuck up." He can feel you smile against his palm. "Gonna ride you."

He blinks at you. "You don't want me to fuck you?"

"Changed my mind. Flip over." He does, and Jesus fucking Christ you're a sight on top of him. He tugs at your top, "Want this off." You tilt your head at him, "Beg." Is probably the most insane thing a girl has ever said to him, "I don't beg, kid." You raise an eyebrow at him. "Okay."

You don't take off your top. His eyebrows furrow. "Off." He repeats. "Beg."

He rolls his eyes. "I don't fuckin' beg." You huff. "Then it's not coming off." The glint in your eyes leads him to biting his lip to seal the words in his mouth. He just wants to see the bra you're wearing, wants to see your chest jiggle as you ride him. You cup his face with one hand and undo his pants with the other. "Say please, and I'll take it off."

"What?" You roll your eyes this time. "Chris, you were very obviously staring at my boobs and at this point, I don't even know if you want to fuck me anymore." Your smile is gone and replaced with a serious expression. He swallows, hard. He hates how you make him feel.

"Please."

You smirk. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" You pull off your top, saying please was worth it. Every part of you is gorgeous.

He groans when your hand finds its way into his boxers, pumping him. He didn't realize how hard he was until now. "D-dont— ah. Tease." He pants out, you spit into your hand and coat his length with it. "Just making sure you don't split me in half."

When you finally sink down on him, he almost screams. "Shit—" You let out a pained gasp, you're hunched over him, letting out soft pants. "Mh....m fine. You're just....give me a second." You don't tell him when you adjust to him. The only notion he gets is you slamming down your hips. "Holy shit!" His hands immediately fly to your hips, eyes fluttering open.

He bucks into you, chasing more of the toe curling pleasure you're giving him. He can't help it. The way you wrap around him is unreal. The way you're looking down at him isn't helping either, gaging his face for his pleasure filled reactions. It's all too much for him.

"Don't tell me you're already about to cum, Chris." You feel him twitching inside you. "Then stop fuckin'—" His eyes roll back as you slam down on him again. "Fuck you." He chokes out.

You giggle, leaning down to kiss at his neck. He lets out a sinful moan when you sink your teeth into him. "Chris." You attempt to slow your pace, but Chris doesn't let you. "Mh...not gonna cum before you. Keep goin'." He guides your hips as he thrusts up into your sweet spot, causing you to hide your face in his neck. "There ya go, kid— Yeah, let's drop that attitude—" He rolls his hips foward to hit that spot again and again. He groans, feeling your walls fluttering around him uncontrollably.

"Chri—chris—" You moan into his ear. "Iknow—" He slurs. "Feel so good, ma—" The noises you're making right now are the prettiest things he's ever heard. If only if he could see your face.

"Gonna let me— fucccck— cum inside?" He pants, you nod eagerly into his neck. "Ple- please— Can't— mso!" You let out one more loud moan before clenching around his cock, he lets out a whimper before he finally comes inside you.

His flutter shut until he feels you nibbling at his neck. "Mhn...?" You sit up and kiss him, pouring the last of your energy into it.

He pulls away. "Gonna crash here?"

"Maybe."

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizzzsstuff @sosasturns @drewswife @nateismybf

#theyluvpeach★#switch chrisiwbqiwv #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sub chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sub matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #dealer!reader #client!chris

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ariestrxsh · 3 months ago

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pervy!bsf!chris x innocent!bsf!reader

᧔•᧓ content warning: smut, innocence corruption, degradation, roleplay (reader wears a schoolgirl outfit), nipple play, oral (f!receiving), fingering, dumbification, (dare i say some brat-taming action?)

᧔•᧓ summary: chris returns the pair of underwear that he stole from you, but you catch him putting them back

requested/inspired by this ask, this ask, and this ask ᧔•᧓

dividers by @/anitalenia

Creeping

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 |

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It was late Monday afternoon, and you were perched at the edge of your chair, still in the same outfit you'd worn to class, a plaid mini-skirt and a white button-up. You were sitting at your desk, scanning your textbook and taking in all the information you could for your upcoming tests.

You were scribbling down some notes in the margins of your paper when your phone started to vibrate, and you glanced down to see your best friend's name lit up on the screen. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, your heart hammering away in your chest, as you answered.

"Hey Chris," you greeted him, trying to sound like you weren't as excited as you were while you pinned down the page of your textbook with your elbow. "Hey, I think I may have left my hoodie there the other night," he started off.

"Oh yeah?" You asked, peering around your room with a perplexed look on your face. You were certain he hadn't, considering you had just deep cleaned the night before. "I don't know, Chris. I don't think it's here."

"Well, I'm in the area. You mind if I swing by and check?" He wondered. A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the thought of seeing Chris tonight, but it quickly faded when you remembered how much you had to get done. You let out a disappointed sigh.

"I don't mind. I just have a lot of homework to do with finals coming up and everything, so you shouldn't stay for long. Last thing I need is you distracting me and keeping me from getting my work done," you snidely remarked.

"Who? Me? Distract you? Never," Chris sarcastically replied. "Whatcha working on?" He asked, a bit of curiosity in his voice. "I'm just doing some reading for my psych class. We're studying the psychology of human sexual behavior," you told him, trying to hold back a smirk although he couldn't see you.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, his voice laced with lust. "Maybe I could help you study. I know a lot about sexual behavior." You giggled and rolled your eyes. "Just come up when you get here," you responded before ending the call.

Chris smirked to himself after you got off the phone with him. He wasn't just casually in the area, and he wasn't exactly coming over to look for a lost hoodie, but rather he was trying to replace your pair of underwear he'd stolen the other day before you noticed they were gone. Little did he know that you already had, especially because they were your favorite pair.

He pulled up to your house a few minutes later, his tires coming to a stop as he threw his transmission into park and cut the engine. As he approached your front door, he felt around in his back pocket for your panties.

He gently brushed his fingers against the silk, making sure they were easily accessible, so he could just quickly drop them off somewhere in your room discretely. He turned the doorknob, letting himself in, his heart racing as he remembered the last time he'd walked up to your room unannounced.

As he approached your partially-open bedroom door, he found himself hoping to find you in another compromising position despite the fact that he knew you were expecting him. He peeked in through the opening in your door, gently tapping on the wood with his knuckles to keep from startling you.

You swiveled around in your desk chair to face Chris, your face lighting up as you did. You were in a black and white plaid skirt that barely hit the middle of your thigh, a collared white polo shirt, and your hair in two neat french braids. Fuck, he thought silently to himself, admiring the way you looked just like a little schoolgirl who was working on her studies.

His eyes danced over your features and your body, remembering how you looked the other day when he caught you riding your pillow. Images of you rocking your hips back and forth flashed in his mind - your eyes screwed shut, your pink lips parted, and your sweet sounds filled the air while you desperately grinded against your bedding.

"I'm telling you, Chris. I've torn this whole room apart. Your hoodie isn't here," were the first words you said to him before you went back to chewing on the eraser of your pencil as you studied your notes, tearing him out of his daydream.

"Tore your room apart looking for my hoodie?" He asked, wrinkling his brow and wondering how you'd gotten the place looking so neat again in a matter of minutes. "No, I tore it apart the other night. I was.. looking for something else. Just an item of clothing I misplaced," you told him, pulling your gaze away from his.

You were too embarrassed to tell him that you were actually searching for an elusive pair of panties that seemed to have grown legs and walked off on their own. Shit, he thought to himself upon realizing you already knew they were missing.

"Well, I'm still gonna just peek around if you don't mind. Maybe you missed it," Chris replied, wandering further into your room and trying to make his search seem genuine. He reached into his back pocket, about to take out your underwear and shove them into a crack in your dresser drawer when he heard your voice from behind him. "Chris?"

"Yeah?" He asked, whipping around to face you, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. "Are those.. my panties?" You wondered aloud, gesturing towards the pink silk that you saw poking out of his back pocket. "What?" He asked, pretending to not understand what you meant, taking a few steps closer to you. You narrowed your gaze at him.

"Chris. You heard me. Why do you have my panties?" You asked, your face growing hot with embarrassment. "Don't worry. I washed them for you," he sweetly replied, dodging your question completely and reaching into his back pocket to hand them over.

He'd washed them twice actually.

He couldn't help himself that morning when he woke up with a hard on fueled by dreams of you. Your panties were just right there, and he couldn't control himself when he'd gotten the idea to jerk off using the soft, pretty fabric. He'd busted all over them in a matter of minutes, resulting in him needing to run them through the wash again before returning them.

Of course, he wasn't going to tell you that, but he knew exactly what he'd done.

You snatched them out of his hand, stuffing them into your desk drawer. "Why do you have them?" You huffed, furrowing your eyebrows and cocking your head to the side.

"C'mon. You know. The only reason any guy would take your panties," he replied in a low, quiet voice, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. "And what reason would that be?" You wondered, still not understanding his motive.

Although you were a virgin, you weren't clueless. You'd seen porn, and you'd masturbated, but you didn't understand why your best friend wanted your worn panties.

"I wanted to sniff them," he chuckled, taking another step closer to you. His blue eyes pierced through you, and your face grew hot under his scrutiny. "Chris! Gross! Why would you do that? They were dirty. I wore them. I.." you started to say, but your voice trailed off.

You didn't want to admit to what else you'd done with them on.

"You got off while wearing them?" He interjected, finishing your sentence. Your jaw dropped, your eyes widened, and your hand flew up to cover your open mouth.

"I have a lot of work to do. Your hoodie isn't here. Thanks for bringing back my panties. They're my favorite pair," you told him, pretending that he hadn't just said that. You peered back down at your textbook, getting back to your assignment and hoping he'd drop the subject, take the hint, and be on his way.

However, he was having a little too much fun with you.

"I can see why," Chris chuckled. "They're soft and pretty. I bet they felt really good rubbing against you when you were riding your pillow, hmm?" Your eyes widened as your gaze flicked back up at him from your work. "How do you know about that?" You shot back in a defensive voice, trying to figure out exactly when he snuck in and took them.

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have," he started off his sentence, innocently biting down on his lip and faking an apologetic tone. "I left my phone up here, and I came up to get it. I would have tried harder to get your attention, but you looked like you were really enjoying yourself. I didn't want to disturb you," he told you as if trying to paint it like he did you a favor by peeping on you through the crack in your door.

"You're such a fucking creep, Chris! Oh my god," you huffed. "But you were the one moaning my name while you were getting off, so what does that make you? A little slut?" He hissed, taking another step forward, leaning down, and gently tucking a stray strand of hair that had escaped your braid behind you ear.

You looked at him silently, your features softening, unable to hide how much you liked being called that.

"In fact, I bet you're turned on right now," he softly cooed, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand, his piercing blue eyes boring into you. "I am not," you scoffed, turning your head away from him. "Yeah? Then let me smell you," Chris smirked, reaching down and fiddling with the hem of your little plaid skirt.

"You can't tell something like that from my scent!" You exclaimed, whipping back around and narrowing your eyes at him as you batted away his hand. "Watch me," he lustfully replied, kneeling down in front of you.

"W-what are you doing?" You asked, peering down at him wide-eyed as he slowly hiked up your skirt, his fingertips brushing against the tops of your thighs. Your legs involuntarily fell open, inviting him in.

His stubble tickled the soft flesh of your inner thigh as he neared your heat, holding eye contact the entire time. He deeply inhaled, your arousal filling his senses. "Shit. You want it bad, don't you?" He replied without even touching or looking between your legs. "What?" You sharply replied, considering denying his claim for a moment. "How can you.. tell?"

Your heart pounded, and you grew even more wet at the thought that Chris could tell, on some level, what you were thinking about. You could feel his warm, labored breath hitting your clit through the fabric, and it made you shudder. He chuckled, paying attention to every subtle response.

"You smell different when you're turned on," he whispered, pressing his nose up to your panties and deeply inhaling your scent again. "Chris. That's so weird," you replied softly, feeling somewhat violated and wondering just how many times he'd deliberately sniffed your underwear.

Your mouth said it was weird, but your body language said otherwise.

You sunk further down into your seat, and Chris gave you a mischevious smirk from between your legs before leaning forward and gently kissing you through the damp fabric of your panties. The sensation made you jolt.

You tipped your head back, letting out a soft whine as you felt his soft lips against your clothed cunt. You gripped the arms of your chair, curling your fingers around the material and biting down on your lip as a look of desire washed over your face.

Chris pulled away, his eyes locked on yours as a dark smile spread across his lips. "I thought you had a lot of homework to do," he teased you, "or are you being a naughty little schoolgirl, hmm?" He reached up and gently tugged on one of your braids.

Your breath hitched in your throat, unable to give him a response, but he could tell he was driving you crazy. Chris hummed against the inside of your thigh as he lightly kissed your soft flesh again.

He started unbuttoning the top button of your shirt, his wandering hand slipping inside your top as he gently squeezed your breast, the pad of his thumb brushing against your hardening nipple. His touch was electric, sending a current of energy throughout your entire body with every carress and every word.

He undid the next few buttons, the white fabric falling open to reveal your tits. "Wow," Chris whispered, leaning forward to take one into his mouth. His soft, pink lips latched onto your stiff nipple, and you moaned as his tongue gently flitted over your sensitive bud. He started gently sucking and humming against your chest, your body relaxing into the wonderful feeling.

"Look at these! They're so pretty," Chris cooed, gently squeezing them with both hands, his mouth alternating back and forth between both the right and the left. "I thought you weren't gonna distract me," you whimpered, secretly hoping he wouldn't stop. "Then don't get distracted," he chuckled against your breast.

"Chris. I can't concentrate when you're doing that," you whimpered in a bratty tone. "Don't worry about me. You just keep being a good student and study," Chris demanded with a dominant edge to his voice.

You obediently nodded, your breath caught in your throat as he reached up your skirt, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your black cotton panties. You stabilized yourself on the arms of your chair, placing your feet on the ground below you and lifting your hips to help him take them off of you.

He slowly pulled the fabric down your legs, discarding them carelessly onto the floor. "C'mon. Pick up your book and start reading to me. Prove to me that you're actually learning something instead of just being a dumb little slut who daydreams about my cock all day," he taunted you, his words alone nearly sending you over the edge.

He lifted up the front of your skirt with a mischevious grin and roughly spread open your legs. His fingers jabbed into your supple flesh as he admired your wet cunt, licking his lips like a starving animal. You pulled your book off your desk, holding it up with shaky hands, but you couldn't take your eyes off Chris and the way he was teasing you, gently blowing cold air over your clit.

"C'mon. Quit being a little slut, and focus on your work, huh?" Chris purred, digging into your thighs so harshly that his fingers started to leave red marks. You nodded your head eagerly as you tried to focus your vision on the text. "Naughty little thing. You're drenched," he rasped, his mesmerized gaze fixed on your glistening folds as he spread them open with his fingers.

You clenched around nothing as Chris' words reached your ears. He smiled deviously at how submissive and responsive you were. You cleared your throat, getting ready to read from the introduction. "Sexual human behavior is a complex and multi- oh!" You were cut off by the soft feeling of Chris' tongue swiping over your clit.

You shuddered, clutching your book to your chest as you peered down at the boy grazing between your legs. You watched for a moment, soaking in the feeling of Chris slowly and gently running the length of his tongue from your cunt to your clit, but he wasn't letting you get away with not obeying him.

"I didn't say stop, did I? Start over," Chris sternly responded, his angry stare reaching yours. You slowly nodded and brought your eyes back down to your psychology textbook. "Human sexual behavior.." you started again, but you felt the blue-eyed boy wrap his plump lips around your clit, and you bit back a moan as you felt him gently suckling on it.

You squirmed around in your seat a bit as he held you in place. "You're not gonna do a very good job on this test if you can't focus while under a little pressure, are you?" He smugly asked you, pulling away for a moment. "Start over."

Before you could pick up where you left off, Chris suddenly spat on your pussy, and your whole body tensed up as you sharply gasped. You felt his saliva slowly dripping down your fold as he darkly chuckled from between your thighs, knowing he was driving you crazy.

"Human sexual behavior is a complex and multi-faceted aspect of human experience that is influenced by biological, psychological, social, and cultural factors," you managed to rush through the sentence, your voice trembling as Chris attached his lips to your sensitive bud again. You took a deep breath before you started the next sentence.

"When focusing on the psychological factors," you stopped again, gripping the cover of your textbook tightly as Chris gripped the edge of your seat, pulling you closer to him, "we must look at the motivation behind sex." You felt your breath involuntarily quickening as Chris explored you with his tongue, slowly licking up and down your slit as he teased your hole.

"Keep reading, naughty girl," Chris whispered before returning to his long, gentle licks. "Sexual desire - oh, Chris - is driven by - mmm - pleasure, intimacy, and procreation," you managed to get out, struggling to keep your concentration.

"Hmm. Interesting," he hummed before taking your clit between his lips again. "Chris, I don't know if I can do this," you whimpered, clutching your textbook to your chest again and tipping your head back, your eyelids fluttering closed.

"Such a bratty little thing. I should give you detention for not doing as I say, hmm? Keep reading," Chris purred, his warm breath hitting your heat. You shuddered, looked down at your book, and started reading from it again. Chris sped up the flicker of his tongue, and you gasped as you felt his middle finger pressing up against your hole.

Without hesitation, he pushed it inside, your jaw dropping as he inserted it to the knuckle. He started pumping in and out of you, pulling more desperate sounds from you while he continued to work his mouth on your most sensitive area. You peered down at the page, the text beginning to blur as your eyes lost focus.

You stumbled over your words, struggling to get through each sentence, your mind swirling with several thoughts, not one of them having to do with the homework you needed to get done. The longer Chris' relentless assault on your tender pussy went on, the less thoughts you had at all until you were a pathetic mess, babbling incoherently and squirming around in your seat.

"My pretty schoolgirl going all dumb on my tongue and my fingers?" Chris asked in a tantalizing tone, smirking against your most sensitive place, but you were too fucked out to answer or give any sign that you'd even comprehended what he'd said at all.

Chris gripped the seat of your chair, pulling you closer to him until he was devouring your pussy whole, softly nuzzling against your clit as more broken syllables and whimpers fell from your lips. You couldn't take it anymore. You couldn't focus on school right now, not when Chris was teasing you like this.

You pulled the textbook against your chest again, your gaze falling to the boy who was knelt between your legs, his blue eyes flickering up at you with a lustful glint as you started grinding against his face.

"Don't look at me, little slut. Look at your textbook. What are you gonna tell your professor if you don't finish your work, huh? Too busy getting your sweet pussy eaten?" Chris cooed in a condescending voice, gripping your hips to keep you still. "I don't think he'll think that's a very good excuse.."

Chris' words added to your pleasure, especially the way his breath ghosted over your hole while he spoke them. You shuddered at the sensation before lifting your book again in your trembling hands, your shaky voice struggling to get through the paragraph.

You felt a warmth spreading in your lower abdomen as Chris slipped another long finger into your cunt and started curling them, rutting up against your g-spot. "Oh!" You yelped as Chris hummed against you, his lips closing in on your clit.

Your body started to spasm beneath him, nearly dropping the book you weakly held in your hands. Chris peered up at you, the way you were struggling to hold on, feasting his eyes on the sight of you in your little plaid skirt about to finish on his tongue and his fingers.

After a few more seconds of suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves, your orgasm was crashing over you. Chris didn't falter in his movements, softly grunting against your pussy in satisfaction as you released onto his tastebuds. He slowed the pumping of his fingers, but he left them inside of you, still feeling the way you throbbed around them as you came down.

"My slutty schoolgirl. I wonder what your teacher would think if he knew you were creaming all over my fingers instead of studying your work," his lips curled into a devious smirk. "I bet he'd fail you for being such a dumb little slut."

You gave Chris an embarrassed smile, blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried to catch your breath. He withdrew his fingers, standing to his feet, his eyes still locked on you as you closed your legs and smoothed your skirt out back down over your thighs.

You couldn't believe you'd let Chris do that and while calling you such degrading names, too.

He gave you a smug smile as he took his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean and humming in delight as he savored your flavor. He wiped his chin, that was glistening in your arousal, on the back of his hand. "I'll let you get back to your school work. Let me know if you find my hoodie," Chris winked, knowing damn well there was no hoodie to be found.

He ruffled your hair in a teasing manner, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to pretend that Chris didn't just have you stumbling over your words and finishing all over his face. After Chris left the room, you buried your face in your textbook, half-embarrassed and half-hoping he'd spontaneously turn around and take it a step further.

Chris trotted down the stairs and out the door, greeting your unsuspecting mother who had just pulled into the driveway and was starting to unload groceries. His blue eyes danced over her figure, appreciating the genetics that ran in your family as he headed towards his car.

"Hi, Chris. Leaving already?" Your mom called out to him, blissfully unaware of the names he had just called you upstairs as you came on his tongue. "Yeah, I just stopped by to look for a hoodie I thought I left here. She's got a lot of studying to do. I don't wanna distract her," Chris lied through his teeth, his lips curling into a smile as he reached up and innocently rubbed the back of his neck.

He gestured towards the bags in her trunk, silently offering to help carry them in. "Awh, Chris. You're so sweet," she replied, handing him a grocery bag. "Why don't you stay for dinner, sweetheart? We'd love to have you."

Chris was right about to thank her for the offer and politely decline when his phone started to vibrate. He peered down to see the name of the girl he'd hooked up with the other night while he was thinking about you, and even now, that was all he could do.

"I'm making spaghetti. Unless you've got somewhere to be," your mom motioned towards his vibrating cell.

After a few seconds of deliberation, Chris sent the call to voicemail, knowing exactly what the girl was calling for. "Nah, actually. I'd love to stay for dinner," Chris responded, his gaze raising to meet your mom's again. It wasn't like Chris to turn down a desperate girl who was calling to get her fix, but he didn't want to fuck anyone until he could have you.

"Let's get these groceries inside," your mom said, grabbing the remainder of the bags and shutting the trunk of her SUV. His eyes immediately dropped to her ass, watching the way her hips swayed as she made her way towards the entrance of the house.

"My daughter's so lucky to have you as a friend, Chris. You're always such a gentleman," your mom said as she turned around, glancing over her shoulder at the blue-eyed boy.

"Thanks, ma'am," Chris replied, getting off on the fact that your mom was practically inviting a wolf in sheep's clothing into her home to further defile her daughter. He followed her in through the front door, his smug grin never falling from his facial expression.

His phone vibrated again, but only once this time. Same girl. "Come over? I need you," her text read. Chris let out a sigh and rolled his eyes at her desperation. "Can't. Busy," he coldly responded, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

click to read part 3 ᧔•᧓

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #dom chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ' ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ᴄʀᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙

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asxgard · 3 months ago

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Companionship | pt. 3

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: A few moments where Michael is finally honest and a few where he is not.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: y’all are so lovely!! I’m so glad that you guys are enjoying this as much as I am lol Thank you for all the likes, comments, and reblogs!! and shoutout to all my new followers, like omg hi💜

I caved and posted to AO3 with a f!oc so I could explore a character more in depth without imposing too much on the reader, so if you’re interested: AO3 Companionship

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: age gap, foul language, death mentioned (a patient), Robby still trying to bottle up his feelings, alcohol

not beta read

that damn smile

The days passed slowly considering how busy they had been. Between projects, homework, the office, and your half-assed chores, you were beat. That Friday morning was uneventful, a foggy start where you ran from your two classes, hoping it wouldn’t rain. You regretted not signing up for online classes, foolishly thinking being present would make you more productive. Maybe it did, but you longed to be home. As selfish as the thought was, you missed the time when you worked from home.

A weird thing happened around lunchtime: you were sitting at you desk with a homemade sandwich, lunchtime ticking away far too quickly. Your phone rang, and half expecting a scam call, you were surprised to find Michael’s name lighting up your screen.

You swallowed a bite of your sandwich before answering, “Hello?”

“Hello, hi.” His warm voice greeted her.

“I’m sorry. Did I forget we had a call right now?”

“No, no.” He suddenly sounded awkward again. “I, uh, I only have a few minutes, but I was hoping we could talk tonight? My shift should end at 7, but they never end on time.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” You said without thinking about it. “Usually you text me.”

A moment of silence passed. “I usually don’t have time to check my phone, and I just wanted to make sure you could talk tonight. You know, make sure you had a decent amount of notice. I’m sorry, I should’ve—”

You ignored the way your stomach flipped, clearing your throat, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

In his silence, you picked up on the array of beeps that grew louder on his end.

“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you tonight? 8:30, maybe?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “That works.”

“Good, uh, okay. Yeah. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later.”

—

In a rare lull of the Emergency Department, he had had his phone out before he had even thought about it, stepping into the staff lounge, and clicking on your contact. Usually it was a quick text sent in between patients, but then the phone had been ringing, your voice on the other end.

Michael stared at your contact after the call ended for a long moment, the chaos around him that had been quiet while talking to you slowly becoming louder and louder. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket and ignoring the feeling churning around his stomach, he jumped back into it. Dana had been the one to alert him of a car crash incoming, and he hoped she had not caught him staring at his phone.

Despite the fact that his shifts usually blurred together with how quickly they seemed to go, this one had seemed to slam on the brakes. It was no less busy than normal, but each minute ticked away like an hour, driving him mad.

It was a relief when Jack Abbot walked into the ED to take over. Not wanting to seem too off, Dr. Robby lingered, helping out with a few more critical patients before Jack finally shooed him out.

His watch read 7:39 when he collected his things from behind the charge desk.

Part of him really wanted to open up to you — the anonymity was tempting, but so was your voice — but the other part hated being so vulnerable. Not talking about it had worked out pretty well so far, but it left his chest feeling so tight and made his nights nearly always restless. Or maybe it was the grief. Or the stress. Or the loneliness.

Maybe not so much the loneliness anymore, Michael thought to himself.

Michael walked into his apartment and discarded his backpack by the door, along with his shoes. His entire body sagged, exhaustion running through his system. He realized how hungry he was and knew there was not much in his apartment to eat.

Before he knew it, it was 8:31, making his heart jump. Reaching for his phone, his finger hovered above the call button before he took a deep breath and pressed it.

You answered after two rings, ever reliable, “Hi.”

His lips turned upwards at the sound of you. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

He digested the question. From your handful of calls, it seemed to be your way of judging if he wanted to talk or just listen.

“It wasn’t a bad shift,” passed his lips before he had the chance to think about it. “I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad or stressed about it.” You said, not missing a beat.

“I lost a patient.” He told you. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

You went silent on the other end and guilt ate away his insides. It wasn’t about this patient in particular, or how he lost them, not really. Sure, that weighed on his mind, but nothing compared to Adamson, or the pandemic.

Despite the fact he didn’t want to talk about it, he kept going, “There was nothing we could do. I tried—we—”

“It’s not your fault.”

That struck down his spine, making him sputter. Maybe he was looking for a reason it was, maybe it wasn’t about this patient at all. He had a hard time distinguishing sometimes.

“I’m sure if you could’ve saved them, you would’ve.” You told him, and everything around him was completely silent. “I won’t pretend to understand the weight you carry, or how hard that has to be, but I know you did everything you could. You’re a good man, Michael, and god forbid anything were to happen to me, I know I’d be lucky to have a doctor like you.”

You said it like it was nothing, like the weight of your words did not scoop up the weight on his shoulders and carry it for just a moment. For a single minute, he felt okay. Then, the thoughts crept back in: but you don’t know me.

But maybe I want you to. He shook that thought off just as quickly as it came.

“I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“What?”

What? echoed in his own head, and he quickly started rambling, “You know, maybe talk in person. Might be nice. Only if that’s okay with you? We don’t have to, I—”

The weight of it burned heavily in his mind, churning his stomach. Would you want more money for that? Would you just consider it your weekly talk? Would you—

“That would be nice.”

His racing mind screeched to a halt. “It would?”

“Yeah, did you have a place in mind?”

Fuck! “...no.”

“Well, dealer’s choice.” You told him, your tone light like you were smiling again.

He sat on that for a minute. Did he take you somewhere fancy? Someplace miles away to ensure no one caught you? He still wanted to make sure you stayed far away from his professional life, and he certainly did not want to answer any questions if anyone he knew saw you.

“There’s this Italian place just outside the city. I’ve been meaning to go back.”

“Italian sounds good, actually.”

He smiled.

—

This isn’t a date. This isn’t a date you repeated to yourself over and over again, trying to quiet the anxiety raging through your system. You weren’t all that surprised when he had asked to meet in person, it had been part of the conversation at the cafe. Phone calls had just been easier for him to fit into his schedule up until this point. Or maybe it was easier for him to talk when it wasn’t face-to-face.

According to Google, the Italian restaurant was more of an upscale place, which led to your anxiety on what to wear. Their menu was on the expensive side when you browsed their website. You felt guilt rise in your chest, knowing he was going to be paying.

How the hell did Erin do it? Let those men spoil her with things much more expensive than a nice Italian restaurant with zero feelings of owing them?

Erin’s arrangements are different, you told yourself, sighing deeply through your nose. This is still well in line with what we agreed to. So why on earth were you overthinking it?

Staring into your closet, you weighed your options. There was the knee-length navy blue dress you had worn to the interview for your job, or the pretty black dress that complimented your figure that you wore to graduation, or your most recent splurge: a dress in your favorite color with a flowy skirt. It wasn’t fancy by any stretch, but you certainly would not wear it out for a casual night either.

It seemed like a happy medium between something modest and something you would wear out with your friends.

After fixing your hair, you started your ‘get ready for a night out’ routine. Your mind wandered to what he would wear; would he dress up? Simple shirt and slacks? Would he wear cologne, or—

This isn’t a date, you reminded yourself, why does it matter?

Taking a long look at yourself in the mirror, your eyes took in your appearance. The dress was flattering in all the right ways. You took a breath, smoothing out the dress.

You took your purse from the table by the door, putting on your black heels and light jacket before walking out the door. You left early, stuck between wanting to be early and not wanting to be there first.

The drive did little to soothe your nerves, traffic proving to be as frustrating as usual. You tried to coach yourself through it. This was two acquaintances getting dinner, nothing more, looking to simply talk. Your standards were not high — he would either want to talk or listen, and you had plenty you could still tell him about your week. This was just going to be like a phone call…just in person.

When you pulled up to the venue, you parked your car and sat there — anxiety eating you up. You debated waiting a little longer, eyes flickering to the time: 6:25. Biting your lip, you gathered your purse, tucking your phone away before getting out of the car.

Michael was waiting for you once you reached the lobby, greeting you with a warm smile. You drank in the sight of him in the dim lighting of the restaurant, your cheeks heating. He was wearing brown chinos, a soft grey-blue sweater and a blazer — and your heart nearly stopped just looking at him.

The host walked you both to your table. As you walked past, you took notice of several of the other women, noting you were not overdressed and relief washed through you. Your table was tucked away near a corner of the restaurant, next to a window.

When you were seated, you looked over at Michael across from you and smiled. The lines on his face were softer in this lighting, but he was remarkably handsome regardless, with his lips in a soft smile.

“How—”

“I—”

You both laughed, before Michael gestured for you to start.

“How are you?” You asked, figuring it was as good a place as any to start.

“I’m okay,” he told you, but it looked like he was trying to convince himself more than you. “Uh, how was your day?”

His voice sent shivers down your spine, so used to hearing it on the other end of a phone call. It did so many things in person.

You sipped the ice water in front of you. “I’m well, thank you.”

“How’s that fraud project going?”

You smiled, finding it nice that he remembered some of your ramblings. You had wondered how much he actually listened to vs just needing a voice on the other end of his call.

“It’s going really well, actually. I’ve been really enjoying the course.”

“Good, that’s good.”

The waiter came by to take your drink order, and Michael surprised you by allowing you to order for both of you.

“I’ll have whatever the lady is having.” Michael said, turning his attention back to you.

“Do you like reds?” You asked, deciding wine would be the safest bet, shoving away the thoughts of him not liking wine at all.

He gave a simple nod, and you turned back to the waiter to order a simple pinot noir for each of you. You waited for any sign from him that you had made the wrong choice, but he was sitting happy as could be across from you. You looked down at the menu, weighing your options. You could try to be cheap and order something simple, or forget about the price next to the dishes and allow yourself to be spoiled.

“Tell me about your day.” He said.

That felt as easy as breathing, “I slept in, a rarity for me, but then I got caught up on studying. Between that and some of my reports, that ate up most of my day. My laptop is on the fritz, but as long as it’s plugged in, it’s been fine. Not an impossible work around, but thankfully I didn’t really need to be anywhere with it today. I bring it to classes with me sometimes, but hand-written notes are just as reliable, though they sometimes just look like chicken scratch.” You chuckled.

“Oh, please,” he laughed, “I bet yours are worlds better than mine. There’s a stereotype about doctors' handwriting for a reason.”

“At least I’m the only one who needs to read mine.” Smiling, you continued, “Why’s it so bad anyways? Is legibility an offense to you, or something?”

“The name of the game is speed, unfortunately. I’m so busy I’m lucky to sit down at all. Charting on the computer helps, but those physical files are not going anywhere.” He laughed. “You get used to it.”

You continued like that, jesting and enjoying the company of each other. The waiter came back to take the food order, Michael settling on a pasta ragu — you quickly glanced at the price of his item and found your second choice was just below how expensive his was. It made you feel better when you ordered it.

When dinner came, you settled back into small talk, trading conversation about the cooling temperature and the most recent Penguins game. After taking a sip of wine and placing it back on the table, you let your left hand rest next to the glass. Absentmindedly, you brushed your fingers softly against his, his hand beside his own wine glass. Your mind halted, your eyes taking in your hands touching — his fingers were warm beneath yours.

There was a clang! of his fork hitting his plate and your hand quickly retreated from the tabletop back into your lap with a jolt. Your eyes looked up, catching his flustered face, and anxiety invaded your stomach.

You swallowed, “Did you want to talk about your day? Or work, perhaps?”

He blinked at you, before clearing his throat lightly into his fist and grabbing his fork again. His eyebrows furrowed inward, but he was silent as he slowly chewed his food.

“Yeah,” he started, finally meeting your eyes. “I finally got some pesky chores done around the house that I’ve been putting off.”

With each word he spoke, he sounded like he was avoiding anything with substance. You accepted it regardless, mildly frustrated that he had a hard time opening up — but who were you to demand any more from him?

Taking in your raised eyebrow, he sighed, “I’m not good at this, I’m sorry.”

Blinking several times, “Why are you apologizing? You’ve no need to. I’m enjoying our conversation. I’m just ensuring I don’t talk your ear off.”

His lips flicked up, “Definitely not.”

You laughed, “Good.”

After several more bites between them, Michael sipped his wine, “Actually, I would like to be honest.” A long sigh escaped his nose while he avoided eye contact. “My job is…my job is stressful. I used to think I was good at compartmentalizing, but...” He shook his head, shrugging, “I don’t know. It’s been tough lately.”

You waited, watching him.

“You know, most days, it’s just trying to keep our heads above water. Some days there’s hope…others…” He was shaking his head again, taking a careful sip of his wine. His eyes looked far away, his face scrunched together.

Your thoughts flickered back to the other day when he had mentioned losing a patient and your heart ached. He was struggling to carry the weight of all of it, what possibly could you say to make it better?

You sat like that for several minutes in tense silence. You kept overanalyzing what to say, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

He suffered a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s been nice to talk to someone outside of that environment, you know? To talk about anything else, or listen to you talk about your days, even when I don’t say anything.”

A tiny smile graced your face, “I’m glad I can do that for you. I’m glad I haven’t been boring you.”

He exhaled, lips turning upwards, “Not at all. I’ve enjoyed our conversations.”

“I have too.”

You held each other’s gaze for a long moment, before the waiter came by to offer dessert. Your gaze lingered on Michael’s face before you glanced down at the dessert menu. You thought perhaps dessert was too much, so you went to say “I think I’m just too full.” but Michael beat you to it.

“Make it two of whatever she wants.” He was grinning again, mood slightly lifted, watching you with an amused glint to his eye.

You raised an eyebrow at him, but did not question it, quickly deciding on one of the options.

Dessert came with coffee, decaf for him, and lighter conversation. As the night wound down, you found you wished the night had been longer, enjoying his company. You wondered if you would be seeing more of him in person after this. You hoped so.

He paid the bill without allowing you to even glance at it, which after a few seconds of thought, you were thankful for. You knew it was not likely to be an outlandish amount, but you were glad to not have a number in your head to overthink.

Getting up from the table, you walked close together, arms brushing until you made the split second decision to grab hold of his arm. To avoid bumping into any tables or other patrons, of course. He had not been expecting it, by the way he glanced at you, but you kept your eyes forward. He didn’t say anything. Once back in the lobby, you loosened your hold, but he did not let you go.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

“Oh, thank you.”

You walked in the direction of your car, anxiety bubbling back up. This was usually the bit where your past dates tried — or succeeded — in kissing you. This isn’t a date this isn’t a date this isn’t a date, echoed loud in your head. Did you hug him? Just say goodbye?

“This is me.” You said awkwardly, stopping in front of your car.

He nodded his head, turning to look at you again.

“I’ll—”

“I—”

You smiled at each other, and you gestured for him to go first.

“This was…nice. Thank you.”

“Thank you, I had a good time.”

He shuffled his feet awkwardly, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Have a good night, Michael.”

“You too.” He said, turning to go, before turning quickly on his feet. “Let me know when you get home safe, yeah?”

Opening your car door, you looked back at him and grinned, “Yeah, I will.”

Offering a final smile before you got into your car, Michael walked in the opposite direction.

The drive home was much better than the drive to the restaurant. You felt warm on the inside, going over the dinner in your head again and again. You smiled the entire drive.

Walking into your apartment, you set your things down before pulling out your phone and pulling up Michael’s contact.

Home safe :)

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tagged-by-trauma · 2 days ago

Text

Stay quiet, darlin'

He was your father's best friend, but that didn't stop you from sneaking into your bedroom while your father was downstairs. Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!reader Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), age gap, softdom!joel/subby!reader, teasing, dirty talk, protected sex (sorry not sorry), p in v sex, pussy slapping (one time), slight aftercare, cuddling Word count: 3.6k

You knew it was wrong for a number of reasons. He was a lot older than you, grumpy and he almost never looked at you when you passed by. But most of all, he was your father’s best friend since they were in elementary school. They were always hanging around each other, sometimes they were like brothers. When something happened, they were there and you always saw them in a different light. Your father, who raised you up to the woman you are today, and his friend, who saw this whole journey.

He saw when you were learning how to ride a bike for the very first time. He was looking after you when your father had to go on a work-trip, helping you with your geography homework and he was always like a second father to you. Until this small connection between you took a whole turn.

You started going to college and started to change. Your appearance became similar to the other girls, your curves developing every year. The girly clothes in your wardrobe were changed to more elegant and minimalist ones, and you were a lot more confident in some situations, and shyer in others.

But every summer when you went home you could see Joel’s gaze shift. His eyes raked over your body like he was seeing you for the first time, but you could feel them burning your skin where they tracked a path. He saw that you weren’t that little girl anymore, and that fact made you feel something deep down in your heart.

But everything changed forever between you on a warm summer night.

It was your father’s idea. Watching a basketball match like in the good old days. And you agreed. Of course you agreed. But he didn’t tell you that he also invited Joel.

“I thought it would be amazing if we could spend some time together. And he said he didn’t have anything to do tonight,” your father’s words still echoed in your ears as you were getting ready. You pulled out your favourite summer dress with small flowers on it, and let your hair down, it’s waves cascading down your shoulders.

You were sitting on the couch when you heard three firm knocks on the door. You looked to your left, gaze falling on the clock hanging from the wall. 6:47 pm.

“Can you get it?” your father yelled from the kitchen while he was preparing the snacks and the beers. You slowly stood up, adjusted the hem of your dress, and walked slowly to the door. When you opened it, Joel was standing there, his hand raised to knock again, when his eyes locked with yours. He had a checked shirt on with old jeans on, a six pack of beers in his left hand. His hair was longer than you’d remembered, and gray hairs could be seen scattered around. His expression was unreadable, but you saw his eyes flicker down to your body for just a mere second.

“Hey,” he said with a low voice and a shiver ran down your body. His voice seemed lower than the last time you’ve seen him.

“Hey, come in,” you steeped to the side so he could come in, and as he took a step inside he brushed against you, the smell of him hitting your nose. It was something like wood, leather and something else that you couldn’t really name but your brain has strongly associated it with him.

“I brought some beer. Didn’t know if there would be enough,” he held up the pack in his hands and you nodded. You looked back up and your gaze met his, eyes so dark that it made a blush creep to your cheeks. As you opened your mouth to answer him, you heard footsteps behind you from the hallway, and you both broke the eye contact, glancing in the direction of your father as he emerged.

“Joel, finally,” your father took his hand and gave it a hard and firm shake. You watched the interaction from the side, catching the faint smile in the corner of Joel’s lips. “You bought extra beer?”

“Didn’t know if we needed more. Though I think ahead,” he held out the six pack to him, and your father took it. You crossed your arms in front of you and when you saw Joel look down for just a moment, you smirked and gave him a subtle wink—one that your father didn’t notice. He quickly averted his gaze, his posture going rigid as he followed your dad inside the living room.

You were still standing there in front of the door, thinking about the gaze he just gave you, and how he just basically checked you out in front of your father. Subtle. Very subtle. Yeah, things definitely changed between you with the years. And you couldn’t help but anticipate what this night will hold for both of you.

—-—

The match was blasting on the TV, the light from it illuminating the otherwise dark room, coffee table full of snacks and beer. You were sitting on the single armchair, legs under you, hand propping your face up, the other wrapped around a cold beer in your lap. Your father was sitting on the couch; eyes fully focused on the screen and the player who just threw a basket. And Joel. Joel was sitting to his right, closer to you, slightly slouched down the soft material of the furniture. His left hand was wrapped around the head of his beer, his right behind his head.

Your eyes averted from the TV to his form and you couldn’t help but basically drool at the sight of him. Here in the light the gray hairs were more prominent in his hair and beard, the shirt now unbuttoned at the top—showing the white t-shirt underneath. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a big gulp, your eyes travelling down to his neck—the bob of his Adam’s apple.

He was completely engrossed in the match but when he felt something like a burning sensation he looked to his right. He caught the way you looked at him and smirked at you. When you pulled back your gaze to his face, you noticed that he was already staring at you. But now, instead of turning away embarrassed, you held the eye contact, holding your head up high. His smirk turned even smugger. The sudden movements of your father broke the little trance, and you finally turned your head back to the TV.

When the match came to the half-time you stood up and placed your empty bottle of beer on the coffee table. Your father and Joel looked at you with a questioning gaze but you just shrugged.

“I’m feeling a little sleepy so, I think I’ll go and get some sleep,” you lied, stretching towards the ceiling, dress riding up your thigh, exposing even more skin. You saw Joel’s jaw flex, eyes trying to stay on your face.

“Are you alright?” your father asked, completely oblivious to the little connection between you and Joel.

“Yes, just a bit tired,” your father nodded at your response, and reached for his phone, settling further into the couch. You winked at Joel and went to the kitchen to fill a cup with water. Halfway through you heard heavy footsteps behind you but didn’t look back. But then a heavy presence loomed behind you, and you stopped in your tracks. You felt his hot breath against the back of your neck, his arms caging you between his body and the counter.

“If you woulda kept lookin’ at me like that, darlin’, I don’t think I would have lasted through the whole night,” he growled in your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You placed the water on the counter and slowly turned around to face him. First his broad chest came into the level of your eyes, but when his hand came up and cupped your jaw gently, forcing you to look up, you were met with a dark pair of eyes burning low with desire.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you whispered innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Oh, darlin’. Don’t play the innocent to me. You know exactly what I’m talking ‘bout,” he leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours. “And doin’ it while your daddy’s sittin’ next to me?” he chuckled, and you grew redder and redder with every word that was leaving his lips. His hand came to your waist, squeezing down softly.

“And what will you do about it?” you smirked up at him, your hands coming to rest on his chest. His eyes flicked down for a second, and you could see the shift in them.

“Oh, trust me, darlin’, you don’t wanna know.”

“And what if I do?” as soon as you finished your sentence his mouth found yours with a slow tenderness that you didn’t expect from him. His body moved even closer to you, lips fighting each other for dominance. He leaned forward, and with a simple move he picked you up and placed you on the counter. Your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, while his found your cheek. You could feel his hardening length pressing against your thigh, and you smiled into the kiss. In this moment you completely forgot about your father in the next room, but when you heard footsteps you quickly moved away and jumped off the counter trying to fix your appearance.

“Oh, I thought you said you were going to sleep,” your father appeared in the doorway, his look moving back and forth between you and Joel.

“Uhm, yes, just needed some water.”

“Right. And you?” your father now dedicated his question to Joel, moving to one of the cupboards.

“Just came for another beer,” his voice was a bit gravelly, but his stance went back to his normal state.

“I might take another one too,” he smiled at both of you, and you picked up your water from the counter and looked at your father.

“Then I just go. Enjoy the rest of the match, guys,” you walked past your dad, sparing a final glance at Joel, who looked after you with hunger in his eyes. Your father was too busy with whatever he was searching in the cupboard, so you took the chance and winked at Joel.

“Later. My room,” you mouthed to him, and smiled as he subtly lowered his hand and adjusted himself in his pants.

—-—

It took him a whole hour.

You were laying in bed when you heard the unmistakable sound of his boots on the hardwood, and you smirked at the ceiling. Next three firm but quiet knocks came down on your door. You got up, walked to it, and opened it. Joel was standing there, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the stairs. When he heard the soft creak of the door he looked up, and his breath caught in his throat.

You already took off your sundress and dressed into soft black shorts and a white tank top. You didn’t bother to put on any bra, you knew it would have been unnecessary. Especially with him. When you saw the expression on his face, clear satisfaction creeped into your mind.

“Like something you see?” you asked with a cheeky tone, and he looked at you in disbelief.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him without a noise, and the next thing you know, you were caged between his arms. “You don’t even know how much. That little sundress of yours tonight? Drove me fuckin’ crazy,” he captured your lips with his, and you let out a quiet gasp at the sudden contact. You melted into his arms, and you let him carry you to the bed.

One of your hands found the back of his neck while the other grasped the shirt on his chest. His were roaming all across your body, caressing your hair, cheeks, waist, hands tightening when he reached your hips. You moaned into his mouth, and he used this little moment to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He let out a growl, and unconsciously moved his hips forward, making you throw your head back. His lips left yours and traced gentle kisses along your jaw and the curve of your neck. You were holding on tightly to his shoulder. When his hand reached for the hem of your shirt he pulled back and looked at you, asking for permission. And that’s when it all hit you. Your father was just downstairs, watching the TV.

“Joel. My father—”

“Don’t worry ‘bout him, darlin’,” he continued to pepper your throat with kisses, occasionally nipping at the skin.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s so drunk that he decided to bake cookies,” he looked into your eyes, caressing your hair.

“Cookies? At—” you looked to the clock on your bedside table. “At 9:24 pm?”

“As I said, darlin’, he’s really drunk. I’m pretty sure, he’ll fall asleep in the first five minutes, although…” he searched your eyes again, and when you nodded, he pulled off the tank top. “Although that doesn’t mean you won’t have to stay quiet,” he threw away the top, not bothering to look where it lands. “Fuck, look at you, darlin’,” his gaze dropped to your breasts and lingered there.

His mouth connected with your throat again, moving lover and lover with every kiss. He traced a path between your breasts, and when he took one nipple in his mouth you threw your head back against your pillow, stifling a moan. His tongue was dancing around the hardened peak, his hand coming up and playing with your other one. You arched your back when he started sucking. When he felt satisfied, he moved to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

He moved lower on your body, but you pulled him back up by his shoulder. He looked at you confused, parted his lips to say something but you drowned the words into him by reaching for his belt buckle.

“We don’t have time, Joel,” as soon as the words left your lips he reached for your shorts and pulled them down with a rough tug, leaving you only in your panties laying under him. Your hands moved with a quiet determination, shaking softly by the weight of the moment. He took them and squeezed down softly.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’,” he reached down to unbuckle his belt himself, and you leaned up on your elbows to watch him. You could see the prominent bulge through the fabric of his jeans. He tucked his hand in his back pocket and took out a condom. You looked at him in disbelief and surprise.

“You kept a condom in your back pocket while my father was sitting next to you?”

“Gotta be prepared, darlin’,” he tugged down his briefs, and his cock sprang free. You looked at it with a quiet awe and a bit intimidated by the size of him. As he opened the small packet, and rolled the condom on, he noticed your expression.

“Don’t worry. We’ll gotta make it fit,” you nodded at him. He let out a quiet chuckle, and tugged your panties to the side, his fingers tracing the completely soaked fabric. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re so wet already,” he ran his fingers up and down, his fingers drawing slow circles over your clit. You couldn’t hold back anymore and let out a moan.

“Joel—” he stopped in his tracks, his hand coming down on your thigh with a soft strike. You gasped, and looked at him, whimpering.

“What did I say ‘bout keepin’ quiet, baby?” he soothed over the slightly reddened skin while you reached for his cock. He took your hand and brought it up over your head, pinning it to the mattress. His other reached for his length, tip leaking with precum and almost purple under the low light. He lined himself up with your entrance and looked at you for a final confirmation. When you nodded, he smiled at you and gave you a quick kiss. “Stay quiet, darlin’.”

He slowly eased himself inside you. The stretch at first was making you wince, and after he released you hand you dig your nails into his clothed back. He leaned next to your ear, and he groaned by the sudden warmness and tightness. When he fully bottomed out, the stretch turned into pleasure, and he looked at your face.

“You alright, darlin’?”

“Yes, just… Please move, Joel,” to emphasize your words, you slowly circled your hips. He pulled out and with one quick move he thrusted into you. He set the pace and moved in and out of you like his life depended on it. You were trying to stay quiet, but it was almost impossible. And that’s how it happened that you let out a strangled cry of his name. And Joel? Joel suddenly stopped, pulled out of you. You whined at the sudden loss of contact, but when the tip of his cock came down on your clit, you arched your back off the bed.

“What did I say, darlin’? Do you want your daddy to hear us?” you shook your head, and he contently nodded. Then he lined himself up again and buried in you in one thrust. Now he didn’t stop his pace, didn’t pull away, but his hand came over your mouth to stifle your moans and cries.

“Fuck, darlin’. You’re so fuckin’ tight. Your lil’ pussy’s squeezin’ me so deliciously,” you were a writhing mess under him, and he was relentless. You felt the muscles in his shoulder and back tense with every move, his voice in your ear intensified by the moment. When he saw you were close to the edge, he moved his hand down between your bodies and found your clit. His thumb circled the little bundle of nerves, his pace quickening if that was possible.

“Come for me, darlin’. Let me feel you clench around my cock,” as soon as his words reached your brain, you were gone. Your orgasm shattered like an old vase on the ground, and with a last cry you clenched down around him. He talked you through it, whispering and groaning into your ear. Just a few seconds after you his rhythm faltered, thrusts getting messy and sloppy, and with a final move he buried himself to the hilt and came with a quiet growl. His body was tensed up, and he collapsed on you, careful not to put too much pressure. Your hand came up to comb through his salt and pepper hair, and you let out a content little sigh.

“Jesus, girl,” he murmured into your bare chest. “I think I just threw my back out,” you laughed at his comment, and he squeezed your waist.

“Old man,” you murmured under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you breathed too quickly, and he looked at you suspiciously but left it at that.

When you both felt like you could move again, he climbed off of you, his now limp cock sliding out of you, and a whimper leaving your lips at the emptiness you felt in that moment. You leaned up on your elbow, watching as he pulled off the condom and tied it with a firm knot. He threw it into the bin next to your bed and pulled back up his briefs and jeans.

“I should go down and check on your father. Hopefully he didn’t burn down the kitchen,” you chuckled and looked at his disheveled form.

“Wait,” he looked at you confused when you reached for the little mirror in your bedside drawer. You held it out for him.

“For your hair,” he nodded and took it, looking at himself and the soft curls that were now completely messy. “I have to say I wasn’t very careful with my hands.”

“It’s alright, darlin’,” he combed through his hair, flattening down the waves at the back of his neck and the top of his head. You were looking at him still sprawled out on your bed, still half-naked. He handed back the mirror and gave you a small smile. With a final kiss, he went out your door, and minutes later you could hear him helping your father into his own bedroom. You laid back, and looked at the ceiling, replaying everything that just happened.

Yeah, it was definitely not a one-time thing.

—-—

Later that night, close to midnight you heard your phone hum with a new text, and you immediately picked it up. When you saw it was Joel your stomach did a little flip, and you blushed at his message.

Joel: Thank you for tonight, darling! You: Are you really thanking me? Joel: Why? Is that a bad thing? You: No, just unusual.

For a few moments the three little points were popping up on your screen then disappearing. You thought that maybe he won’t text back, but the phone lit up in your hand again.

Joel: Are you free on Friday? Maybe like 7:00 pm? You: It depends. What are you planning to do? Joel: It’s a secret. But you can trust me, darling! You: Then I’m free. Oh, and my father won’t be home, he is going on a work trip again. Joel: Amazing! Then I’ll pick you up! Good night, darling! You: Good night, Joel!

Safe to say, you fell asleep that night quiet easily. The happenings of the day and the exhaustion was catching up to you, but surely the last thing you saw before the darkness consumed you was Joel’s face and those beautiful dark brown orbs.

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