#my desk is now in front of my windows

[bulkhummus]

little guy just sittin

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[lupismaris]

Went to a new clinic out of necessity and I admit there is a surrealness to having your blood drawn by a hot older black butch in a dragon ball z T-shirt

[green-meanies]

I hope everyone else is having a better day than I am lmao

[mothippie]

Sunny Mornings

[pepprs]

god my throat is raw from yelling / panicking. And part of me is wary wondering if it’ll happen again. omgggg

[yzerman]

literally can’t focus at one of my jobs because the drama at the trap house across the street is so interesting

[eternityofend]

Another type of milk.

PAIRING: Francis Mosses x Female!Reader ( Slight Doppelganger!Francis Mosses x Reader. )

Requested: Can I request something for Francis, the Milkman? Like the scenario is: Y'all be talking then, they do it under the desk while the reader is working?

MDNI +18, NSFW.

You scroll through your phone, time ticking with each passing second as you get even more bored. Your job as a doorman was nice however the hours needed to work were plenty enough of time for you to wish you had never taken up such a job in the first place.

You hear a tap on the window as you see Francis in front of you, holding a carton of milk in his hands, his movements were sluggish and his eye bags were darker than when you last saw him.

You ignored the concern building in you and tried to find your wallet to pay for the milk you ordered from Francis, keyword: tried. You frantically searched your pockets and the drawers but there was no sign of a leather wallet in all of the places you searched.

Francis stares at you with a blank expression, completely minding his own business as he didn't question the amount of time it took for you to find your wallet.

"Hey.. can I pay you up in a different way?"

Francis raises his eyebrows, skeptical about your request but nods his head; far too kept up with how much time this delivery was taking. He wasn't used to social interaction anyway, he just wanted to get out.

You motion for him to come into your office, opening the gate for him and closing it once he went through.

A few minutes later, Francis knocks on your door and you let him in, he's still holding onto the carton of milk which you help him put on your desk.

"Mmmm.. so what's this different method of payment are you talking about?.." Francis mutters, his voice husky with the tiredness he felt from his job, tone as curious as ever.

You walk up to him, putting your hand on his chest while smiling innocently.

Francis looked at you with a curious expression, gulping as he was nervous about what you were going to do with him.

Francis looked at your eyelashes, and your pretty eyes, trying to distract himself from the weird thoughts he was thinking; perhaps he was watching too much inappropriate stuff, he should limit himself on that.

"Do you live alone?" You asked, knowing well what his answer would be.

Francis tore his gaze away from you, now staring at your wall. "Yes.."

He hears a small laugh come from you, and his body feels tingly with extreme nervousness. Why were you laughing? Did you expect him to have a roommate or something?

"So you have no one to milk you at home then?" You whisper in Francis's ears, watching him tense up as he caved in to your voice and touch.

You saw the way his knees trembled to hold onto his body, cheeks turning redder than the scarlet milk he frequently delivers.

You put a hand on his cheek, making him look at you with a smile on your face. "Let me help you, that's my payment." You utter, watching his eyes widen as he came across a conflicted statement-- not knowing what to choose.

You really didn't have to wait long.

Francis stares up at you, hand on his mouth as he leans against the wall, ears flushing with blush as he attempted to conceal his noises from you, afraid of someone hearing.

You rubbed your shoe against his bulge, looking at him with a mischievous look on your face, wanting to make him cum from a dry orgasm before you fully fuck him.

"Ah~ Hnn~ Ngn~" Francis moans out, his sounds muffled by how hard he was biting on his hand, throwing his head back at how lewd your method to pleasure him was.

His eyes were teary and his cheeks were flushed, he looked as if he already got fucked by you even if you hadn't advanced that fast yet.

You grin, pressing on his erection with the heel of your shoe-- enjoying the way he stuttered, gripping onto your leg with his free hand.

A tap on the window stops you from admiring him longer, and Francis panics. He couldn't run out because it would be suspicious if the visitor were to see someone come from below your desk, he didn't want to spread rumours as well if someone recognized him.

So he just sat there, both hands covering his mouth.

Wait.. what were you doing?

Francis bites onto his hand, heart pulsing as he felt your shoe rub more against his dick, you were crazy! Why were you still continuing?!

You grinned, twirling your hair as you faced a doppelganger of one of the visitors, not even having to check the ID to know it was a doppelganger.

You had to admit, it sure mimicked the resident properly, but if it weren't for the real Francis already being below your desk, you would've let the doppelganger of Francis in, there were barely any differences as well.

"Oh? My appearance..? I don't quite follow.." The doppelganger muttered, trying to keep calm as he felt rage from how fast you figured out he was a doppelganger.

You were not only a pretty doorman but a smart one too, the doppelganger held back on transforming, wanting to see if he could still convince you that he was the real one.

You chuckle at the doppelganger's confused expression, adding a bit more pressure to your shoe as you pressed on Francis's erection, hearing a small moan come out of him.

The doppelganger's eyes widened, looking around as he was confused at where the noise came from.

What a shame, you'd so tease the real Francis using the doppelganger if only you weren't allowed to spread the fact that Doppelgangers existed.

"I'm sorry, but I don't quite think I can let you in."

You rang the DDD and let them handle the situation, completely forgetting about Francis beneath you, trembling at how much pressure he was receiving.

By the time you remembered about him, you were already finished with the doppelganger situation, seeing him all teary and red just from your shoe.

You laugh, lifting his face up as you stop rubbing your shoe against his dick, grinning at him with a new idea in mind.

"Let's start with the milking process now, shall we, Milkman? But first, why don't you eat me out first?"

You catch his flustered expression as he nodded, moving his hands all the way to your thighs as he got rid of your panties.

Francis moves closer to your pussy, licking on it as his eyes widened from the taste, it was much different than the milk he was used to.

You let out a breathy moan, spreading your legs wider as you felt Francis shove his tongue straight into you, eating you out as if he was a man that was starved for years.

His tongue flicks against your clit, and you let out a full moan, suddenly closing your thighs around Francis's head, he didn't seem to mind however.

"Shit... you sure know how to eat pussy.." You mumble, biting on your lip as you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the sensation of his cold wet tongue.

Francis's hooked nose makes you moan as it pressed against your pussy because of how close he was.

You moan, throwing your head back when you feel Francis's tongue licking on your clit, lapping it up as if it was water.

Your grip on his hair tightens, clenching down on his tongue as you orgasmed.

Francis moans beneath you, the vibration running across your entire body making you shake and tremble.

You breathe out, your pussy pulsing while Francis explored your insides, eager to drink up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste.

You pull Francis away from your dick, and your pussy twitches at the sight. His eyes are half-lidded, staring at you while his tongue and mouth were filled with your cum.

Francis smiles, and swallows your cum right in front of you, making you bite your lip from how aroused you were.

"We aren't done yet, Milkman." You grin.

But apparently the story is done! I hope you enjoyed the story, this is my second time writing smut :)

[luveline]

𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses). 

requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.” 

Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.” 

Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs. 

“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you. 

He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat. 

“What time is it?” you ask. 

You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?” 

“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.

“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.

You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.

Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds. 

He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.

You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic. 

You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him. 

You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling. 

He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him. 

His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed. 

You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips. 

“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.” 

“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.” 

He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one. 

You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.” 

“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.” 

“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.” 

“Can you sit up, at least?” 

“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?” 

“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard. 

You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil. 

“Close your eyes,” he says. 

“Was that a dracula impression?” 

“I command you.” 

You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out. 

And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.” 

“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him. 

Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?” 

“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.” 

“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.” 

“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…” 

Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity. 

“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.” 

“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.” 

“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.” 

“But for how long?” you ask. 

Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to. 

You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms. 

“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly. 

“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?

“Do you want to start now?” 

You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.” 

“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.” 

You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now. 

You shut your eyes. 

He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums. 

A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?” 

Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say. 

“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while–” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life. 

It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along. 

“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath. 

Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.” 

“Do you want to?” 

And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too. 

“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–” 

“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.” 

Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?” 

“Remus–” 

“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.” 

“So you like me?” 

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.” 

“Oh,” you say, lifting your head. 

Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth. 

“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.

“You first.” 

Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo. 

“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder. 

“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess. 

Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.” 

“After that?” 

“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely. 

You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed. 

—

Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud. 

Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid. 

He flinches. 

You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but. 

I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite —why are you so far away? Can he hold you? 

What are the rules here? 

Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay. 

He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep. 

He should let you sleep. 

“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm. 

“Mm?” you hum. 

“I need to ask you something.” 

You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do. 

“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.” 

“I just need to ask you something.” 

“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness. 

The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?” 

It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you. 

He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him. 

“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple. 

“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.” 

Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense. 

The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?” 

Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek. 

“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate. 

“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.” 

“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says. 

“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.” 

“Please don't!” you say.

You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways. 

Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.

“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say. 

“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight. 

Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it. 

“I'm chucking them out!” 

“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?” 

“What?!” 

You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?” 

Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm. 

“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”

“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.” 

“James,” you say softly, all sympathy. 

Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company. 

“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.” 

Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him. 

A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off. 

Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease. 

There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D <3

[kxsalt]

This is Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

Your favorite class, your favorite teacher. While all the other students look out the window at the sunny skies, your eyes are trained on the front of the classroom. Your teacher’s hot body visible through the thin white shirt he wore to beat the heat. The breeze kisses your naked pussy under your skirt. Doe eyes glaze over, drifting in and out of listening to his instructions. You feel your mind fall deeper into a trance with each word and gesture.

He walks down the rows of desks, stopping to lean over yours and inspect your work. To look down your shirt. He continues to lecture the class, one hand sliding inside your open top to cup your braless breast. Thumb and finger pinch on your nipple. Waves of pleasure waft through your body from the simple handling. Even in the sticky early summer heat, you crave his touch.

Pulling up your skirt, pushing open your legs. Your wet, needy pussy is in full view of him, now. Standing behind you, he fondles your sensitive tits. He rubs your thighs, then your clit. None of the other students notice, they must be too busy daydreaming. Tilting your head up to flash your bright eyes, his lips meet yours in a French kiss.

Rolling his tongue around yours, two fingers slip into your cunt. He breaks from the kiss and spits a long strand into your open, begging mouth. You keep your lips parted, tongue out - showing him his spit, showing him your submission. He pushes your face into your desk, lifts up your hips, and uses his powerful hands to finger-fuck your bent over body.

Shirt pulled open, skirt folded overtop of your stomach. Everyone must be so jealous. He straightens up and pushes his hard cock into your tight young pussy. Your teacher’s long-winded explanation of the coursework continues, but sounds so far away. All you can hear is the wet smack of his hips driving into your bum. You keep your mouth open like a good girl, like a good slut. It’s so hard to keep his spit in your mouth, it runs down your chin. It’s so shameful how good it feels.

“Fuck me harder, sir.” You mumble. “Fuck my little pussy.” His lecture becomes more incoherent as he starts to cum inside you, his fierce fucking drowns out his speech. “Fuck me like a whore.” Your face is wet from his spit. He tries to talk as he finishes, an unintelligible mess. “What’s that, daddy?” Your cum drunk brain tries to understand, tries to obey.

“I said wake up.”

You jolt upright. Strands of your drool run from your agape mouth to the pool on your desk. Your classmates snicker as he stands in front of your desk. Thighs soaked in your pussy juice, you look up at him with a dumbfounded expression. The girl next to you laughs as she asks her friend if they heard what you said. Your teacher looks disappointed.

“Falling asleep again? You’ll have to stay after class…”

[forlix]

𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

secret's out

Aaron Hotchner x bau!liaisonreader

Summary: Aaron takes an urgent trip to your office.

Warning: pls MDNI! 18+, oral sex (f receiving)

A/N: the way i was fixated on this idea for the entire year last year (and crawling back to it)...

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

A squeal passed your lips as your soul nearly jumped out of your body. Your boss, Aaron Hotchner, barged into your office with such urgency you thought someone had died, forcing a hiccup to bounce in your throat.

Your eyebrows drew together with your mouth slightly agape, "What's happened?" You couldn't help but hear your heartbeat loudly thumping against your chest.

Did a horrible case personally appear their way to his desk? Did someone get shot? Was there an emergency at home? Your mind quickly overheated as you attempted to figure out his sudden advent in your office.

"I need you to come on my face."

"What?!" Your face was both horror and bewilderment, a shade of red painting your cheeks.

You peeked outside your window, leaning against your desk. Thank goodness you had your own office. Had you not been a liaison, the entire bullpen would have its eyes on you.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Your voice was of panic, but you wouldn't deny the hint of excitement that echoed beneath your words.

Of course, Aaron had already thought of that. He had already calculated everything before he stepped out of his office and marched into yours.

Aaron didn't say a word.

Not even a moment to straighten the knot on his brows. He just shut the door, walked around your desk, kneeled in front of you, and started kissing your calves as if they were made of pure gold.

Heat rushed up your neck and to your face. Your breathing hitched at the touch of his trailing lips on your skin. "H-Hotch? Aaron, what—" You may have been shocked and confused, but you didn't stop his movements either.

You didn't want him to.

He slowly swiveled your seat to face your door, slipping under your desk as he continued to adore your thighs. How he managed to fit himself under there was beyond your comprehension.

"Continue working," Aaron directed between hot kisses on your inner thighs, pulling you out of your trance. He rubbed his textured palm on your skin, sparking friction in every bit of you.

His touch hits you like a freezing wind in the middle of January. Familiar and yet new. A simple graze and yet so electrifying.

Your eyes widened.

Did he just tell you to continue working while he was under your desk teasing you?

"Are you kidding—"

The door swung open.

Your head shot up to find one of the agents from the bullpen.

He stood by the door in silence.

You shoved Aaron's face away from your now needy cunt.

For fuck's sake.

At any given time, you would've waited for the agent to speak, but you weren't exactly in the right situation to have your door wide open for everyone outside to see or hear you.

So you spoke first, "Do you—" You swallowed—hard, casually organizing case files as Aaron bunched up your skirt. You couldn't bear to look at the agent in the eye. "Do you need something?"

"I wanted to ask if, uhm, you were," He placed a hand behind his neck, laughing awkwardly, and his face began to turn red.

You were too occupied to notice.

Aaron just started circling your clit with just the right pressure while he covered your inner thighs with stinging marks, fluttering the pit of your stomach—and the center of your cunt.

You bit the inner of your cheek, keeping any moans from slipping out. Is it really torture to feel so good while under someone's—besides the one pleasuring you—gaze? It seemed like one, but felt otherwise.

If Aaron wasn't exposing yourself under your desk, you would've realized that the agent in front of you was the same agent that has been eyeing you for a while.

JJ made sure you knew.

Emily, never let you forget.

And Penelope wanted you to give him a chance.

After a few moments—just enough time for you to release a silent gasp—the agent looked up.

His eyes were filled with courage as if he were about to fight a dragon and you were a damsel in distress.

You're anything but distressed right now, though.

He held his breath, holding his fists tight, "I wanted to ask if you'd like to go out with me for dinner? Or lunch? Or breakfast? Or just coffee? Or anything, really."

Without warning, Aaron lapped on your cunt.

It was different than usual. He pulled a little of the skin above your clit and exposed you more than you already were, directly flicking his tongue on the mass of nerves that sat on your clit.

The pleasure was straightforward and intense. Your toes curled in your heels. You gripped the file in front of you and gritted your teeth as you deeply sighed.

You weren't a profiler, but right then, you suddenly realized why the stoic SSA Aaron Hotchner was devouring you under your desk in the middle of the day.

"I'm sorry," You said gently through a soft sigh. A cover for the moan you badly wanted to breathe out. You looked at the agent with an apologetic smile, "I haven't told anyone, but I'm seeing someone." You lightly smacked the top of Aaron's head as you felt him smirk against your heat.

The agent grew redder, nodding vigorously. "It's okay. No worries. Sorry if I bothered you. Uhm... See you around." He stammered, backing away and out of your office.

When you were sure no one would barge into your office—again—you glanced down at Aaron. You carded your fingers through his dark hair, "That was mean, Aaron," You softly pointed out despite the jolt of your hips onto his face.

Aaron merely shrugged and sent you up to your peak. He was clearly unphased by the effects of his stubbornness. In fact, he made it evident that it was on purpose.

A small part of you wanted to lecture him, even briefly. To assert the little dominance you had over him at the moment. But boy, was he so good at distracting you.

You threw your head back, letting go of the file in your hand as you finally indulged in the pleasure. Your body was on fire, controlled moans desperately drooling off your lips. Whatever trick he was using, you definitely want him to keep at it.

And just as your core felt tight, entering a euphoric daze, Penelope knocked and entered your office with an innocent smile.

You willed your body not to shiver in frustration. You willed your mind not to think about Aaron kneeling under your desk and feasting on you and how your favorite tech analyst just unknowingly edged you.

"Hiyya!" She greeted, "Have you seen Hotch? I need him to sign this." She cheerily waved a manila folder. "I saw him pass by while absorbing some juicy gossip in the bullpen. Thought I'd find him here, but I guess not..." Penelope trailed off as her eyes roamed around your office.

When she finally accepted the seeming fact that Aaron was nowhere to be found, she turned to you with a wide grin. "Anyways, I'll find him one way or another. The goss was too good! Let me tell you about it!" She gushed, reaching for the seat in front of you.

Penelope was about two feet away from the seat when you shouted, "No!"

Shock emerged on her face. You gulped the pornographic sound in the center of your tongue down to the depths of your throat, reaching a handout in a bad attempt to look casual.

"I mean, n-no, I haven't seen him. But I can sign it for you." You smiled slyly, collecting yourself back together again. "My signatures are as good as Hotch's. He doesn't want the team to know because everyone will go straight to me." You felt Aaron's eye roll under the desk, nibbling on your skin.

Penelope grinned, "You don't say..." She excitedly clapped and handed you the folder. "Going back to the delicious goss. Apparently, someone caught an agent getting a visit to town in her office, if you get what I mean." A flicker sparked in her eyes. The thought made her grin wider and wiggle her brows.

Of course, you knew what she meant. You were getting one yourself. But you couldn't possibly say that to Penelope.

So, you purposely raised your eyebrows, "Really? The guy must've been hungry." You giggled, feeling Aaron squeeze your thighs.

"Right?!" She mischievously laughed. "I can't imagine someone keeping their mouth closed when someone is giving them the cunnilingus of their life in their office—" Her voice faded out of your earshot.

The bliss was too much that your hand flew back to Aaron's hair and pushed him closer to your wet cunt, forgetting that there was literally a person in front of you.

Penelope stopped in her tracks, brows furrowing as she noticed the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, "Are you okay?" The genuinity of her tone snapped you back to reality, and guilt began to knock some sense into you.

You laughed weakly, unable to control the contortion of your face. "Just cra-ahh—" You covered your mouth tightly, eyes blown wide as you stared at Penelope. "Just cramps. My... I think my period is coming." You reasoned, hoping she would buy it.

Good news and bad news.

Good news, Penelope was not a profiler. You can lie your way out of this as best as you can, and there's a huge possibility that she will buy it.

Bad news, Penelope has the most talkative mouth you have ever seen in your entire life. She would immediately pass the information that your unit chief was eating you out like a high-end buffet at noon on a sunny Tuesday, and that was how everyone would find out you were dating him.

Talk about a good bureau workplace headline.

"Oh, no," Penelope frowned. "They do go bad for you, huh? I've known of someone who couldn't even walk because the pain was too much." She paused, thinking. "Why don't I grab you some of my happy squishes from my cave? Maybe that'll help? And also cookies and coffee?"

You nodded vigorously, unable to form a word in fear that it would be a horrifying moan.

Penelope nodded as well, grabbing the folder. She told you she would be back in a flash with the best things in the world.

Luckily, she had the decency to close your door, and as soon as it shut, you let a strangled silent moan escape you as you rode your bliss.

You collapsed on your seat—breathless—like a worn-out soldier.

Aaron emerged from under your desk, licking his fingers as if he'd just had the best meal in his entire lifetime. A smirk curled one end of his lips. His chest was burning with pride.

"You're evil," You muttered breathlessly, still shivering from the ecstatic high.

A bright laugh echoed in your office and you wished it could play on a loop.

Aaron gently cleaned the mess he made, "Are you telling me you didn't like it?" He raised a brow at you.

You rolled your eyes.

"No," You admitted, playfully swatting his hands away. "Which is exactly why you're evil. You're very tempting. The apple to my Eve."

"Checks out," Aaron nodded proudly, to which you responded with a laugh mixed with disbelief.

He leaned down to leave a wet kiss on your lips, tattooing his whipped smile on your face.

His loving eyes made your chest erratic as if it was the first time he'd ever kissed you. As if he hadn't just fucked you with his mouth.

Aaron squinted, "And my signature definitely trumps yours."

"But I don't need yours to make a decision." You bounced your brows, looking at him like he was a fool.

You loved it when Aaron rolled his eyes. It was rare and solely for you to indulge in.

"I'll see you later," He rasped in such cunt-throbbing low voice.

What a tease.

You chased his lips to leave a small peck from your own, "See you later, troublemaker." You winked, scooting closer to your desk like it wasn't steaming with your sex under it.

Aaron chuckled, "I like that," He raised his brows with humor, nodding approvingly, "I'll be your troublemaker."

"'Course you are. Always been—well... hmm," You hummed, "You're tied with Jack. He and his magic tricks that he 'magically' learn whenever you two visit." You point an accusatory finger at him.

"Neither confirm nor deny," He laughed, fixing his tie before giving you one last look of adoration.

Aaron left your office high on your cum, lingering on his tongue. A one-day duration good mood. If only the team knew the trick of removing the knot on his eyebrows was as simple—and dirty—as a trip to your office.

Unbeknownst to him, a certain tech analyst was on her way back to your office with a handful of childish toys and a box of cookies and witnessed him emerge out of your door like a buzzed addict.

"Oh my god—" Penelope mouthed with wide eyes.

Secret's out.

[mickandmusings]

sincerity & sonnets

-

pairing: anthony bridgerton x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: anthony bridgerton is blessed with many things-a warm, loving family, a well-funded lifestyle as a viscount, a beautiful wife. more notably, he is cursed with a short fuse and a sharp tongue, which might lead to his demise.

(based off of this request! to the anon who requested, I sort of wrote the argument as more of a sharp remark, but i hope it is still angsty enough for your liking! <3)

warnings: angsty->fluffy, no other warnings

-

As Anthony sat at his desk, scribbling away at his numerous piles of papers stacked in front of him, he noted the unusual quietness that had fallen on his study. He first thought that he had shut the door, but one quick look at the doorway contradicted his beliefs. Anthony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion-his home was never quiet.

Between his own family, and the families of his four sisters and three brothers, his home was full of life: laughter bounding off the walls, his wife and sisters' voices chatting over tea, the stampeding footfalls of his hoard of nieces and nephews assured his ears would never grow accustomed to utter silence. Even in the rare occurrence that the house was empty save for Anthony and his beloved wife, he'd often hear her humming to herself as she attended to her own business in their home, or she would join him in his study, writing her own correspondences at the smaller desk next to his own. Which is why, now, as he sat at his desk this afternoon, the silence stunned him. Anthony frowned, lifting his pocket watch to assure himself he was not entirely losing his mind. As the gold clock stared back at him, the small hand signaled it was midday.

He chuckled to himself, his wife must have chosen to sleep in entirely too long. Y/N was a chronic night owl, often keeping Anthony awake with her bedside chatter and comments on the appearance of the night sky through the window that faced their bed. Anthony would indulge her, but would still wake before the sun. His wife, however, would not budge for several more hours. He grinned and pocketed his watch, pushing himself up from his chair to wake his sleeping beauty of a wife.

Anthony bounded up the stairs two at a time, nodding curtly at any house staff before reaching their shared bedchambers. His dark eyes peer into the empty bedroom-his wife certainly was not here. He noted the dutifully made bed, the open curtains allowing the sunlight in, and, most importantly, his wife's absence. Anthony shook his head briefly before dashing back down the stairs, nearly stumbling into one of his wife's handmaidens.

"Pardon me," he addresses the woman with a sigh, a bit breathless from the unexpected goose chase his wife has taken him on. "Do you know the whereabouts of my wife?"

The younger maid looks at Anthony almost confused, but quickly takes on a professional tone:

"The Viscountess is reading in the garden, she's only just gotten back from tea with the Dowager Viscountess and the Duchess."

Anthony nodded in thanks, hastily departing for their expansive garden, his mind racing. Seeing his wife was an afternoon ritual-she would come bounding into his study after tea with his mother and respective sisters, spouting off all of the new ladies' gossip as he listened intently, all while pretending he was entirely disinterested. He enjoyed seeing her eyes grow wide with the shock of scandal, or her smile at a sweet interaction she witnessed at the park. If you were to ask Anthony Bridgerton, there was no sight more splendid than his wife in all of her extraordinary, everyday beauty. Not that he would admit that aloud, at least not to anyone but her.

Frankly, he was missing her presence today more than he cared to admit. He spotted Y/N almost instantly, her periwinkle gown shining in the sun. She sat in a chair politely under a shady tree, the book on her lap seemingly forgotten. Her expressive eyes locked onto the treeline in the distance, her face solemn. Anthony's heart seemed to fall in his chest, the sinking realization of why his home had been so soundless for the entirety of the day. His chest felt tight as he thought of his actions last night...

-

It had been a very, very long day for Anthony. With Francesca's upcoming debut to society, his mother had been harping on Anthony for nearly a fortnight about every minute detail. His patience for his mother was infinite, but sometimes she did manage to test its limits. Atop this hurdle was the never ending stacks of paperwork littering his desk, waiting to be looked over and signed off by his barely legible scrawl. He had neglected to write Colin back for weeks-his younger brother writing about his travels in Greece. The house staff had been in and out of his study all day, the incessant knocking severing his nerves. The heavy weight of life as a viscount was falling on Anthony, making him irritable and exhausted. His dear wife had settled his discomfort around lunch, bringing his nearly-cold meal into his study to make sure he ate. She had left him with a chaste kiss and a better mood, but Anthony had returned to her worse for wear.

Dinner in their large dining room had felt unnaturally dreary, only the sound of utensils clanking against china plates filling the air, only to be stifled by his wife's chatter. Normally, Anthony would've listened attentively, enjoying hearing about trips to the modiste or how Portia Featherington had driven his wife to near madness. Today, however, her voice had him pressing his nails into his palms to aid his irritation. He sipped his wine and shuffled his food on his plate to avoid making eye contact, he would not want her to see the frustration lingering in his eyes.

"Eloise was completely beside herself, I had never seen her so embarrassed! Madame Delacroix-"

"Must you talk so incessantly?!" Anthony's voice spat out in a low growl, dripping with fierce vexation.

Y/N's eyes grew wide, looking at her husband as if he had sprouted an extra arm and slapped her with it. She said nothing, only cowering in on herself, staring down at her lap as she fidgets with her hands. After several moments of Anthony's intense silence, she lifts a shaky hand and wipes the tears forming in her eyes as she hastily made her way out of the room, attempting to put as much distance between her and Anthony as possible.

Anthony followed suit moments later, feeling angry at himself as he slammed the door of his study shut, falling asleep at his desk hours later. Y/N had slept on her side of a bed far too large for one, her eyes tender and cheeks splotchy, her mind racing. Did she truly talk too much? Had he been annoyed by her daily talks for all these months? Her mind weaved small details into a full blown breakdown, and she quickly settled on being Anthony's perfect, quiet wife as she caved to her drowsiness.

-

The wind blew his wife's curls against her shoulder as Anthony approached her in the backyard, her back still facing him. He wasn't sure she had even heard him approach, her eyes still focused on the landscape sprawled before them. Anthony shuffles nervously, his hands behind him as he stands at her side, only the wind and birds chirping aiding the suffocating silence.

"Splendid weather we're having," Anthony's voice finally spoke, awkward and fumbling into casual conversation as he sank into the chair across from him. Y/N said nothing, only blinking in the same direction she had been staring at the entire time. Anthony nodded, mostly to himself, resigning himself to her silence, it was what he deserved at the moment.

After several moments of dead silence, Y/N turned her attention back to the book perched in her lap, and Anthony sat silently, wanting to spout out his apology in a hurried, bumbling manner, but he knew his wife, she would simply nod and continue reading, allowing herself to stew in prolonged silence.

He rose quietly, leaving with a small kiss landing atop her head-a touch that burned Y/N's skin. She watched Anthony leave out of the corner of her eye, sighing heavily as his presence was back inside their home. She was a myriad of feelings: angry at Anthony for being so blatantly cruel, his words had stung and left her reeling for hours. She was sad, as much as the words had fired her up, they had torn her heart, leaving her chest heavy with dejection. Y/N was nearly bursting at the seams to just apologize-even if it wasn't her who needed to apologize-just so the awkward encounters would come to an end. She wondered if Anthony even felt remorse at all.

In his study, Anthony ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, attempting to focus on the business papers in front of him. His efforts were fruitless-all he could think of was the empty look on Y/N's face. He had never seen her this lifeless, like her glow had been snuffed out, and it was entirely his fault. Anthony's mind raced with a million different scenarios of how he would make this up to her, ranging from flowers to begging on hands and knees, but despite his blunders, he knew his lady well. His Viscountess had never been one for showy things or frivolous purchases, she would only want his sincerest apologies. He would do it tonight, over dinner, he decided. He only hoped when the time came, she would at least spare him a glance.

-

Hours later, at the dining room table, Anthony found himself sitting in his chair at the head of the table completely alone. The kitchen staff came and left with plates and glasses, but his wife had yet to make an appearance. Anthony's foot tapped against the floor in anxiety, his eyes shooting up to the closest staff member, nearly shouting:

"Where is the Viscountess taking her dinner?"

The head of the kitchen staff looked at Anthony wide-eyed at his outburst, replying politely:

"Viscountess Bridgerton took her dinner in the library tonight."

Anthony said nothing, rising from his seat and walking down the hallway, coming to the door of the library and knocking lightly.

"Come in."

Anthony nearly burst into a fit of tears, happy to hear her voice.

He pushed the door open, Y/N's eyes meeting his before they dropped back down to the open book in her hands. Anthony felt guilt press heavy on his chest. He settled into the plush chair opposite her, separated only by a small end table. Anthony looked over at her, his brown eyes all but practically begging her to say something to him.

"Y/N..." Anthony's voice is small and timid, trying to coax her into at least hearing him out. Y/N's voice came out a whisper, cutting him off.

"I am sorry."

Anthony furrowed his brow, that was certainly not what he was expecting to hear. He looked over at her, her gaze locked on the moonlight coming through the window, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I am sorry I have become a burden, Anthony. I did not realize I irritated you with my ramblings. I thought you wanted to hear of my daily activities. I know my day as a woman is not nearly as riveting as yours as a Viscount, but-"

"My dear, your apologies are not necessary," Anthony's voice dripped with sincerity, his eyes warm as he looked at her, ready to grovel for forgiveness. He stuck his hand out for her to take, which she did. He pulled her towards him softly, his gentle touches coaxing her into his lap. Y/N's eyes grow soft under his gaze, her limbs melting in his strong hold. "I am the one who has been a fool. I look forward to your ramblings, no matter if they hold what you consider to be valuable or not, they brighten my day. I wait most ardently for news of trips to the modiste, or my mother's ramblings over tea-" He pauses, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, his thumb wiping away the stray tears on her cheeks.

"I don't want you to be silent. Your voice is more pleasant than any other sound," Anthony cuts himself off, sighing, before starting again. "I should not have spoken to you in such a manner. I should not have raised my voice at you. You have my word that it will never happen again, I cannot go another day surrounded by your silence, it is torture."

Y/N smiles slightly at her husband's words, his transgressions forgiven with his sincere words. His face is close enough to hers to brush her nose against his, their lips close enough to meet.

"Are you certain you were not a poet before we met, Lord Bridgerton?" Y/N's voice is a whisper, the moment feeling far too intimate for anything else.

Anthony chuckles as his hand grasps the side of her face lightly, bringing her closer, speaking before he kisses her deeply:

"Only for you, my beloved...you inspire sonnets."

-

[rafeandonlyrafe]

executive orders

words: 3.8k

warnings: 18+ only, ceo!rafe, assistant!reader, mean!rafe but equally mean!reader lol, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pretend marriage (like fake dating but fake marriage hehe)

“so…” the woman says, heels clicking down the pristine hallway as you quickly follow. “as you were told in the interview process, mr. cameron is a very particular man. as his personal assistant, your focus is more on his well-being than the business.”

“okay, i understand.” you nod. you find the whole thing odd. the interview process where you didn't actually meet the man you'd be the personal assistant to. his semi nondescript job. ceo. of some company named after him, but you don't know the specifics on what his role actually includes.

“just know…” she pauses outside of the large door leading into the room. “this isn't going to be an easy job. it's why you're making a lot of money.”

“okay.” you say again. the more you learn, the more concerned you are, but you're willing to try, even if just for one day.

“and you're paid for through the cfo. mr. cameron does not have firing rights no matter what he says.”

you're not sure what she means, but it becomes very apparent when the moment you step through the door, the man you presume to be mr. cameron let's out a growl.

“serena, i told you i don't need a fucking babysitter!” you turn around, but the door has already been shut behind you. you can hear serenas heels clicking quickly down the hallway. you had completely forgotten her name in the stress of your first day, but you commit it to memory before turning to the ceo.

“hello, sir.” you say quietly. “im y/n.”

“i don't need you.” he grunts out before focusing on his computer, typing rather angry and aggressively. you stand frozen, waiting.

“i said i don't need you. leave. you're fired.” mr. cameron says.

“i um… i don't think you can fire me. sorry, sir.”

his fingers pause as he looks up at you, seeming to finally really see you as his eyes move down then back up your body. you weren't sure what to wear so you're dressed in a black work dress with long sleeves and a pair of flats. under his watchful eye, you wish you would have worn something less form fitting.

“i hate being called sir.” he says.

“okay, mr. cameron then.” you take a few shuffling steps forward.

“rafe.” he shakes his head. “just rafe. mr. cameron is my fucking dad and he's dead.”

your instinct is to say sorry for his loss, but you can't find the words, which ultimately seems to be the right thing as rafe hums then turns back to his computer screen.

you watch him work for a few minutes, occasionally looking around the sparsely decorated office. you swear every time you look away, rafes eyes move up to look at you, but by the time your gaze travels back to him, he's back typing on his computer.

“goddamn it.” he groans out. “don't just stand there all day. if you're gonna be here and i can't fire you, you might as well sit down.”

“oh!” it takes you a minute to realize he's talking to you as his eyes don't stray away from the screen, but then you're quickly moving to sit on the chair positioned on the other side of his desk.

you sit again, watching rafe, watching the clock, watching the view out the window. “what would you like for lunch, si-rafe?”

“whatever.” he waves his hand. “it's not your job to get it. someone will bring lunch to us.”

“oh.” you nod, becoming increasingly more aware that you're not really sure what your job is.

just like rafe said, someone brings in lunch at exactly 12:30, one tray for you and one for rafe.

when he closes his computer, you think that now will finally be the time to talk, but he eats in silence. “so-”

“no small talk.” rafe says. “i hate that shit.”

“well, what is it you'd like me to do then? just sit here? at least give me a task.”

“fine.” rafe grunts out. “when you're finished eating you can read through this report.” he tosses a thick three ringed binder onto the desk in front of you.

“fine.” you argue back, quickly scarfing down your food before grabbing the binder. 

you read through the report. you have no clue what the numbers mean, but you do find a couple punctuation mistakes and highlight them. rafe seems surprised you have any notes at all, his eyebrows raising when you grab the marker from his desk.

“there.” you place the binder down once you reach the last page. its tedious work, but at least it's something other than utter silence.

“great.” rafe takes the binder and tosses it into the trash can. 

“hey!”

“those were numbers from four years ago.” you can see the smirk on rafes features, his amusement at getting you to do something completely pointless.

“you're a real dick, you know?” you say, blurting the words out before you can think of the consequences, it's not like you want to keep the job anyways.

rafe sits silently, but his eyes are on you, hands frozen as you continue on.

“you should hear the way people talk about you. everyone is afraid of you, which you may think makes you a macho boss, but it just makes you a shitty guy to work for. no wonder you have to pay everyone two times more than any other company around here, they need that for putting up with your rudeness.” you rant, suddenly sucking in air as your words come to an end.

“it's 5pm. done for the day. ill walk you out.” rafe stands, but you move quicker, pushing the doors open and leaving him to walk behind.

you stop when you see serena and the cfo quietly chatting. you open your mouth to say you quit when rafe speaks from behind you.

“i like this one. make sure she's here tomorrow by 9am.”

you turn and look to him, but he's already walking away.

--

you weren't planning on showing back up, but serena is a convincing woman.

“good morning, rafe.” you place a drink carrier down onto the corner of his desk, plucking out your mocha before schooching the rest towards him. “i didn't know what you like. i got a hot black coffee, a caramel frappe and the a cappuccino.”

rafe stares at the drinks before picking up the frappe. you smile, you should have predicted that despite his hard exterior, rafe liked a sweet drink.

serena gave you the company card, saying to use it for any and all expenses, even grocery's or home decor, she didn't care, as long as you entered the building by 9 am tomorrow.

“i know you hate small talk, but you'll have to get over it. what does this company even do?” you take a sip of your mocha, the taste chocolatey on your tongue.

“we are a development company. real estate all across the world. we also manage construction.”

“oh.” you frown. “that's more boring than i thought.”

rafe let's out a soft chuckle, pleasant sounding to your ears.

“everything just seems so secretive.” you shrug.

“i think they didn't want you to know a lot in case you turned down the job. you're the longest an assistant has lasted.”

“and what…” you lean in, ignoring that it's only your second day. “exactly am i supposed to do?”

“just… keep me in check.” rafe shrugs. “i have a tendency to get angry. bad news will get passed through you. you're here to be a sounding board, where i can vent and bounce ideas off of.”

“i make 100k a year for that?” you scoff.

“i think 50 of that is just for dealing with me.” 

you laugh along with rafe. maybe you'll end up lasting an entire week.

-- two months later --

“are you free this weekend?” rafe asks.

“uh, yeah, why?” you question. you've learned rafe likes when you stand up to him, speak your mind and not let him push you around like he does everyone else. he's come to respect you for it, and it's made work much easier.

“im needed in new york city. id like for you to come with me. as my assistant.”

“sure, ill start looking for hotels.” you open up your laptop.

“spare no cost. i want somewhere nice.”

you roll your eyes dramatically. “of course you do.”

you already knew to look only at 5 star hotels, the most expensive of the lot. despite the short notice, you find two connecting suites that will work for you and rafe.

“and how are we getting there?” you ask. “want me to talk to jeffery about taking the private jet?”

“yup, i want to fly into laguardia, not jfk.”

“got it.” you nod, finding the correct number in your phone before stepping out to talk. you confirm all the details, jotting down times in the notes app on your phone.

you stop by after the phone call to update serena of your plans, learning she's a secretary of sort for the whole company, really the number two right behind rafe.

“hey girl.” you smile. “heading to nyc with mr. cameron for the weekend.”

“oh, good.” she sighs happily. “he's been needing to go out there.”

“yeah.” you shrug. “if you say so!” you keep yourself firmly out of the business side, just like she told you your first day here.

“make sure you do something fun while you're there too. while he's in meetings you could see times square, or check out central park.”

“i definitely will! i want to see the cherry blossoms if they're still in bloom.”

“sounds fun.” serena nods before her desk phone begins to read. “sorry, gotta get this.”

“see ya.” you wave as you walk back to rafes office.

“all good?” he questions.

“laguardia, just as you want.” you smile, sitting back at your upgraded chair.

“don't know what id do without ya.” rafe says.

“don't be nice to me.” you scrunch your name up. “it's weird.”

--

“how were the cherry blossoms?” rafe asks.

“most of them still in bloom, actually.” you say with a soft smile. you ended up taking a lot of pictures along with exploring the rest of the park.

“nice.” he hums. “did you bring an evening dress?”

“no. and you didn't tell me i was supposed to.” you say.

“well… i would appreciate it if you joined me at dinner tonight. it's with a very important client who um… may be under the impression that im traveling with my wife.”

“your- your wife?” your eyes widen. “you want me to lie about being your wife?”

“just for tonight. id really appreciate it.” rafe looks at you with a softness in his eyes. “please.”

“okay… but i don't have an evening gown… or anything fancy.” 

“let me take you shopping then.” rafe pulls out his phone. “there's got to be a nice store near us.”

you place your hand on top of rafes phone. “ill find a place.”

you end up finding a formal store only a couple blocks away. you decide to walk, rafe keeping close to you, glaring at anyone who even glances at you for too long.

you make it to the store without any interruptions, and rafe quickly points out the kinds of dresses that will fit the restaurant before standing back to let you choose.

“you wanna watch me try them on, husband?” you ask rafe, following the associate with an armful of dresses back towards the private changing rooms.

“of course.” rafe follows behind you, eyes glancing down your figure. he can't wait to see you in a gorgeous fitted dress.

when you step out in the first dress, rafe swears he feels his heart skip a beat. “you're getting that one.”

“you sure?” you look in the mirror, twirling around to look at the dropped back. “i don't know if this color looks good on me.”

“it looks good on you.” rafe says. “but by all means, try on more. ill buy you multiple.”

rafe ends up buying you every single dress you try on except for one that's too loose and doesn't fit well. you insist you only need one, but you're not going to argue with your boss wanting to spend money on you.

you end up choosing the first one you tried on to go to the dinner with rafe. your hands shake slightly, not sure what to expect. rafe sees it, hesitating before wrapping your hand in his.

“it'll be fine. you can just… just be quiet for the most part. ill do all the talking.”

“okay.” you squeeze his hand back, not used to the physical contact with rafe, but finding it surprisingly comfortable.

you follow him into the restaurant, everyone else dressed to the nines, perfect hair and makeup on the women, the men with the shiniest shoes. “it's really beautiful in here.” you whisper.

“wait till you taste the food… wifey.” rafe says, making you both laugh.

“ah, mr. and mrs. cameron.” the man says in a slightly accented voice as you both shake his hand, as well as the associate next to him. “so glad to meet the both of you. we appreciate getting into business with a true family man.”

“of course.” you smile, putting on your best acting performance. “we are so excited to start our family soon.”

“we must see the wedding photos. my wife-” the man puts a proud hand on his chest. “is a wedding dress designer.”

“oh.” you frown. “i would love to show you, but we haven't gotten them back yet.” you smile at rafe. “we’re newlyweds.”

“ah, cheers to the beginning of a lovely marriage then.” he raises his glass to clink with the others at the table.

“please, kiss! you must after a toast.” the associate says.

you turn to rafe, glancing down to look at his lips. it would totally give you away to refuse, so you take a deep breath and lean into in, pressing your lips together in a quick kiss. it lasts only a moment, but you swear you feel a spark, a tug to continue kissing him.

rafe doesn't bring it up until later, as your riding the elevator back up to your hotel room. “you did great. im sorry about the kiss.”

“it wasn't bad.” you giggle softly, slightly drunk on the wine that was served.

“im glad you think that.” rafe smiles softly. “you'll make a wonderful wife to a very lucky man someday.”

“maybe we could…” you swallow harshly, the alcohol encouraging your words you know you shouldn't say. “maybe we could keep pretending. just for tonight. and then when we get back to the office things can be back to normal.”

“and what does continuing to pretend to be husband and wife entail?” rafe questions, taking a step closer to you.

“more kissing. more… more.”

rafes lips are against yours suddenly, ignoring the elevator doors sliding open in favor of his mouth pushing against yours, lips gliding harshly over each others. the kiss is the exact opposite of the restaurant, whereas it was quick and innocent, this kiss is full of fire and passion.

the elevators slide shut and begin to head back down to the lobby. “shit.” rafe groans against your lips, jamming the button towards your floor. “sorry baby.”

“just… keep kissing me until someone gets in.” rafe listens to your pleas, kissing you until the elevator comes to a halt. even then, he doesn't move far away, keeping himself stood possessively over you, your back against the elevator wall.

you smile awkwardly at the three men who enter before turning your face into rafes chest, focused on the hand that has slipped around your waist. 

the elevator stops and the three men get off. the second it's moving again, rafe is back kissing you, stumbling out when your doors open as to not make the same mistake as last time.

“shit.” rafe groans, having to fumble in his pocket to get the key card for the door.

you let out a soft giggle, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw until the door swings open and you're able to step in the room.

“are you sure?” rafe asks, closing and locking the door behind you.

“im sure.” you nod. “this is just… pretend. let's do what husbands and wives do.”

rafe moves you towards the bed, backing you up until you sit down on the plush spread, decorated exactly like yours in the connecting room, but this bedding still smells like rafe from the night before.

he sinks to his knees, such a strong, dominant man on the floor for you as he takes off your heels, carefully slipping them off your soles before setting them to the side.

“thank you.” you say softly. rafe looks up at you before leaning forward, pushing the slit of your dress open to press kisses to your knees, and then thighs, moving up until the dress no longer allows him to.

“i need you to take this off.” he says roughly.

you nod, shifting yourself to stand as rafe also rises. you turn your back to him, his hands moving to your waist before moving up until he's cupping your chest over the shiny material.

“rafe-” you gasp out as he squeezes, his large palms enveloping your entire breast.

rafe holds his hands there for a moment longer before moving them to your back, unzipping your dress and watching it fall to the floor. you're in just a small pair of lingerie, having bought it for yourself yesterday in a boutique.

“shit.” rafe curses again. “you're… you're so beautiful.”

you turn around to kiss him again, his hands now against your bare skin as he explores, moving all along your sides and back.

your own hands get busy as well, fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt until you can push it off his shoulders. you pull away to see his muscles, hints of which you've seen when he's rolled up his sleeves or wore a tighter than normal shirt, but now you can finally really see and appreciate them.

“lay down, please.” rafe says.

you move to lay on his bed, head resting against the pillows as rafe crawls over your body. his mouth finds yours again as his hand delves under your back to unhook your bra. he pulls it away from your body as his lips leave yours.

he's only off your skin for a moment before his mouth is wrapped around your nipple, tongue swirling around in circles as his hand holds your other breast.

“oh, shit.” it's your turn to curse as your eyes squeeze closed, hand coming to the back of rafes head, feeling his short hair as he sucks on your nipple before kissing all over the swell of your breast. he switches sides, wanting to taste all of you.

you lift your hips when his hand grabs onto your underwear, allowing him to pull it all the way down until you kick it off the bed. rafe pulls away to look between your legs, letting out a soft moan when you part your thighs and he can see how wet you already are.

“beautiful.” he says, eyes closing like it's too much to look at you as his hand skirts down your stomach before finding your wetness, finger circling around your entrance before gently pushing in.

“kiss me, please.” you take rafes face in your hands, guiding your mouths back together as his finger carefully thrusts in and out. he slowly increases the speed until you're whining against his lips for more.

rafe twists his hand so his thumb can rub over your clit as you let out a moan, hips pressing up, seeking more.

“i need you.” rafe pulls his hand away. “i need you so bad.”

you nod quickly, giving him one more quick kiss before he pulls away to take off his pants and underwear. you bite your lip once hes completely nude, his cock standing tall and hard away from his body. you want to taste him, want to see what it feels like to have his cock sit heavy on your tongue, but you need him inside of you more.

“i have a condom somewhere…” he looks around.

“you don't need to wear one. I'm on birth control.” you can feel your cheeks blush just at the suggestion. “it's… it's not what a husband and wife would do.”

“okay.” rafe doesn't need any more convincing, crawling back over your body. “do you want me like this?”

you flip over quickly so you're on top, rafes back now pressed into the mattress. you grab onto his cock, giving him a few quick strokes before you line him up with your cunt, sinking down with a synchronous moan.

you keep your eyes on rafes face as you begin to move, hips grinding up and then back, your hands sat firmly on his chest to help you move.

you're able to grind your clit down against his skin every time you sink fully down, just adding to the pleasure. he's stretching you out in the most pleasurable way, just enough to feel it without being painful.

“so fucking beautiful.” rafe says, reaching up to hold onto your tits as they bounce with your body.

you put all your energy into riding him, knowing this might be your only chance to, but hoping it's not, hoping you can feel him inside of you again.

“i- baby.” rafe grunts out, hands moving down to your hips. he helps you move as your legs quickly tire, not used to this position.

“you feel so good.” you whine out eyes sliding shut as rafes hips begin to push up, lifting you with every thrust, spearing his cock even further into you.

“im-im close.” you admit with a gasp, his cock hitting your sweet spot every time.

“cum for me baby, please.” rafe moves one of his hands to your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to rub over your clit.

you cry out, back arching as you instantly cum, not needing any more stimulation as your body shakes before flopping forward, falling against rafes chest.

he gives you a minute, as long as he can hold back before flipping you onto your back. it takes him only a few thrusts to cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

rafe flops down next to you, both breathing heavily, skin sheened in sweat.

you wait for a moment. to see if he's going to say anything. when he doesn't, you scooch closer to him, placing your hand on his cheek and bringing him in for a kiss, not yet done pretending.

-- four years later --

“you remember the first time we came here?” rafe asks, stepping into the restaurant with his hand wrapped around yours. it's redecorated some, but is still familiar.

“how could i forget.” you smile at him. “where i first pretended to be your wife.”

“well, at least you don't have to pretend anymore,” rafe says, swiping his thumb over the diamond ring on your finger “mrs. cameron.”

[sinswithpleasure]

The After School “Student Entertainment” Club 

---------------- Pairing: Karina x Giselle Part 1 || Part 2 || <?> Also available on AO3! ----------------

Yu Jimin’s favorite part of the day is when school ends. Of course, it’s not just her—it’s also every other student. All of Jimin’s classmates prepare to leave, and the chatter in the classroom grows louder and louder while the teacher attempts to call out something about the homework due at the end of the week. Only a few students give the teacher some form of a reply—most of them are buzzing about the new game release, their holiday plans, and for some, their after-school club activities over the upcoming holidays. Bit by bit, the classroom begins to clear, and Jimin waves bye to a few of her classmates as they leave, a wide grin across her face. She packs up at a leisurely pace, enjoying the afternoon breeze that blows through the open windows.

“What’s up, my fellow Sex Ed bud—ow!” Uchinaga Aeri tackles Jimin with a huge back hug, her arms wrapped around the Korean girl’s body in a tight embrace. Before Aeri can finish her sentence, Jimin elbows her friend in the tummy, panic all over her features.

“Shhh!—Shut up, Aeri! Don’t say that so loud!” 

“What? There’s no one else here now, and you and I both know that ‘Student Entertainment’ is just a front to cover up that we’re having se—Ow! Stop it! Stop!” True enough—the classroom is empty now, but Aeri still has to let go of Jimin to defend against her strikes. Both girls begin to giggle after, and then they wrap each other in a tight embrace before Jimin takes her bag to leave for the clubroom with Aeri.

—---—

The “Student Entertainment” clubroom is nothing short of lavish—private school budgets and rich members, all two of them actually, will do that. It’s a big room, complete with gaming consoles, a large wall-mounted TV, a big couch that folds out into a bed, bookshelves, and tables and chairs to study. There’s even a bathroom and shower attached. Not many know of what goes on between the four walls, and the lesser anyone knows, the better. Between Jimin and Aeri, this “Student Entertainment Club” is nothing but an excuse to have sex in school whenever they want. It’s kept on the down-low, of course, with only a select few knowing the actual purpose, but for all intents and purposes, it’s the school’s official Gaming Club with a fancy name.

When the door to the club room closes, the girls’ habits take over. Aeri flips the switch for the lights, and Jimin switches on the air conditioning. Both girls drop their bags onto the chairs at the study table, and instantly, Jimin’s pulling off her blazer. Aeri has her hands busy with undoing her tie and unbuttoning her blouse, Jimin following suit after she lays the blazer on top of her bag. Button by button, their blouses fall open to reveal their bras, and those are the next to go. Jimin folds her clothes nicely in a pile on the desk, while Aeri just shoves them into a pile haphazardly. Both girls undo their skirts and push them off their hips, and Aeri is the first to be fully naked after pulling her underwear off as well. Jimin takes her time folding her skirt and panties, and she unties her hair too, letting it cascade down her back and shoulders. Jimin and Aeri now only have their knee-high socks and shoes on.

“We’re done for the term, babe!” Aeri runs and wraps Jimin in a tight hug that Jimin returns. They’re pressed intimately close to each other, just the way they love it—physical affection, clothed or unclothed, is nothing new to them. However, Aeri’s not one to resist her mischievous impulses—she reaches down and gives Jimin’s ass a squeeze, which draws a groan of exasperation from her friend, knowing Aeri’s penchant for mischievous teasing and touching. However, Jimin’s smiling when she pulls back. 

“Wanna celebrate?” 

“Oh, of course, babe.” 

Without wasting a second, Aeri leans in to press her lips against Jimin’s. Both girls share soft pecks before Jimin deepens the kisses—she begins to nip at Aeri’s bottom lip, her hand reaching up to cup Aeri’s head, pushing her into the kiss. Her other free hand glides between their bodies, and she palms the Japanese girl’s left breast, giving it soft squeezes. Aeri doesn’t just let Jimin have her way too—she’s reaching around to softly fondle Jimin’s ass once more, which draws soft moans from her partner. Both girls enjoy the pleasure of the other’s sensual touch, and their kiss only gets hotter—Jimin’s tongue glides across Aeri’s in a show of deep lust and affection, and when they separate for air, strings of spit bridge the gap between their tongues before dripping to their cleavages below. Jimin looks at Aeri with a lustful grin as both girls pant softly to catch their breath, and she whispers softly, “Get on the table for me, Aeri?”

“Anything for you, baby~.”

“Shut up.” Jimin laughs, and Aeri giggles. The Japanese girl walks over to the table, and she lifts herself onto it, her chest jiggling as she makes herself comfortable. Jimin watches, pure want dripping from her gaze as she steps closer, and she bites her lip when Aeri spreads her legs wide open for her as she gets closer. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot, Aeri.” Jimin’s pussy throbs when her eyes land on the sight of Aeri’s creamy pussy. It’s her hottest feature, Jimin thinks—that Aeri gets all creamy and messy when she’s turned on. Her pussy throbs at the thought, a rush of slick flowing to stain the skin of her thighs as she feasts her eyes on her partner’s body. “You’re so wet.”

“All because of you.” Aeri winks, and she pulls Jimin closer, arms wrapping around the Korean girl’s body. “I bet you’re absolutely dripping for me too. Can’t wait to taste you.”

“Who says you have to wait?” 

Jimin reaches between their bodies, her shaky breath brushing against Aeri’s lips as she runs a hand all over her core. With a grin, she raises it to Aeri’s lips, her fingers glistening with her slick. 

“Taste me, Aeri.”

Aeri makes a show of it—she dives in and licks Jimin’s wet palm from bottom to top. However, her gaze doesn’t leave Jimin—she stares deep into the other girl’s eyes as she collects her juices on her tongue before making a show of swallowing it. She licks Jimin’s palm and fingers clean, swiping her tongue over and between each finger as if they were delicacies, before softly moaning in satisfaction at the taste. At this point, Jimin is almost feral for her partner—her cunt drips fresh slick as she thinks about what she wants to do to Aeri. 

“All clean, babe. You always taste so good.” Aeri smirks at Jimin’s lustful gaze, her hungry eyes raking over her nude body as if it was fresh meat. The Japanese girl spreads her legs even wider, shifting back onto the desk as she plants her feet firmly on the surface. “Eat me?”

Aeri watches with bated breath as Jimin bends over the desk, head between her legs, her hands palming the Japanese girl’s meaty thighs. Jimin looks up at Aeri, her eyes burning with lust as she plants a soft kiss on her right thigh, then another, then another. She takes her time leaving a trail down her thigh, her lips drawing closer and closer to Aeri’s creamy sex. Every soft breath Jimin releases brushes against Aeri’s skin and leaves her wanting more. Jimin’s hungry eyes don’t help either—Aeri adores eye contact during sex, and Jimin always abuses it during their sessions. A fresh wave of creamy slick flows from Aeri’s pussy, down her skin, and Jimin giggles. 

“So needy already?”

“Shut up, babe. You know what happens when you look at me like that,” Aeri whines, “It makes me so fucking wet and you’re still teasing me!”

Jimin doesn’t offer a verbal response—she smirks, and she deliberately plants more kisses down Aeri’s thigh. However, when her lips land right next to the Japanese girl’s labia, Jimin deliberately leaves kisses right around Aeri’s core, just shy of where Aeri wants her to be. Aeri squirms under Jimin’s touch, and she attempts to buck her hips, to brush her core over Jimin’s mouth. However, Jimin pulls back, a soft “No, no, no” stopping Aeri’s efforts. Jimin takes her time with her partner—she starts leaving a second trail of kisses down Aeri’s left thigh now, and the girl beneath her groans in both arousal and frustration. 

“I swear to God, Jimin, if you tease me one more time…”

“Should I, Aeri?” Jimin’s smirk only annoys Aeri further—she’s in the palm of Jimin’s hand, so to speak, and she can’t do anything about it. 

“If you fucking do it, I’m going to—oh, Jimin, FUCK!”

Aeri never finishes her sentence. In the midst of her distraction, Jimin’s hands glide over Aeri’s thighs down to her core, and she spreads her partner’s labia wide open. She then forcefully licks up the entire length of Aeri’s slit, from the base all the way up, ending at her clit, and she wraps her lips around it to suck on it softly before she begins to tongue Aeri’s hole, lapping at the fresh, creamy slick that leaks from her cunt. Jimin moans as she tastes Aeri’s juices, and she stimulates the girl beneath her even more—her tongue glides over Aeri’s folds, right over her entrance, again and again, all while she thumbs her clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub, drawing broken moans from the girl beneath her. 

Aeri writhes and squirms atop the table as she plays with her breasts, kneading and palming the flesh between her fingers for more pleasure. She can’t stop staring at Jimin between her legs, eating her out so fervently, and she moans when Jimin begins to penetrate her with her tongue, the slick muscle slowly gliding deeper and deeper into her. 

“Fuck, eat me, eat me, Jimin!”

And eat Aeri she does—Jimin’s tongue laps at Aeri’s walls as more and more slick flows from deep within her cunt, and she continues to rub circles on Aeri’s hard clit. Aeri’s pleasured moans fill the room as she watches Jimin wreak havoc on her body, their eyes meeting once more. It drives her crazy—Jimin looks so hot between her legs, her tongue deep inside her cunt, rubbing against her walls, and the wet slurps that emanate from below only serve to arouse her further. The constant pressure on her clit has Aeri moaning even louder—Jimin is relentless in pleasuring her. She continues writhing and twisting on the table, her legs wrapped around her partner’s head now, over her shoulders, hips bucking and thighs flexing on hard swipes across her clit. 

“Fuck—fingers, Jimin—mmph, please—”

Without missing a beat, Jimin’s lips wrap around Aeri’s clit while her middle and ring fingers slide into her hole. The sudden penetration has the Japanese girl squealing in surprise, and she thrashes about as Jimin begins to softly suck on her clit while she thrusts her fingers in and out of her partner. A sheen of cream coats her digits, and Jimin grins when she sees how messy Aeri is. White slick drips down all over the tabletop beneath her, and it stains her thighs as well. Jimin loves how messy Aeri gets during sex, and it only turns her on more as well. She wipes her lips and face clean with the back of her other hand and licks it off her skin, smirking at the taste.

“Fuck, you’re such a messy girl, Aeri.”

Aeri whines at the loss of pleasure—a talking Jimin is a Jimin that isn’t pleasuring her with her mouth. A much louder whine leaves her lips when Jimin pulls out of her, thick strings of Aeri’s cream clinging to them. 

“What the fuck, Jimin?”

“Shh…” Jimin raises her wet hand—Aeri’s juices drip down her skin, and she laps up the excess flowing droplets with her tongue. The Korean girl steps between her partner’s legs, and she raises her slick fingers to Aeri’s lips. 

“Suck.”

On Jimin’s command, Aeri wraps her lips around Jimin’s fingers. She sucks on them, tongue sliding over the digits to collect her arousal, clean them of her juices. She moans at the taste of herself, and Jimin grins lustfully as she watches. When Aeri releases her fingers, Jimin immediately replaces it with her lips, and she penetrates Aeri with them again, fingering her while they make out. 

“God, Aeri, do you know how much you turn me on?” Jimin’s hot breaths brush right against Aeri’s lips, and the Japanese girl gasps in pleasure as Jimin expertly finds her G-spot, gently rubbing her fingers against the patch of flesh. “I love how wet you get for me, all that cream leaking from that messy little cunt when I finger you, when I eat you out. Shit, you get me so wet when you cream like that for me, fuck!”

Aeri almost complains when Jimin pulls away from her, but it’s cut off by a long moan when Jimin presses down on the flesh of her abdomen, right over where her fingers are inside her. She traps Aeri’s G-spot between her fingers, and she thumbs the Japanese girl’s clit once more while rubbing and poking against the patch of flesh inside her, and Aeri thrashes and writhes once more, the combined assault too much for her. 

“No—Haah, Jimin—Mmgh, Jimin, I—please, Jimin, you’re—Haah!—No, stop!—I’ll cum, I’ll cum!”

Aeri’s broken moans only make Jimin wetter. Copious amounts of slick leak from Aeri’s hole, and Jimin takes the chance to add an extra finger into the mix, stretching her partner out just a little bit. 

“No, Jimin, fuck—you—FUCK!”

With a loud scream, Aeri’s hips buck, and a deluge of her juices gush out of her, all over Jimin’s wrist and arm, flowing beneath her. The table is a mess now—puddles of slick rest between her legs on the polished wood, and the overflow splattering all over the floor. Jimin continues fingerfucking her convulsing partner as spray after spray of her squirt drenches her arm, the table, and the floor. Some of it even lands on Jimin’s breasts, and she sighs in arousal—Aeri cumming so hard for her only makes her drip down her thighs even more.

When Aeri comes down from her high, falling limp on the table, Jimin takes the chance to climb atop it to straddle her partner. She kneels right above Aeri’s head, putting herself on full display for the girl beneath her. 

“Oh my God, Jimin… You’re so wet…” Aeri breathes.

“All because of you,” Jimin echoes, mirroring Aeri’s words from earlier. “Eat me.”

“With pleasure.”

Aeri isn’t like Jimin—she doesn’t tease at all. When Jimin lowers herself down, Aeri’s tongue is already lapping at her partner’s thighs, cleaning it of the excess slick. Both of her hands reach to knead the soft flesh of Jimin’s ass, just like earlier, and she takes her time pleasuring the Korean girl now, her tongue gliding over wet folds, teasing the dripping entrance. Jimin moans loudly above her, her hands reaching to play with her breasts, kneading her own flesh between the gaps of her fingers and pinching her nipples for more pleasure. Aeri’s tongue continuously teases Jimin’s clit and hole, occasionally penetrating deep into her to taste her dripping slick. Both girls are moaning now: Aeri in satisfaction, Jimin in pleasure, and the Korean girl grinds down on the girl beneath her, making a mess of her mouth and chin as more and more slick flows from deep within. 

“Oh fuck, Aeri, god, your mouth, fuck, you always eat me so well, fuck!”

Jimin rests her hands on the tabletop behind Aeri’s head now, and she begins to use the Japanese girl’s mouth like a toy. She grinds down harder, chasing her own high with her partner’s mouth and nose, messily rubbing her core on any part of Aeri that she could. Aeri eats it all up—she tongues what she can of Jimin while one free hand of hers shifts between her legs now, two fingers plunging deep into herself. Both girls masturbate together, with Jimin using Aeri’s face and Aeri with her own fingers. Louder moans fill the room now, both of pleasure and satisfaction, mixed with the wet sounds of oral sex and masturbation.

“God, Aeri, I’m gonna cum soon, I’m gonna cum all over your face, I’m gonna squirt all over you, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Mmlph, mmgh, hngh!”

Two sets of broken cries ring out in the clubroom. Both girls reach their peaks together—Jimin convulses atop Aeri, one hand of hers reaching below to rub her clit as gush after gush of squirt spills over the Japanese girl’s face, hair, and breasts. Every brush of her clit and pinch of her nipple only adds to the pleasure, and every spray only serves to drive Aeri crazier. She drinks what she can of Jimin, and at the same time, Aeri’s hips buck again beneath Jimin, spray after spray of squirt and cream exploding out of her as she orgasms once more. Both girls make a mess of the room and of each other at their peaks, gasps and moans of pleasure filling the air as they ride out their highs, the satisfaction washing over them throughout the experience. 

When both girls come down from their highs, they climb off the table, Aeri helping Jimin down. Immediately, they’re kissing again, but this time, it’s soft and chaste. When Aeri breaks the kiss, she grins. “God, that felt so good.” 

“Mhm,” Jimin nods, grin mirrored on her face. “Thanks Aeri, you’re the best.” 

“Aww, getting soft on me, buddy?” Aeri doesn’t pass up the chance to tease Jimin, as usual.

“God, fuck off, Aeri. Let’s clean our mess up and shower.”

Aeri pouts in jest, but she’s immediately grabbing Jimin’s hand as they leave for the bathroom to grab the cleaning supplies. 

“Let’s stay back and order in! There’s this Netflix show I’ve been meaning to watch…”

[spicyspiders]

something that never existed

Francis Mosses x male reader smut

1.4k words

This is really dark. Francis gives the reader a bottle of milk that makes him feel funny, follows him home, and then takes care of him.

It hits you during the middle of your shift. You aren’t sure of what, but the feeling of it has grown more intense each hour since it began. Pushing through the double doors is harder than when you did it this morning, your arms feeling heavy. 

The cool evening air against your skin nearly has you moaning. Your skin burns, and the refreshing air makes you want to tear off your clothes. Each step against the pavement feels heavy as you slug your way to your home. If you were a passerby, you would probably be annoyed hearing the loud sound of your shoes against the sidewalk, but even though the noise filled your ears again and again, you could also hear the quieter steps of someone behind you. 

Someone fucking drugged you. Or maybe something made it through the slot in your workstation. Or maybe–

You didn’t fucking know. All you knew was that because of it, you were half-hard by the time you made it to your front door. 

“Are you following me?” You asked loudly as you leaned your sweaty forehead against your door. You panted against the door as you waited for a response. You laughed to yourself as you stuck your hand into your pocket to get your keys. Great, alongside the lust, you were also going crazy. 

“You looked like you needed help. So yes, I followed you,” a voice said from behind you. 

Your eyebrows drew together, trying to recognize the voice. It only took a few moments to pinpoint where you knew it from. You heard nearly a hundred voices a day at your job, but there was something about the man’s voice that was different and made it memorable. 

You just couldn’t remember his name though. Frank? Fraser? Frederick? You didn’t really care to try and remember his name. You had more pressing matters, like picking up the keys you had finally pulled from your pocket and then dropped on the fucking ground. 

“Let me,” Frank, Fraser, or Frederick says, his voice much closer behind you. “Here,” he says, now beside you. 

You hold your hand out to accept the cold metal into your palm. You hope the man will just leave as you close your fingers around the keys and the sharp metal digs into your palm, but the man stays. 

“I’m fine,” you say to the man, sticking the key into the knob with your shaky hands. 

“Let me at least help you get inside,” the man responds, one of his hands moves to your shoulder, while the other goes to your waist to hold you upright.  

“Fuck,” you whisper. Where he touches you somehow feels warmer than the rest of your body feels, even over your clothes. His voice brings you back to earlier in the day when he showed up to the window to be let in. You thought it was pretty weird for a milkman to deliver to his own apartment building, but it definitely wasn’t the weirdest thing you saw during your shift. 

“Let me in?” He had asked you earlier that day. Through the window, you could see his carrier full of milk bottles, but you could also see an extra bottle in his other hand. 

“Making an extra delivery for today?” You asked as you looked over the papers he gave you. 

The man didn’t answer. He must not have heard you, you thought. He nodded in appreciation when you gave his papers back and pressed the button to unlock the door. You thought that was going to be that, but the man got your attention again after you had started going through other papers on your desk. 

“This is for you, actually,” he said as he held the bottle up. One corner of his mouth twitched up, making it look like for once, he wasn’t miserable. 

“Oh,” you said in surprise. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to accept gifts, but took the bottle anyway through the slot under the window. 

“You must get thirsty back there.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled lightly, “my mouth can get dry with all of the talking I do.”

He left after that, but you swore his eyes had flicked down to your lips before he walked through the door. 

“Did you put something in that milk?” You asked, pulling the key from the knob. 

Francis. You remembered as his hand went over yours on the knob. You could see the document in your head, as you tried to remember if the man with you now was the same from earlier in the day. 

“Did you like it?” He asked, “I made it just for you,” he said into your ear, his warm breath puffing across your ear. 

With strength you didn’t know you still had, you sent your elbow backward into the man’s chest. You thought that would be enough, but found yourself on the other side of the door with Francis on your back. 

“What’d you do to me?” You moaned against the door. His weight on your back was heavy as he held you against the door. This close, you could feel the length of his cock digging into your lower back. 

You let out another moan, but this time, Francis lets out one that matches yours when he grinds his hard cock into your back. His hands go to your hips to maneuver you around so he can grind his cock into the meat of your ass. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Francis says, laying his body along the length of your back so he can say the words directly into your ear. 

Enough to drug you, you guessed. Whatever he gave you was enough to turn your brain to mush, and the only control you had was dedicated to pushing your ass back into his cock. 

“Please,” you whined, “it hurts.” Francis lets you fall slowly to the floor and makes his way to hold himself tightly against your back. What hurts is your hard cock, but of course, Francis knows that the relief you need comes in the form of his hands between your legs. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Francis whispers. His fingers skillfully get your pants open, and then his fingers– the same ones you saw earlier today hand you his papers, wrap around your cock. 

You immediately fuck your hips into his fist, much closer than you expected. You hoped that with your release, Francis would be leaving along with it. Maybe you had fallen asleep at your station and this was some fucked up dream you were having. Letting your head fall forward to thunk into your door didn’t wake you up, so it’s likely that this was real. 

“You’re so wet here,” Francis says in amazement as his fingers collect the precum from the head of your cock and what had already leaked down the shaft. He hooks his chin on your shoulder before he pulls his hand from your cock, and up to his mouth. 

He groans into your neck when he gets the taste on your tongue, “Francis,” you whisper, hoping that saying his name would be enough. You didn’t want to beg, after all, your hard cock should be evidence enough of what you needed. 

“I’m sorry,” Francis says, kissing his apology into the soft skin of your neck. Though it wasn’t on your lips, the press felt electric. “I just needed a taste.”

His words go straight to your cock and you feel another bead of precum drip from the head, just in time for Francis’ fingers as they wrap around the base. 

You cum to Francis’ long fingers around your cock and to the feel of his cock digging into your back. With his chest pressed to your back, the groan he lets out as you come undone under his hands travels through your body. It almost feels as if he’s so close that he’s a part of you and the noise comes from your mouth. It makes you feel crazy. What makes you feel even crazier though is how much you moan for the man as your orgasm courses through your body.    

Francis holds your body up with an arm wrapped around your stomach as you pant against the door and come down from the orgasm that just shot through your body. “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart,” Francis says, his voice full of promise, “it’s been a long day.”

It must be the drugs, you thought as you let him pull you up from the floor. Your soft cock gives a twitch from where it hangs between your legs. You weren’t even sure if it was worth buttoning your pants back up. 

Francis was right, it had been a long day, but you had a feeling that you also had a long night ahead of you.