#these two are...they're ready to get down and dirty

[adieutristana]

appelle mon numéro; powder x fem!reader

the way i love mylène farmer it’s blasphemous i haven’t made a fic based on one of her songs. finally fixing that!

songfic based on ‘appelle mon numéro’ by mylène farmer

english lyrics

summary; powder calls late at night because she misses your voice. one thing leads to another.

characters included; powder (act iii au)

tags/warnings; dom!reader, sub!powder, phone sex, dirty talk, fluff, masturbation (powder), praise, squirting, porn with (some) plot

men and minors dni.

this is torture.

of course you're busy. you're one of the academy's top-performing students, finals season is approaching. you've been taking just under the maximum amount of credits for the semester, despite powder's insistent protests that you don't always need to work so hard.

but your pride gets in the way, despite the love you have for powder. "just two more days," you'd told her. "two days until the weekend, and i won't study. we'll spend the whole weekend together, i promise."

powder understands. she really does, and she'd never want to purposely get in the way of your studies. it's only been three days, but you've never been apart this long in the entire seven months you've been dating, and she can't help the way she feels. she checks her phone to see if you've texted anything, but her notification bar is dry- so she does the next best thing, checking your location.

you're at the academy's library, either deep in textbooks or sleeping on one. great.

powpow:

hey baby, just checking in to see if ur ok. miss u :(

around ten minutes pass of silence, and each of those minutes only add to the fire of powder's anxiety. dare she say it- loneliness. and then a little 'ding' comes from her phone.

my heart:

hi love, i'm ok. just wrapped up a study session, now i'm going to the dining hall and i'll probably go to sleep after that.

i miss u more, i'm counting down the days till the weekend 💋

powpow:

but that's too long to wait </3 can't u make a stop underground after eating??

my heart:

i wish, but i have a 9am review session tmr :( i'm sorry pow

she sighs behind the screen, but powder gets it. this is temporary, soon enough you'll be done with finals and have the entire summer to spend with her. and despite all of those completely rational reasons why you can't see each other right now, she just wants to see you. be close to you, be able to kiss you, feel your skin on hers tangled in the sheets-

she needs to distract herself somehow. so powder reaches underneath her bed and picks up the blue notebook you'd bought for her. she'd never been one for journaling, but the fact it was a gift from you made her start using it. she'd write down what happened throughout her day- her thoughts, feelings, anything that would come to mind. it was therapeutic, like you'd told her it would be.

though even as the girl writes, the words are looking less like actual coherent thoughts and more like jumbled scribbles. her grip on the pen is faltering, and she stares at the page for a few moments before writing the next sentence. this usually does something to put powder's mind at ease, so why isn't it working now?

powder knows why, but she's trying not to admit it to herself. because damn it, you're busy, you've had a long day hunched over your laptop and books. you're probably just finishing up your late dinner by now and heading back to your dorm hall to get ready for bed. she feels so selfish, but the girl can't help it. she's needy.

she feels that ache between her legs, the one you're usually there to soothe. your long fingers curling inside her at just the right angle, or your tongue slithering around her swollen clit until her thighs almost clamp around your head. she looks back on those memories like they're distant and gone, like they didn't happen last week.

her phone buzzes beside her, and she immediately picks it up to the notification that you've arrived at your building. she's almost trembling now, and powder's going through such internal turmoil. she just wants to talk to you at least, not read text on a screen. at this point, she'll take anything she can get.

her finger moves to your contact, and her fingertip hovers over the 'call' button for just a moment before she taps it. a few rings on your end, then-

"hello?"

powder's heart contracts in her chest at the mere sound of your voice, and fuck, she's already feeling hot.

"hi, babe," she says into the receiver. "sorry, i know you're about to go to bed, i just.. wanted to hear your voice."

"don't worry about it, pow. i'm glad you called," you hum. "what's an hour or two of missed sleep?"

she hears a rustling of sheets, and your voice sounds so sweet. you do sound tired, but you're using the same gentle tone you always do with powder.

"how was your day?"

"it was good," a bit of a lie, she misses you like hell. "i didn't do much. helped out at the last drop in the morning, and i've kinda just been.. relaxing at home since then. what about you?"

you nod as if she can see you, a little smile tugging at your lips.

"i'm glad you had a good day," you murmur. your voice grows a bit softer, likely due to academy quiet hours going into effect. "the same as yesterday and the day before. just studying, studying, and more studying."

"well, you're being productive."

"i guess i am," you sigh, finally pulling the covers over yourself. "i miss you."

that does powder in. if she wasn't desperate before, she absolutely is now- and her breath nearly catches in her throat at those words. this is embarrassing.

"i miss you too."

her voice is trembling, and she hopes to janna that you won't catch onto it. maybe you're too tired and disoriented after studying to notice, but you've always been rather perceptive.

"...are you okay?" you murmur. "you sound a little.. i don't know, off."

powder swallows, taking a deep inhale in through her nose to try and muster some kind of believable response.

"yeah, just uh- had a lot of caffeine. have to keep my energy up somehow!"

"powder, i know that's not what's going on. come on, talk to me. you know i'll listen."

and still, it takes the girl such extreme effort to not just bare her soul to you right now. the fact that she can feel her body heating up, her pale cheeks flushing at every word you've spoken. she finds herself subconsciously squeezing her thighs together. the fact that she wishes you were giving her some kind of stimulation- anything, just to ease the absolute agony she's in.

"i just miss you, a lot. i told you.."

"you're hiding something," you respond, your voice taking on an almost pleading tone. "just tell me. i'm your girlfriend."

the world 'girlfriend' does her in all over again. she switches the phone to her non-dominant hand before her free hand starts trailing down her body, over her clothed stomach and toward the soft fabric of her sleep shorts. it takes every ounce of restraint in her body to not start stimulating her clothed clit- not now. not while you're talking so sweetly to her.

but powder also can't bear the thought of lying to you when you so obviously see through it, and when you're practically begging her to tell you what's wrong.

"damn it, i need you."

a beat of silence, then a little hum from the speaker.

"that's it?" you ask, your voice still soft- but with a rasp that wasn't there just a minute ago. "why didn't you just say so?"

"because it's- you've been working so hard! i get why we can't see each other, but fuck, i can't help it. i miss you. i miss your voice, i miss your lips, i miss you touching me."

"yeah? you do?"

your voice seems almost teasing, mocking her without even meaning to. her fingertips slip underneath the elastic of her sleep shorts while she leans back into the star-shaped pillow on her bed. the room is dark, only illuminated by distant moonlight and the faint glow of her phone screen.

"so badly," she nearly gasps. "please, just.. anything, anything. wish you could take a break from those stupid books and just fuck me."

fingertips ghost over the elastic of her panties. powder rarely ever gets this needy, but maybe that's because she's not used to going without your touch for this long. she's acting out of character. she can't help herself, it's like her mind isn't her own.

"you wanna touch yourself, don't you?"

"yes, yes-" her breath hitches in her throat, her hand staying still. she wants nothing more than to fuck herself to the sound of your voice, but powder is good. she'll wait. "please, let me..."

"go ahead, baby."

the girl wastes no time. her fingers dip under her panties, immediately finding her aching clit. the second her thumb lands, she lets out a sharp gasp into the receiver, one she swears she hears you chuckle at.

"ahh- toots," she breathes out, rubbing slow circles into the bud. "i need this, thank you..."

"no need for thanks," you whisper. "fuck, i wish i wish there. do you have any idea what i'd do to you?"

"no.. no, ah- tell me, please."

her finger picks up speed, letting out breathy moans. each noise is music to your ears, strengthening your own sense of want. but this is for powder. you're the one who's been gone, this is the least you can do.

"shit.. i'd be on top of you, my thumb on your pretty clit while i slip a finger inside."

power moans at the words themselves, and almost as if she's taking your words as instructions, slips a finger into her already dripping hole. wet and warm, it nearly sucks her in. it's not just desire, it's a sort of primal need.

"nngh.. yeah, what else?"

"i'd fuck you nice and slow at first," you rasp. "just.. take my time with you."

the digit slips in and out of her, slow- in, out, in, out, creating a gentle rhythm. she wishes so badly that it was your finger instead, you've always been able to reach places she couldn't herself. you know how to please her just right.

"and then i'd add another finger, and start going a little quicker.. curling my fingers inside."

"shit- aaahh," she whines. her ring finger goes into her hole, starting to fuck herself harder and deeper- curling her fingers so she can just barely graze her own g-spot. her walls flutter around her fingers, and she feels so hot. "keep talking, keep talking-"

powder loves you, she really does. she imagines glancing over her shoulder at you pounding into her from behind with your strap, then your pussy gliding against hers as you both chase a mutual peak. but your words are the thing that affects her the most. choppy blue hair fans out beneath her on that same star pillow, framing her as a portrait of pure longing.

"gods, i can almost feel it- you're soaked, aren't you?"

"hmmph, yeah, sofuckingwet.."

"keep fucking yourself," you whisper, a soft yet firm command. "make yourself cum to my voice, baby. you're doing so good, my perfect girl.."

heat pools in her stomach. sweat drips down her forehead, fingers pounding in and out of her cunt with a loud schlick sound over and over. powder's head tilts back the slightest bit- her fingers still working her clit, lewd moans falling from her pouty lips. in her mind's eye is your face directly above hers, looking into her eyes so lovingly. what she wouldn't give for that to be real.

"you sound amazing, come on.. i bet you look so pretty right now, you always do."

"wish it was you, ungh-" she breathes out through whimpers. part of powder wonders if you can hear her arousal, hear her getting herself off. she hopes you can. "please, i just want you- ah.."

"i wish it was me too," the sound is somewhere between a whine and a groan. "but janna, you sound so good.. i love you, you know that?"

"mhm, love you too.."

pale thighs part further out of instinct powder feels the knot in her belly tighten, tighten. her body feels like it's on fire, set ablaze by every praise from the speaker. she's holding onto that phone as if it's her lifeline.

"gonna- gonna, oh, janna!"

if only you could see her right now. you're internally cursing yourself for not asking her to prop up the phone and turn her camera on, but it's a bit late for that now.

"cum for me, powder," you whisper, words low and sweet. "you can do it, i know you can."

your final encouragement pushes the girl off the edge, her back arching off the bed as a strangled cry escapes her. the rasp of her voice cracks, gripping her phone so tight as liquid shoots over her hand. onto the sheets, soaking underneath her, chest heaving.

"ah, aah! cumming.. oh, fuuuuuuck-"

"that's it, powder, that's it- fuck, you were perfect."

her breath is coming in slow pants. the girl slowly slips her glistening fingers from her pussy, letting out one final shaky breath. she's slowly, slowly coming to her senses.

"...thank you," she breathes out. "thank you, thank you.. i'll see you this weekend."

"mhm.. i'm counting down the hours."

[mikatogo]

I can't believe you would do this to gooses everywhere lmao whenever i see that word now i SNARL AND HISS. but this is just to say you're a great writer 🫶🏼

if you're still doing drabbles, what about ranson successfully escaping and benson somehow ending up as a fireman? like maybe he helped in an emergency once and they go 'hey you should volunteer' and randy convinces him and he ends up as part of the crew. Comes home covered in sweat and soot 😍

THANK YOU 😭😭 I was lowkey worried how people would react but everyone seemed to like the... event? Wtf do you call it. Whatever, but YAY!!! #GooseHate

Your mind, lowkey omg...

Benson and Randy have temporarily settled down at the edge of a small forest, near a little ass town that nobody knows the name of. The inhabitants know of their presence, Randy went out of his way to introduce himself to a few of them just to keep options open.

"What fuckin' options?" Benson scoffs but Randy just shrugs, sitting close next to him on a bench. He wasn't ready to admit that he thinks they should stay there a little longer. Maybe forever. So he makes nice with people to find them potential jobs—babysittig, Benson using his mechanical skills. But he isn't really ready to let the other leave his field of vision, so he doesn't say anything.

After two months they start running low on money. Benson doesn't tell Randy but he knows. Of course, he knows. He lies awake at night, tracing stars into Benson's skin and thinks about them losing all their fucking money. Thinks that there is only so much they can do and how tired he is of stealing, of robbing, of Benson being in danger.

One day, they're out for chores. Groceries, taking Benson on a walk because he gets antsy staying inside all day. They split for just a moment; Benson goes to the liquor store, Randy walks up the street to the tiny, tiny bookstore that he has come to love.

A fire lit up the house of the woman that always talks to Randy, to the kid that always clings to the other's leg to hide from Benson behind the very person that belongs to him. The mother cries outside the house, held back by two other women. He doesn't know why but he rushes up to them, babbling and tears and spit and he's inside the house looking for a fucking kid that he doesn't even know the name of.

She's not far away, just past the doorway and down some way in the living room. She's small, fragile and easy to pick up. He carries her out, right into the arms of the firefighters that finally fucking arrived. They take her from him, and Benson just watches. The mother is on him in a moment, hugging him, thanking him over and over and before he can tense up and explode from the intrusion Randy is there, pulling at his shoulder to turn him around.

Randy's eyes are big and round, asking what happened and Benson can just wave in the direction of the girl and her mother. Randy hugs him and he relaxes under the hands he knows.

"You idiot! You could've gotten hurt." says Randy but there's no real bite in his voice.

"Nobody was there to help her." mumbled Benson and he feels strangely empty.

"You were." Randy pats his back like you'd do an upset toddler and Benson doesn't know what that's supposed to mean. They pull away, Randy rubbing the sleeve of his jacket over Benson's dirty face, pull further away when someone starts talking to them, one of the firemen. The fire is under control, almost completely put out. They shake hands, Benson just kind of dazed. They kind of circle the two of them, telling him he did a good job, that the station is understaffed since they're such a small town, that they would totally take him up if he volunteered since he seems absolutely capable. Benson waves it off but Randy tells them they'd think about it, come back to it later.

They get into a fight about it at home, of course. Randy wants him to do it and Benson would rather die. Benson yells like he does while Randy throws words too well aimed in a tone that always, always, hurts the other. He leaves, Randy just stands in the middle of the room before deflating. Slamming doors and heavy silence the entire evening. Randy sits in front of the TV, watching a documentary when Benson comes slinking back inside. He takes off his jacket, his shoes, pads over and sits down next to Randy. He reaches and, because Randy is weak and too soft on him, he lets himself get pulled into Benson's lap—legs getting moved over one of Benson's, his shoulders settled right under his arm. The side of Benson's face against Randy's head.

"You'll be by yourself then. Ya know that I don't like not seein' ya." says Benson and Randy can hear the apology in it.

"You got out of here pretty quickly for not like it." Randy didn't often allow himself to bitch but the closer they were the easier it felt to let it slip.

"Yeah, well, you pissed me off." Benson pats his hair.

They don't really talk about it again but the next day Randy is out of the house and down the street to the town. He gets himself two jobs as a babysitter, a part time job in the little bookshop. Benson is mad, doesn't talk to him for two days. But Randy works, stays away from home until Benson is desperate for him to be there when he is. So he goes to the damn fire station and volunteers, gets taken up almost immediately even though he doesn't pass the speed test and half of the sport test. He's old, tell him he'll get there. They're kind to him and he hates it.

He comes home all grim and exhausted but Randy almost jumps in the air when he tells him about it and maybe it's worth it for the smile and kisses he gets. Maybe it's worth it for that happiness radiating off of Randy and maybe it's worth it when the other lets him do whatever he wants as a treat. He leaves as many marks as he's able.

Randy drops the babysitter job, only does part time in the bookshop and takes care of things around home. The small garden that Benson used to scoff at but has come to like in secret that wasn't really a secret at all. He fixes the lights and stove by himself, finally builds that bookshelf that Benson is always too lazy to do for him.

Benson comes home to him and Randy's heart flutters every single time. He can't help but loiter about by the door until he finally hears the crunch of his boots and he's too desperate to feel embarrassed when throws himself at him as soon as the door opens. Benson pretends to be annoyed but he's kissing Randy's mouth open and nosing along his jawline, enjoying the way that the other bends around him. It's cliche, it's so cliche, but they both feel the strain that time apart inflicts on them. Some days Randy cries just because Benson is gone and when the other comes home to his red eyed boy he scoffs and asks "are ya on your fuckin' period?" but makes sure to take especially good care of him.

Some days Benson comes home dirty, sweaty and Randy can't get enough. He follows him around, sticks his nose into his neck and doesn't even bother to hide how he breathes him in. Benson can't help but take him then, smearing his dirty hands across his pretty skin and roughing him up. Randy has barely ever felt better. He is so devastatingly desperate that Benson lets himself be pushed down onto the bed, knowing that Randy will whine about the sheets afterwards. Lets the other climb into his lap and kiss him until he can barely breathe before he takes over and gives him whatever he asks for.

He doesn't know, though, that Benson never showers at the station because he wants to get home to him as quickly as possible.

And maybe the other doesn't need to know that the guys at the station tease Benson about him. That they call him his little wife, that he has a polaroid of Randy sleeping stuck in his locker and another one in the pocket of his jacket. That he shows off new ones to the guys like prized possessions because he knows that Randy is so far removed from them that it doesn't matter, that he will only ever belong to him. Maybe it's Benson's little secret that the others bother him about marriage because he is the only one unmarried, that they would throw them an unofficial one—fuck the fucking state and their laws. That, on slow days, they dream up the wedding as if it's the most serious business on earth while Benson just sits in his corner and tries not to grin.

The way they all stand at the windows of the station to gawk and whistle when Randy brings him his dinner that he purposely forgot in the morning. Randy burnt the brightest red and spluttered in panic when Benson kissed him in front of them for the first time.

"They know you're mine." he had whispered into his ear and Randy made a whimpering sound that Benson wanted to drink up and lock inside his chest forever. And it's so easy. All of it feels so easy that some days he feels too sick to move. And other days it feels so easy that he can't help the spring in his step, the manic tweak in his voice.

Maybe they meet up for drinks, almost everyone brings their respective partners. Randy runs late because he has to lock up the store so he is last to arrive. He enters all mousy and twitchy, hands wringing instead of biting. Benson's eyes immediately on him, like an instinct that tells him when the other is within reach. Randy smiles when one of the guys claps him on the shoulder and burns up when he announces him like a special guest. Their wives are all hardened up, unphased when their husbands try to embarrass them, but they know that Randy is skittish, easily flustered, and they have almost too much fun with that fact. He gets pushed towards Benson and he is kind enough to meet him in the middle—a hand around his waist, the other tilting his face to the side to kiss at his cheek and neck. Randy hits his side, embarrassed but the others are enjoying the teasing too much to let up anyways so Benson gives them a little show to cover the fact that he wants to mark Randy his. The other man bonds with the women and men and Benson's chest gives a funny little twist whenever he realises how much Randy has changed.

Maybe other times Benson will say "Nah, gotta get home to my sweetheart." when they invite him for drinks, and maybe he will never tell Randy that he loves him but it's right there, written all over his face and the walls, when he opens the door and Randy is already standing in the hallway with the biggest smile on his face.

[softquietsteadylove]

I think gil and thena from the Actors Au should get it together and fuck raw and nasty, to relieve some tension you know.

Thena skirted around Gil for the fridge. He eyed her but remained at the sink. She needed something cool to settle her nerves. She still felt overheated.

Their shoot had been...strenuous. It was a vanity shoot, somewhat...sensual in nature.

Gil was sitting in this jagged constructed throne, to represent his new golden age on the action scene. She was accompanying him, since they had so many projects together over the past few years, and she had also started doing more action and stunt work. And then, the shoot director had said, 'what if we get one with Thena on your lap?'.

And it was all downhill from there.

She and Gil were close friends--that was how she had always described it. No matter what rumours there were, or online buzz or speculation within the industry, they were friends. They were colleagues who had become indispensable parts of each other's lives since first meeting and working together.

And maybe it would be lying to say that she didn't have feelings for him, but that wasn't the kind of thing she needed out there on the record. It was exactly because she and Gil worked together so often and so closely that those feelings needed to remain platonic to the greater public's knowledge.

Gil was too important - too precious - to risk in any way. Not only was he her closest friend in a very public world of work, but he was also present in Sprite's life in a way she had never dared to dream of having before. It wasn't like she had pushed to have some random boyfriend get along with her sister, Sprite adored Gil. She idolized him, and he adored her likewise. If anything, Sprite seemed to respect Gil as a parent figure more than Thena really felt she ever got from her own sister (but whatever).

So, when they said get on Gil's lap, perhaps she had gotten a little flustered. And Gil, having sensed it in her, had become outspokenly protective over her, saying that wasn't the kind of shoot they had signed onto.

The director had attempted to amend the instruction, suggesting what if she just sat on the arm of the throne and Gil put his arm around her? Less blatantly suggestive, at least.

And she had, her dress flowing around her legs, garishly red heels glinting with the lights on them. Gil had slid his hand to the small of her back--a familiar motion for them.

It was fine, really. The buzz of a studio created a lot of filler noise. She didn't think Gil had been as acutely aware of her own breathing as she herself had been. And surely he had no way of knowing that putting her hand on his chest to balance herself had flustered her more than she wanted to admit.

Thena glanced at Gil sidelong. He was also looking at her, leaving them both to rush their eyes away as if they hadn't been caught in the act. This was getting ridiculous.

Gil cleared his throat, the most eager to clear the air. "A-Are you hungry?"

Her stomach felt like it was on the spin cycle like a washing machine. "Not particularly."

Gil looked at the sink again, tapping the edge of it idly. "Me neither."

The silence was suffocating, and only served to make them even more tense than they already were. Thena made her way around the end of the couch, Gil moved around the other end, an ocean's width away.

She took in a slow breath. She was behaving like a child, she told herself. It wouldn't do to make Gil uncomfortable, and her little crush on him wasn't his problem. "I'm sure they'll be received well."

"Yeah," he chuckled, although she had never heard a laugh of his sound so strained. She would never have believed he could act so poorly, given their profession. "Shoots like that are always popular, huh?"

"Hm." This was getting them nowhere. She uncurled her legs, letting the light material of her sundress fall away from her knees.

Gil watched it for just a second before snapping his eyes up to hers. "A little out of line for him to ask you to...do that."

Thena pursed her lips faintly. It wasn't like actors never did vanity shoots for promotion. Some actors still ended up in promotional relationships for the sake of publicity. The thought rattled her. "Wouldn't have been the first time."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

She bit her lip. He was so sweet, but had such a deeply protective side, always speaking up for her even if he could face consequences in his career for it. It didn't help her feelings for him at all.

"Wouldn't be the first time I sat on your lap, though."

Gil looked shocked by it.

She just wanted him to feel better about it, though. She did her best to not seem embarrassed at the memory, combing her fingers through her hair. "That spy flick with all the tension?--one of the setups for a cutaway was me straddling you on some chair, wasn't it?"

"Oh yeah," Gil muttered, eyeing her. "I can't remember if that made the final cut."

She couldn't bear to watch it. She never watched herself in her own works anyway, and the thought of watching her slobber all over Gil in any setting was faintly mortifying to her. "I wouldn't know."

Gil got up from his end of the couch, muttering something about a beer. "You want anything?"

She turned on the couch to look back at him. Her hair slipped off her shoulder. Gil was twisted in such a way that the lines in his arm were even more pronounced than normal. God, she needed to get her mind on something else. "I'm fine."

"Hey."

Thena let out a yelp--something between a gasp and a shriek. She slapped her hand over her mouth. It was a humiliating sound to let out when all Gil had done was lean over her shoulder. She gulped, hoping her ears weren't turning red.

"Sorry," he murmured, and she could almost swear he was purring it. "Didn't mean to startle you."

She waited for him to lean out of her space, but she could feel him hovering there, waiting for something from her. "It's okay."

"You okay?" he asked gently, and she swore that he knew what his low, sultry tone was doing to her. "You seem...tense."

What was this, a porno disguised as a tv drama? She gulped. "Perhaps."

"Yeah, I guess I am too."

Thena inhaled more deeply as Gil brushed her hair over her shoulder again. It wasn't the first time the had been borderline handsy with one another. She was comfortable with Gil touching her. But the way the tips of his fingers brushed over the bare skin of her neck made her shiver.

"You sure you're not thirsty?"

If he only knew. Thena licked her lips, holding her breath as she felt him lean even closer to her. "Parched, actually."

They knew each other well enough to understand they were never talking about water--they were never talking about drinking anything at all. Thena turned and Gil leaned over the back of the couch. Their hands went to each other's cheeks. He tilted her head up for him, tangling his fingers in her light waves of blonde. Thena dragged him closer like a desperate woman trying to take a gulp of air.

They both moaned into each other's mouths. Their tongues tangled, although they were torn between kissing and needing air. They went back and forth, making out like teenagers and coming up for breath every few seconds.

Thena moaned as Gil vaulted the couch and had her in his arms. Oh, these arms of his and the thoughts they had brought to her mind. She ached to be enfolded in them in a way she could never, ever describe to another living being.

Gil was firm, also hungry, but still gentle with her. He didn't throw himself on her, he positioned himself above her. He let his knee dig into the couch cushion while he let just her light sundress come between them.

Thena gasped, her breathing getting higher and thinner and faster. Gil's hand trailed from the edge of her dress up her legs.

"Tell me to stop."

"No."

That was all it took.

Thena dug her nails into his shoulder as his fingers trailed up her inner thigh so quickly she almost wondered if he'd always had this level of skill. Her panties were no match for him and she let out a similarly embarrassing noise as before when he swiped the pads of his fingers up through her lips.

"Thena," he moaned almost directly into her ear. He was cradling her under him so preciously, and yet he was also pumping two fingers into her already. "I've wanted this."

She bit her lip again. She had wanted this so badly, for so long. So long she could never tell him. "Hm."

"Come on," he coaxed - teased, actually - her into tell him more. "I know you liked that Maxim shoot I did."

Her breath hitched, and another part of her hitched, too (mortifying). Gil chuckled in her ear and she bit down on his in return. Gently, but enough for him to know she didn't appreciate the taunting. "That's-!"

Gil picked up pace, angling his knuckles in just the right way to have her truly writhing under him. "Fuck, you're tight. Close?"

Right on the edge. Thena drove her head backwards into the throw pillow half under her head and half falling over from their rush of movement. She gripped his shoulders tighter, just like how she had imagined getting her hands on them would feel. They were so thick, she didn't think she would break the skin no matter how hard she tried.

"Come one, sweetie," he breathed. She didn't think he would be so devillish amidst the act. "Just come."

"Gil," she panted. It sounded stringy and frantic to her ear. The last time she had come from another living being's touch was...too long ago to think about. She squeezed her eyes shut. "I...I...I...that's-!"

Gil held his fingers still, even angled her hips as she came, his hand up her dress like they were filming something unseen but heartfelt. He held her like a handful of something, like it was so easy for him to have her in the palm of his hand. "That's it."

Thena panted, facing up to the high, high ceilings of her home. She laid an arm over her eyes. Her clarity was already creeping up on her. They shouldn't have done this. All she'd had to do was exercise some self control and she wouldn't have let Gil make her come on her couch in broad daylight from a little fingering. "Gil-"

"That's it," he whispered to her. He moved her arm, to her initial horror, but only so he had room to kiss her. He was a good kisser. "Feel better?"

She pinched her lips closed tight. She wasn't a pet he was giving a treat to leave him alone. She opened her eyes to glare at him, but no matter how teasing he sounded, he looked just as riled up as she felt. His eyes were dark, he was breathing heavily.

The shape of him was clear even through the heavy denim of his jeans. The length of him too.

"Sorry," he grunted, knowing where she was looking. He sounded truly discomforted. "Honestly, I've been halfway there since that damn photoshoot."

Blood rushed through her veins, equal parts fluster and hunger. It was admittedly nice to know that she hadn't been alone in her feelings over that.

Gil leaned over her again, and he looked infuriatingly handsome at this angle. "Saying it was a bad idea for you to be on my lap was more for my sake--sorry."

Oh, it had done her a favour too, Thena knew deeply. But she gave him a smile, "they don't have to know."

"No one has to know," he whispered to her before leaning in for another kiss. This one was sweeter and gentler than their previous devouring of each other.

Thena tried to savour it, resolving that it was the last she could allow them to engage in behaviour like this.

But he was just so good at kissing her.

Gil groaned as their bodies fused together even more tightly. She didn't even know how he was wearing dark jeans in LA heat like this. "Fuck, Thena, I'm-"

She giggled faintly, and it was his ears to charmingly turn a vibrant red. "Sorry--your predicament, as it were."

Gil gave her a look but ruffled his own hair. "Either we gotta stop here, or - I dunno - I need-"

Thena gulped. She was supposed to tell him to stop. They were friends, and worked together, and that was too important to give into physical desire. But she could feel him against her belly, and her whole body was too hot, and she could smell his aftershave and maybe a little musk of sweat. "What do you need?"

"You."

Thena pulled him in again, her other hand doing its best to find his jeans button. Gil leaned away from her, caught between being close enough to keep kissing but getting his belt off and his pants undone.

She pouted as he was finally forced to lean all the way up to dispose of his clothes entirely. Her lower belly clenched at the sight of him. She pressed her legs together.

But returned to her, burying his nose in the side of her neck, pulling off the thin little straps of her dress from her shoulders. It buttoned in the front, but the buttons went all the way down.

"I'll buy you a new one."

Thena had no complaints as he pulled the dress apart, a few flimsy buttons no match for his strength. He threw the dress open like a book cover, and she gasped as her bare skin hit the air.

"Won't need these either."

He slid her panties down her leg and tossed them away like they were nothing. She almost lamented that she hadn't exactly prepared herself to be ravished after her work day. But her mind was immediately occupied as Gil rubbed his tip against her clit.

"Fuck, you're so wet."

Why he felt the need to expound such mortifying things was beyond her. She rolled her head to the side, refusing to face that truth head on. She squirmed as he dragged his fingers through the blonde hair there.

"You're cute," he pressed a kiss to her cheek as he pushed into her.

"Fuck!" The first one escaped her, and then it was just one, long moan as he pushed in right to the hilt. Feeling him inside of her was so foreign - so extraordinary - she couldn't think. Her chest burned, she gasped and moaned, her whole body trembled.

"Shit," Gil cursed as well, grinding them together at the base. "You feel so fucking good, sweetheart."

She rippled around him. Hearing him call her 'sweetheart' was like music to her ears. She moaned as he started moving already. "Gil!"

"Fuck," he grunted, his hips already moving for him. He leaned up from her, holding her hips with his head tipped back faintly. "You feel so fucking good, oh my god. Fuck, Thena, you're amazing."

She bit her lip. She couldn't remember ever having a physical partner be so vocal, or rather in such a positive way. She clenched around him again.

"Shit," he huffed and puffed. Gil was never this talkative normally, but the idea that the haze of pleasure was also getting to him assured her that at least some of her feelings were mutual. "I'm gonna come way too quick like this."

She bit her lip again. What a charming thing to admit. She sighed and drifted her hands over his chest. "Just come, then."

"No fuckin' way."

Thena blinked as he pulled out of her--completely without warning! "Wh-"

But Gil had other plans. He wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her closer to him and angling her hips upwards. His cock was looking painfully upright, a furious colour and glistening from their interrupted activities. "No way I'm coming in two seconds like an idiot when I've got a woman like you with me."

She didn't have time to ask what he meant. He pushed into her again, scraping all sides of her in this new position. She arched her back, lifting off the couch completely. "Gil!"

"That's it, beautiful, call my name all you want."

When did he get so sexy? Thena moaned even louder than before as he started thrusting harder and faster. His hand dragged down from her cheek, trailing between her rippling breasts until he could press his palm to her belly.

"Feel good?" he all but growled at her. But she didn't mind. Not when he was pounding his cock into her like a clock pendulum counting the seconds.

"So good," she whined, feeling her coil tighten. Her toes curled and her knees angled inwards towards Gil between them. He let her, his flanks more than strong enough to endure it. "Fuck, Gil, I-"

Gil's hand dragged down further, toying with her clit roughly, but not completely without technique. "Come for me, sweetheart. Just fuckin' come."

"I am, I'm coming, fuck," she panted. Her hands reached out for him, but he was well out of reach in their position.

"C'mere," he grunted as he tangled their fingers together. "I've got you."

"Gil!" Thena bellowed. She came hard, harder than she could remember coming recently. Nor did she ever consider sex as a need high on her list before. Yet another way in which Gil had destroyed her ability to apply reason and behave logically.

Fuck, he just felt so good inside of her.

"Thena!" he roared in return, offering reciprocation of her ecstasy. He shot into her with vigor, their hips crashing together. They were already a mess of limbs, her couch was a mess and their clothes were everywhere. What was a mere mixing of fluids?

Thena panted for breath, their linked fingers tightening and relaxing with each breath. Her whole body was relieved of the static tingling through it, unravelling completely.

"Holy fuck." Gil never cursed this freely, spoke so casually. It was charming, sexy with its own kind of charm. "That was fucking incredible."

Thena attempted to laugh, but she was too breathless. "Well said."

Their bodies were equally sheened with sweat, she could say with confidence as Gil leaned over her again. But he was still careful not to crush her, cradling her cheeks and kissing her rather romantically.

"Fuck," he cursed again, just to pull away and look at her in a way that made her more nervous than the sex. "You're incredible."

She looked away, unable to stare down the barrel of his open adoration. It felt girlish to get done devouring each other carnally and then blush from him making eyes at her. She just barely managed to trail her fingertips down the slope of his chest. "You're were quite remarkable yourself."

He chuckled, which rippled all the way through him and into her. He got right next to her ear again, "glad I could satisfy."

Oh, she was more than satisfied, she felt downright sedated. She squeezed his shoulder, though. "We can't be lying here naked when Sprite gets home."

"Right, right, the kid," he chuckled. If anything, her hormonally ecstatic brain was celebrating how Gil made it sound as if Sprite was just as much his as hers. He patted her backside, "c'mon."

Thena pulled her dress around herself as best she could. With the heat of the moment passed, she was just naked in the middle of the day. She looked around, hoping her underwear wasn't too much further away. She would have to vacuum up the buttons of her dress later. Or let the roomba find them.

Gil was the one find to her panties, unfortunately, handing them to her like it was nothing, on his way to finding his own clothes. "I'll throw this stuff in the wash if you wanna take the upstairs shower."

There was another shower in the downstairs bathroom. She had never imagined it had a real use - Sprite had her own bathroom and shower as well - until now.

He grinned at her as he tossed his shirt over his shoulder, "we should clean ourselves up, right?"

She gave him a stubborn pout. He knew good and goddamn well he was all over the insides of her thighs right now.

But Gil leaned over to kiss her again. She never considered herself much of a kisser, but Gil...they were slobbering all over each other again.

"Any regrets?" he asked her clearly and plainly. Sex really did send away all his shyness and trepidation.

She let him tip her chin up to him. "No."

He kissed her again, satisfied with the answer. She let him pull her hands to stand and then turn her around sharply. Her send off was another kiss to the back of her hair. "Go on, sweetie. I'll clean up down here and Sprite will never know."

She could only hope. If Sprite got even the slightest idea that she and Gil had...given into certain urges, there would be no going back. "Get the vacuum to-"

"Don't worry," Gil waved to her as she started up the staircase overlooking the living room. He looked sexy in just some boxerbriefs with his clothes on his elbow. "Go have a shower."

"Hm," she pursed her lips, although she couldn't really argue. She stank of him, and their illicit affair.

"Unless you want me to join you in there!"

[intromortal]

ꕥ NICE N' FULL ⸝⸝⸝ six different scenarios in which the enhypen members breed the fuck out of you !

⚠︎ smut. mdni. breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, p in v, dirty talking, pet names, more warnings listed for each member. total wc 4k. ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

✷ NIA — not exactly what bae @vampsol asked for bc i went a little au-ish here :p but it's me so what did we expect. shoutout to my goat @karinasbaby for sharing a braincell with me and helping me w the ideas <3

ꕥ LEE HEESEUNG

arranged marriage, it's okay they're starting to be obsessed with each other, slight somno, oral (f. rec), cum eating

If you were to tell anyone Heeseung didn't as much as look you in the eyes about two months ago, they'd never believe you. Not if the way he's clinging to your lower half before he even opens his eyes fully is anything to go by. Still naked in bed, the wet sheets clinging to your bodies the only thing shielding you from the cool dawn air.

Marriages of convenience are rarely easy, especially for spirits as free as Heeseung, and he's made it clear to you how much he'd rather have married anyone else instead. They also come with burdensome expectations of heirs way too soon for his liking. Yet, something about your devotion to him in your most intimate moments despite your general indifference and coldness towards each other, brought the cold and hard as steel man down to his knees, a puddle of mush at your feet ready to fulfill any request.

"Hee," you mutter softly against your pillow as he parts your legs to make space for himself, and Heeseung's heart soars. A month ago it would've been 'Heeseung' or 'husband' with that venomous tone you seemed to only reserve for him, like his spot in your life was only a joke. It's different now, you're tender with him.

"Shh, pretty. Just lay here for me like this." It's still early, and Heeseung can barely see, but he wants the first thing he looks at in the morning to be your pretty hole, raw and sore from all the previous fucking, still gush his seed out. He parts your folds slowly, careful not to hurt you, and watches as his milky cum greets him, pouring out of you. It's a sight for sore eyes, and one he knows he will never get enough of. Even when he'll manage to put a child in you, he knows this is something he won't be able to let go of.

You shift, now more aware of your surroundings, but Hee is quick to keep you still. Your hand underneath your stomach faintly tingles because of its weird position, but it all fades in the background when Heeseung grabs your ass and spreads it, moving lap at where his cum is gushing out of you.

You're still sensitive from the night you spent together, but his touch is feather light and you don't really know if you want him to stop or you want more. He moans at the mixture of your tastes, pushing his tongue deeper inside your cunt like he's trying to clean you, switching so soft kisses on your lips once he's satisfied.

He makes his way up to your face, littering your bottom and spine in kisses and playful nibbles, relishing in the little sounds you make in response. Your front is still pressed to the mattress, and not seeing him almost makes you believe this is not the Heeseung that was shooting you sharp glares throughout the entire wedding ceremony. His touch is warmer, so much more delicate than the way he held your end that first night. His kisses are slow and deliberate, not empty and forced anymore. It's like soul has find its way back into Heeseung's being, after months of being a cold slate. The change started out slowly, but now you're here, and you genuinely feel like you could really love this man. Maybe a part of you does already.

His voice is the same, but the tone makes him sound like a whole different person, the forever present irritation is gone, only a playful tilt to it left as he finally reaches your ear to whisper in it. "Slipped out while sleeping, all of our hard work gone… such a pity." Heeseung aligns his cock to your weeping cunt, rubbing his head a few times along your folds, then carefully pushes in. "We have to do it all over again."

He's gentle, showering you in soft praises, and his thrusts are even slower. You've never known anything other than fucking, but you think this is what lovemaking feels like.

"So good, baby. You'll be such a good mom, you've been so patient with me even when i didn't deserve it. You'll be wonderful," he whispers in your ear, raising goosebumps all over your skin at just how sweet he sounds. "You are wonderful. You're perfect."

ꕥ PARK JONGSEONG

husband!jay, semi-public, bulge kink, he's insatiable

What better way to spend your honeymoon trip if not by getting filled over and over again by your dear, newlywed husband?

You can't think of any, but maybe that's also because you can't really think about anything that's not the delicious drag of Jay's cock against your walls. So deep inside you, pushing more even when his balls are already flush to your skin. Like he can't get enough, like he could break any barrier and mold into you as one if he really put his mind to it. He needs more, you both do.

But one thing's for sure, he's giving you his all.

"So fucking good, my wife has the best pussy. So perfect for me," he pants hotly in your ear, his large warm hand cupping your breast and separating it from the frigid glass your front is pushed against. The view from your suite is breathtaking, emphasized by the huge transparent wall, right beside the queen sized bed. At the moment though, you're not really focused on it. Nor is Jay, too busy gawking at your beautiful figure caged between his chest and the glass. He could stare at you forever. "I'm gonna stuff you full, baby. Gonna fuck you so good all trip, there's no way you won't be pregnant by the end."

You believe it, because all he's done ever since you undid your luggage in the middle of the room once you arrived to your destination is pump you full of his cum, all day, all night. And then all over again. Only stopping to get you food. You aren't safe from him when showering, even worse when taking a bath, definitely not when you're lounging around the natural pool close to your suite. It's not his fault you look so good in the bathing suits you packed and the ones he picked out for you. Jay has always had good stamina, but ever since the wedding he's been downright feral.

His thrusts are slow, but intense, like he's trying to drag the pleasure out as long as he can, savoring the way his tip nudges just the right stop that has you mewling in his hold every single time. His breath is warm against your neck and so are his grunts of pleasure, your favorite sound in the whole world.

Jay twists your sensitive and sore nipples between his fingers, only smiling into your neck when you reward him with the cutest mewls he's ever heard in his life. "Fuck, baby. I'm the luckiest man alive. I can't believe you're mine forever."

"You too," you whine in response.

"Yes baby, I'm all yours, forever. I love you much."

"Love you too," you sob, throwing your head back into his shoulder, completely overtaken by the pleasure he's giving you, allowing him more access to lick and suck on your sensitive neck.

"I know, baby. I know. You're doing so good, just a little more. My sweet girl, you'll be such a good mom. Can't wait to make you one. We'll have so many, so many cute kids running around. Doesn't that sound like a dream? Fuck, I can't wait."

The hand still playing with your tits slides down to your stomach, pushing down on it until Jay can feel his own cock thrusting into you. "Right here, you're gonna carry our baby here." He keeps fucking into you slowly, deliberately, so different from the speed of the circles he draws on your clit with the fingers that were soothing your hip just moments before. He drags out his own pleasure, but needs to give you so much more. "Come on my cock baby, milk it dry. We have so much more work to do."

ꕥ SIM JAEYUN

fwb!jake but he has feelings, he's down bad and a little subby in this one, dub-con (for jake), slight blood play (just his lip)

This is a series of mistakes. It's all Jake seems to be doing as of lately.

First of all, he's not even supposed to be in your bed again, the fourth time this week. Not when he finally came to terms with the fact that he has developed a raging crush on you and cannot keep his feelings at bay any longer, even when you two agreed this whole arrangement will only be sex and nothing else.

But he can't help it when you're so fucking addicting. You not liking him back is gonna break his heart, but at least he gets to fuck you, at least he gets a little piece of you, even if it's not exactly the one he wants.

Secondly, he should've refused to fuck you raw for the first time the moment you asked, even if the thought alone had his eyes crossing and rolling all the way to the back of his skull. But he's a weak man, for you especially, and he simply couldn't resist the temptation, not when you looked up at him with your big glossy eyes and with such a cute pout on your lip.

So here he is now, fucking you raw like his life is on the line, trying his hardest not to spill inside you too soon because if he does he might just die from embarrassment.

All he does, all he's ever done, is with the purpose of impressing you. It's like you have him chained up to this invisible leash he didn't even notice you put on him, and now it's too late to take it off. Jake means it when he says he would do anything for you.

His thrusts are shallow and quick, he's fucking you mostly with his tip, and you don't think you've ever seen him so worked up. It makes you feel things you didn't even know you needed. You like the feeling.

"You're so cute like this, Jakey," you giggle into the messy open mouthed kiss he's drowning you in, your fingers ghosting on the muscles of his back while his tremble on your waist. "Fuck me deeper, I want to feel all of you."

Jake's hips still for a second as he bites down on his bottom lip so hard he draws blood, but you don't mind at all. You even lick it clean, sighing dreamily at the iron taste overtaking your senses. Jake's eyes screw shut, and he's so close to cumming his eyes start to water. This is simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him, and thinking that this might very well be the last time only makes his eyes wetter.

"I—fuck. I can't. I'll cum too soon."

"That's okay, we can go again," you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and a little piece of Jake's heart breaks. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

You sense his hesitation and wrap your legs around his hips, pushing them closer to your pelvis so his length fully sheaths inside you. It's so warm and big and throbbing to release his cum in you and there's not a single thing you want more. "Fill me up, Jakey. Claim me," you whisper in his ear. "Why don't you show everyone I belong to you?"

Jake resumes his movements, tentatively at first but steadily building a pace that feels good, his thrusts are deeper now, needier, and even if he were to try to pull out, you'd keep him right there. "I want to. I want you fully, fuck— please be mine," he sobs into the valley of your breasts, voice muffled as he licks and nips at your skin.

"Go on. Make me yours then. Show me how bad you want me."

And he does because fuck, he's weak. He's so fucking weak for you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

ꕥ PARK SUNGHOON

coworker!hoon, secret relationship, semi-public, degradation, jealousy, mentions of marriage

Something about the way Sunghoon's thick eyebrows were furrowed from the second he walked into the job that morning, or how his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth whenever any of your colleagues as much as opened their mouths to say something, should've been your cue to behave for the day.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, he happens to look so damn hot when he's pissed.

And he's so filthy when he's jealous, pushing his buttons becomes your favorite challenge in times like these.

"Eyeing Jake all day like you want to bring him to the back and fuck him, are you not ashamed?" he spits, voice an octave lower than usual and barely slipping through his gritted teeth. "Bending over in front of him, touching him when you know I can see you. Do I have to mark you up for you to fucking behave for once?"

The roughness in his voice makes your eyes wet but your panties wetter, he doesn't bother to undress you, you don't have time for it anyway. You're just a few steps away from the lounge bar where some of your coworkers are surely taking a break right now. Anyone could walk in at any time, and maybe Sunghoon wishes for that to happen.

Instead Sunghoon just flips your skirt up and pushes your panties to the side, immediately rubbing his angry red tip on your folds to coat them in your own juices. He feels so incredibly hard against you, and that's how you know he must've been hiding a boner this entire time. As much as he loves to pretend he doesn't, it's little cues like this that let you know just how much he enjoys putting you back in your place. "Of course you're soaked." He barks a laugh devoid of humor but full of disdain.

"If it's my attention you want," he whispers more softly, and the switch in his attitude sends shivers down your spine, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunghoon, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'll give it to you. I'll give you so much of it you won't ever think about disrespecting me again."

He pushes his girth into you fully in one thrust, his rough fingers finding your clit within seconds, not even giving you enough time to savor the pleasurable sting that comes from his cock stretching you out so nicely. He grabs your jaw in his other hand, his smirk not turned into a snarl. "You'll cum, and you'll cum hard enough to milk all of me. You'll keep cumming around my cock no matter how much it hurts, until I fill you up. Is that clear?"

You would nod if you could, but his grip is too strong, so you do what you can: just stand there as he subjects you to anything his heart desires. He doesn't move his hips, doesn't give you that satisfaction, only rubs his fingers on your tiny bundle of nerves so hard it almost hurts, but you'd never ask him to stop it.

"You'll take all of my cum, until your belly is swollen by how much of it I fuck into you. I'll put a baby in you so no one else will ever mistake you for anything other than mine."

You clench around him, time and time again, just like he wants you to. Sunghoon has you under a spell, and the more he talks, the more he flicks your clit, the less you think about what's rational and what's not. You only know what he tells you, and to you that's the only truth you need to hear.

"I'll put a ring on your finger, make you my pretty little wife. Maybe even make you stop coming in, I'll take care of everything. Yeah, keep milking me like that, baby. Let me make you a mommy."

ꕥ KIM SUNOO

ewb, hate sex, degradation, marking, one singular 'slut', condom comes off!

"You're—mhh, such a bad fuck," you say over your shoulder, wanting to see Sunoo's reaction despite the uncomfortable position. You're lying through your teeth, of course. You know how much saying things like this riles Sunoo up, and the only times you feel anything akin to like towards him is when he's rough with you. It's why despite the mutual hatred that makes up the entirety of your relationship, you two keep finding yourselves skin to skin, tangled in bed sheets. You always thought you needed someone to fuck you like they hate you, turns out, what you really craved was someone to fuck you because they hate you. And the right man for the job is right behind you, thrusting into you like he wants to hurt you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips like it's their right to do so.

"Then why are you here, wetting my cock like no one's fucked you in years?" His moves are relentless, and you have to try your best to not collapse on the bed because of the sheer force behind every stroke. Your legs are shaking, but you hang on a thread just to not give him that satisfaction. Instead, you push him further.

"That guy from—mph, yesterday. He'd—" you gasp as he gives you a harsher thrust, so deep you're sure you can feel it in your guts. The angle he starts fucking you in knocks the air out of your lungs in the best way possible, and even if you're trembling under Sunoo's weight and clawing at the cotton fabric next to you, you refuse to back down. "He'd do a better job."

You don't need to see his face, you hear the smirk in his voice, and it's the kind that sends a shiver down your spine each time. "But you're here." Another sharp thrust. "You don't even remember his name."

"At least he las– lasted while fucking me raw." You feel him halt all movement, and you know this is enough to get what you want from him, but you just can't help it. "You could never."

"You're such a little fox, aren't you?" He speaks calmly, but you can feel the storm brewing under the facade. He drags his fingertips across your spine, barely touching you at all. It's embarrassing how that's enough to have you bend under his touch. He reaches the plush of your ass, grabbing a fistful of it so forcefully you can feel his nails break the skin. He doesn't stop when you complain, doesn't care for your pained moans. "You think you're so smart, but you're just a little slut. You want me to fuck you raw?"

You try to shake your head to deny it, but he knows better.

"Yes you do. Say it." His grip on your ass only gets stronger, and tears line your bottom lashes.

"I do," you whine, finally. "Please."

"Good." Sunoo releases the death grip on your skin, soothing over the red spot with his thumb lightly, like it's not him performing the action. The Sunoo you know has no time for care. "Then take the condom off of me."

Your head snaps back at his words, but he makes no sign of moving. So you do what he says, this once. You reach for this length, then carefully slide the rubber off of it. And right when he thinks you're finally behaving, you squeeze his cock so hard his hips stutter forward and you actually manage to steal a surprised yelp out of him.

Sunoo's reaction is immediate. He grabs both of your hands, uncaring for the way your elbows are uncomfortably bent, and brings your wrists together behind your back. He slides into you again in one swift motion, not giving you even a second to savor the feeling of his bare cock pushing into your heat for the first time. All of your nerves feel on fire, and as he sets a breakneck pace while keeping you down and unable to move.

"Do I have to fuck a baby into you for you to finally behave?" He gasps when you squeeze him in response to his words. "You'd like that yeah? You'd love for the man you hate to get you pregnant? Is that gonna make you shut the fuck up for once? Oh, I bet it will."

ꕥ YANG JUNGWON

fiancé!won, they're obsessed your honor, love on the floor

"You can't wait to get me pregnant, but what will you do when you won't be able to suck on my tits for months, mhh?" You giggle on Jungwon's lap, right in the middle of the empty room.

The new house still smells like new houses usually do, dry and woody, like the windows are never open. There's no furniture yet, but it doesn't stop your heart from pounding in your chest as you look around. Your home.

Jungwon's eyes never leave you though, and when you look back at him and find him smiling at you like you hold the world in your palm, you know you would be happy with every house, no matter the size or appearance, as long as he's the one you share it with.

"What makes you think that's gonna stop me?" Your fiance replies, shaking his head to move the bangs out of his eyes. "I'll even get something more out if it."

"Won!" you exclaim, hiding your face in your hands. Your heart melts a bit when you hear that familiar boyish giggle leave him, light as air, and for once in your life you feel like you've found the right spot in the world.

The warmth you feel spreads further as Jungwon starts caressing your bare thighs, until he's gripping your ass, using it as leverage to push you on his crotch.

You gasp at the feeling, and your hands find their rightful place on his broad shoulders so you can keep yourself steady as he starts to roll your hips against his.

"Won… we shouldn't—"

He shuts you up with a soft peck, resting his forehead against yours. "Why not? It's our place. We worked so hard for it, we should celebrate."

You bite your bottom lip as you think about it, but Won doesn't waste a minute and flips both of you over so you're caged between the floor and his chest. He nibbles on your ear, knowing better than anyone else how weak it makes you when he does that. "I'll make you feel so good, doll." It's like he's put a spell on you because you nod before he even manages to finish his sentence. "Just lay back and let me do all the work."

Your clothes are soon discarded everywhere around you, and your legs are wrapped around his hips as he fucks into you like he never has before. You're both a sweaty mess, panting in each other's mouths, exchanging spit any chance you get.

"Your pussy was made for me, doll. You're sucking me in so well." Jungwon moans against your lips, and you watch enamored as his eyes shut close and his eyebrows furrow, a droplet of sweat running down from his hairline. "Can't wait to take you on every surface of this house. Fuck— just leave it to me, baby. I have so many surprises for you."

"I'm so close, please," you whine, sliding a hand down his back to push his hips into you further. It makes Jungwon's pace faster, more desperate to give you exactly what you need.

"Let go, baby. Come all over my dick— yeah, just like that. You're taking me so fucking well. Such a perfect doll for me." His praise goes straight to your cunt, and you squeeze him impossibly hard as wakes of pleasure rack through your body.

"My perfect angel, you're gonna look so good swollen with our baby. Am gonna give you all of my cum, just a little more. We'll have so many kids running around the house we built. Our home forever," Jungwon babbles in your ear, and you're so fucked out you can even barely make out what he's telling you. You just know you need him to fuck you full, over and over.

His hips never stutter, despite how drenched and slippery everything is by now, a puddle of wetness pooling underneath you on the hard floor, getting bigger and bigger the more Jungwon fucks you, and you suspect the floor won't be the only surface you'll wet that day.

[mssorceressupreme]

Wanna Be Yours | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: helping a younger student resulted in you and the first-year walking into a prank not meant for you, and as you do so, you catch Fred's attention. the next day he tries to apologise with another prank and it backfires, but this only resulted in him falling even harder for you, he just knew wanted to be yours.

Warnings/tags: hufflepuff!reader (well it suits anyone really :D), love at first sight, he fell first and HARD, fred needs you so bad, pranks gone wrong, teasing, fluffy and cute, fred's a simp a/n: inspired by "Wanna be Yours by Arctic Monkeys"

———

The courtyard was alive with the soft hum of spring—branches swaying in the breeze, birds chirping from the castle walls, and a few students milling about on the cobblestones. Fred crouched behind a large stone pillar, his mischievous grin matching the one plastered across his twin’s face.

Huddled in a corner, the four of them—Fred, George, Lee and Oliver, were planning a revenge prank on Marcus Flint and Draco Malfoy for their obnoxious antics during the Quidditch match earlier.

“Are you sure about this?” Oliver Wood asked, trying to sound stern but failing as he bit back a chuckle.

Malfoy had spent most of the game taunting Harry, and Flint’s borderline dirty play had cost Gryffindor two near-goals. That didn’t sit well with Fred and George, so what better way to get back at them than with a prank.

“Hundred percent.” Fred said, smirking as he held up a pouch of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. “Alright, we rig this near the tree. As soon as they walk by, poof! Total chaos. Then, George, you release the Dungbombs—”

“Already got ‘em primed,” George said, patting his pocket with a devilish grin.

“Don't forget the slime and feathers!” Lee added, holding up a jar of fluorescent green goop in one hand, and a bag of feathers in the other.

Oliver, who had reluctantly joined but couldn’t resist some payback, frowned. “Let’s make sure they’re the only ones who get caught in this mess though, yeah?”

“Relax Wood,” Fred said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s a foolproof plan. Nothing can go wrong.”

“Trust us,” George said, “We’ve calculated everything.”

“Right,” Lee affirmed, “It's simple charm, a bit of instant darkness powder, and—bam! Feathers, slime, and a nice little puff of stink powder for good measure.”

George cackled, clapping his twin on the back. “Beautiful. They’ll be too busy cleaning slime and plucking feathers off their robes to bother us for weeks.”

“That's what they deserve for acting like twits during the match.” Lee chimed in. "S'pose they do deserve it." Oliver chuckled, his reluctance turning into enthusiasm.

The trap was simple but effective: a hidden tripwire enchanted to release darkness powder, then a rain of slime and feathers from above, followed by the dungbombs. All they had to do now was wait for their targets. "Now, they're supposed to walk pass here any moment..." Fred told the others, as the four of them watched eagerly.

Fred’s eyes glinted as he nodded toward the enchanted tripwire stretched across the cobblestones, ready to unleash chaos on Flint and Malfoy the moment they stepped on it.

Everything was perfect. Until it wasn't.

From behind a stone archway, you appeared with a small Ravenclaw first-year in tow.

It wasn’t Malfoy or Flint who walked into the courtyard first.

It was you.

You were laughing softly, your eyes crinkling with warmth as you guided a nervous-looking first-year Ravenclaw girl who clutched her books tightly to their chest. The poor kid had taken a wrong turn, and you volunteered to show her the way to the library.

In your arms, you helped carry some of her load, making it easier for the first-year.

“Don’t worry,” you were saying, your voice kind and steady. “The library isn’t far. Just through the next hall and up the staircase."

Fred’s eyes locked onto you, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. He didn’t hear anything else. It was like the world had narrowed to just you—the way your hair caught the sunlight, the easy grace in your step, and the way your smile seemed to light up the entire courtyard.

How had he not noticed you before?

“Is Fred broken?” George whispered to Lee.

“Looks like it. Never seen him go this quiet before,” Lee replied, smirking.

Oliver elbowed Fred, snapping him out of his trance. “Mate, you’re staring.”

“Shut up,” Fred muttered, his eyes never leaving you.

"Who is she?..." He continued, holding true to Oliver's statement.

“Who?” Lee asked, following his gaze. He snorted when he saw you. “Her? Oh no. Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft, Fred.”

Fred didn’t respond. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you but he was quickly snapped out of his trance as you approached the tree.

Oh shit. "Not the tree, don't walk past the tree..." He muttered to himself, hoping you would somehow magically hear him.

It was no use. Disaster struck.

You were met with instant darkness, coughing slightly as the powder released a thick fog around you and the first year.

Before you could grasp the full situation, a torrent of green slime and feathers rained down from above, coating you and the first-year from head to toe. The Dungbombs exploded seconds later, filling the courtyard with an awful stench.

The first-year yelped, clutching her books as the slime dripped down her robes. You froze for a moment, stunned, before shaking your head with a soft laugh.

Fred winced, guilt twisting in his chest.

“Oops,” George muttered, though he didn’t sound all that sorry.

Lee burst out laughing, "Merlin, did we just traumatise a first year?!"

“Poor kid,” Oliver said, though his lips twitched with suppressed laughter.

Fred, however, barely heard them. He was too busy watching you. Instead of panicking or getting angry, you crouched down immediately, brushing feathers off the first-year’s face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said gently, your voice soothing. “It’s just a bit of slime and feathers. Another tip, beware of silly pranks, it's all part and parcel of the Hogwarts culture." You comfort the kid, trying to lighten the situation by laughing softly, "Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

The first-year nodded, her lower lip trembling, and you smiled, guiding her toward a nearby fountain.

Fred couldn’t stop staring. He didn't know who you were, but he did know this, he wanted to be yours.

You were covered in slime and feathers, an absolute mess, yet you still looked radiant.

There was something about the way you put the first-year first, your patience and kindness shining through, that made his heart thud in the best way.

You helped her cleaned as much as you could off her robes, murmuring reassurances the entire time before chanting, "Scourgify!", instantly her robes were as good as new.

Only after she was cleaned up did you finally turn your attention to yourself. With the help of the cleaning spell, the feathers were out of your hair and the slime off your sleeves in no time.

“Merlin! Fred, you’ve got it bad,” Lee said, smirking.

“Oh, leave him,” George teased. “He’s clearly in love.” Fred’s ears turned pink, but he didn’t care. For once, he was speechless.

“How come I’ve never noticed her before?” The red head murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He was certain he would’ve remembered someone like you. “Maybe because you’re too busy pranking people,” Oliver said dryly. "Who is she?" Fred asked, ignoring Oliver's remark. "Seen her around a couple of times, especially in the library, she's in Ron's year." Oliver hummed, watching as you conversed with the first-year.

“That explains it,” George quipped. “She’s too smart to bother with Fred’s idiocy.”

Fred scowled, but his gaze remained fixed on you. There was something magnetic about the way you carried yourself, and he felt like everyone had disappeared, you were the only one in sight, to him.

He knew he had to make this right. He needed an excuse to approach you. Right! An apology. And of course, he had to impress you.

The Ravenclaw girl finally gave a small laugh as you finished off explaining the pranking culture at Hogwarts. “Thank you, I-..I think I know my way to the library from here now.” she said softly before hurrying off. ___

The next day, Fred had a plan. A proper one.

Breakfast in the Great Hall hummed with the usual morning chaos: the clink of cutlery, the murmur of conversation, and the occasional bursts of laughter from each houses' table.

Fred stood at the entrance, trying to look nonchalant but failing miserably. In his hands, he clutched a bouquet of enchanted flowers—slime-free this time—that were charmed to sing a cheerful apology tune when presented.

He wiped his palm against his robes for what felt like the hundredth time. “This is foolproof,” Fred muttered under his breath.

“You say that every time,” George pointed out, his tone dripping with amusement. He nudged Lee, who was barely containing his laughter. “What do you reckon? Will he get through two words before tripping over himself?”

“Five Galleons says he’ll combust,” Lee said, grinning.

“Will you two shut it?” Fred snapped, though the tips of his ears turned red. “This is serious.”

“Serious,” George repeated, mocking Fred’s tone. “You’re holding a singing bouquet, mate. Nothing about this screams ‘serious.’”

“Just watch,” Fred said, his voice low but determined.

That’s when you walked in, and Fred’s stomach flipped.

You were laughing as you entered, your head tilted toward one of your friends. That laugh—light, carefree, and far too distracting—was etched into Fred’s memory, playing on a loop since the previous day.

The sunlight streaming through the tall windows hit you at just the right angle, illuminating your smile. You were radiant.

Fred’s heart thumped in his chest as he stepped forward, the bouquet held out like a peace offering. “Hey!” he called, catching your attention.

You turned to him, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Yes?” you said, the corners of your mouth quirking up into a curious smile. What did he want from you?

Fred grinned, his confidence teetering on the edge of unraveling. “Listen, about yesterday—”

But before he could finish, the bouquet let out a sudden pop. A puff of pink smoke erupted, followed by an earsplittingly off-key version of “I’m Sorry About The Slime” that echoed through the Great Hall.

Fred barely had time to react before the bouquet detonated in a second burst, showering him in glitter and knocking him flat on his back.

The Hall erupted into laughter.

Fred groaned, staring at the enchanted ceiling, which now looked even farther away than usual. He could hear George’s loud, obnoxious cackling somewhere to his left.

“Five Galleons,” Lee said smugly.

Fred grimaced, but before he could even begin to think about recovering, a familiar voice broke through the laughter.

“Guess I’m not the only casualty this time.”

Fred turned his head, blinking in disbelief. You had flopped down beside him, lying flat on your back on the floor as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Glitter sparkled in your hair, and your grin was wide and unapologetic.

“What are you doing?” Fred asked, his voice caught somewhere between bewilderment and awe.

“Making sure you’re not the only one who looks ridiculous,” you replied, shrugging as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s only fair.”

Fred let out a breathless laugh, his embarrassment momentarily forgotten. “You’re mental.” But he loved it.

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, glancing at him with a teasing smile.

From across the Hall, George shouted, “Right on, Romeooo!!” His voice was exaggerated and dramatic, and Fred could practically feel the heat rising in his face.

“Oi shut it, George!” Fred yelled, though his tone lacked bite.

You laughed again, and Fred swore his heart might actually burst. “You’ve got quite the fan club,” you said, gesturing toward the group of students, particularly, Fred's 'boys', who were now openly watching the scene unfold and chortling.

“They’re a bunch of idiots,” Fred muttered, though his lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “You know,” you said thoughtfully, “for someone who’s usually so good at pranks, this was a spectacular disaster.”

Fred groaned, running a hand through his now glitter-covered hair. “Tell me about it.”

“But,” you added, your voice softening, “I appreciate the effort and the apology.”

Fred looked at you, his heart stuttering. “You do?”

“Yeah.” You leaned closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “And between you and me, I think you pull off the glitter look better than anyone else here.”

Fred laughed, the sound loud and genuine, and for a moment, the rest of the hall faded away. “I reckon you pull it off better than I do.”

“Why thank you, it's actually my dream to be covered in glitter. Shining as bright as a quidditch trophy is the goal." You joked, but Fred smiled warmly.

You do shine bright, he thought.

As you stood up, you reached out a hand to help him up. Fred took it without hesitation, warmth spreading through him at the simple gesture.

“Come on, glitter boy,” you said, your tone teasing but fond. “Let’s get you sitting somewhere before you injure yourself again.”

Fred let you lead him to a bench at the side of the hall, his hand still tingling from where yours had been.

As you both sat down, he turned to face you, his usual confidence returning in a slow, steady wave, “I’m Fred, by the way."

You laughed, tucking a strand of glitter-dusted hair behind your ear. “I know. You and George are kind of hard to miss.”

Fred’s grin widened, his chest fluttering at the sound of your laugh. “Yeah? Well, you’re kind of hard to forget...uh?" As if on cue, you told him your name. "Y/N." You smiled. "Y/N..." He repeated back, how fitting, a pretty name for a pretty girl.

Your eyes softened, and for a moment, you studied Fred's features. He did the same, glancing at your lips occasionally.

You'd always seen him from afar, to you he was just a prankster, a jokester, busy with his schemes, you'd never thought you'd actually come face to face with him.

But now that you did, you saw him in a different light, almost.

“If this is how you usually apologise,” you said, your voice light again, “I’m scared to see what happens when you’re not sorry.”

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. “Stick around, and I’ll show you.”

You leaned back slightly, your smile lingering. “I just might.”

And in that moment, Fred knew—he didn’t just want to impress you. He wanted you, all of you, your wit, your laughter, your sparkling eyes.

He just wanted to be yours.

[grugruel]

Can you do that for me?

Pairings: ruined!Jayce x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

Wordcount: 4.2 k

Warnings: Some canon stuff (beware spoilers), pinv sex, angst, fluff, fingering, slight handjob, choking, biting, creampie, doggy, missionary, cowgirl (a lot of positions), sub/dom/switch!Jayce, power struggle, fight for dominance, praise (f and m recieving), spanking, overstimulation, "I love you", difficult feelings, hot depraved Jayce.

AN: Not proofread, I intend to make a few changes to it later but wanted to get it out. Might be spelling mistakes. I tried to fit a bit of everything into this. ENJOY GIRLIES🎀

Having pulled the curtains aside, a vigilant man inspects the dark streets below. "He's almost here, ma'am," the man says, eyes following the subject. There's a slight stiffnes to his stance, as if he's readying himself for a fight. "What do you want us to do?"

"Let him in," she smiles at him faintly, attempting to reassure the large man before returning to her paperwork. "Dont give him trouble, there's nothing to fear."

The guard nods slowly and crosses the room to leave, he knows she's right. Yet, he stays in the doorway, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.

Warm light creeps in through the entryway, contrasting the faint light that Zauns streetlights provide for her otherwise gloomy office.

Noticing how the strong wash of light remains, she looks up at her guard to find another question lingering on his lips. "I've know you long enough to tell when something ails you." She leans back in her chair.

He catches her gaze reluctantly, facing away before he speaks. The man clears his throat, he knows he's crossing a line. "He's trouble, if you ask me. The boys and I-"

The woman pulls her glasses of and sighs, done with her work for the evening. "Im a big girl, I can handle myself."

The guard leans against the doorway and shrugs in reluctant recognition. "We're worried for you, ma'am-" but catching himself on his words, his hands gesture to remedy his meaning. "Respectfully, of course," he ads quickly, aversed to insult his employer.

The woman stands slowly, walking around her crammed desk to casually prop herself next to him. "I know," she reassures, placing a soft hand on his chest. "But I'll be fine, send him in."

The large man huffs. "We'll be outside then," he begins, but as the next words begin to form on his tongue, he decides against it, solely out of trust for his employer. If he could, he would've added 'when you need us'.

She doesnt doubt it, nor does she take offence. They're a tight knit family down here, she cares for them as much as they do her. But this would be an interaction no family member should hear. "That won't be necessary, keep to the foyer . . . Now go," she hurries him, careful to keep an understanding smile on her lips lest he changes his mind.

With a heavy breath and one last glance, the guard reluctantly closes the door and heavy footsteps recede.

She sighs, moving to brace her hands against the desktop and preparing herself for whats to come, for what she suspects.

She lights the lantern on her desk and waits. Only a moment later the same warm light creeps into the room. She twitches, unprepared for his arrival inspite of her efforts as the squeaking door slices through the eerily silent space.

In her peripheral, a fallen man stands. He's tired and dirty. Cut up and run down. There's a moment of contemplation between her and the newcomer, she does not move and neither does he. It's been a long time.

Squeak, thump, click . . . Pause. He's locked the door. A heavy thud between metal and wood sounds next, there's a faint sound of coarse skin sliding along fine metal before the familiar vibrations of hextech dies out.

All that exists between them now is heavy breathing in two parts, laboring against their own minds and bodies.

The floorboards begin to creek, irregularly, as if the weight placed upon them has not yet decided it's course of action. She grips the desktop harder, fingernails burrying into fine wood. She can only guess why he has come. "It's Viktor, isn't it?" She breathes, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

She gets no response, the only answer she recieves is the creeking of floorboards as the uncertain weight shifts back and forth. But that is all the answer she needs.

Having seamingly made up his mind, determined footsteps approach her in a sudden haste. Srong arms wrap around her body, pulling her toward a hard chest in a tight, tight embrace. His head collides with her shoulderblade as he burries his face in her scent. Muffled by her body, strained breaths blow welcome warmth onto her skin.

"What's happened?" She whispers, not entirely sure she wants the answer for she can smell him now. Metal and gunpowder. But it's not the type raw metal used for smithing or creating, it's not the metal she's used to. No, this is pungent, corporeal. It's blood. "Jayce, please . . . " She begins, 'talk to me' her lips shape, but no sound comes out. Unable to muster the strength.

"Cant- I cant . . . talk about it. Not now, not yet," he manages, voice rough as if he has fought and damp breath raising goosebumps on her neck. "I just . . . Needed you. I need you."

A strong hand slides higher, knuckles intently brushing the underside of her breast. "Can't think anymore."

And inspite of her better judgement. "Ok," she agrees, whispering, as if her consience wouldnt be able to hear. She's missed him, worried for him. So, her body betrays her.

Laying her hand on top of his, she guides him over the hill of her breast.

His breath hitches while his other hand move downward, tracing her ribs, down her waist, stopping on her thigh and squeezing tenderly. Soft flesh dimpling beneath the force of strong fingers. "I've been lost, " his voice breaks. "Missed you." His hands slide further down to slither under the slit in her dress.

"No feelings right now, Jayce . . . Please, just-"

Two fingers slip inside of her and she gasps. "No feelings," he assures, placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good, good . . . " she moans.

While massaging her breast his thumb finds her clit and tongue her neck, gently nipping and sucking on the crook of her neck. Her body grows to weak to hold itself upright so she puts her weight on her arms. Noticing, he holds her tighter and pushes her weight against the desk. "Already?" He whispers, dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear as his fingers steadily thrusts in and out of her. "You're making it too easy for me."

A breathless chuckle leaves her, crammed between heavy groans. "You work with your hands . . . Mmmh, unfair advantage."

He bites her earlobe, tugging, teasing. "So do you, if I remember correctly." A grin twists her lips as her hand reaches between them and palms his enlarged bulge. He hisses as she begins to stroke it, heat immedietly surfacing as the friction between fabric and skin grows. "Mhhg, that's what I thought," he groans. "Good girl."

He pushes a third finger inside off her, curling them at just the right angle.

"Fuck!" Her free hand curls into a fist, joints having nothing better to do than occupy themselves in anyway they can. He puts more focus on her clit, rubbing dutyful circles into and and finally pushes her over the edge. "Mhh, shit-"

His fingers slow down as she hits her high, gently leading her through it as he supports her weight. "Just breathe, that's right . . . "

Her breathing has become a mixture of moans and wheezes, the pleasure stimulating every nerve in her body. "Did you . . . ?" She asks, suddenly remember her hand on his clothed member.

"No," he whispers and kisses her temple. "Theres time." He tries to turn her around. But fear grips her. "No-" she stops him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep herself in place. Seeing the changes up close would make them real, would make whatever he has come from, real. "I can't look at you . . . not yet." She reaches over her shoulder to cup his jaw, and just like that, their bubble of reminiscence bursts. They arent colleagues anymore and havent been for a long time. Nor is their third party longer there to rationalise with them. A shrap jab strikes her heart. "Give me time, and just," her other hand reaches behind her, grabbing the fabric on his hip to pull him closer, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass. "Like this for now, Jayce. Please . . ."

His head lulls against her back, pushing his forehead firmly into her spine whilst releasing a big, shaky breath. She can feel him bare his teeth, silently working through the consequences of his actions.

He doesn't answer, he only obeys.

It goes silent for a short moment, until the warmth on her hips disappear and the metal clanging of a belt buckle sounds behind her.

Quickly, one hand returns to her thigh to pull her dress over her ass.

"Dont hold back," she says.

There's a pause in his movements. "Are you certain?"

She nods and he wastes no time. Pushing himself against her, his knees spread her legs efficiently, just liked they've practiced many times before. With no further warning, he sinks into her. One hand crossing over her waist as the other grabs her shoulder, then sets a ruthless pace.

Somehow she knows he needs to get this out of him, the pent of fury and need. But she doesnt complain, he always knew what he was doing.

The sound of slapping fills her office, while the lewd squelching from her previous orgasm further spurs them on. He bends over her, changing his grip. Fingers snaking around her throat as his knee and free hand work together to fish one of her legs onto the desk, hitting her deeper, harder. His thrusts are no longer about speed, but of that one special little spot.

He puts pressure on her throat, almost painstakingly so. But it feels heavenly and she wouldn't have it any other way.

With each rut, his members perfectly fills her. His face is next to hers and he kisses had bites around her neck and ear, making sure she knows how good he makes her fell by grunting and moaning right into her ear. It makes that pulsing in her core worse, and he seems to notice.

"Yeah, you like that?" He groans, kissing her soft skin right behind the ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, voice vibrating with the bumping of their bodies. Doing her best to keep silent, afraid that one of her guards suddenly decides to check up on her.

"Let me hear you, use your words," he breathes, flexing the fingers around her throat and biting her shoulder.

"Fuck-" her knuckles and nails take turns in destroying her desk, scratching and denting the expensive wood grain. "I like making you, mmh . . . feel good." She manages, words stuttering between thrusts.

He gently pulls on her ear with his teeth. "Good," he whispers, then releases her throat and places his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her against the desktop.

Slap. His hands comes down on her ass, then gripping the plump flesh hard to lessen some of the stinging. A jolt of electricity shoots through her and her insides clench arouns him.

Jayce whimpers from the sudden, godlike pleasure. "Wanna hear you, honey, don't be shy." His hand comes down again, harder this time.

She squeezes around him, nerves on fire as she feels her second climax building up inside her. She moans as tears run down her face, happy pleasurable tears only Jayce has been able to produce.

"That's it . . ." He slaps her ass a third time, and the wall inside her core crumbles. With a whimper, she comes. "You did so good, lovely, im almost there," he assures her. Tears stream down her face as his thrusts grow irregular, but continues to pleasure her body. "Fuck," she cries, squirming from the drawn out orgasm. One hand holds her steady at the hip while the other slides up her back, rubbing her tender body until he brushes away stray hair from her profile.

"Hold on a little longer, just breathe, baby," he comforts her, such a stark contrast to the rough thrusts he's been dealing her body. Her fingers are jittery from the overstimulation, they ached to touch him, pull his hair, anything. But she can not reach, so she presses her palms against the table to keep them occupied.

As he sees her tear streaked face, one last blow lands on her ass and he too, comes. He collapses on top of her, they attempt to regain their strength as their sweaty bodies lie flush against eachother.

After a few moments of breathing heavily together, Jayce wraps an arm around her torso and splays his hand over her rips, pulling her with him as he straightens out.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and turns around. Hands finding his face, guiding her lips to his.

"Please look at me, my beautiful girl. Look at me," he pleads, murmuring the words against her lips.

She opens her eyes and his breath hitches. Yellow, brown irises meet her won. They're the exact same ones she knew not too long ago. Except . . . Haunted.

His fingers brush along her cheek, jaw and down her throat. She winces at the soft touch and his brows furrow in confusion.

Capturing her chin, he tilts her head back.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she whispers, assuring him as she sees his expression. Pure shock animates them.

"I don't-" his fingers trace the red marks running around her throat and tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. "Im so sorry." He falls to his knees, hands resting against her chins as he hides his face between them. "I don't know-" he chokes and kisses her legs with remorse. He pecks her delicately, trailing his lips over her knees and up her thighs, hands following behind, tracing the outside of her legs until they reach her waist and encircle her. He hugs her tightly, knees sore against the hard wood. "Im not right," he breathes, head lulling into her lap. She can feel wetness coating her skin, running between her thighs.

She exhales heavily and slides down the desk until the hard wooden floor welcomes her thighs.

They stay like this for a good long while, she's in no rush and neither is he. Over and over again, her fingers comb through his overgrown and unpreened hair while the sensation of his seed drips out of her. Sharp nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck, they trace his bonestructure and play with its halls and valleys. The back of her fingers caress the length of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbone.

All the while Jayce lays wordless, occasionally squeezing her thighs, her hips. Occasionally trailing featherlight touches along her legs, watching with wonder how goosebumps rise and fall.

She chuckles beneath her breath. It's the same expression he used to get when making progress in the lap, just like when they first cracked the hextech runes. "Jayce," she says, attempting to grab his attention.

Crouching beneath her, he looks up from her lap, chin resting on the softness of her flesh. His face glistens and eyes plead. He looks at her with fatigue, wordlessly asking for her forgiveness.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice soft but words demanding. She's not getting dersuled this time, she needs answers.

He shakes his head, reluctantly drawing his lips into a thin line as he breaks away from her gaze.

Her eyebrows twist together. "What have you done?" She asks, anger laces her tone now. But he closes his eyes, the corners of his eyes gleaming again. The fingers burried in his hair curl into a fist and she pulls his head back, forcing him look at her. "What. Have. You. Done?"

His eyes shift between hers, uncertain, unwilling. "He's gone . . . " He begins. "I had to, I had to–the hexcore, it was poisoning him, spreading like a disease." His voice is coarse. "I had to stop him, there was no other choice."

Her eyes grow. Viktor . . . Gone? She could only assume when Jayce suddenly pays her a visit, but never dared believe.

"I never ment to leave you," he says, hand reaching out to grab her waist. "You have to believe me." He rouches the fabric at the waist, white knuckling it out of desperation for an ounce of u derstanding. "Hextech isnt what we thought it was, not anymore. Viktor couldnt see it, he was infecting the undercity, it would've spread to Piltover, the rest of the world if I didn't stop him."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "But he was saving them, freeing them of shimmer."

"No . . . they weren't themselves anymore. I've been away, lost. I've seen–" She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "The hexcore mutates them, changes them. I had to stop him. It, the core."

Her eyes drift the Jayce's hammer posted by the door. "Like your hammer?" She studies the now misshapen weapon, once crafted with obsessive precision. Her eyes drift lower along the neck and over its face, blood splatter.

She looks away, closing her eyes to recollect herself. Remembering to strongly the smell of blood Jayce had arrived with.

"Yes," he says. "Like I did." His hand reaches up to loosely cup her face. She notices how the crystal from his old bracelet has fused with his skin. Her fingers run along his arm and slides along the crystal, feeling it, inspecting it. "I didn't chose this," he murmurs. "I didn't chose to leave you . . . I love you." His hand falls back to his side.

She's taken aback. Its not something they've said before, not while still partners, not before all of, this . . . But despite herself, she believes him. They were colleagues for a long time and affection had always kept them together. He wouldn't hurt Viktor without reason.

With hooded eyes and parted lips, he studies her, waiting for her judgement.

"You had to," she nods, seamingly decided.

Relief and disappointment floods his face all at once. He'd expected an 'I love you' back.

She leans in, kissing him for the first time since he disappeared. Finally reunited. "We'll get through this, ok?" her voice is uncertain, what's happened has not been fully processed.

"Ok," he agrees and straightens his back, carefully placing small kisses along her abdomen as he does so, afraid he'll scare her away. "I've missed you so damn much." He levels his head with hers, meeting her gaze head on.

"I've missed you too," she responds. "But I need you now, Jayce. Can you do that for me?" She places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Certainly," he murmurs against them.

She stands, slinding his hand into hers and leads him to the bed. With his back to the bed, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him into sitting at the edge of the bed.

One leg over the other, she straddles him, standing on her knees so he has to look up at her. His she brushes the hair away from his eyes and lowers her lips to ghost over his. Their scared and quivering, needy to be on hers.

His hands slide up her sides and curves around her back, coming to rest in the arch above her ass. Gently, he massages circles into her skin, tickling her intentionaly.

She squirms beneath his touch, luring a satisfied grin from him. "You look good like this." Her fingers run through his beard, tracing his new scars. "Dangerous." Reaching down between them and into his pants, she pulls Jayce's member free and lowers herself just enough to tease his tip.

With a hiss, he locks his thumb over her hipbones and wanting to guide her onto him.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing in the corner of her lips. "My turn," she whispers and pull the straps of her dress down, letting it gather at her hips. Jayce's eyes immeidetly fall as his hands slide up her ribs with a specific destination in mind. "Dont touch," she warns. "Now look at me, Jayce." Her chest is inches from his face, but unallowed to look and unable to touch, his eyes appear like that of a wounded stag.

Her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his shirt and quickly slides it off of his shoulders. "Ive missed this," she purs, dragging a finger down his torso, her nail leaving a white scratched up mark behind it. "But this is new," she refers to the chest hair she's never seen before. "I like that, too." Her lips meet his jaw as she leaves kisses all the way down to his collarbone and shoulder. Her continues down his abdomen and below his v-line, then there's a sharp intake of breath as she stokes his member, circling the leaking pre-cum around his tip.

"Devil woman," he groans, but there's a twisted smile to his lips.

She returns it and takes a step back, letting the dress fall completely as if wanting to prove his point and oh, how she revels in the desperation on his face.

Her gaze fixes on his hands, clenching and unclencing in his lap, knuckles white from the strain. She bites her lip. "You look good like this," she repeats. "All, fallen apart . . . " She steps closer, placing herself between his legs. "Bloody and broken."

Never has he taken his eyes off of hers, and as she lowers herself onto his lap once more, she finds his member and lines him up. And finally, she sinks onto his thick inches. Still, he does not touch her. There is only a desperate whimper leaving his lips at the much needed pressure. Obedient, or respcetful? Either way, he deserves his praise. "Good boy. Now, touch me," she whispers and topple them over.

He twitches inside her at the words, but before she can react he's upon her. Fitting one breast into his mouth and the other in his hand, he licks and spits and squeezes. Sucking the entierty of her tender, plush flesh into his mouth.

"Ooh," she braces herself, strings of pleasure and heavy breaths return to them. "You liked that didn't you, pretty boy?" All she gets in response is humming between the lewd, obscene slurping.

Alright, then. Putting a hand on his chest for support, she begins to move, rocking back and forth just watching his expression of pleased torture.

Moving his hands to her hips, lips tear free from her breast for some much needed air, only to replace them upon her lips and kiss her with fervour.

She sits up, getting a better vantage and he follows not long thereafter. Unable to sit by and let her do the work. Leaning back on one hand and wrapping the other around her back, he helps her rut against him while he can't softly thrust up to meet her. "Fuck me- Jayce . . . " She gasps, hardly able to get enough air to moan.

He grins against her lips, sharing their breaths. "You liked that didn't you, pretty girl?" He mocks her.

She laughs breathlessly and digs her nails into his biceps. "Naughty," she murmurs and bites his lip, drawing blood. Again, she feels his member twitch amidst all the rocking between them. Their eyes meet and share a knowing glance. She cocks an eyebrow, he blushes. "That's what I thought," she smirks. It's her win, for now.

Unable to let it slide, Jayce takes the reigns. Flipping them over, he pins her beneath him without missing a single thrust. Amidst the confusion, he interlocks their fingers and pulls her arms above her head, stretching her out and limiting her movement.

She squirms against his restrains, testing the limits but he's rock solid. With her legs around his waist, he thrust perfectly into her and she cant help but roll her hips. She can feel the knot tightening in her core and she furrows her brows with displeasure. Missionary always did her in, he'll win. "Unfair," she moans, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her with every movement of his hips.

He moves one pair of their locked hands down so ha can stroke her throat with his thumb, placing soft kisses on the damage he caused.

His tenderness alone could cause her to crumble. "Put your back into it at least," she whines, realising she only had her pettiness left. Being beneath him, in his control feels way better than any win she could earn.

A breathless chuckle leaves him. "Yes, ma'am," he grunts, releases her and pulls out before he hooks her legs over his shoulders and thrusts back in. Hands finally free, she cups his face and pulls him in for a kiss concealing the cries bubbling up in her throat. For as it stands, he moves expertly and he's deeper–better than any man ever has been. "Fuck me-"

He smirks. "Tell me I'm good, again . . . " Shes uncertain if this is his ego talking or- "Please, please tell me im good," he whimpers, kissing her inbetween every word.

Without warning her, athird orgasm washes over her, back arching and nails digging into Jayce's cheeks. "You're so good to me," she sobs. "Such a good boy."

His thrusts falter and then he too, comes. Filling her with his seed, once again.

With shaking limbs he falls to her side, one arm draped over her chest. Both breathing heavily as they regain their senses.

"You win," he admits and kisses her temple.

Yes she does. "I love you, too," she smiles, heart and teeth achingly sweet.

[tommysversion]

Forbidden Fruit [Part 1] - Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

Summary: he's been watching you for longer than he can remember, thinking he's too old for you, too dangerous. It's easier to keep people at arm's length, and he isn't the roughened lover he used to be. Turns out you don't care much for what he used to be.

Warnings & Contents: age difference (unspecified, can be as large or small as you'd like) | unsafe sex | Vaguely misogynistic language (not from Joel) | past Reader x Tommy mention | dirty talk | praise | pet names | size difference implied IE Joel's hands are larger than Reader's | unprotected PIV | Enthusiastic consent | Fluffier than expected | creampies oops | guaranteed happy ending

Note: I got this out before episode two dropped. There are no spoilers here, just old man Joel being loved.

Word Count: 3.8k. || Part Two Here

- x. -

Joel knows that deep down, he's not the good guy that he tries to be in Jackson. That no amount of hard work and somewhat begrudging neighbourly behaviour will truly ever mask what he really is. 

He does a damn good job hiding it, though. Looks almost unassuming with his greying curls, the crows feet forming round his eyes, the glasses he wears more often than not. 

Then there's you. God knows how much younger than him - does it really matter, when he's pushing sixty and you're clearly not - and full of life. 

He sees you around and just one look at you gets him half hard; you don't even have to fucking do anything, just be wandering past and give him a friendly wave, a half smile. 

He finds his eyes glued to your ass more often than not, given your standard attire of a pastel plaid shirt and jeans does nothing to hide your figure. He feels like a dirty old man each and every fucking time, but he can't help it. Especially when you wander past to get ready for a patrol, an honest to god cowboy hat perched on your head, a lasso and a gun on your hip. 

It makes some deep buried dark and depraved part of him wish he was still the cocky, confident bastard he once was. The kind who would have no problem whatsoever with talking to you and getting exactly what he wanted. Age has made him hesitate, though, and so he sort of just contends himself with trying to be as subtle as possible with his stares. 

He'd be lying if he said he thought of anything else when he fucked his own hand each night, though. 

Imagining you. How you might look spread out beneath him. On top of him. How you might sound with his name on your stupidly pouty lips, which he absolutely hasn't made note of or anything. 

Joel likes to think he's completely subtle in his interest in you, thinks he might just be burning up inside with his own desires and need, until Tommy calls him the fuck out for it one night. 

They're in the bar long after closing time, just the two of them, perks of Tommy being on the governing council, Joel guesses, and two or three glasses of whiskey deep. 

"Don't know why you don't just go after her, y'know." Tommy takes a long sip of his drink. Gives Joel a smirk that he never thought he'd see again, given his younger brother is all settled down now, married with a kid and whatnot. 

"You know damn well why not." Joel snipes back, refills his glass with a narrowed gaze. "'M too old and I'm too fuckin' dangerous. She'd probably break or something." 

Tommy just laughs. But it's more like his old laugh. The slightly dark sound that Joel hasn't heard in years that makes him goddamn certain his brother knows something he doesn't. 

"What?"

"Nothin'," Tommy says, tossing another cube of ice into his glass, swirls it around. "Don't blame you for lookin'. Girl's got a sweet ass, and damn, she can ride, too."

There's that tone again, the one that says he definitely knows something. More than knows something. So Joel gives him that look he does that always inevitably has Tommy spilling the beans. 

"And how d'you know the girl can ride, huh?"

Tommy snorts, drags a hand through his messy black curls. 

"Wasn't always with Maria, ya know. Back when I first came to Jackson... girl can handle her way around a saddle. Ain't half as cocky when she was gushin' all over my cock in a hay bale. Tell y'somethin, never seen a prettier sight than a cockdrunk woman." 

He downs the rest of his drink before he shoots Joel a crooked grin. 

"And trust me on this one too - she loves her an older man."

Joel doesn't want details. Doesn't care much about something that happened six or so years ago. 

What he does take from the conversation stays worked into his head over the next few days. He's just thinking he might make some excuse to leave his office early, to go home so he can either drink himself senseless or fuck his own fist until he has some semblance of self control again. 

He's still debating which it'll be when someone knocks on his office door; he looks up, about to tell whoever it is to fuck off, and instead stops. Because there you fucking are, your hair pulled off your face, still windswept. Dressed in a pastel purple and blue plaid shirt, another pair of jeans that should be fucking outlawed and worn cowboy boots. 

“Hey, Joel.”

Vaguely, he wonders if this is the first time he’s actually registered you saying his name; he likes the way it sounds in your voice.

“Hey. What can I do for you?” He can’t help but sense some sort of mischief, wonders whether Tommy has decided to interfere, again, in something he has no business in.

“Oh, uh, Tommy said you were the one to go to if the barn door got caught again?”

Joel registers what you’re saying, can’t help but listen to the way his brother’s name sounds in your mouth, as if he’s looking to see if there’s any hint of any sort of affection in it, but he finds none.

He also thinks his goddamn brother is full of shit, because he knows damn well that Tommy is just as capable of fixing the stupid barn door. But Joel is nothing if not an opportunist, and he sees exactly what’s being offered here – an opportunity.

So he gets up out of his chair, pockets his glasses, and gives you a nod.

“Sure. Let’s go get that fixed up before dark.”

-            X     -

You’re aware of the sheer size of the man beside you as you help him lift the barn door back onto the track it usually slides in. He must be at least sixty, and yet he’s so big and broad that it doesn’t quite show. That doesn’t mean you’re oblivious to the greying curls, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. You’re not blind. Maybe you’re just fucked up, because you’ve always preferred older men, at least, since the outbreak.

Maybe it’s some convoluted thought that someone older might be able to keep you safe. As if you aren’t a damn good shot yourself. As if you aren’t entirely capable of keeping yourself safe.

You haven’t been as oblivious to his stares as he thinks. No, Joel Miller is not a subtle man, not anymore. Never has been.

That, and you’ve seen a similar look on his brother’s face, once upon a time. The kind of look that says they want to devour you. To do things to you that’ll make your toes curl.

Like you haven’t been watching Joel since he first set foot in Jackson. Figured maybe you were too young, too out of range of his usual type, whatever the fuck that was.

And then you’d noticed him watching you, dared to perhaps hope, but never make the first move. Until now.

“Thanks for the help,” you say as you test the door, pull it open and closed to make sure it isn’t stuck again.

“’S fine,” Joel answers, shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Walk you home?” You offer, and the hint of a smile curves his mouth.

“Don’t know that I’m the one who needs a chaperone to walk round after dark.”

You laugh lightly as he falls into step with you regardless.

“Ah, Joel, nobody would be stupid enough to lay a hand on me.”

You don’t entirely believe that, but confidence is certainly part of it, and the last thing you want is for him to think you’re someone weak and scared.

“Why, you got some scary ass husband or somethin’ I don’t know about?” Joel asks, and you can hear the hint of jealousy in his tone, even if he thinks you won’t; it lights up something in your belly that trails all the way down to your core.

“Pff, no. No husband. No boyfriend. Just me, and apparently I’m scary enough.”

You give him time to take all that in, but that means you arrive at his house far too soon with very little progression in conversation. You’re almost feeling disappointed when he speaks again.

“Comin’ in for a drink?”

Joel isn’t sure where that confidence came from. Maybe the way you’ve confirmed there’s no significant other in your life. The almost flirty way you’ve spoken to him. The way you had seemingly no issue getting up in his space as you fixed the barn door.

He notices, too, the way your eyes flicker with something like triumph at the offer, before you just nod, follow him up the steps and into the house.

-            X     -

Joel watches the way your lips curve around the glass tumbler, and he really thinks he should be more focused on his own liquor consumption at his age more than the way it looks, but he can’t help it.

Unbidden, his mind gives him a picture of your lips wrapped around something else entirely, and for the first time since Tommy shared his little bit of “wisdom” about you the other night, he resents his brother for it. Because of fucking course his goddamn brother would have had the balls to just make a move. So why doesn’t he?

As he’s pondering this, he’s oblivious to your gaze, focused on him over the rim of your glass. They’re so alike, and yet so different, the Miller brothers. You haven’t quite worked out what makes Joel tick yet, can sense a sort of brooding, shut off darkness in him that you aren’t entirely certain you’d like to see unleashed.

What you do know, though, is that you’ve caught his eyes on you more than once. That you want him, even if it’s only for one night, that you don’t care if he shreds your heart to pieces after, so long as you get one single night where you can see what it’s like to be his.

And so while he’s still lost in thought, you down the rest of your drink and cross from your chair to his, straddle his lap and tap him lightly on the cheek.

“Hey, still with me?”

Not a lot takes Joel by surprise; he wasn’t sure what to expect when you moved, but to find you in his lap is definitely unexpected. He puts his half-finished drink to the side and just looks at you for a second, tries to will his cock into behaving, but it’s too late, he’s already hard as fuck, uncomfortable in his jeans with you pressed against him, and you both know it.

“What’re you doin’, sweetheart?” He manages to get out, because he’s got to be sure you’re not just fucking with him, or making some poor decision fuelled by liquor, even though he doubts the single drink has even touched the sides.

“What’s it look like?” You can feel how hard he is, can’t help but rock into him slightly, taunting, teasing, because God forbid you actually want this.

“Makin’ a real poor decision?” Joel regrets saying it as soon as he does so, and it shows on his face; luckily you ignore him.

“You want me to stop?” you ask instead, your hands at the buttons of the flannel shirt he always wears, a well loved dark green thing that you think sets off the olive tones to his skin perfectly.

He shakes his head so fast he almost feels dizzy, because there’s no way in hell he wants you to stop, but he wants you to understand what you might be getting yourself into.

“Fuck, no,” he almost growls it out, leans in to press a kiss to your bare collarbone where your shirt has fallen. “More just… I'm an old man, darlin', but I've never been good at bein' gentle."

You just laugh, because you don’t want gentle. You don’t want young and sweet and inexperienced. You want whatever the hell is lurking behind his tired gaze.

Still, he doesn’t move until you lean in first, press those pouting lips against his, part them so he can taste liquor and strawberries on your tongue. It’s not until you grind down against him again and moan into his mouth that he reacts.

Then whatever control he has left (which isn’t much) snaps, his hands pushing up your shirt; glad he had the foresight to build a fire when you got in, because the last thing he wants is you shivering for any reason that isn't good, isn't at his hands. 

You figure he isn't moving fast enough, help him shed your layers of clothing one by one until you're in his lap in just your emerald green panties, and fuck if Joel doesn't think the colour looks good on you.

His hands are wandering, up from your hips, slowly, cupping your tits and rubbing his roughened thumbs across your peaked nipples. You almost wish you could get him naked, but the most he'll allow is a few buttons of his shirt undone. Not that you're about to complain, so full of want for him that you'll take whatever he gives you.

You can feel the fabric of your panties getting damper with every hungry, open mouthed kiss, your little moans muffled as he slowly draws circles with his thumbs around your nipples, humming when he feels you react.

"Sensitive, huh?" His dark eyes stay fixed on yours as he pinches your nipples gently, making your back arch slightly. "Yeah you are, aren't you, sweetheart?"

You just nod, grinding yourself down against the thick length of him, your hands finding his belt buckle.

He doesn't stop you, too preoccupied with playing with your tits, the way you lean into his touch. Your hand unzips his jeans, frees his cock from the too tight confines, and slowly strokes, drawing a low groan from his chest.

Fuck, but you know what you're doing, slow practised strokes from base to tip, gentle twists of your wrist when you reach the thick head of him, spreading the precum that drips heavily along his length.

"Fuck, sweetheart, don't make me cum before I've got you there-" he warns, and you laugh, not at him, but because you're so fucking pleased that you're having that much of an effect on him.

He shuts you up effectively though, slides one rough hand into your panties and almost immediately finds your swollen clit, rubs circles on it with his thumb, smirking at how soaked he finds you.

"Christ. Don't even need t'get you ready for me, do I?"

You shake your head, but he does it anyway; nobody can say he isn't merciful, Joel thinks, as he slides his index and middle finger into your wet heat, drawing a filthy sound from you as he curls them deep.

He kisses you again, rough and needy, thinks about how if he was five, ten years younger he'd pick you up, carry you to the nearest horizontal surface and fuck you into it. The thought makes his cock throb painfully, but even this is enough, having you in his lap, writhing on his fingers...

You're aware of his mouth on you; on your throat, your collarbones, your nipples, then he moves his fingers a little more and you're aware of nothing beyond your own pleasure, your cunt weeping onto the thick digits as he continues to move them, not stopping until he's absolutely certain you're through it.

"So fuckin' pretty for me, baby. You want to come sit on my cock now?"

Slowly, slowly, he slides his fingers out, enjoys the dazed look on your face as you nod; your ruined panties are dragged down, tossed aside, then you're there, intimately close as he lines himself up, catches the tip of his cock at your soaked entrance.

He lets you sink down onto him with little to no guidance; groans when your hips meet far sooner than he expected. 

"Fuck, there's a good girl-"

You make a sound of assent, wriggle in his lap to get comfortable, only serving to make his cock twitch inside you and drag another pretty little sound out.

"You like how it feels?" He knows you do, can tell by the way your pussy tightens around him, trying to pull him in deeper, but he wants to hear you say it, almost needs the ego boost.

"Y-yeah," you breathe out, then, "Joel-"

His name is drawn out, a half plea for something that he isn't quite sure about.

"What d'you need, honey?"

"Need you to move," your voice is almost demanding, somewhere between pleading and insistent, but you'll get what you want regardless.

Joel keeps his hands on your hips, giving you some semblance of control still, but he starts to move, slowly rocking his hips up as you rest your forehead against his.

So maybe it's not what he first pictured, not what he'd have done to you ten years ago, but it doesn't quite matter to him, not when he can feel how wet and tight you are around him, hear every single pathetic little noise you make for him.

Your fingers drag through greying curls, tugging lightly; you're rewarded with another low groan, more like a growl, as his hips snap upwards sharply against yours. You don't get to savour that victory, too preoccupied by the suddenly rougher pace.

"Fuck, Joel-" You gasp and he laughs, tightens his grip on your ass to bounce you on his cock just that little bit harder, faster, hitting all the right places inside.

"That's it, good girl," he presses greedy, open mouthed kisses to your throat, keeping up the pace, feeling you tightening around him and knowing without a doubt that you're close already, so worked up for him that tipping you over the edge will be almost easy.

"Such a tight, sweet little cunt, baby, made to take my cock, weren't you?" The filthy words pour out before he can stop them, but you're responsive to those, too, clinging to him, moaning as his cock hits your sweet spot again and again,  getting you closer; you try to hold it off, don't want this to be over yet. But God if it isn't difficult.

Joel can feel you trying not to cum, can feel you holding yourself back.

"C'mon, sweetheart, go ahead and cum for me.  Y'really think this is gonna be the only time I give you my cock, sweet girl? Fuck, gonna keep this pretty pussy full of me til you get sick of it."

You gasp a moan, because there's no way in hell you could ever get tired of this, of the hint of roughness and the burning passion with which he handles you. 

Regardless, once he gives you that permission, even though you didn't need it, your resolve breaks; he presses in deep, grinds his hips against yours so the coarse curls at the base of him brush your over-sensitive clit, and then you're gone, spots in your vision as you cling to him, your cunt fluttering and throbbing around the thick cock splitting you open as your release drips down him, soaking his lap. 

Joel groans, almost cums right there, because he can count on both hands and feet how long it's been since he made a woman cum so hard, felt a pussy spasm around his cock and gush fluids into his lap.  Fuck, if he doesn't love it.

"Not gonna last much longer, sweetheart," he warns, voice low and rough as he rubs circles on your back, trying to get you through it whilst holding back his own release.

"Please-" Your voice is hoarse, eyes wide and pleading as you look at him, not bothering to finish your sentence and instead leaning in to kiss him.

It's the kiss that pushes him over the edge; years of rough, emotionless encounters, against walls. Bent over surfaces. And here you are, younger than him, softer somehow, kissing him like he's someone good and deserving.

He knows he should pull out of you but it's too late, his cock aches and twitches inside you as his release fills your still fluttering cunt, breaking the kiss only so he can rest his head on your shoulder and try to breathe.

Then your hands are in his hair again, stroking through the soft curls, getting him through the aftermath of his climax with the same gentle touch he gave you.

"Joel," you whisper his name and this time it's not a plea, not an impassioned moan, just your voice being gentle as you continue to stroke his hair.

"Hm?" He's content to just stay like this, actually, even if his joints are starting to protest. He'll deal with that later for another five, ten, fifteen minutes of this with you.

"You don't fuck like an old man." Your voice is soft. Sleepy. Like he's fucked any fire inside you out of you, lulled you into a sense of safety.

Joel can't help it. He laughs, a proper laugh that barely anyone gets out of him these days.

"Guess not, huh."

He feels his softening cock slip out of you, wraps his arms around you and tucks you against his chest.

"Can we do this again?" You dare to ask, because you're feeling sleepy and stupid and high on him, on the feeling of his seed slowly dripping down your thighs as he presses little kisses to your head.

Joel looks down at you for a moment, understands you don't mean right now, but in a sort of ambiguous future way.

"Yeah, sweetheart. Whenever you want. You want a blanket or something?"

Because inexplicably he's worried that you might be cold, as if he's only been watching you to think with his cock and doesn't actually, possibly, maybe care.

You shake your head and nuzzle back into his chest.

"Can we just stay like this for a minute?" You ask instead, and Joel nods, because he really does need to catch his breath, and even if his knees are protesting, he doesn't give a damn, because you're nice and warm in his lap and you fit there just right, like you were made to fit there.

"Yeah, baby. As long as you want."

It won't occur to him until maybe a week or so later, when you're picking strawberries in the greenhouse, that that should have been the moment he realised he was a total, utter goner.

[tangerineastronaut]

Let's Put the End in Friends | Jackson Wang (Part 2)

Part 1

The one where your best friend/sort of boyfriend really wants to fuck you.

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, SMUT, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 7.8k Warnings: reader is bad at feelings, jackson is in love, two horny weirdos, "begging" for sex (but not in a bad/manipulative way there's a mutual understanding ok), oral - fem!receiving (the man eats it like cake even after he hits), unprotected sex (don't do it unless you're best friends with Jackson Wang and I'm guessing you aren't), discussion of contraceptives, breeding kink sorta kinda heh, brief talk of having kids in future, banter, teasing, name calling, dirty talk, I think that's all?? they're still really annoying except just horny now A/N: Ughhhh here's the part two that I desperately wanted to write and finally people requested it!! This chapter is like 15% feelings and 85% smut, but it's all kinda mixed in so I apologize in advance. Jfc I love these two so much. If this is bad I'm sorry! I love writing where it takes me and it all felt right. I love my readers so much. <3 Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

You hadn’t really known what to expect. 

In dramas, after a confession, things were usually a little awkward, shy, sweet. But the day after Jackson confessed to you, he nearly bit your hand off when you tried to steal one of his dumplings. Granted, you bit him first, but it was his job to be chivalrous, not yours. 

“Um, maybe eat your own before you try to steal mine?”

“I’m literally just a girl, Jackson.”

A few weeks after said confession, things were still mostly the same, as you were awoken by someone pinching your cheek. Bleary eyed, you squinted, looking up at a very hot, very annoyed face. 

“Where the hell is my academy sweatshirt? I’m gonna be late for my shift,” he huffed, giving you another pinch. Jackson worked part time at an MMA academy, teaching a class of young children. Unfortunately, that meant three days out of the week, he had to wake up at 7 in the morning to be ready by 8. And if he was up, so were you. 

“I dunno,” you whined groggily, rolling over. “I didn’t wear it. Promise.”

“Liar,” he accuses. 

“Mmn. ‘m not lying, check my laundry.”

You hear shuffling, the sound of your hamper being opened (filled with clean clothes, because dirty clothes go on the bathroom floor of course), and quickly tug the blanket over your head as Jackson calls your bluff. 

“At least it’s clean,” you attempt to plead your case, but the covers are yanked off. You yelp as Jackson flips you onto your back and begins to tickle you. 

“Didn’t wear it, huh? Seriously, of all my clothes?” he snarls, fingers digging into your sides. You can’t speak; you instead make animalistic noises of possession as you attempt to free yourself. You wrap your legs around his waist and shove at his chest, shouting apologies in between fits of laughter. 

At last, the tickling ends, and you all but collapse against the sheets, sprawled out like half a starfish. 

“I’m going to start charging you for the things you steal,” Jackson says, breathless himself from the efforts of torture. Only then are you made aware that his hands are on your thighs. You don’t think he’s doing it on purpose, until you do, when he squeezes them beneath his palms and brushes his thumbs under your pajama shorts. 

“Hey,” you warn, wriggling beneath him. He laughs and leans over you. 

“What?”

“You know what. Get off of me.”

He sighs, letting his head drop down as though weary. 

When he looks at you again, his eyes have gone all soft, and it makes you feel warm and tingly inside. You swallow and force yourself to look away. You weren’t completely immune to his charms and didn’t want to risk it, answering the question he hadn’t asked. 

“Nope.”

That was the deal. 

Kissing was alright—as long as it wasn’t too long or too deep. Touching was fine too, just avoid any erogenous zones. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why you’d placed such heavy restrictions on your…relationship? Whatever this was. Probably because at the end of the day, you were still terrified of losing him. Of crossing a bridge that crumbles behind you, never being able to return to where you were. 

Right now, the two of you could still be around your friends, could still shamelessly flirt and insist it isn’t flirting. When you’d shown up to dinner with the guys, your hand clasped in Jackson’s to test the waters, no one said a word. Youngjae crinkled his nose and said it was cringe…and that’s it. That was the only reaction. The only people surprised about this development were the two of you, apparently, mostly you. And, you hadn’t realized how horny you were for one another. 

When you’d stare at him after a shower, when he had the audacity to drink juice from the carton wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, you noticed that…you’ve always stared. That wasn’t new. It’s just that you were now aware of it, and also very aware of how it felt to see his throat working as he swallows, beads of water dripping down his chest and following the dip of his abs like a treasure map for your tongue—

But it went both ways, fortunately, as Jackson’s playful way of grabbing your waist when you were busily bent over no longer felt fun, but rather, made you want to push against him, feel his hands sliding elsewhere, because god had they always been so big? Had his fingers always been so long?

Presently, Jackson rolls his eyes and kisses your cheek. You refuse to look at him still, so he tilts down, where his lips brush your throat; when your head snaps up to scold him, he takes the opportunity to catch your lips with his, sighing as though relieved. 

Kissing him feels so normal that it’s almost painful, like every second his lips are against yours, you ask yourself why you were so stupid, why you hadn’t noticed before, why you hadn’t understood that the feelings you’ve had for him were being confused for platonic when they were much, much closer to something akin to lo—

“Mmff…ou’re ‘unna ‘ee ate,” you mumble, though Jackson doesn’t stop kissing you. You giggle as your words are slurred by his mouth, which in turn makes him smile, which in turn makes you wrap your arms around his neck and consider begging him to let the kids down just this once. 

You know he wouldn’t hesitate. So that’s why you groan and push him away. You squirm from beneath him before he can snatch you up, fixing your pajamas as though you were preparing to walk the red carpet. When you look up at Jackson, he’s on his knees on your bed, hands gripping the covers and head tilted to the side. Oh. 

“Stop looking at me like that, puppy boy,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. You cross your arms, taking on the weight of the world’s strongest soldier as Jackson fucking Wang silently begs to bend you over the mattress

Jackson lets his legs slip over the side, feet planted on the floor as he tugs you toward him by the strings of your shorts. You whine in protest—losing a drawstring was so—

“I think you like it when I beg,” Jackson says, voice too low to be good for your health. You look at him in surprise, his expression hasn’t really changed, but why did he have to do this to you?

“I think you’re gonna be late,” you huff, feeling your cheeks redden. 

“I think you’re cute when you blush.”

“I think—”

“I think we’re gonna be good for each other.”

“It was my turn,” you pout. “I think you need a cold shower.”

Jackson mumbles something you don’t catch as he nuzzles his face against your stomach. His arms hang loosely around your hips, and you’re once again left with emotional whiplash as the man somehow goes from fuck me~ to hold me in the span of a few seconds. You swallow and rake your fingers through his hair (which he pulls at less nowadays, thanks to your nagging). 

“I want to,” you say quietly, nails scratching at his head. “But I’m scared. Like…we could probably bounce back from this, and from holding hands and even kissing. But I’m afraid that I’d never be able to, you know, not hurt around you the further we go if things turn out bad. We just don’t know what’ll happen if we commit. That’s scary.”

To your surprise, Jackson squeezes you tighter. He tilts his head back to look up at you, his chin resting just above your belly button. 

“What is it gonna take, pie?” he asks softly. Your brows furrow, though he continues. “What’s it gonna take for you to realize I’ve been yours this entire time?”

Your breath catches in your throat; you know he can feel it from the way your stomach tightens. He noses at the material of your top, planting a kiss there. Then the bastard opens his mouth again. You can taste his words.

“You own me, baby.”

You wake up confused and sweaty, fumbling around for your phone. You grab the device and groan—it’s not even five in the morning, and it’s a saturday. 

The dream woke you up. You and Jackson had an idea to conserve water, apparently, sharing a shower too small for one person let alone two. Your brain filled in the blanks for the missing information, unfortunately for you, though you had no doubt he was as beautiful in this reality, too.

It was almost impossible for you to go back to sleep after waking up usually, so you throw the covers off with much more attitude than necessary before quietly stepping out of your room. The light beneath Jackson’s door is off, and you tiptoe down the hall, but when you round the corner to the kitchen you gasp in surprise. 

Jackson raises a brow at you, taking a sip from the bottle of water in his hand. He’s wearing nothing but black boxers, showing off the lean muscles he works so hard on. So very hard. 

“You’re up?” he asks, and by his raspy tone it’s clear he woke up not long before you. You nod and shrug for no reason at all other than to distract from the fact that your eyes are eating him alive. He has the sexiest bedhead, and the thin chain he wears glints as it drapes over his collar bones.

“Thirsty,” you lie. You move past him to reach the fridge, but an arm hooks around your waist. You inhale sharply as you’re tugged against his chest, the warmth of him shooting tingles down your back. You swallow, and he holds the bottle in front of you. 

“Here,” he mumbles. He sounds so casual, like his actions hadn’t just made your soul briefly leave your physical form. You take the water from him and tilt your head back for a sip, not having realized how thirsty you were until you’ve finished half of it. 

You turn around, though he doesn’t release you, so you remain pressed to his bare chest. You have no idea why, but you lean forward and kiss him just below his collar bone, realizing too late how cruel you were being. In an attempt to make it chaste, you kiss the other side, right above his heart, though Jackson’s hand flies to your hair. He cups the back of your head and refuses to let you move. 

“Jackson,” you protest, but he whines. 

He fucking. Whines. 

“Please, pie. Just keep your lips on me. Please,” he breathes. You exhale a shaky breath and nod. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, and you swear he sighs with relief. You watch his face, tilting in again and pressing another kiss to the same spot as before. Jackson nods, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. 

You kiss the center of his chest, lips dragging over his skin to his left pec. When you move a tad bit lower, this time where his heart beats, he hisses and tightens his grip in your hair. You gasp for all the right reasons, though he doesn’t know that.  

“Fuck, sorry,” he whispers as though the two of you are sneaking around rather than doing…whatever this was in the middle of your shared kitchen. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you giggle softly. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

Jackson looks down at you, his expression morphing completely into…calmness? But it still puts you on edge. 

“What’d I say?” you ask with a frown. 

“I haven’t had sex in almost a year,” he admits. 

You blink. 

“You…what?” you breathe, shaking your head. “But, you’ve had tinder…you’ve gone on dates.”

Jackson pulls you close again, silently asking for more kisses. You realize he might’ve been right…you like when he begs. You kiss him as he asks, this time close to his nipple, and he shudders.

“I’m not gonna fuck a girl who wants more than I can give her,” he says. You mouth over his skin, tongue reaching the edge of his areola. You like his answer. 

“Why can’t you give her what she wants?” you ask, knowing what he’ll say but wanting to hear it all the same. Jackson knows this too, but he’s more than happy to give you what you want. 

“Because she—fuck—”

Your tongue lathes over his nipple and he grips the counter tight. 

“—’cause she’s not you,” he finishes. “None of them are. Can’t be anything for anyone except you. Wanna…wanna be everything to you.”

“You are…you are…” you mumble carelessly, barely kissing him, but rather rubbing your mouth on his chest. He seems more than okay with that, his head falling back, though he shakes it. 

“I’m not, baby. I’ve got so much to give you, gonna show you what it’s like to be loved right, fucked right, needed right. I need you, y/n. I-I fucking need you so bad. Always have.”

You were supposed to be turning him on, not getting choked up, but you pulled back and covered your face. Jackson was still a little breathless and out of it, but he grabbed at your wrists.

“Sorry, fuck, was that…was that bad? I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you mumble, wiping helplessly at tears that slide down your cheeks. Jackson pulls you forward, crushing you to his chest. He wraps both arms around you so tight you can barely breathe. You love it. 

What else do you love?

You love that you can feel his cock pressing against the inside of your thigh, that you can feel how much he wants from you. You swallow your tears and reach between you, your palm finding the thick outline beneath his boxers and squeezing. 

Jackson’s reaction is visceral and downright sinful. He jumps, then buries his face into your hair. 

“Again, p-please,” he mumbles. You do it again. There’s a weird mix between sadness and horniness between you, but you keep going, sliding your hand up and down his clothed length. He’s definitely thick and a little longer than average, but not frighteningly so. 

Thick enough to make you choke, but not enough to bruise your cervix. Perfect. Somehow, you think you know exactly what it feels like to be fucked by him. 

“Jesus fuck—I don’t care if I get to fuck you, just please…let me taste you, baby,” Jackson grunts, hips lazily bucking against you. 

That…sounds alright with you. You take your hand off his cock and grab his wrist to pull him to his room, but he twists you around so that your back is to the counter. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, but the words die on your tongue when he drops to his knees. 

“J-Jackson, you don’t have t-to…”

“Shh, baby,” he mumbles, cupping the backs of your thighs. You feel dumb, forgetting how to speak. “Let me make you feel good. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make when you play with yourself.”

Your cheeks flush pink, Jackson’s words hardly registering in your brain. He hooks his fingers into the elastic of your pajama shorts, leaning forward to kiss the front of your thigh before he begins tugging them down. 

“W-What do you mean when I pla—oh…”

Jackson doesn’t hesitate, going face first between your legs and groaning. The vibrations ring through your inner thighs and go straight to your clit, nearly sending you down. He hadn’t even touched you properly yet. 

“If you tell me you didn’t want me to hear you fucking yourself, I’m gonna call you a liar,” he whispers. His lips graze over the hair you keep trimmed—you could be a little self conscious about that at times, a couple past partners even commenting on it, but Jackson is worshipping your pussy without words and you’ve never felt so perfectly adequate. 

You think over what he said once you regain a little bit of consciousness. And fuck.

You were tired of this sort of hindsight ability you had now, the way you felt when you thought back to the times you were so obviously head over heels in love with him and had convinced yourself you were friends. 

Like fucking yourself with your favorite toy, back to the wall splitting your rooms. Moaning loud even though you didn’t do that when he wasn’t home.

“S-Sorry,” you whimper, because what the fuck else are you supposed to say? You feel warmth as Jackson breathes a laugh against your thighs, teeth grazing the sensitive skin near your labia. 

“It’s okay, baby. Just do it again for me, hm? While I’m in the same room at least?”

Did he have to be such a fucking brat? You thought “pie” and his attitude would disappear after all of this, but you were sorely mistaken. You opened your mouth to complain.

Jackson pushed your thighs open wider, settling between them and looking up at you from his knees. You squeaked, and the last thing you saw before his face disappeared was that smug grin underneath his pretty brown eyes. 

You learned two lessons very quickly. One: 

Jackson Wang ate pussy like his life depended on it. 

And two, you were immediately jealous of any woman who’d ever had him like this, on his knees between their legs. This should be illegal. 

His tongue slid between your tender pussy lips, expertly finding your clit and daring to flick at it beneath the hood. Your knees did buckle, but he hugged your thighs and kept you upright, taking the opportunity to squeeze and knead at your ass. You reached down and gripped his hair for purchase, tugging, eliciting a groan from him that felt better than any dick you’d ever had. You did it again, and this time he practically sang praises into you—he was literally fucking you with his moans. 

“Jesus fuck, Jackson?” you ask, unable to do much else other than feel and squeak out your needs. His fingers dug into the plushness of your thighs, though one hand slipped beneath your shirt. His thumb grazed over your nipple before gently pinching it, and you were ready to die. 

When he sucked the tender flesh of your clit into his mouth, you stumbled forward, nearly sending him back until he caught you by the waist. You whimper and tug at him to let you go until finally, he pulls away from your cunt, looking far too pleased with shiny lips. He licks them and you fall into his lap, shuddering as you cling to him. 

“That bad, huh? Should I keep my day job?” He teases you gently, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other hugs you tighter. You can still feel his cock straining against his boxers, nearly perfectly aligned as it presses against your ass. 

“S-Shut up, a-asshole,” you stammer out, gripping his shoulders tightly for comfort—or maybe dear life. Jackson chuckles in a way that makes you feel safe and annoyed—because how can he send you to fucking space and then try to convince you it’s all good and dandy with the same mouth?

“You okay baby?” he asks softly. When you nod, he pulls back enough to kiss your temple, though keeps his lips there. You swallow, having a feeling that he wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

“Was it good?” he asks.

“Very c-classy,” you manage to huff, but Jackson only laughs. 

“Mmm. Knew you’d taste good. Knew you’d love me on my knees,” he hums. You shiver, and he moves to your ear, nipping at your lobe. “Knew you’d look so pretty while I eat it.”

You let out a soft whine, your hips rolling into his. You’re spreading your sticky juices along his clothed cock, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he grabs your waist and bites his lower lip. 

“Are you done? Hm? Or can I take you to my room and finish you off?” Jackson asks, tilting his head to kiss below your ear. “Lay you down and hold you open until that pretty clit is nice and swollen…”

“F-Fuck,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. “N-No.”

“M’kay, need me to run you a bath then? I bought some new bath bombs—”

“No I meant…” you breathe, letting your head drop to his shoulder. You were dizzy, but your thoughts had never been more clear. Not necessarily a decision out of desperation, just…it needed to happen. You needed it. 

“I-I don’t want you to eat me out, Jackson,” you say as you swallow. 

You lift your head, relieved to see there’s no frustration in his gaze, no disappointment. God, he’s really just here to make sure you’re happy, safe, comfortable. 

“I want…I want you to fuck me.”

“Why are we in your room?”

“My bed is bigger.”

“When’s the last time you washed your sheets?”

“I don’t know, pie. When’s the last time you washed my sheets?”

You crinkle your nose, but Jackson just rolls his eyes. He drags you onto the bed with him, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it in your face. You sniff, your eyes immediately narrowing. 

“Have you seriously been washing your bedding regularly now under the implication that we’d fuck soon?” you hiss, sitting up to glare at him. He was sprawled out, looking much too happy for your liking.

“Yes,” he says gleefully. You grab the pillow and make an attempt to suffocate him, but he doesn’t fight back, and that’s not very fun. 

Oh yeah! You’re also only wearing his a t-shirt, and he’s only wearing boxers, and his cock is very hard and you’d very much like to put it in your mouth now that you’ve recovered somewhat from his tongue.

“You’re such a boy,” you groan, throwing the pillow back to the headboard. Jackson nods, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“Yeah. Take this off and sit on my face please,” he hums, lying back as though preparing to be sacrificed to the thigh smothering gods. 

“How romantic,” you scoff. 

“Come sit on my face so I can make you cry the only way a man should make a woman cry, please~”

“Better.”

With the back and forth out of the way, you can’t bring yourself to smile, pulling your knees to your chest. Jackson sits up, reaching out to take one of your hands in his large one. 

“Hey, no expectations, remember? You wanna stop right now, we’ll stop and never do anything like this again. You want me to finish you off, that’s fine too,” he says, thumb brushing the back of your knuckles. You shake your head. 

“No. I think…I think we should. We need to, I mean, otherwise we’re gonna be in limbo forever. But…” you pause, feeling your eyes burn a little damn it. When you look up at him, his boyish charm is gone, replaced completely by a concerned man who almost looks in love with you. 

“Hm? What is it, pie?” he asks, coaxing you gently. Ugh—why did sex have to be so god damn complicated?

“Promise me,” you say, biting your lower lip as you gather your words. “Promise me if we hate it, if it’s bad, just…stay with me? Like, forever? Please don’t move out? I mean if you have to get married just try to find someone who’s nice enough to let me stay? I’ll do the laundry. We can be like a throuple except you both just have to feed me and nothing else.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“Nevermind, let’s just do it.”

Jackson laughed as you flopped onto your back, though he leaned over you and caught your chin in his hand. You avoided looking at him, but he tilted your head down and pressed his forehead to yours to prevent you from escaping his eyes.

“I know you’re allergic to that word—”

“I am not—”

“But I love you. I love y/n and I love pie and I love the girl who thinks ‘coinkydink’ is an appropriate alternative for ‘coincidence’—”

“It is but okay—”

Jackson rolls his eyes, cupping your cheek under the romantic guise of making you shut up by pressing his thumb to your lips. 

“Do you know why I want to fuck you?” he asks, his voice oddly gentle for such an erotic question. You blink, he lifts his thumb. 

“Um, ‘cause I’m hot?” you offer with a shrug. His thumb goes back to your lips. 

“Yes, but the truth? I want to make love to you but I assumed your reaction to that phrasing would be…”

Jackson lifts his thumb. 

“Cringe?” 

“Correct,” he smiles. “I’m gonna do what I can so the next man you meet has to climb to fucking heaven to reach the lowest bar for you. I’m nowhere near perfect, but I’ll be damned if you leave my bed able to call your best friend and complain that your inner thigh got more action than you did.”

You pout and push his hand away. 

“That was one time,” you mumble. “If sex with you sucks, who am I gonna call? Yugyeom?”

“I dare you to fucking try,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. You beam, attempting to boop his nose, but he leans forward and kisses you instead. “If you leave this bed and hate me after, I’ll move out before sunset. And if you want me to l-o-v-e you for the rest of your life, I’ll do that too. I told you, pie. I’m yours.”

You kiss him this time, turning into him and cupping his jaw. Why couldn’t he see that the more of this he showed you, the less you wanted to risk it all disappearing? 

You tilt your head to the side, nuzzling your face against his throat to plant kisses there. He inhales, leg sliding between yours as a hand strokes your hair. 

“Mm…what do you want, y/n?” he asks, groaning when you suck beneath his jaw. 

“Wanna suck you off,” you mumble against his skin, relishing in the heavy groan you feel from him. “Then I want you to fuck me.”

“I can do that,” Jackson nods, licking his lips. You release him and sit up, looking over his stretched out form. He was so fucking gorgeous, and you were in his bed.

You place a hand in the center of his chest, and Jackson sits up on his elbows, his thighs parting eagerly. You giggle, gently kneeing his side. 

“Patience,” you hum, dragging your hand down to his abs, letting your fingertips dip between the muscles. You remembered all those times you fantasized about drawing your tongue against them—realizing you can. So you throw a leg over his, sliding down until you’re hovering over his thighs, face level with his hips. 

One hand rests on the elastic of his boxers while the other palms his abs. You look up at him as you drag your finger through the lines, following the shape of his muscles. He’s tense, but still coherent, so your other hand slides down to palm him again. 

Jackson curses under his breath, eyes never leaving yours. So you lean down and flatten your tongue below his navel. He gasps as you lick down the thin trail of hair that disappears beneath his boxers, kissing the sensitive skin there before moving up again. Jackson whines, and you lift a brow. 

“You’re not being very patient,” you say, kissing his stomach before licking up to his chest. Jackson’s head falls back, one hand moving to your hair. 

“It’s been almost a year, pie,” he groans. “Want this…want you…”

You giggle softly. When you palm him again, curling your fingers around his constricted length, Jackson practically flies off the bed, grabbing your wrist. 

“Baby, I will let you suck my cock until the sun explodes, just…please not now, I’m so fucking close, wanna be inside you…” he breathes. You’re surprised to see his chest flushed and heaving, not having realized how worked up he was over just a few light touches. You swallow and nod.

He smiles in relief, pulling you in for a kiss before sitting up on his knees, gently guiding you back. It’s a little jarring, suddenly being underneath your best friend, but Jackson immediately gives you gentle kisses, whispering your name and promises to make you feel good. You believe him. 

You lie there awkwardly as he reaches over you to the bedside table, removing a foil packet. You feel your cheeks redden, which makes him chuckle, and you mumble a quiet shut up. When he holds the condom packet between his teeth and thumbs the waist of his boxers, you realize that you should probably be naked, too. So you cross your arms over the hem of the t-shirt, tugging it over your head and tossing it to the side. 

The condom drops and bounces off your thigh as Jackson’s lips part in shock.

“What?” you mumble shyly, bringing your arms to your chest. He clears his throat and fumbles for the condom, shaking his head. 

“Nothing. You’re gorgeous. Knew you were, just..." he sucks in air through his teeth.

You blush harder, resisting the urge to tell him to hurry. 

Jackson manages to slide his boxers down to his thighs. His cock, once freed, smacks his toned stomach and you grip the covers at your sides as you watch an enticing bead of precum slide down the shaft. It’s exactly as you’d imagined; a little bigger than average, thick, and so beautifully veiny. God it’d feel so good on your tongue, but later. The idea that, hopefully in the future you could suck his beautiful cock whenever you wanted to, made you happier than you’d ever admit to anyone.

You watch as he rolls the condom down his length, swallowing down your doubts as he drops to his forearms on either side of you. 

“You okay?” he asks, no humor, no teasing, just genuine concern. You nod and lick your lips. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you say with a shaky breath. Jackson smiles, leaning forward until your noses bump. The action makes you giggle until you realize he’s fitting your mouths together, and suddenly he’s kissing you. 

It’s gentle and soft, his lips sucking at your lower one but moving no further than that. Your arms move to loosely hang around his shoulders, where both of his slip beneath you. You feel the head of his cock brush over your clit and jump. Jackson chuckles. It happens again, but this time, the swollen head catches against the opening between your folds, and you can already feel the stretch, wriggling your hips as if to wedge him in. 

Jackson begins to push. 

The stretch is slow, heavy, delicious, both of you releasing sounds of relief with eyes rolling back into your skulls as though you’ve both spent four years pretending you don’t want this. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, he squeezes you tight beneath him as he sinks deeper and deeper. At last, his hips meet yours, and Jackson Wang, your best friend, is balls deep inside of you. You squeeze your eyes closed, overwhelmed by the sudden and intense sensations and emotions.

“Are you okay? Feels okay, baby?” he asks softly, clearly restraining himself. You nod, licking your lips. 

“Mhm. It’s good. So good,” you babble. Jackson chuckles, nodding as he kisses you again. It’s sweeter this time, moreso as he begins to slide out. The drag of his cock makes you shudder, and you clamp your thighs tight around his waist. 

“That’s it,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Lock me up inside you, baby. So fucking pretty.”

You purr in response, arching your back. Jackson takes this as a go ahead, pushing himself up to his palms as he begins to fuck you properly. 

You feel your mouth open in shock as he thrusts rhythmically, the switch between emptiness and fullness making your head spin. Every time his hips smack the backs of your thighs, another grunt escapes his mouth, and fuck if you couldn’t listen to that sound for the rest of your life. 

Jackson leans down and kisses you. This time, you make sure it’s not as sweet, sucking his tongue and letting him lick yours. You taste his groan as he bucks heavily, pausing to collect himself. Your legs hook around his waist, heel digging into his lower spine, making him moan. 

“F-Fuck baby, gonna make me come already,” he breathes, letting his head hang down. You smile, cupping his face and pulling him into you. 

“So sensitive,” you purr. Jackson huffs.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” he hums, wincing at his own sharp thrust. “Maybe I should pull out and leave that gorgeous head to wonder what it’d be like.”

“You won’t,” you reply, calling his bluff. “If I begged you, I bet you’d go raw.”

Jackson surges forward, hands moving behind your knees as he folds you nearly in half. You choke on air and look up at him, wondering why the fuck you've forced yourself to wait for this.

“You don’t have to beg for shit. Don’t fucking tempt me, y/n.”

Your mouth opens at his tone, but he begins to fuck you harder, gripping your form against him as he gives you everything he has. Your whines turn into muffled cries as he tucks your face into his shoulder. 

“Shh…let’s not let the neighbors know I’m finally inside you baby…that’s it, quietly…take it for me, yeah?” he hums, and you whimper, digging your nails into his skin. Your legs bounce uselessly where he holds them in place, giving him room to be flush against your ass each time he bottoms out. 

“Can’t wait for you to let me lick this sweet little cunt until you cry,” he murmurs, leaning back to slip a hand between you. You jump when he immediately finds your clit, index and middle finger repeatedly alternating pressure. He’s a god damned expert, and you feel yourself clenching tight around the obstruction of his cock. 

“Fuck…is that all it takes? You’re squeezing me like a fucking vice, y/n," Jackson groans. “More, baby. That’s it…fuck. So fucking good.”

“J-Jackson,” you huff, squirming beneath the pressure of his weight. “Nng…f-feels so good…”

“Yeah, princess? Just like you've dreamed about?"

Fuck. He always knew, knew you too well, were you made of glass?

"Y-yeah," you whimper, choosing not to lie. "B-Better."

Jackson kisses you again, his hand slowing its movements to match his hips. 

“Show me,” he says roughly, obviously close himself. “I wanna feel you cum, baby. Want my cock shiny and sticky like my tongue was.”

“Mm..don’t stop, ‘m close,” you breathe. You tuck your hands into his hair, tugging at the strands, knowing what kind of response you’d experience. He groans, as expected, though pulls back and pushes your thighs apart. 

He looks down at your cunt swallowing his cock whole as he rubs at your hooded clit, cursing and biting his lip. Your cheeks flush despite everything, and when his eyes flicker to your face—you’re not sure what to call that expression if not love. 

You want him to cum first. You bring his hand away from your clit and up to your lips, kissing the wet pads of his fingers before slipping them into your mouth. Jackson lets out a high pitched noise that you can’t wait to tease him over later as he watches you suck them. 

He swallows and leans forwards, pulling your fingers away from your mouth to kiss you. You think it’s an accident, the intimacy, but the kiss is soft, so soft that he stops thrusting and you stop trying to make him cum, so soft that you’re suddenly crying and hugging him and apologizing for being a fucking idiot. 

“Hey, ‘s okay baby, I’m here,” he whispers, his own eyes wet. “Stop crying, y/n. I’m right here. I’m yours. I’ll still be yours tomorrow. Shh...”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you breathe, burying your head against his throat despite the fact that his cock is kissing the opening of your cervix currently. “I was scared, Jackson, so fucking scared, I-I think I loved you so much that I scared myself into thinking I couldn’t.”

“Huh?” he asks, knowing damn well what you said according to the stupid grin on his face. You roll your eyes, using the back of your hand to wipe at your tears. 

“I said I love you, asshole,” you whisper, sniffling. “And ‘m not gonna say it again.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, pulling your hands down to wipe your tears himself. “Fine. I’ll just memorize the way you sound when you say it and play it over and over until we live in a nursing home together."

"You roll your eyes, smiling through the teariness. Only you would cry in the middle of sex, but Jackson seemed to love this, taking it as your not-so-silent confession. 

He eventually shifts again, making you shudder despite the fact that he was only getting comfortable. He prepares to ask—you already know—want me to stop? So you shake your head before he gets the words out. 

“I want it, you know, without,” you say instead, shyly looking up at him from your elbows. Jackson looks a little confused, and you sigh, gesturing around as if that’s helpful at all. “You know. Without.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying, pie—”

“I’m saying I want you to fuck me, and then I want you to tell me you love me so I can say it back without dying, and then I want to go to the pharmacy with you and get plan b even though I’m on birth control because we’d make cute babies but I wanna wait like 10 years probably. So, like, without? If you want?”

You finish your monologue, your cheeks burning hot. You flop to your back and cover your face, once again forgetting about the cock buried inside of you. Jackson doesn’t, of course.

“Are you asking me to hit it raw—”

“Must you be so unromantic—”

“Shut up and c’mere,” he mumbles. He leans down, pulling you up enough to kiss you. You feel him shuffling between you, embarrassed by the gasp that slips out when he pulls back. Jackson smirks. There’s a snap of rubber and he winces as he removes the condom, tossing it into his desk trash can. 

“Easy, baby. He’ll be back,” he chuckles. 

“I’m actually going to kill you,” you groan. But then he’s pushing into you again, and fuck if the look on his face doesn’t make you want to buy a first class ticket to hell. 

“Fucking…jesus…baby…” he gasps. You giggle, though he just pushes you back to hide the apparent blush on his cheeks. 

“That bad huh?” you mock him, feeling him bottom out, completely. He curses and dips his head to kiss you, but it’s messy and desperate and feeds the fire that’s been burning inside of you for too long. 

“So fucking…nng…so fucking pretty,” he says with a sharp snap of his hips. You gasp, clinging to his shoulders as he leans down. He kisses you again, hard, palms flattening on the bed on either side of your hips. He uses the leverage to fuck you harder, leaning over you until you’re pinned beneath him. 

“D-Didn’t know it’d turn you into an animal,” you giggle breathlessly, hand fisting his hair. He groans and tilts his head to the side. 

“You turn me into a fucking animal, baby,” Jackson grunts. “Makes me…makes me want to do stupid things, like fuck you without a condom and cum so deep the pill doesn’t do shit to stop it—”

“Jackson—”

“You said it first. Still gonna make you swallow the pill with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

You squeak and tug him down for a filthy kiss, tongues barely missing the mark as his thrusts become loose and sloppy. He’s fucking himself dumb, gripping the sheets and whining against your mouth like a dog. 

“G-Gotta make you cum. Gotta make it good for you,” he breathes, reaching between you. You pull his hand away, shaking your head. He begins to argue but you squeeze your thighs around his waist, making him shudder and stumble. He falls against you, cursing into your hair as he continues his thrusts. 

“Want you to cum first,” you whisper, hugging him tight. “Want you to fill me up like you said, so fucking deep—"

He groans, leaning on you and thrusting heavy as he snaps his hips forward. His speed remains the same, but you can hear the sound of his hips meeting your ass like he's trying to bury himself in you indefinitely.

"T-That's...fuck..." you whimper, nodding. "Good, that's good."

“Ah…ah…” Jackson whines, shaking his head. “F-Fuck, baby…gonna cum, is that…is that okay? Fucking…ah…c-can I cum?”

Oh. Oh.

You were going to explore this later, him asking permission to cum. But not now. 

“Please, Jax. Please cum for me, in me?” you beg softly. “Promise, I’ll take it so good."

“Fuck, I know you will, princess. Know you’ll take it all so good for me…so perfect, so fucking beautiful…all mine, baby…”

Jackson clings to you so tight you have trouble breathing, but you feel him shudder, hear him gasp, and you squeeze him back just as much. He releases a sob into your hair, his muscles tensing as he cums hard. You feel his cock pulsing, the warmth spreading inside of you, and realize with a start that you’re feeling his actual cum seeping into your womb. 

You rub his back for a few minutes while he recovers, until he finally sits up and hisses at the sensitivity of his softening cock still buried in you. When he tugs away, it’s your turn to gasp, shivering at the cool emptiness you feel. 

“Was that okay?” he asks quietly, hands pushing your thighs apart. You nod. 

“Yeah, ‘s good. What are you—shit.”

Jackson knelt between your legs, lips first kissing your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. You all but scream, trying to clamp your legs together, but his easy strength prevents that. 

“F…Jackson...fuck, w-what are you doing?” you whimper again, trying to push yourself up to look at him. He uses a hand on the soft of your belly, pushing you back down. He pops off of your clit, free hand taking over the strokes. 

“My babygirl didn’t cum. I’m gonna make sure she does,” he explains as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“B-But you…your cum…”

“Mhm, keep reminding me,” he moans, tongue slipping beneath the hood of your clit while two long fingers prod at your sore hole. You wince, but he slowly eases them in, his own cum working as lube. Rather than move them, he holds them there, gently stroking inside of your walls while he laps freely between your labia. 

In a frighteningly short amount of time, you’re coming off the bed (literally) with a cry of surprise, mumbling his name over and over again as though he could save you from the crushing pleasure you felt. Your thighs clamped around his head, though he made no move to escape, apparently right where he wanted to be as it allowed him to continue sucking and licking the sensitive bundle of nerves until your legs trembled violently. 

It stole your breath, and you saw stars, mixed in a few moments later with a boyish grin and someone peppering your face with kisses. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, definitely if you were comparing him to other men. Well. There was no comparison. 

You could only imagine how it'd feel with his cock as deep as it was. Next time. You'd suck his cock, cum on it...maybe make him beg to do the same.

Jackson is patient enough to wait until you’ve mostly returned to your body before he smugly proclaims that he was right, the sex was great, and you owe him a backrub (don’t you usually have to make bets to win them in the first place?) but whatever, because you were fucked out and your boy was happy and probably planning your wedding. 

But once you attempted to sit up, wincing at the soreness of keeping your legs open, Jackson kissed you sweetly and urged you to lie down again. He left for a few minutes, returning with boxers (darn it) and a bottle of water, which he forced you to sip whilst he ran you a bath. 

You were helped down the hall, feeling like a frail old lady after you insisted you could do it—and had to catch yourself by the doorframe as you walked like a baby deer. You informed him it wasn’t polite to laugh at people you’ve nearly fucked to death, regretting your words immediately as a somehow cocky Jackson became even cockier. 

He guided you into the bath, telling you to relax while he ran to the pharmacy. Before he left though, he knelt beside the tub, fingers tapping at the lava-like water you were soaking in.

“Do you like the smell?” he asks, resting his chin on his fist. You nod, letting your fingers find his and trying to pull them beneath the water. He compromised by pulling yours out, kissing the back of your knuckles. “Good. It’s strawberry scented.”

“Fucking me doesn’t make my bath bombs free real estate,” you say pointedly.

“Fucking me doesn’t make my clothes free real estate.”

You open your mouth, then purse your lips. 

“Touche.”

“I have something to ask,” he sighs, resting his lips on your hand. “It’s really important.”

Oh god. What. 

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice shaky. Jackson grins. 

“Just…did you like my cream, pie?”

You stare at him for a few seconds, contemplating the last hour and four years of your life. “I want a divorce.”

“I love you.”

“How…how long have you thought of that joke?” you ask. You didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Um…about 20 seconds after I called you pie for the first time? Not with you of course.”

“Well why in the god damn hell not with me!?”

“I mean? Yes with you?”

“Creep.”

“I love you.”

“I still want a divorce.”

“I still love you.”

“Nng.”

“That means I love you in worm?”

“...Yeah.”

“Heh~”

“Hey Jackson?”

“Mm?”

“Your lil sperms might be kinda fast? So like? Maybe leave now? I do love you but I will not have your babies right now?”

“Oh. Yeah. Be right back. Try not to make a baby with those in the meantime, they’re not ripe yet, you know?”

"...Hurry."

[lyvhie]

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “perv!127”.

| cw | perv behavior, masturbation, infidelity, alcohol consumption, stalking, fingering, oral (f), public sex, cockwarming, vouyerism, exhibitionism, pet names. | a/n | ill be honest, doyoung and haechan were my favorites, chat... btw i accidentaly posted this twice, i hate tumblr!! ANYWAYS, I HOPE I DID IT WELL (pls let me know, i have a hard time with this kind of thing)....

Mark really didn’t want to be like this, but he couldn’t help the dirty thoughts he had about his sweet girlfriend. It was getting harder and harder to control himself around you. You had decided to take things slow, to only move forward when you were both truly ready, especially you, since you were still a virgin. And maybe that was part of the reason behind his growing frustration.

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t have some kind of fetish about virgins. The problem was that you acted in such unintentionally provocative ways, and it was torture for him not being able to do everything he wanted with you.

Like when you walked around the house without a bra, your hard nipples poking through your shirt, practically begging for his mouth. It was even worse when you hugged him, and he could feel them pressed against his chest. Or when you were cuddling and he had you as the little spoon—you'd shift around a little, rubbing your ass against his cock, forcing him to mentally sing every kind of anthem he knew just to keep from getting hard.

And, of course, even if he really, really wanted to throw you on the bed and make love to you until sunrise, he would only ever do anything when you allowed it. That's why he was forced to find other ways to relieve himself...

"Nothing really important happened today," your cheerful voice blessed Mark's ears through the phone as you began to rant about your day. "Oh, right, baby, I almost forgot! Did you know they opened a geek store two blocks from here?"

"Oh, really?" he replied, voice low and hoarse. "Had no idea," he added, keeping his answers short. Not because he didn't care, but because every word you said made his cock throb. He just wanted to listen.

His free hand clutched the phone tighter against his ear. The other moved slowly, rhythmically, stroking his hard cock. Your voice. Your laugh. The way you called him "baby" so sweetly, so innocently, with no idea that he was falling apart on the other side of the line.

"And I bought you a few Spider-Man editions, they're so beautiful!" you continued, excitement bubbling in your voice. "Ugh, it was supposed to be a surprise, but I just had to tell you!”

He bit his lip hard as his imagination ran wild, picturing how you'd sound moaning his name instead of talking about comic book stores, how your body would tremble beneath him, how your breath would catch when he whispered filthy things against your ear. The way your tight little voice would break when he slid into you for the first time...

“Fuck, babe,” he hissed, throwing his head back against the headboard, his hand moving faster now.

“Mark?” your voice wavered, a note of concern slipping in. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, beautiful… just—” he gasped, forcing his voice to stay steady, “keep talking. Don’t stop. Please,” it came out almost like a whine, needy, strained, like he was hanging onto every word you said just to survive the moment.

As much as Doyoung liked to think of himself as a gentleman, even he couldn’t deny how filthy his thoughts had become. He should be ashamed of himself—lusting after you, his sweet, married neighbor. But shame did nothing to stop him. If anything, it only made it worse.

And the best part? Your marriage was crumbling. He had watched it happen, had listened patiently as you poured your heart out to him, seeking comfort in his presence. He had played the role of the good neighbor, the trusted friend.

But deep down, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Because every time you sat beside him, eyes glossy with frustration, lips trembling as you vented about your husband, all he could think about was how easy it would be to slip his hand between your thighs and show you exactly how a real man would treat you. And the way you looked at him sometimes—soft, vulnerable, needy—only made it harder to hold himself back. Just like now, as he watched you waste yourself with yet another can of beer, despite his weak attempts to stop you.

It was just another one of those nights, sitting together, talking about life, about how lonely you felt even with a husband waiting at home. By now, Doyoung already knew how weak you were to alcohol, how easily your sharp words turned slurred, how your usual restraint melted into something softer, looser.

His eyes followed the way your fingers toyed with the rim of the can, your lips slick from the drink, parted just slightly as you blinked up at him with that hazy, unfocused gaze. He swallowed hard, shifting in his seat. He shouldn’t be thinking about how easy it would be to push you back against the couch, to let his hands roam lower, to have you sighing his name instead of that bastard’s.

But fuck, you were making it so damn hard to be a good man.

“Dodo, am I not pretty?” Your innocent, slurred words snapped him out of his thoughts. You stared up at him through those drunken, doe-like eyes he couldn’t help but adore, making his heart skip a beat.

“What?” He quickly answered, voice tight, though his mind was already spiraling, his chest constricting. “Of course you are.”

But then, you leaned in just a little too close, your breath almost mingling with his, your face just a few inches apart, utterly unaware of the effect you had on him.

“Do you really think so?” Your pout deepened, and you seemed to search his gaze for reassurance, making him want to devour you.

He gulped, his throat dry. “Y-yes, I do,” he breathed, his voice shaking as he fought to keep his composure. “You're gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

And God, he meant every word, even if it was laced with thoughts he knew he shouldn’t have. He moved his hand up to your shoulder, slowly, appreciatively, letting his fingers glide down your arm, feeling the way you unintentionally shivered under his touch.

So responsive. So soft.

You were so close now, your breath warm against his skin, your lips parted ever so slightly. It wouldn’t hurt if he showed you just how much he liked you, right?

His palm cupped your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone, and his heart skipped a beat when you leaned into his touch without hesitation—so trusting, so unaware of the thoughts racing through his head.

Without a second thought, he found himself closing the gap, pressing his lips against your soft, pliant ones.

You tensed for a brief moment, as if processing what was happening, and even made a weak attempt to pull away—but he wasn’t having that. His grip tightened, holding you in place, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to keep you right where he wanted.

And the second his tongue slipped past your lips, tasting the lingering bitterness of alcohol, you melted.

Fuck, you had no idea what you were doing to him. And you also had no idea what you were doing at all.

You were drunk, completely out of yourself, vulnerable in a way that made his chest tighten and his cock throb. If you were kissing him so eagerly, pressing your body against his so willingly, he could probably do anything he wanted to you right now, and you wouldn’t even think to stop him.

His hand trailed lower, fingers caressing your jaw before slipping down to your neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his touch. His fingertips danced along the neckline of your clothes, toying with the fabric, brushing ever so slightly over your breasts.

Then, just to tease, he tugged at your bra over your clothes, watching how it pulled against your skin. The soft whine that slipped from your lips between kisses had his mind sinking into a hazy fog of lust, but at the same time, it snapped him back to reality.

He pulled away, breathless, watching as you panted softly. You looked so out of it, yet so content, and before he could say anything, you were already leaning in again, chasing his lips for another kiss. He let it happen, just for a second, just to feel you melt into him again, before he forced himself to stop. His hands found your shoulders, gripping them firmly as he gently pushed you away.

Not like this. Not tonight.

“Doyoung…” you whined in protest, a pout forming on your lips.

He bit his lower lip. You were really testing him.

“You’re too drunk, darling,” he murmured, forcing a weak smile as he brushed his thumb across your cheek, trying to keep himself in check. “I’m taking you home, hm?”

It killed him to say it, to pull away when you were right there, pliant, eager, looking at him like he was the only man in the world. But no matter how much he wanted you, he wanted you sober even more. He wanted you to remember, to crave him just as much when your mind was clear.

So, for now, he would be good.

Yuta couldn’t help it, he just loved to tease you. You were his cute, pretty makeup artist, always working so hard to make his already striking face shine even brighter on stage. Which meant you were around him all the time. And if you weren’t? Well, he made sure to personally request you. Only you. After all, you were the best at what you did.

His sharp eyes roamed over your face intently, catching every little reaction—the way you nervously pressed your lips into a thin line, how your brows furrowed slightly, and how your hands trembled as you carefully dabbed the brush against his skin.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement. “Why are you shaking so much?”

The question was laced with mock innocence, but you knew better. Especially with his hand resting high on your inner thigh, fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns against your skin, rubbing up and down as if he had all the time in the world.

You didn’t know exactly when this whole thing started, but by now, it had become a regular occurrence—Yuta all over you, always touching, always whispering filthy things in your ear when no one was looking. His hands would linger too long, his gaze would darken with something unmistakable, and no matter how many times you tried to put an end to it, he always had a way to pull you right back in.

If you so much as hinted at resistance, he’d play his favorite card: the resignation threat. A single word from him could shatter your career, and he made sure you knew it. He never said it outright, never needed to. The smirk on his lips, the way he leaned in just a little too close when reminding you how irreplaceable you were—it was all part of the game.

But the worst part? Unlike what you had once believed, everyone knew. Even the other members. And yet, not a single one of them ever tried to stop it.

“Y-Yuta, can you please not do this here?” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. Nervous eyes flickered around the room, scanning for any sign that someone might be watching, that someone might care. But no one seemed to pay either of you any attention.

Yuta, on the other hand, wasn’t even pretending to care. His gaze dipped, zeroing in on the teasing hint of cleavage right in front of him as you leaned in closer to check his face. The position gave him the perfect view, and he took his time, shamelessly drinking it in, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“What? Now you’re trying to say this is my fault?” he raised a brow, looking up at you with that smug, knowing smirk. “You’re the one who chose to wear this skirt. You’re practically begging for me to touch you.”

Never mind the fact that he was the one who forced you wear it in the first place—telling you how pretty you looked in it, how it suited you so well. The truth was, he just loved the view. Loved watching the way your legs looked in that tiny thing, loved how you had to move carefully to keep from showing too much.

“I am not,” you shot back firmly, glaring at him, which only made him chuckle. He loved when you showed your claws—when you tried to act defiant, even when you both knew how easily he could break that act.

His hand moved up slowly, deliberately, until his fingers brushed against your clothed cunt. The sudden contact made you gasp, your body freezing in place as heat bloomed through you.

“Really?” he mused, voice dripping with amusement as he pressed just a little harder. “Because your body’s telling me something very different.”

It’s just a natural response, you told yourself, trying to cling to any shred of defiance. You wanted to snap back at him, but instead, a soft, helpless moan slipped past your lips.

Yuta smirked. He had already pushed your panties to the side, his fingers slipping inside you with ease, stretching you just enough as he pumped them in and out at a slow, teasing pace.

Your eyes darted around the room again, panic bubbling in your chest, but no one seemed to notice—or maybe they were just pretending not to. You bit down hard on your lower lip, desperately trying to stifle your sounds, only to earn a low hum of satisfaction from him.

“Let’s do this,” he mused, his foxy grin widening. “If I make you cum, you’re gonna be my personal stress relief tonight. Got it?”

Jaehyun had a girlfriend, one he claimed to love deeply, but he knew he was being a scoundrel. Still, he blamed it on biology, on a man’s natural urges. It wasn’t his fault that you, his girlfriend’s best friend, had been haunting his thoughts since the very beginning of his relationship.

He tried to be a good boyfriend, really, he did. But every time you were around, laughing, teasing, flashing that mischievous smile his way, it became harder to pretend. Harder to act like he didn’t imagine you beneath him, under him, taking him in ways his girlfriend never could.

Maybe it was wrong, but how could he be blamed when you were the one constantly in his head, you were the one who made his cock twitch with just a glance? It wasn’t his fault that every touch, every brush of your skin against his, sent a jolt straight through his body.

It wasn’t entirely his fault that he found himself slipping into these desperate habits to satisfy his twisted desires. He hated himself for it, for feeling this way, but the guilt wasn’t enough to stop him.

He couldn't resist the forbidden thrill of sniffing your panties every time he slept over at your place (he thanked God that you and his girlfriend were roommates) and taking a few of them with him so he could use them later. Not only that, but he really loved to peek at you in the shower. It was nice to see the way you touched yourself- even if it wasn't sensual, he just really liked watching you and imagining what it would be like if he were the one touching you like that.

And he didn't know you left the door unlocked on purpose, knowing he would be there—just like tonight.

You had chosen the perfect time, late at night, when his sweet little girlfriend was fast asleep, and you knew exactly who was watching you through the narrow crack in the door.

"Enjoying the view, huh?" you said, catching him completely off guard. He froze in place. "I know you're there, Jaehyun. Not gonna come in? I've been waiting for you."

He was stunned to be caught-stunned even more by what you said.

He hesitated only for a moment before stepping inside, welcomed by a wave of warm, damp steam that kissed his skin.

Even better—he now had a perfect view of you, not through a crack in the door, but all of you. He swallowed hard.

"Oh, you're this happy?" you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips as your eyes dropped to the bulge in his sleep shorts, the soft, thin fabric doing nothing to hide just how excited he was.

"It's not like I can help it," he muttered, his eyes slowly roaming over every inch of your body, licking his lips like a starving animal eyeing a taste of something forbidden.

That made you laugh, "Come here, come," you beckoned him with a finger, his gaze lifting to meet yours. "I'll take care of it for you."

He knew exactly what that meant. It was written all over your eyes, your voice-and, of course, in the very situation he found himself in.

He bit his lip, casting a quick glance toward the door. His girlfriend was asleep just a few steps away.

"...Are you sure?"

"I'm giving you the chance to fuck me. You don't want that?"

He didn't think twice to answer, "Fuck, of course I do."

In an instant, his clothes were gone, and he stepped under the shower with you. His hands found your waist immediately, pulling you against him with a kind of hunger he didn't bother to hide. His hard cock pressed against your stomach as his hands wandered all over your body, fingers gliding, gripping, worshipping the feel of your wet, heated skin. It hit him all at once: this was real. He was really touching you.

“You have no idea how long I've been needing you," he nibbled on your neck, kissing his way up toward your mouth, searching for a kiss.

"Oh, believe me, I know," you whispered back, meeting his lips, feeling the desperate way his tongue moved against yours, barely holding back from reacting to your teasing.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," he said, squeezing your ass firmly. "I promise."

Okay, it’s not that he was stalking you. Jungwoo was just… preparing himself. Making sure he knew exactly what you liked, what you disliked, so that when he finally approached you, he wouldn’t embarrass himself and lose his chances with you.

Of course, that meant he had to figure out which places you frequented, who your friends were, what kind of things made you smile. It was all just research. Necessary steps to ensure everything would go perfectly between you two.

Not only that, he also ended up making sure you were safe. After all, the world was full of dangerous things, especially for someone as precious as you. So, really, watching you wasn’t just about getting closer. It was about protecting you. Making sure you got home safely, ensuring no one suspicious lingered too close, even subtly steering you away from places that didn’t seem right.

Learning your habits, memorizing the way you moved, keeping you safe—well, wasn’t that just proof of how much he cared?

Jungwoo couldn’t help but let a passionate sigh escape from his lips as he watched you try on the new lingerie you bought. He had noticed it the first time he ever saw you changing, that bad little habit of yours. You never closed your curtains. It was almost like an invitation, like you wanted him to see.

Of course, he couldn’t let you keep doing something so dangerous. He’d have to remind you (when he finally gathered the courage to meet you) that you shouldn’t be so careless. That there were people out there with bad intentions, people who could hurt you.

You were lucky that he was the one watching you, and not someone else.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t do much more than enjoy the view.

His mouth nearly watered at the sight of you in that delicate blue bra and lacy panties. God, you had such impeccable taste, it suited you perfectly, just the way he’d imagined. And, oh, he had imagined it. The moment he saw you pick it up in the store, he knew it would look divine on you.

His heart and cock throbbed in unison, so pleased, so grateful. He didn’t even need to rely on his imagination tonight, you were right there, unknowingly putting on a perfect show just for him. His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to reach for you, to touch, to feel, to claim. But for now, he had to be patient. Good things come to those who wait, right?

You shifted slightly, turning to the side to admire yourself in the mirror, and the movement nearly sent him over the edge. The way the fabric hugged you, the way your hands ran along your own body, adjusting the straps, smoothing the lace—it was almost too much.

Jungwoo bit his lip, his breath heavy as he palmed himself through his pants, his eyes glued to you like a starving man. You were so unaware, so innocent in your little routine, completely oblivious to the fact that someone was appreciating you more than even you appreciated yourself.

As if the universe really wanted to test his self-control, you let out a little sigh and pouted, clearly dissatisfied with something. His stomach clenched. What’s wrong, sweetheart? Don’t you see how fucking perfect you are?

Then, you did something that nearly made him lose it. You reached behind you, unclasped your bra, and let it slide down your arms. His cock jolted in happiness inside his pants when he caught a glimpse of your chest, your beautiful breasts gracing his eyes. He could barely contain the desire to press his lips to them, to suck and taste you so badly.

He was sure he could cum just like that, just at the sight of you. That’s why he had to look away, his cheeks burning in embarrassment, his heart hammering against his chest. But even as he turned his head, his body refused to obey. His eyes flickered back to you, drawn to every movement, every little shift of your body. Fuck. You had no idea, did you? No idea how much you tormented him, how badly he wanted, needed you to see him.

He swallowed hard, his hand gripping his thigh as if that would ground him, stop him from doing something stupid. He desperately needed you to acknowledge his existence. To look his way. To notice him. Just once.

But he knew this wouldn’t happen. At least, not yet.

Johnny always knew how to talk his way into anything, and with you, it was no different.

You trusted him, he made you laugh, always knew the right thing to say, always had a comforting tone, a clever joke, a witty excuse. You never really noticed how often he got away with things no one else would dare.

Like the way he’d casually barge into your room while you were changing.

It happened more than once, always with him claiming it was an accident, but somehow never looking particularly surprised. If you were trying on new clothes, he’d flash you a grin and say how amazing you looked, how the outfit suited you just right. If you were in your underwear, he’d murmur that you looked stunning like that, like it was the most natural compliment in the world.

And if you were naked… He’d let his eyes shamelessly roam, taking in every inch before offering you a cocky smile. He’d only leave when you scrambled to the door and slammed it shut, his muffled voice on the other side teasing, “You’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

And somehow, he always got away with it. Maybe because, deep down, you liked the attention. The way his eyes lingered on you. The way his charming smile could so easily cloud your judgment, sweeping your thoughts away from the obvious implications of his behavior.

And when he invited you over, you hadn’t expected to walk in on that. You froze in the doorway, gasping in surprise the moment your eyes landed on him—hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself slowly. You turned around on instinct, heart pounding with embarrassment.

But he didn’t look the least bit flustered. In fact, the small smile on his lips said he’d planned this.

“Oh,” he said casually, his voice laced with amusement, “you’re here already.”

“Yeah, I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—you know!” you stammered, unable to string a proper sentence together.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, and you heard the wet sound of his hand moving faster. A soft groan slipped from him. “You came in at the perfect moment.”

You swallowed. “W-what?”

“Come on,” his tone low and teasing. “Look at me, baby. Don’t you wanna see what you do to me?”

There was a pause, the air thick with tension. And slowly, curiosity, shameless curiosity, won. You turned your head, just enough to see him biting his lower lip, his fist moving faster, eyes locked onto yours like you were the one touching him.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with praise as he threw his head back, pumping himself faster. It was so much easier with you right there, just a few steps away, no need for imagination this time. You were real, watching, and that alone had him melting. “Fuck,” he groaned, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m gonna cum… just for you.”

And so he did, hot spurts of cum painting his hand as your name slipped from his lips in a satisfied moan. His body shuddered, breath heavy, and when he opened his eyes again, they landed right on you.

You were still standing there. Still watching. Eyes wide, lips parted, your thoughts written all over your face.

“So… are you gonna keep watching or help me out?”

Taeyong isn’t much obvious about it. To anyone watching, he just seems like the perfect, overly sweet boyfriend, the kind who couldn’t imagine living without you.

And really, he is the best. Caring, loving, sincere. Honest about almost all his feelings. He’s all affection, always holding you close, always cuddling you like you’re the most precious thing in his world, peppering your face with kisses like he’s addicted to your skin. And that clingy, affectionate side? It’s the perfect cover for how perverted he really is with you.

His hands are always on you. Always.

When you’re curled up together on the couch watching a movie, his fingers will start innocently enough, tracing light circles on your stomach, pretending to be casual. But they always wander higher. Just under your breasts at first, staying there long enough that it starts to feel normal. Harmless.

Until suddenly he’s full-on groping you with a calm look on his face like it’s just another act of love. And you’ve gotten so used to it, you barely even flinch anymore.

Whenever you take a bath, he insists on joining you, always under the excuse of helping you clean up or giving you a "five-star spa experience" with his so-called massage service. It’s all about relaxing you, he says. Just a way to help you unwind.

But the truth is, he just wants full access to your body, to touch you anywhere he wants, whenever he wants. And really, he does love you, so much it borders on obsession. He needs you close, always.

And when you sleep together? You curl up on his chest, soft and warm, pressing against him like you belong there. You're so close he can feel every part of you… and most nights, he ends up cumming in his pants, silently, helplessly, just from the way your body molds into his.

Sometimes, he just can’t hold himself back.

There are nights he wakes you up, his body burning too hot, need pressing hard against his patience. His arms wrapped around you, chest to your back, lips brushing your ear.

“Can I please just put it in?” he whispers, voice soft and breathy, a desperate little whine that trembles with restraint. He presses a kiss to your neck, soft and pleading, while his hard cock grinds lazily against your ass through his briefs.

And how could you ever say no to him? So you just sigh softly, pull your shorts to the side, and let him slip inside you without another word. The sound he makes, a choked, relieved groan, almost teary in its intensity, is absolutely priceless.

Does Haechan usually enjoy a bit of a chase? Absolutely. He liked the tension, the teasing. But with you… there was something different. Something addictive about the way you melted for him with just a little push, the way you were so, so easy for him and only him.

He couldn’t explain it. Maybe he didn’t even want to. All he knew was that with a little persistence, a little pressure, he'd have you right where he wanted, squirming under his touch, your body giving in to him in the most satisfying ways.

You were genuinely his favorite plaything, he loved to mess with you.

You weren’t even in a relationship, but he made it clear to everyone that you were his—hence the reason why you never managed to find a romantic partner.

Donghyuck sabotaged every single potential candidate for that spot in your life. He made a point of being extra clingy the moment someone interested in you entered the room: he’d hold you by the waist the entire time, pull you into a hug, cover your face with kisses, and slip his tongue into your mouth in a messy kiss. Even if you tried to resist all his attempts, you always gave in in the end.

It was so easy, it was almost refreshing.

If he wanted to pull you into a corner in a public place just to fuck you, all he’d have to do is ask sweetly and you’d already be lifting your skirt for him to take you from behind. If he wanted to eat your pussy for breakfast, he’d just need to walk into your room, crawl under your covers, and find his feast between your legs. If he wanted to film you giving him the best blowjob of his life, all he’d have to do is promise to make you come until you couldn't take it anymore.

He also had a little habit of leaving pieces of himself everywhere. Whether it was cumming in your panties or wiping himself off on your pillow, he loved the thought of you surrounded by him, even when he wasn’t there.

Sometimes he’d jerk off while you were in the shower, moaning your name into your bedsheets and finishing all over your favorite pair of underwear, then toss them casually back into your drawer, knowing you’d find them later. Or worse: he’d tell you to wear them, right before you went out, watching closely as you hesitated… then slipped them on anyway, embarrassment all over your face as his cum stuck to your skin.

“Now, pull your leg up, cutie," he murmured, kneeling down in front of you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“But, Hyuck—” your voice trembled as you glanced around the library. It was full, and this corner wasn’t nearly as hidden as he made it seem. “We’ll get caught…”

“We won’t,” he said confidently, already lifting your leg and hooking it over his shoulder. He pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along your thigh, voice dripping with sweetness. “Just be quiet for me, baby.”

“But still—”

“Please,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he kissed your clit, firm and full, enough to make you jolt and suck in a gasp. “Just wanna eat you.”

You bit your lip hard, casting one last panicked glance around the room. No one seemed to notice. No one had any idea what was happening behind the stacks.

When your eyes met his again, you didn’t speak, just gave him that look, the one that said “hurry up” without a single word. That smirk of his spread lazily across his lips before he finally dipped his tongue between your folds.

You were his. Not because you said yes, but because you never said no.

↝ taglist: @nebularsung, @spacejip, @peterm4rker, @sinisxtea, @bluedbliss

[aperrywilliams]

A Bit Rougher (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: You and Spencer have been in a relationship for a little bit more than four months now, and the team doesn't know. One day, the BAU girls ask you by your mystery partner they know you have - even if they don't know who it is - and bring up a topic you are not so sure to share with Spencer yet: your kinky side in sex. What happens when the same Spencer puts a test on you on that matter?

Word Count: 6.5k (I'm not sorry)

Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Where do I start? Reader sleeps with Spencer (obviously). Talks about sex life. Mentions of tantric sex and rough sex. Mentions of some kinks like choking, spanking, and dom-sub dynamics. Clothes get ripped, Spencer calling you 'my girl' (oh God), masturbation (f receiving), fingering, kind of choking, dirty talk. Spencer does his best as a dom (soft!dom because it can't be any other way), penetrative sex, spanking, begging, more dirty talk, creampie (it really doesn't exist another word for this?), and aftercare. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world. If I forgot something, please let me know.

A/N: This one was a request. I can't find the original message, and I don't know if the person who asked wanted their name here (I can quickly add it if they want to).

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The moment rays of sunlight peek through the curtain and hit my face, I turn to my back to avoid them, not ready to fully start the day yet.

Still half awake, half sleepy, I can feel a pair of hazel looking at me. I peek one eye open, and I see Spencer smiling at me.

"Good morning, beautiful," he rasps. And I don't know why such simple words have me blushing like a schoolgirl. Beaming, I return the greeting.

"Morning, handsome."

I get my reply with a lingering kiss on my lips, which I fully savored until a sudden thought came to me.

"What time is it? We need to get up."

Spencer, with his calm voice, shakes his head.

"It's a bit early yet. We have time. Also, you have some clothes here, so you don't need to go to your apartment before driving to work."

Smart me for bringing clothes to his apartment. It's an obvious decision, though, considering I have spent more nights here in the past weeks than in my place.

A devilish smirk makes an appearance on my face.

"So, we do have time, don't we?"

"Yes, sweetheart. We do," Spencer mumbles, scooting closer and peppering kisses on my face and then down to my collarbone.

Oh boy, this is what I call a good way to start the day.

-

How much time can you fool a bunch of the best profilers in the country, hiding your relationship with one of your coworkers? Spencer and I keep the count. The mark is set now in four months and two weeks.

It's not that we are embarrassed by what we have or anything close to that. It's just that things started so casually and naturally, and they're running so smoothly, so we want to keep it to ourselves as long as we can.

And by now? It's working.

We have also been careful about it. On our first nights together, we woke up early and went home for a shower and a change of clothes. After some weeks, we started to pack extra in our go-bag. Now, we have at least a change of clothes in each other's places. The second rule is never to get to work at the same time or on the same transportation. Spencer usually takes the metro even if I can drive and make time in the parking lot. Just one day, we did it, and we were so worked up in our making out session that we almost got caught by Morgan, who parked two cars away from mine.

Naturally, any form of PDA at work is completely off-limits. That's the toughest rule to follow. After all, we spend more time at the office and on the road than we do at home, so avoiding any kind of touch is definitely a challenge.

Despite all that, I can't help but feel happier every day as I fall deeper for Spencer. I often feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, constantly distracted by thoughts of him. Clearly, my behavior hasn't gone unnoticed, at least not by the three girls cornering me right now in the BAU kitchen.

"So, are you going to deny you're having fun these days?" Emily teases me while JJ and Penelope giggle in agreement.

"Where did that come from?" I say, intentionally diverting my gaze to the mug I'm filling with coffee.

"It's just basic observation, my dear," Penelope chimes in.

"Basic observation? I honestly don't follow you guys at all," I reply, feeling a bit overwhelmed by this unexpected Tuesday morning interrogation. This time, JJ steps forward with her evidence laid out right before me.

"We have all noticed the changes in you over the past few months—the giddy smile that lights up your face when you read a text on your phone, the new pep in your step, and how you hurry home every time we finish a case. Do I need to say more?"

"Busted!" Garcia points a mocking finger at me. I roll my eyes in fake annoyance. After all, they are completely right.

"Okay, okay. Yeah. I'm seeing a guy. Happy?" I confess, and Garcia squeals.

"Yay! We need to know everything about him."

Oh. That's dangerous territory.

JJ notices my discomfort and tries to ease it a bit.

"Penelope, I'm sure we'll know more with time. Right?" JJ looks at me, and I nod appreciatively.

"Okay. But the basics. Is the guy good?" Emily asks. A silly smile appears on my face.

"Of course he is. He's caring, fun, always attentive-" I'm about to start a rant about how my mystery man is perfect. But Emily's snort stops me at mid-sentence.

"What?"

"Emily is asking if he is good in bed!" Penelope clarifies, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Oh, Lord. What have I got into?

"Are you really expecting me to tell you about my sex life?"

The three girls nod in unison with no shame. Well, I guess I got my answer.

"Like if you haven't done it before. And for what it is worth, we all have said something about it more than once. That's why we created girls's night in the first place," Emily points eloquently, as always.

Touchè. They are right. I have said more than I would like to admit about my sex life. But now it's not that simple. We are talking about Spencer, even if they don't know it yet.

"Then? Is he good or not?"

I contemplate my answer not because I don't know what to say but not revealing more than necessary.

"I don't think good is enough to describe sex with him. The first time we slept together was amazing. The whole night was if you know what I mean. Since then, we have taken our time, savoring the moment, giving, and receiving a new part of ourselves when we do it. So, yes, sex with him is more than good."

"But it could be better," Garcia interjects, and I look at her baffled.

"How's so? Didn't I just say the sex is great?"

The three women nod in agreement, but I think I'm missing something here.

"Don't take it the wrong way, my lovely. We are really happy you are having fun and enjoying yourself," Garcia says, patting my shoulder. "But it sounds pretty vanilla to me. And it's not bad! Not at all!"

I frown, and Emily rolls her eyes, continuing Garcia's idea.

"What Penelope tries to bring here is what we talked back then about your last partner. Remember? The one who liked tantric sex?"

Oh. Yeah. I remember that one. It's not one of my finest choices, if I have to be honest. But it wasn't the guy's fault.

"Yeah. What about him?"

"You forgot how you complained about him being basically a statue? That you wanted it rough, and the guy never got the memo?" Penelope fills in, arching an eyebrow. My cheeks are flush crimson right now.

"I can't believe we are talking about this in the office kitchen," I mumble, embarrassed. "But that was different."

Emily scoffs. "What? Did you change your kinks now? What happened with the choking, the spanking, the begging, and all those things?"

"Emily Prentiss, can you please shut up? This conversation is too much for a morning in the office," I complain, shaking my head to try to cool my red face.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop. But if you are still into it - and I'm sure you are - maybe it's a good idea to share it with your partner. Healthy sex life and all that, so it doesn't happen what it did with the tantric guy."

"Well, thank you all for your concern. But I think I'm good. Now, can we please drop the subject?"

Luckily for me, the girls listened and changed the topic. By the time we leave the kitchen, I feel less embarrassed and ready to continue my paperwork.

But the conversation kept popping into my head from time to time during the day. My sexual preferences haven't changed 180 degrees, that's true, but with Spencer, it's different. I wouldn't want to bring something like that up if it's going to make him uncomfortable. Our relationship is still fresh, and I'm happy with our current sex life.

And talking about Spencer, I haven't seen him the whole morning. By the time lunchtime arrives, he doesn't come back to his desk, so I go with the girls and Morgan.

When we come back from lunch, I finally see him at his desk, concentrating on a pile of files. A smile creeps in my face. He looks so damn good with the crocked tie, messy hair, and shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms. This man has ruined me just sitting there. I'm doomed.

"Hey," I call his attention, and he turns his head to look up at me.

"Hi," he returns a smile.

"I haven't seen you around in hours. Are you okay?"

A frown appears on his face, but he brushes it off quickly.

"Me? Oh, yeah. Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's just Hotch that had me checking and analyzing a pile of boxes with folders from old cases in the store office. That's all."

It makes sense. Spencer's fast reading is a blessing and a curse, and obviously, people tend to use it often in the office.

"I'm sorry, sure it wasn't a very entertaining task."

A shy smile creeps on his lips, and I have to use all my self-control not to pounce on him right now and pepper his face with kisses.

"It's okay. I'm already done, anyway. How has been your morning?"

"Oh. Mostly paperwork. As everyone. But I think I'll be done soon, too." Before continuing, I check my surroundings to ensure nobody else is listening. "Maybe we can go home early?" I suggest seductively.

The flush in Spencer's cheeks is endearing. It's like the ones I sported this morning when the girls were interrogating me. And they want me to tell this boy about my kinks? No way. I won't do that if it means he won't feel comfortable with me again.

"We could. But I'm afraid plans will have to wait," Spencer says as his gaze shifts from me to Garcia and the quick tip-tap of her heels, heading to the conference room.

Fuck. A new case.

-

Don't get me wrong. I love my job. But being stuck in the middle of the desert, looking for an unsub that seems to be a ghost? And I say 'ghost' literally because we are looking for a guy who is dead for the town records. No, this is not my idea of a 'normal work day.'

It's frustrating, and not only for the lack of progress. The heat here is like hell. The AC barely works, and everyone's mood is bitchy.

We are not making any progress by now, so Hotch sends us to the hotel for the night. Once in my room, I text Spencer, not with an explicit purpose but to talk to him for a while. But he doesn't answer my texts. Is he sleeping by now? Considering he's a night owl, I found it very rare. But maybe he's drained like everyone else, so I let it slide.

In the morning, after my shower, I'm checking my phone, and I don't have any messages. Has Spencer received my texts?

I don't want to sound paranoid, but it's like something is going on. At the precinct, I barely get a hello from Spencer. Okay. Maybe it's the stress. I don't give it too much thought, either. Not when we have work to do.

And boy, we have been working hard on this one. Some clues give us hope, but we're far from catching the unsub.

In the little spare time we have between interrogations and visiting dumping sites, I try to share moments with Spencer, but it definitely seems like he doesn't want to be alone with me in the same room, even if he doesn't say it or shows signs of annoyance or animosity towards me.

I can't tell why he is so distant, but it's starting to worry me. Did I do something? And it's killing me because the more I think about it, the more I miss him. A kiss, a hug, anything from him would ease the ache I'm starting to feel.

It doesn't help that he has been choosing to wear the sexiest clothes he has in his go-bag. Those tight grey pants that accentuate his ass, those button-ups with sleeves rolled up.

We have been here for six days, and I think I'm going crazy. I have been trying to be subtle and professional. But I swear that if one more day goes by without being able to feel Spencer's touch, I don't know what I'll be able to do.

It seems heaven has listened to me because we finally managed to catch the unsub, and we're on the jet on our way home. But I'm nervous. I didn't even want to sit next to Spencer like I usually do. I don't know why. What if he wants to break up with me, and I'm just dragging things out?

What the hell am I talking about? I don't believe I'm thinking clearly here. But this week has been so odd that I don't know what to think.

Maybe when we land, I can finally talk to Spencer and put an end to my overthinking. With that in mind, I doze off for the rest of the trip.

Once the jet is down, I'm starting to gather my things when I hear Spencer rushing out, saying goodbye to everyone.

Disappointed and frustrated, I leave the tarmac.

Maybe a full night of sleep in my bed isn't a bad plan after all.

But be that as it may, fuck you, Spencer Reid.

-

As if all that had happened wasn't enough, when I got to the parking lot, my car fucking didn't start. I knew I had to get it checked before.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

That delayed my arrival home for another 45 minutes.

Now, disappointed, frustrated, and with no car, I slam the door shut. The apartment is pitch black, and I have no energy to flick the lights on, so I drag myself to the bedroom. When I open the door, a yelp escapes my mouth when I see a silhouette of a man sitting in the chair I have in one corner.

I'm about to reach for my gun when the bedside lamp flicks on, and the scare turns to confusion when I see Spencer sitting there.

"What the fuck!"

"Hi," he says as if he hadn't almost scared me to death two seconds ago.

"Spencer! What are you doing here?" My voice sounds harsher than I intended, but Spencer brushes it off quickly.

"Waiting for you," he says matter-of-factly.

I'm officially confused. We were together an hour ago? He left without saying anything.

"I don't understand. The way you left the jet in such a hurry, I thought I was the last person you wanted to be with."

My words come out resentful, but I can't help it. Spencer's eyes soften. I averted his gaze as I dropped my go-bag, unholst my gun to set it on the safe, and sat at the end of the bed to remove my boots.

"Hey, don't say that. Of course, I want to be with you," Spencer says, standing from the seat and kneeling to help me remove my boots.

"I'm sorry, but it didn't show that way. You avoided me all week!"

Great, now I sound like I'm making a tantrum.

From his place where he knelt on the floor, his eyes met mine, and I don't know why suddenly I felt a shudder running down my spine.

"Sweetheart, you know we were working, weren't we?"

That condescending tone escaping Spencer's lips? It is something unexpected. But why does it make me kind of nervous? It's a type of nervousness that gives me butterflies in my stomach.

"I know! But- but then in the jet. And you left."

Why am I babbling? Since when did Spencer have looked at me with those piercing eyes?

He stands and offers me a hand to help me to do the same.

"Is my girl upset?" He asks when we are both upright.

'My girl'? That's new. Spencer always calls me by my name, a short version of it, or beautiful, or sweetheart. But thinking about it, 'my girl' doesn't sound bad at all.

"No! I'm not-"

"Oh yes, you are. Look, I wanted to prepare a surprise for you tonight, so I left in a hurry. I was thinking about a bubble bath, dinner, wine, and a movie. I even had the table done with candles ready to lit," he says nonchalantly, and I feel silly for thinking the worst scenarios all week.

"Oh," is the only thing escaping my lips.

"But now, thinking about it, maybe you don't deserve it. Not if you're questioning me like this," Spencer shakes his head in fake - I hope - disappointment.

Okay. Stop right there. What the hell is going on here? Why is Spencer talking like that? About me as 'not deserving' something? What's next? That I'm a naughty girl? - Uhm, I wonder how it could be hearing those words from his lips.-

"What? Why I-"

"Come here," he requests as now he is the one who sits at the edge of the bed and pats the spot in his lap. It doesn't sound too commanding, but sure as hell, I don't need anything more to comply. I need to know where this is heading.

As I'm at Spencer's reach, he pulls me by my wrist to land on his lap while his other hand cradles my face.

"Tell me, uh? Why are you upset?"

His voice drips like honey, and I start to feel hot here.

"I- I don't know. I just missed you, I guess."

"You guess?" He arches a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes. I mean, I do know. I have missed you," I confess, defeated. Oh yeah, now I'm the needy one.

"It helps if I say I have missed you, too?" he says, caressing my cheek tenderly with his knuckles. "I have seen you tense all week; that's why I thought I could do something special for you tonight."

I close my eyes, and for the first time tonight, I let myself enjoy Spencer's embrace.

I exhale a heavy breath as I get lost in his arms.

When I open my eyes, Spencer's are fixed on mine. But his look is not as sweet or reverent as it usually is when we are like this. No, this one is dark and raw. His pupils are fully dilated, and I feel like the breath leaves my lungs.

"Spencer-" I barely mumble.

"I know," he whispers, moving one hand to cradle my neck and bring my lips to his.

Oh God, what I have been craving for days is finally happening, and I can't stress enough how happy I am.

The kiss starts slow and sensual. But not far from that, it gets needy and messy, charged with all the pent-up emotions from the past days. If I had any doubt about Spencer's distance in the last week, this kiss quickly eased my anxiety.

My fingers go to undo the buttons of his button-up, but Spencer stops me with one of his hands, grabbing both of my wrists.

Why didn't I notice before how big and strong his hands are compared to mine? I mean, I always admired his long and deftly fingers, but this? Wow. It's new territory.

"But I want to touch you," I pout when he keeps hold of my wrists in his hand. The cocky bastard raises an eyebrow, contemplating my request.

"You will have to be patient this time and earn it, darling," he says casually, and as my eyes go wide, my jaw goes slack. These words have never come out of Spencer's mouth before. But why am I suddenly starting to feel hotter and more worked up? I blame it on sex abstinence.

"Please, I have missed you so much," I insist, trying to escape his grip to get what I want: undress him. But he doesn't budge, tsking his tongue.

"I already told you. You need to earn it. To my knowledge, only good girls get what they want, and I don't think I'm wrong, do I?"

Jesus Christ! I had never heard Spencer say 'good girl' before, and I'm sure now I'll be addicted to hearing it every chance I get.

"Spencer, please. I'll do anything. I promise. I want to be a good girl. I want to be your good girl."

Spencer's smirk tells me he likes my response, and I'm not at any ounce ashamed of sounding desperate.

He maneuvers me so that I am now on my back on the mattress. I watch his every move intently, and I get lost in his gaze, which screams lust and desire.

He kneels between my spread legs, staring at me intently as his hands move to the edges of my blouse. Just when I think he's going to work on unbuttoning it, he grabs it and rips it open.

A yelp escapes my lips at the raw sound and the view of buttons flying. Spencer doesn't seem fazed by his display of caveman style. And me? I won't mind if he rips all my clothes right now. His hands go to caress my breasts over the fabric of my bra. And then pull it down to free the skin. The cool air quickly stiffens my nipples.

Spencer leans down to suck one of them, twirling the other one with his fingers. A moan escapes my lips at the pleasure his touch is giving me.

"You like that, uh?" he mumbles, still with his mouth sucking and lapping.

"Yes!" I say, as my hands fly to his hair so I can ground myself in something.

After giving enough attention to both of my nipples, he helps me to get rid of the fabric of the ruined blouse and my bra. Now his mouth is sucking a hickey under my jaw, and I feel like I can faint of how aroused I am. One of his hands goes south and stills at the button of my work pants. His breath is hot in my ear.

"I'm going to take care of you. If I do something you don't like, just say it, okay?"

That's a sliver of the Spencer I know, and I can't even think of something this man can do to me that I wouldn't like.

"Okay," I manage to blurt when his fingers work on my pants, leaving me clad only in my panties in a matter of seconds.

Under his intense gaze, I feel exposed, but I also feel safe. There is no place where I would rather be right now.

"You're gorgeous. You know that?" Spencer says, trailing feather touches on my skin aflame with desire. "You don't know what you do to me, do you? I barely can control myself," he continues his praises, thumbs toying with the waistband of my panties.

I'm about to combust.

"Spencer, please."

"What is it, my girl?" he asks, kissing my neck as his fingers slide down my legs, removing the soaked fabric that used to cover my most intimate part.

"I - I need more."

"Are you already desperate for me?"

I can feel how his fingers trace soft patterns in the skin between my thighs, explicitly avoiding the spot where I need him the most.

"Yes! I am. I - I can't-"

I don't even care if I sound coherent at this point. I'm already so turned on and desperate that I can't be bothered by my lack of speech. Spencer still doesn't budge, though.

"I know you want to beg. And I know you can do better than that."

Oh God. I don't know how Spencer's words manage to make me more aroused, but they do.

"I need you," I croak, eyes pleading him to take me. I can feel his fingers ghosting my throbbing clit.

"I need you, sir. Please. You can use me whatever you want, but please, touch me!"

What the fuck? I just called Spencer' sir' and offered my body explicitly to him to use. And the bastard doesn't even flinch? Who is this guy in full control, and who am I acting like a pathetic submissive?

I don't have the answers, but honestly, I don't care. Did he want me to beg? If this isn't begging, I don't know what it is.

"I know you do, baby. Do you think I didn't notice how needy you have been all week? How have you tried to get my attention all these days?" Spencer's voice drops almost two octaves as his finger finally starts rubbing circles on my clit.

Just feeling his touch makes me whimper pathetically.

His lips ghost in my ear, and I can feel his breath heating the spot before his teeth nibble my earlobe.

A mewl leaves my mouth, and if I wasn't soaked before - which I was - now I'm dripping.

"Tell me, this is what you wanted?" His voice is commanding but feels like honey leaking on my body.

"Yes! Please, don't stop."

His movements are deliberate and precise, and when he buries a finger into my core, I can feel the coil in the pit of my lower belly beginning to form. My moans increase in number and volume.

"So needy, my sweet girl. Like that? That's how you want me to touch you?" Spencer coo as he watches me tremble under his touch, adding a new finger to fuck me.

His ministrations continue, but his free hand moves slowly from my cheek down to my neck, caressing the exposed skin with his thumb.

"Or maybe you want me to touch you like this?"

A mewl escapes my lips when he poses his open palm over my throat, not squeezing but seizing how much of my neck he would be able to cover with his huge hand.

"Yes! Please, do it. Please Spencer," I babble, feeling my orgasm closer and closer. And he complies. Applying the minimal pressure in my throat is enough to highlight all of my senses. That, plus the way his ring and middle finger pound in and out of me and his thumb toy with my clit at the same time, sends me to the edge.

"Spencer!" I scream as my climax washes over me.

I don't remember having an orgasm like this in a long time. My vision blurs and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of pleasure that I don't want to come down from. I can hear Spencer's encouraging words in the distance as he helps me ride my orgasm.

"That's it, my girl. You did so good for me. See how good I can make you feel?"

With hooded eyes, I see Spencer sucking clean the fingers that were fucking me seconds ago.

"You taste amazing. I'll never get tired of it," Spencer says, with a satisfied grin on his face.

Still dizzy, I gesture for him to come closer. When he does, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for the most passionate kiss my current post-orgasmic state will allow. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it is like my sex drive reminds me I want more. I need more.

"Please, fuck me," I mumble between kisses, and I can feel the smirk forming on his lips.

"I just did that," he states when we part from the kiss. "Are you being ungrateful?" Is he joking? I hope he does, but I won't take the chance of not having his dick in me tonight.

"No, baby. I'm thankful for the way you have touched me tonight, but I want you to feel good, too."

Spencer looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that so? Are you willing to do what I want to make me feel good? It's not only for your benefict?"

"Yes! Whatever you want. I'm yours. Take me the way you want to do it. Whatever you want to give me."

I don't know at what moment I became this kind of submissive, but if I have to beg again to have Spencer inside me, I will do it without complaining. And considering he's still fully clothed, I don't know what kind of plan he has right now.

"On your elbows and knees."

It's simple, and the moment the words leave his mouth, I move quickly to obey.

Unfortunately, from this position, I can't see Spencer, but I can hear him undressing. When I listen to him undoing his belt buckle, I have to do everything in my power not to rub my thighs together in search of some friction. And Spencer notices.

"I can bet you're dripping again. Don't you?"

The anticipation is killing me. When I feel the mattress dip with Spencer's weight, I can't stop the mewl that leaves my lips. It doesn't help when he presses his body to mine, and I can feel his hard cock pressing my ass.

"Can you feel what you do to me? I want to fuck you so bad. I want to ruin this pussy." Spencer's voice is husky and low, almost predatory, and I can't wait to feel him.

While we've used dirty talk before, I think this is the first time I can feel it coming naturally from Spencer. I'm usually the one with the filthy mouth.

When I feel his tip teasing my entrance, I instinctively push my ass back, gaining a laugh from Spencer.

"Be patient, once inside there is no coming back." Before I can say anything in reply, I feel him push his cock between my folds, and the stretching is painfully delicious.

"Oh, fuck!" I yelp as I hear Spencer hissing when he bottoms it out. He is still there, grabbing my hips to keep me from moving.

"So warm. So tight. Made for me," he mumbles, leaning to kiss my shoulder blades.

"Just for you, it was made for you," I agree, in a new state of pleasure and urging him to move. Spencer pulls back almost completely, only to thrust hard again, setting a slow but deep pace.

"That's my girl, taking everything I give her. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you do. Fuck! So good for me."

Another thing I'm not used to is Spencer being a talker during sex. I mean, yeah, he's very vocal, moaning, whining, cursing, and so am I, but his words are now taking me there faster than I expected.

"Spencer, yes! Don't stop, please!"

"I won't, baby, I won't. Not when this pussy tighen me like this."

His pace quickens, and in the room, you can only hear the sinful sounds of skin hitting skin, our moans, and the dirty words escaping Spencer's mouth.

"Spencer, please, harder," I beg to him. I don't know why, but I want to go to my limit, and I trust Spencer. I need it. He's quick to deliver, and with every thrust, I'm entering into a new space of ecstasy.

He is pounding me harder, and my broken moans are testimony to the brutal pace he leads. I can feel him hitting in all the right places.

"Like that?" He asks, panting in my ear.

"Y-yes."

"I can't hear you, darling," the bastard demands, not faltering his thrusts.

"Yes! Fuck, yes! Like that! Oh, fuck-"

My voice cracks when I feel a sharp smack in my ass.

And I can't stress enough how good it feels and how it helps the ball forming in my lower belly to grow.

"What a sight. You should see how my fingers are red imprinted on your skin," Spencer says, amazed with his doing, not ever slowing his thrusts, and I can feel closer to a new earth-shattering orgasm.

"We need to even the score, right baby?" I can't even catch what he's talking about when I feel a new smack in my other ass-cheek. And then I lose it. I'm teetering to my end, and I need Spencer to fall with me.

"Spencer, I'm so close. Please, I need-"

"Are you going to come? That's what you're trying to tell me?"

"Yes! I need to cum, please-"

"I'm right there with you, my girl. Come on, cum on my cock. Show me how you fall apart because of me."

And I did. My orgasm crashes me like a freight train, screaming Spencer's name once and again until my throat goes dry. He keeps his pace, chasing his own end, and after three deep thrusts, he stills, and I feel him spilling inside of me, grunting as he does so. The feeling almost makes me cum again.

We stay in that position for a few moments, him inside me and trying to catch our breath. I feel like I'm out of this world, savoring the post-orgasmic euphoria of the best sex of my life.

Spencer pulls out, and I hiss at the loss of him. Carefully, he helps me turn over and lie down to rest my back on the mattress. I close my eyes, regulating my breathing, content and completely satisfied.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks me, but I'm still lost in the haze of pleasure. I can barely acknowledge the moment he goes to the bathroom to bring a warm cloth to clean me up.

"Uh? Yeah. Amazing." My words escape before I can process them, but I'm not lying. And I can feel the tons of endorphins running in my brain right now.

"Are you sure?" Spencer checks again. And because I'm more alert now, I can see his worried eyes.

A tired smile forms on my lips as I turn to the side and bring a hand to his cheek.

This man just has fucked me senseless, and now he sees me with those panicked eyes as if he had broken me. And maybe he did, but in the best way possible.

"I'm fine, Spencer. I'm more than fine, actually. That was something else," I confess, caressing his jaw. He lets out a breath of relief, and his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"So you liked it?"

"Liked it? Did you just forget how I was screaming your name just minutes ago?" A satisfied chuckle escapes Spencer's lips. "But I need to know something," I prompt, propping myself on one elbow to have a better view of Spencer's face.

"What is it?"

"Where did this idea come from? It's not like you woke up one day and said, 'Next time, I'm going to choke her and spank her,' right?"

"Well, yeah. It wasn't that kind of spontaneous idea, even though I have thought about it before," Spencer looks at me sheepishly.

"Yeah? Well, then?"

"I heard you. Talking with the girls the other day at the BAU's kitchen." I narrow my eyes, trying to pinpoint the exact moment, and when recognition washes over me, my entire face flushes.

"Oh, God."

"I know I did wrong. It wasn't a conversation for me to hear, but you were talking about your mystery man, and I - I don't know, curiosity got the best of me."

Spencer looks apologetic, and I feel kind of embarrassed right now. It's funny for two people that minutes ago were fucking like there is no tomorrow.

"Don't apologize. It's my fault for spilling those kind of things in the office kitchen." Wait a minute. "From what part you heard?" Spencer purses his lips in thought.

"The part when you admitted seeing someone."

"So you heard when I said I was happy with our sex life, right?" He nods. "Why did you feel compelled to try something different, then? I'm not complaining at all, but I don't want you to feel obligated to do something because of me."

Spencer shakes his head. "I don't feel obligated. I wanted to. But can I ask why you didn't tell me what you liked before?"

That's a valid question, and I don't want to make him feel like I don't trust him because it is not like that.

"It's just- I mean, I love what we have. And I'm falling for you even more each day. I don't want to lose that, and I thought maybe I would have made you uncomfortable saying those things. I didn't want that."

Spencer's eyes glisten with warm understanding. How could I have doubted that he would comprehend? One of his hands goes to push back a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"I love what we have, too. And you won't lose this or me if you share those things with me. I know I'm not the best example of a sharing person, but I'm learning to do that with you. And I want you to be happy and satisfied in this relationship."

"I really am. Seriously!" I quickly reply. God forbid Spencer from thinking I'm not happy and satisfied because it's far from the truth.

"And I'm happy to hear that. But there is no harm in experiencing new things, right?" He says, caressing my cheek.

"You really mean it?" Spencer nods and chuckles.

"It's not an altruistic offer, you know? I pretty much enjoyed what we did tonight." Only remembering what we did minutes ago brings a wide grin to my face.

"Sure you did. Okay. We can keep trying things. One condition, though."

"Name it," Spencer states, opening his arm for me to scoot closer to his side, which I happily do.

"I want you to choose the next kink to explore," I request, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

With narrowed eyes, Spencer is contemplating his answer. After a few seconds, his lips turn into a mischievous smirk, and he looks back at me.

"Have you heard about temperature play?" he asks, and I immediately bit my lower lip in excitement.

What can I say? This man is full of surprises, and I'm the lucky one who will experience all of them. I can't wait.

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, pervy! Eddie, pervy! reader, friends to lovers, idiots in love, masturbation(m), mentions of sex toys WC:2.1K

Summary: You find Eddie stuck in a compromising position. In your efforts to help free him, you find yourself stuck in one too.

This just might be the dumbest thing he's ever done in a long and varied history of dumb things he's done.

The sound of you pulling up to the trailer has Eddie sweating all over again, his breathing turning choppy when your footsteps draw nearer and nearer, the handle on his bedroom door starting to jiggle and swing open.

"Okay, what could possibly be so important that you couldn't tell me over the pho-"

You suck in a quick breath of air when your eyes land on Eddie, the poor boy looking equal parts embarrassed and helpless. Not to mention naked, save for the pillow he's planted over his crotch.

Your eyes rake over him very carefully, following the length of his left arm until you're able to figure out exactly why you've been summoned.

"Eds, why'd you cuff yourself to the bed?"

He looks at you with tired eyes, letting out a sigh so deep and defeated, like that of a man whose spirit is beginning to splinter.

"I was...you know... and I wanted to try something new...", he admits reluctantly.

You can't help it.

You try your best but you can't quite hold back the little giggle that overcomes you, clamping a hand over your mouth but all that does is make it worse when you snort out loud instead.

"C'mon. You can make fun of me after I'm uncuffed", he tells you, the words sour on his tongue. Please, the key's under the bed. Could you?"

Jokes aside, you stall for a moment to take this all in.

It might not be the best time to think so but the longer you look at him you realize that there's something about seeing Eddie like this that makes him look picture perfect.

The poor boy's nervous sweat makes his pale skin dewy and glow. His bedhead looks more effortlessly tousled than frizzy and wild like it usually is, and his big brown imploring eyes look like they're crying out to you like you're the only one who could possibly help him.

It's all so alluring and he doesn't even know it. You just wished you had a camera so you could save a snapshot for yourself. Especially if he'd let you pluck that pillow right off his lap. But you decide to keep that little detail to yourself for now.

Composing yourself, you remember what it is that you came here to do, giving Eddie a nod before you get down to kneel and peer under his bed and locate the key. As expected, based on the state of the rest of his room, there's a cornucopia of forgotten items strewn about in front of you.

What you see first are a few dirty magazines. No surprise there. Then a stray guitar pick, a few polaroid photos messily fanned out face down, a couple of dusty cassette tapes, a suspicious looking balled up tissue, three quarters and a crumpled, empty pack of cigarettes before you manage to eye what you're looking for.

It's a little further away than you had hoped for as you stretch out your arm, just an inch or two from your finger tips.

While concentrating hard on the task, you don't realize how the lower half of your body must look like right now but a blushing Eddie sure does.

Despite having called you over to help free him, he's starting to hope that you never find the key after all, staring at how your denim shorts stretch over your ass and ride up high, hips moving side to side as you try to wiggle your way under his bed a little more until....

You're able to successfully wrap your fingers around the little silver key, cold to the touch in your grasp as you huff a sigh of relief, pulling your arm back to you. But that calm is short-lived when you get ready to pull yourself back out from under Eddie's bed.

You're in up to your waist, the chipped slats above you scratching against your back because the top half of your body is unable to budge no matter how much you try to maneuver yourself or try to push yourself out by using your arms. Slowly, it dawns on you that you might just be trapped beneath the bedframe.

"Everything okay under there?", Eddie asks when you hears you begin to struggle.

You gulp, sweat dotting the nape of your neck.

"Eddie...I think I'm stuck".

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't but his mind goes there immediately -- all those tapes of barely clad women finding themselves wedged in tight spaces. All of them at the mercy of their would be rescuers, more than willing but not showing it until they're being pleasured.

"Shit- are you okay?", he manages to shove the thought aside, biting down the bitter guilt of knowing the way it made his dick twitch against his pillow.

"Yeah. I've got the key too but how do I get it to you like this?"

Even now he can't help but ogle you, your thighs and your ass perfectly on display while you're on your knees. Eddie ponders briefly on how much better it is to see the real thing compared to how he'd been picturing you when he'd inadvertently caused this whole mess in the first place -- slicking his cock up and down with a palm full of spit to the thought of you, accidentally elbowing the key off the bed and out of reach.

"How about you try pushing it out with your arm? aim for the bedside table and I should be able to pick it up"

"How?"

"I'll use my feet", he offers.

You scrunch your brow but you suppose it could work, at a loss for any other suggestions.

"Yeah, okay. Let's try that."

With that you turn your head to the side and press your cheek to the floor, looking over your shoulder to eye where you're supposed to slide it.

Key in hand, hope in your veins, you carefully flick it out from under the bed until it clinks against Eddie's bedside table. Exactly where you were aiming for.

"Fuck, good job sweetheart", his heels thump down on the floor and you feel it pulse against your cheek. Then you hear him shuffle the key between his feet until he can manage to squeeze it between his toes securely.

Carefully, Eddie's able to pick it up as planned and drops it onto the bed within reach of his free hand. Next, you hear the metallic click of the handcuffs coming undone and him hissing as he rubs at his sore wrist.

"Alright. Let's get you out of there", he says, completely forgetting one crucial detail -- that he's yet to clothe himself.

You haven't forgotten about that fact however.

"Eds? are you still naked?"

Eddie freezes in place, looking down at his bare inked skin and his cock, still very much hard between his legs like it's the first time he's ever taken a look at himself.

The realization makes him smack the heel of his palm against his forehead in frustration, cursing himself for being such an idiot as the skin there begins to redden behind his bangs.

"Shit. Yeah, just give me a sec an-"

"No, wait"

"Huh?", he turns back around, afraid he might have done something stupid again already. That'd be a personal record for him.

"Maybe you can... I don't know. Maybe you can unstick me some other way?"

Oh no.

He knows that question well, having heard it in many a dirty movie with actors placed in situations not unlike the one the two of you are in right now.

So for a while, all Eddie can do is stare, half convinced he must have imagined you saying it because he knows what's supposed to come next and there's just no way that you'd ask that of him.

Right?

"Um, I'm not sure what you mean" he replies slowly. Playing it safe.

This time, the way you wiggle your ass for him in entirely intentional and watching it makes his cock ache all over again.

You couldn't quite put your finger on it but finding Eddie the way you did made you feel a certain type of way. Something arousing. Something exciting. Something new. And now you wanted to act on that feeling as it grows its roots in you, making a permanent space for itself there.

You know Eddie must have felt it too amongst the car wreck of emotions inside him when you set foot in his room and found him in such a vulnerable state.

"C'mon Eddie. Do I need to spell it out for you?"

His eye twitches, feeling like he's ventured onto thin ice.

"No but, why would you think I'd want to ?", he blurts out all panic stricken and overly cautious, not one to act well under pressure. He's just trying to cover his ass in case you might be trying to play some kind of cruel joke on him.

What follows is a pause that you purposely let drag on a little longer than necessary just so your next few words will land much harder.

"Because the polaroid's of me under your bed are all sticky".

Frigid cold like he's never felt before avalanches down his body. Every breath he takes feels like needles in his lungs, his legs beginning to tremble like they might give out from under him at any moment.

It happened at Steve's last BBQ pool party. You'd been walking around in your new bathing suit so casually and entirely unaware of the effect you were having on Eddie.

Being caught with a boner was no where on his list so he slipped into the nearest bathroom without drawing any attention to take care of the situation in his swim trunks.

It happened sooner than he's used to, something about knowing how closeby you were, just a couple of feet away and soaking wet that made his toes curl and spine tingle.

Afterwards, he flushed the cloudy, floating spurts of cum down the toilet, watching them spiral down the drain before he scrubbed his hands like Mrs. Harrington's nice soap and hand towels might be able to erase what he's just done.

It wasn't over yet.

Eddie wasn't even sure whose camera it was, only that everyone had a go by picking it up and posing for pictures with all the other guests, tossing the snapshots into a pile on a table inside to be sorted later.

He couldn't let an opportunity like that just slip away.

So Eddie made sure to be quick when no one else was looking, selecting a few photos of you which he held on to, taking them home where he could do with them as he pleased.

And he certainly did.

Until one day when he had to kick the small stack of pictures under his bed in a panic when Wayne came in to his room to have yet another word with him about leaving the empty milk cartons in the fridge instead of replacing them.

"Oh Christ- I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Eddie", you call out loud enough to stop him from rambling.

"I'm not mad. Not at all. Being like this... I don't know, it's kind of exciting"

"Oh?", his ears perk up.

"Yeah. I like being vulnerable like this. And I think it's because I trust you".

That makes him smile like the sweet goon that he is, filling his chest with sunshine just to know you thought of him that way.

"You're sure? you're really really sure?", he checks excitedly.

Not one for repeating yourself, you puff out a playful scoff, rolling your eyes and though he can't see it, he just knows you're trying to sass him a bit.

"Alright then, sweet stuff", Eddie reaches for you, running his hands over the curves of your body, working his way up to hook his fingers through the belt loops of your shorts to begin tugging them down.

"This is so much better than anything I've imagined us doing" he tells you as he gets to reveal more and more of your skin, no longer a trembling mess. No longer ashamed. Not when you make him feel so understood and accepted.

"Yeah? you think of me a lot?", you work in a little flirtatious riff, humming as you lean further into Eddie's touch as he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs to watch you drip. He thinks he'll try to catch some of it on his tongue first.

"Only all the time", he confesses with an airy laugh.

You smile.

More than the excitement of being stuck and giving yourself to him like this, the whole thing feels a little unusual but right. Weird but good. Unexpected but intriguing. And just so fucking sexy, enough to make you want to do it with no doubts in your mind. And it all feels so much sweeter getting to explore it all with the person who means the most to you.

"I like thinking about you too", you admit with a quiver, your shorts and your sticky panties coming down to bunch at your sore knees.

"Can't believe I finally get to feel you now too".

[rowarn]

NEIGHBORLY.

simon riley/reader feat. soap + gaz

tags: smut, established relationship (engaged), retired!simon, neighbors!soap+gaz, afab!reader, gn!reader, age gap (not specified but i imagine 30s/20s), long winded pwp

cw: voyeurism, size difference, no foursome, cucking, throat fucking with fingers, blowjob, dacryphilia, pet names: love/lovie/sweetheart, praise, outdoor sex, cunnilingus, wet&messy, simon picks up reader bridal, striptease?, fingering, dirty talk, praise, lots of compliments!!!, masturbation, clothed/naked sex, standing sex, hand on throat!!!!!, creampie

; two guys called soap and gaz move in next door and aren't good at hiding the crush they develop on you. your fiance, simon, decides they're fun to play with.

"You had dressed up so nicely for your company and here he was, stripping it off of you in front of them instead."

8.5k words

When your fiancé surprised you by buying a quaint little house for the two of you to spend the rest of your lives together in, you were elated. It was straight out of your dreams, cute and cozy, yellow on the outside and enough room for a little garden if you so wished. It was in a quiet neighborhood but near enough to everything you needed that you could walk there if you so chose. 

It was all so perfect – living with the love of your life in your first house together. Ready to start your lives and plan the upcoming wedding. Things were peaceful and you couldn’t have been happier. 

Then the house next door sold. 

“You really have to give them away?” Simon huffed from where he sat at the table, cheek resting on his propped up hand. His lidded gaze followed you as you flitted about the kitchen, cat-themed apron covered in flour.

You laugh over your shoulder, “It’s the polite thing to do! We have to be good neighbors!”

“They smell good…” Simon muttered, only making your smile broaden as you walked over to him.

His hands found your hips when you placed yours on his broad shoulders, black t-shirt getting white specks all over it from the flour still on your fingers, “After I get back from delivering these I’ll make a whole batch just for you, deal?”

He tongues the inside of his cheek before nodding, “Let’s get it over with.”

“You’re coming?” you ask, brows raised in surprise. 

“Of course,” he huffs, giving your bottom a little pat when you bend over to grab the tupperware out of the lower cabinet. 

You giggle and carefully place parchment paper inside before organizing the cookies in a way that looks nice. You pop the lid on and make your way to the door where Simon is leaning against it with his arms over his chest. 

You try your best not to ogle him but he looks damn good; a simple pair of blue jeans fastened with a leather belt and a tight shirt that hugs his pecs and stretches the sleeves around his biceps when they flex. 

“Maybe when we get back,” you hum, slipping your feet into your slides, “You can let me suck your dick on the couch, yeah?”

Simon rolls his eyes but doesn’t do a good job of hiding the crooked smile that slips across his face. He turns his back to you and opens the door for you before following you out and down the porch.. 

His heavy boots pound against the stairs, reminding you just how intimidating his stature is. It makes you pause, halfway between your yard and the new neighbors. You turn around and look up at him.

“What?” he raises a thick brow, crossing his arms over his chest again.

“Just…” you take a few steps backwards, playfully squinting at him with pursed lips, “Stay here, okay? We don’t want to scare the new neighbors.”

“You implying I’m scary, love?” he huffs, a smirk on his lips.

“I’m not implying it, Si,” you grin, “Just stay here while I deliver these.”

“You’re the boss,” he sighs. 

True to his word, his feet remain planted right where he stands as you cross into the new neighbors yard. You hop up the stairs and ring the doorbell. 

You hear a clamoring from the other side of the door before there’s a slam against the surface and muffled cursing. You bite back a laugh before smiling politely when the door swings open. 

Two men stand in the doorway, one with a mohawk stands closest to you – probably the one who ran into the door. 

“Oh,” he clears his throat, fixing his posture before flashing you a crooked grin, “Can-can we help ye?”

The other man, with pretty, brown eyes scoots closer, bumping shoulders with the other man, “You’re from next door.”

“Huh?!” The mohawk man gawks, whipping his head over to stare at the other man, “We had a pretty neighbor this whole time and you kept it to yerself?!”

“Are those for us?” he ignored his companion and looked at the tupperware in your hands.

“Oh!” you brush off mohawks comment and nod, holding the box out, “I made you some cookies. They’re just plain chocolate chip, I hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” he kindly smiles and takes the container from you, fingers brushing against yours. 

“So,” mohawk rests his arm up on the door frame, eyeing you up and down, “My name’s Johnny but everyone calls me Soap.”

“Nice to meet you,” you nod your head in greeting, introducing yourself before looking at the other man who has opened the tupperware to take a cookie out.

“Kyle,” he offers before taking a bite, humming in satisfaction, “These are delicious.”

“Hey, don’t hog those for yourself, ye pig!” Soap cries, snatching a cookie out of the container before shoving the whole thing in his mouth with a moan, “These are good.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you like them,” you giggle, “You can return the tupperware whenever you’re ready.”

“So,” Soap hums before you can leave, “You’re pretty and you can bake, what else can you do? How about you come in and we can get to know each other more.”

You bashfully lower your head and laugh, “I don’t think my fiance would appreciate that very much.” You gesture over your shoulder. 

Both men comically lean out of the doorway to look into the yard where Simon still stands, arms over his chest, brown eyes practically piercing through them.

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Soap mutters under his breath before sighing, “Figures, I suppose. Lucky bastard.”

You shake your head tossing a little wave to Simon before looking back at your neighbors, “I’ll be seeing you guys around. Enjoy the cookies!”

You can feel their eyes on you as you go and it isn’t until you reach Simon that you hear the door shut. 

Your fiance looks down at you when you stand in front of him, “They liked the cookies.”

“Bet they did,” he hums, letting you take his hand and lead him back to the house where he proceeds to demand a fresh batch just for himself – as you promised. 

The next time you see your neighbors, it’s just Kyle. You’re outside, kneeling in the grass with your hands covered in dirt as you plant some flowers. 

“Hey there, neighbor,” a friendly voice calls from behind. 

You turn to look to see Kyle dressed in a compression shirt, shorts, and running shoes, “Oh hello, Kyle!”

“Doin’ some dirty work, are you?” he asks, eyeing the holes you’re carefully digging.

“Just getting started on my garden,” you explain, “What about you? Going for a run?”

“That’s right,” he nods, “May be on leave but gotta keep movin’ or I go crazy.”

“Leave?” you ask, sitting up straight in interest, “You’re in the military?”

His eyes light up as he nods, “That’s right. Soap and I both.” 

“You don’t live on base?” you ask, unable to hide your interest. 

“Nah, had to live in the barracks for way too long I couldn’t handle it anymore,” he laughs, a charming smile that makes you smile back, “You interested in military men, love?” he asks, flirtatious tone more than obvious.

You laugh softly, “You could say that,” his brows raise in interest, “My fiance is ex-military. Discharged at Lieutenant for an injury.”

His smile is wiped from his face quickly and you bite back another laugh, “Right, your fiance.”

“I could introduce you, if you’d like,” you offer, “Simon doesn’t really get to talk to many people who know what the military is really like–”

“That’s alright, love,” Kyle says, smiling politely, “I’ve got a run to go on, I’m sure I’ll get the chance to meet him soon enough.”

“Alright,” you wave, hands still covered in dirt as he makes his way back to the sidewalk before jogging off and out of sight. 

You finish planting and watering before you place all your tools in the shed and head back inside. Simon sits at the kitchen table, watching the tv that plays some movie from the living room. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets without looking away. 

“Hi baby!” you chirp, making your way over to the sink so you can scrub your hands free of dirt, “I ran into Kyle outside!”

“Who?” he asks, barely showing any hint of interest. 

“One of the guys from next door!” you remind him, turning off the water and grabbing a towel to wipe your hands dry, “Turns out they’re both in the military!”

“Is that right?” that finally gets his attention.

You nod, turning to look at him, “I offered to introduce you but I think they’re a little scared of you after all.”

He laughs through his nose before standing up, approaching you in a couple broad steps. He crowds you against the counter, hands on either side of you to prevent you from fleeing, “Think they wanna fuck you, lovie.”

You swallow thickly and look up at him, “Th-They’re just flirts…”

He hums, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, “Think I don’t know blokes like that? Young guys in the military like them only think about stuffing their pathetic pricks into whatever tight, wet cunts they can find.”

“S-Si, I haven’t showered yet…” you whisper when he starts trailing his lips along the side of your neck, “I was outside, remember?”

He scoffs, “What kinda man do you take me for?”

You giggle, squirming your way out of his hold, prancing past him and towards the stairs, “You can show me what kind of man you are after a shower.”

A grin spreads across his face as he chases after you, your sweet giggles music to his ears and cock already hard and heavy against his thigh, ready for you to be beneath him or the night.

He waits patiently for you to finish your shower. The second you’re out, a towel the only thing wrapped around you, he has you pinned on the bed. 

“You like keeping me waitin’, lovie?” he huffs, nipping at your jaw as he tugs your towel open so he can palm your breasts. You spread your legs for him, legging your knees rest on his hips, “Leavin’ me here with a hard-on. Got my cock achin’, sweetheart.”

“Si…” you sigh wistfully, lashes fluttering as his dirty words make you clench around nothing, “I-I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh?” he grins, broad tongue licking flat over one of your nipples, “I like the sound of that. You gonna let me use that pretty cunt?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, hands coming up to grip his strong shoulders from the pleasure his tongue brings you.

“So sweet for me,” he hums, rough hands sliding down your body, over your hips and trailing along your thighs until goosebumps rise on your skin. He brings two fingers between your legs to spread your folds apart, the sticky noise audible between the two of you and it makes him snicker, “You’re this wet?”

Your cheeks burn in humiliation, “Sh-Shut up, don’t be mean.”

“Mean?” he asks incredulously, “You’re callin’ me mean while I’m playin’ with this pretty cunt?”

You open your mouth to retaliate but he slides two thick digits into your pussy. You whimper at the burn that it causes but it fades quickly when he crooks his fingers just right to prod that sweet little spot inside you. 

Your blunt nails dig into his shoulders, clutching the fabric of his shirt as he surges up to pull you into a kiss. You whimper into the kiss as he continues to stretch you open on his fingers, carefully introducing a third so you can take his cock later with ease. As you kiss, you grind your hips against his hand, his palm rubbing against your clit. The pleasure makes you sigh and shiver, a sweet little sound that makes Simon’s cock twitch in interest. 

The kiss is sloppy and wet, messy strings of spit between your lips every time you part to take a breath. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his fingers as he fucks you with them, scissoring his digits to really stretch you out. He doesn’t know how much longer he can wait 

“Please, Si,” you gasp, the plea making him stop, glancing over your face to see how badly you really need it. 

He sits back on his knees, flingers sliding out of your cunt with an obscene schlick. He unbuttons his jeans and moves the fabric out of the way so he can pull his hard, leaky cock free. He wraps his hand around himself, using the slick covering his fingers to lube himself up. 

“Take it off,” you whine, making him pause. 

He wants you so bad, just wants to fold you up and stuff his aching cock right in the tight, hot clutch of your pretty pussy. But the puppy-dog eyes you’re giving him has him huffing and obeying. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters, hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt so he can yank it over his head. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, leaning up to run your hands over his chest and abdomen, feeling the firmness underneath your explorative fingers while he rids himself of his pants and boxers. 

Once he’s finally bare, he gives you no more time to admire his body before he’s pinning you down underneath his massive weight. You can’t do anything but let him, breathing in his scent while enveloped by his overwhelming warmth. 

He grips the base of his cock and slides the tip up and down between your folds, circling your clit to spread his precum all over it before meanly slapping the head against the little bud. The impact makes your thighs twitch and jump, a choked whimper of his name escaping your throat. 

You arch your hips just right, finally drawing the fat head of his cock into your clenching cunt. He grunts, thumb coming up to swirl against your clit.

“Oh, that feels so good, Si,” you whimper, your praise making his whole body shudder as he works his hips forward, sinking more of his cock into you.

“I know, love,” he chokes out, eyes pinned on where you slowly take him inch by methodical inch, “I treat this little cunt just right, don’t I?”

“Uh-huh!” you whimper, thighs twitching against his waist when he hits that sweet spot with practiced ease, sinking balls deep easily with how absolutely soaked you are for him, “No one fucks me as good as you, Si.”

He plants both hands on either side of your head, pulling his hips back so only the head is enveloped by your hot little pussy before he rolls his hips forward and stuffs his full length right back inside. He hits your cervix, a painful shot zaps up your spine and makes you grasp his arms to dig your nails into his skin. 

“I’m the only one who gets to fuck you, lovie,” he huffs, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple as an apology for hurting you. 

His next thrust isn’t as deep, avoiding slamming against your poor cervix but still deep enough that he can grind his pelvis right against your clit every time his hips meet yours.

“Simon!” you squeal, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your orgasm building.

“Fuck, look at that,” he grunts, head hanging between his shoulders, his wild hair tickling your face as he watches the creamy mess you’re covering his cock in, “Makin’ a fuckin’ mess, lovie.”

“You’re gonna make me cum!” you sob, hands slapping against his shoulders when he suddenly redoubles his efforts, encouraged by your announcement.

“I know I am, sweetheart,” he grunts, teeth clenched, “Always make this pretty cunt cum don’t I?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you wail, throwing your arms around his neck, nails drawing thick, red marks down his back, “Cumming, cumming, cumming, Si! Fuck!”

He curses right in your ear, one arm wrapping under your arched back to pull your chest snug against his. He grinds his cock into you, no longer pounding into the gushing heat of your pillowy cunt, humping his pelvis against your clit to work you through the orgasm. 

When you sag against him, sticky cunt still spasming around him from the aftershocks, he starts fucking you again, this time to his own end. He grunts and groans in your ear, body trembling from the effort of getting his own orgasm – his reward for making you cum nice and hard around him like you deserve. 

“Shit, I love you s’much,” he slurs, lips getting loose from how close his high grows closer. His heavy balls slap against you, aching from how full they are, needing to fill you up with the load he built up just for you, “My pretty baby, so sweet and wet for me. A nice, perfect cunt for me to fuck, shit.”

Your cunt clenches pathetically at his filthy words, hearts in your eyes as you watch how handsome he looks with his brows furrowed and his pupils blown huge, making his brown eyes appear black, “Love you, Si. Please cum inside me, wanna feel you cum, please.”

He pants, slumping against your chest as he uselessly works his hips until his orgasm finally washes over him, spilling his cum inside you with a final, long, drawn out moan. 

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he whispers, hoarse and breathless as his cock throbs and pulses, spitting out ropes of cum that fill you up just right, “Take it all.”

“Ah…Si…” you sigh softly, carding your fingers through his hair as he rests against you, waiting for his cock to stop twitching from the aftershocks before he pulls out. 

“You alright, lovie?” he coos, soothing his large hands over your body, “You did so well.”

You smile, cheeks warm and body buzzing from the incredible dick he had just given you, “Never better. You’re so handsome.”

He scoffs, rolling over to toss his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. He picks up  his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe off his softened cock, cleaning the mess of your combined cum off of himself.

You hum, “I have to take another shower. Would you like to join me this time?”

He looks up at that, eyes twinkling in interest.

One afternoon, there’s a knock on your door that interrupts your peaceful dinner preparations. You wipe your hands off on your apron and make your way to it, passing by where Simon is transferring the wet clothes into the dryer.��

On the other side stands Soap, an empty tupperware container in his hands. 

“Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, holding the box out, “Gaz and I loved ‘em.”

“I’m glad to hear it!” you giggle, taking it from his hands, careful not to touch his hands with leftover vegetable residue on your own.

“Somethin’ smells heavenly,” he groans, leaning over your shoulder to take a whiff of the aroma drifting from your kitchen.

“I’m just making dinner,” you explain with a little shrug.

“Guess you’re one hell of a cook too, huh?” he compliments, a charming smile on his face.

“I get by,” you laugh.

“Say,” he says suddenly, “Is that big bastard really your fiance?”

You blink in surprise at his bold question, “Y-Yes..?” your response comes out more as a question. 

“Is that a problem?” a deep, annoyed voice comes from behind you. 

You jump when Simon’s firm, tattooed arm wraps around your waist, “Si, you should be watching the stove.”

“You go ahead and finish up, lovie,” he mutters, kissing your temple before shooing you away from the door. 

“Ah,” Soap clears his throat awkwardly, as his back straightens, “Simon was it?”

“You’d be wise to watch your tongue,” Simon warns, “I’m not above putting you in your place.”

“Y-Yes sir,” Soap whispers, hands clasped behind his back, “I’ll be more mindful.”

“Get the hell off my porch,” Simon orders, watching the young man tuck his tail and dash down the stairs. 

Simon quietly closed the door and made his way back to the kitchen where you were plating the food, “Everything okay, Si? You weren’t too hard on him, were you?”

Simon bites back a smile and takes the plates from your hands to put them on the table for you, “Who do you think I am?”

You give him a skeptical look before taking a seat in front of your food, “I don’t want to make enemies with our neighbors, Simon.”

He sighs, taking a seat across from you, “Alright, I’ll be nice, love. I promise. I’ll go over tomorrow and apologize for bein’ rude, will that make you happy?”

“Yes,” you smile, “They’re not too bad. They’re just…rambunctious. You said so yourself, you know how their types are! They’re just flirts.”

He nods, “They’re…interesting characters.”

The next day, true to his word, the next morning, Simon is standing in front of their door. 

“Oh, hello neighbor,” Kyle greets nervously, “Is there something you need?”

“Your friend,” Simon grunts, “I’d like to talk to him.”

Kyle looks worried for a second, glancing over his shoulder where Simon assumes Soap was, “Whatever he did, don’t mind him. He’s just an idiot.”

Simon huffs out a laugh through his nose, “I wanted to apologize to him.”

“Oh!” Kyle gasps before looking back over his shoulder, “Soap, door for you!”

Soap rounds the corner and freezes when he sees Simon standing there, “Hello, sir.”

“Soap, right?” Simon says, “Listen, I was rude last night. I wanted to apologize.”

“Ah, well,” Soap shifts on his feet, casting a sideways glance at his friend, “I-I deserved it, I shouldn’t have said what I said either. Your relationship isn’t any of my business.”

Soap actually looks like a kicked puppy and Simon feels his own interest piqued, “Pretty, huh?”

“Sir?” Soap blinks in confusion.

Simon says your name, “Pretty little thing. Can’t blame you for makin’ eyes.”

“I…” Soap licks his lips, blue eyes wide in shock, “W-Well, yes, sir. Very pretty.”

Simon laughs softly, glancing over at his house where he knows you’re bustling about inside, “You think they’re pretty now. You should see them in nothing, bent over the kitchen table in tears.”

Soap’s throat moves as he swallows around the lump in his throat, mind conjuring up sinful images. Kyle’s eyes practically bug out of his head at Simon’s words.

The large man gives a tight lipped smile as a goodbye before he's stalking off of the porch, leaving the two young men slack-jawed and stunned into silence. 

When Simon’s in the safety of his own home, he places a hand over his face and lets out the low chuckles he had been holding back. 

“What’s so funny, Si?” you ask when you descend from the stairs, a laundry basket in your hands – the second load from yesterday that you hadn’t had the chance to do.

“Nothin’, lovie,” he grins, sharp canines on display, “Let me help you with that.”

“Did you make up with the neighbors?” you ask, letting him take the basket from your hands.

“I sure did,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before leading the way to the laundry room. 

You give him a suspicious look but decide not to press the issue further, instead choosing to focus on the other chores you still had to do for the day. 

Things seemingly settle down for a little while. You don’t see either of your new neighbors except for polite greetings in passing. All in all, things seem to quiet down. 

You’re relaxing with Simon on the back veranda, curled in his lap on a swinging bench with a book in your hands. Usually, you’d be scrolling on your phone but Simon was always adamant about being tech-free when you were outside together like this.

Enjoy nature and relax he would say, only laughing when you would call him an old man. 

Just as you start a new chapter in your book, Simon’s hand begins to wander. Your lips twitch as you fight smiling, watching his fingers slip beneath the leg of your lounge shorts. The feeling of his callused skin brushing against the hem of your panties already has you clenching around nothing. 

“Look so pretty like this,” he coos in your ear, hand coming from between your legs to wrap around your throat.

You smile against his lips, “I haven’t even gotten dressed yet today.”

“I know,” he breathes, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, simple kiss before pulling back to add, “You’re pretty without even havin’ to try, lovie.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up so I let you in my pants,” you tease, practically melting at the feeling of his thumb stroking the skin of your cheek. 

“Don’t gotta butter you up for that, do I sweetheart?” he coos, “You’ll let me right between those thighs without even havin’ to ask.”

Your lashes flutter at his words, heart pounding in your ears because he’s right. Even right now, your panties have grown sticky. His thumb traces over your lips and you open your mouth to let the digit inside. The action makes him raise a brow.

“You want somethin’ down that little throat?'' he asks. You nod your head, not caring how desperate you look, “Even with our little audience over there?”

He watches your eyes widen, clearly startled out of the moment. Your gaze flicks past his face to see your two neighbors Soap and Gaz on their back porch, both nursing beers. They look away when your gaze falls on them but it’s clear they’ve been watching the whole interaction with your fiance. 

“Don’t care,” you find yourself muttering, eyes falling back onto your fiance.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffs, leaning forward to brush his lips against yours, “Knew you were filthy, don’t mind if anyone watches you as long as your pretty cunt gets to cum, yeah?”

You feel breathless as you nod your head. Simon brings his index and middle fingers to your lips that you eagerly open up for him. 

“Good,” he praises, slowly slipping the fingers into your mouth, careful not to gag you on them until you’re ready. 

Your lips seal around the digits, rolling your tongue over the salty skin until they’re covered in spit. Then he slowly starts sliding them deeper into your mouth until the tips are buried in your throat.

“Relax, just like that, good,” he praises, cock leaking against his thigh at the sight of your eyes filling with tears. He pulls his fingers back carefully just to stuff them back in, biting back a groan when you choke around them. 

Simon casts a glance over his shoulder to see the two neighbors you were giving the show to watching with wide, unblinking eyes. Neither could take their eyes off of you as you eagerly let your fiance fuck your throat with his fingers. 

He could see Soap had his hand on his crotch, no doubt gripping his hard cock. Kyle at least had enough pride to not touch himself to the sight of you. 

You reach up to grab Simon’s wrist, signaling for him to pull his fingers out of your mouth. When he did, a string of thick drool connected your lips to the tips. The sight made his cock throb painfully, desperate for some kind of friction. 

“I want you, Si,” you whimper, reaching down to cup his hardened cock through his pants.

“Is that right?” he asks, raising a brow, “Is that pretty little pussy wet?”

You nod your head, “Want your tongue, Si.”

He licks his lips, chasing the fantasy taste of you before glancing back over to the neighbors who now don’t even bother hiding the fact they’re watching the two of you.

“Want me to eat you out right here?” he asks, subtly gesturing his head to next door.

“Don’t care about them,” you whine, a cute little frown on your face that he just couldn’t say no to. 

Before you knew it, Simon was on his knees, tugging your shorts and panties off in one fell swoop. You eagerly spread your legs, locking your arms around your knees to let Simon have as much room as he needed. 

“Look at you,” he coos, using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, exposing your drooling entrance and swollen clit. 

The little bud twitched under his heated gaze, hole dribbling out more thick juices that made his mouth water. He can’t resist the call anymore, leaning forward to slide the flat of his tongue over the length of your cunt, ending with a flick against your clit that made your whole body twitch. 

“Thaaaaat’s it, pretty,” he coos, muffled from the way he refuses to part from your cunt, “Let us hear you.”

Your mouth falls open as he starts eagerly tonguing your pussy, swirling the muscle inside your hole before coming up to wrap his lips around your clit. He eats messy, not caring for all the drool and cum that covers his face or drips down to the floor below. 

He uses his thumbs to keep your folds spread so he can focus on your clit. His tongue swirls around and around, lathering the poor little bud in a heavy film of his spit before he’s wrapping his lips around it again and sucking. 

The feeling makes your back arch and you can’t help the loud moan that tears from your throat. Your nails dig into the soft meat of your thigh, the only thing you can grab from the position you’ve chosen for yourself. 

Simon’s eyes are closed and there’s a crease between his brows of concentration. Neither of you even remembers the fact you’re outside and have an audience of two just next door. All you can think about is how good your fiance’s tongue feels worshiping your clit. 

“Si!” you squeal when he reaches up to tug the hood of your clit back, exposing the little bud for him to tongue at. It’s so sensitive that it aches but it feels too good to stop him, only able to lay back and twitch as you take it. 

He groans in response to you calling his name, cock leaking down his thigh so much that his sweats are sticking to him. Your slick drips off of his chin and he can think of nothing but how good you smell and taste – a 5 star meal all laid out just for him.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum!” you cry out, “You’re gonna make me cum, Si!”

He can’t even bring himself to pull his mouth off of you to encourage you like he usually does. Instead, he doubles his efforts, slurping and sucking at your clit. His jaw is aching but it’s barely a blip on his radar as he feels the tender little bud throb beneath his tongue. 

Your orgasm washes over you quickly and hard. Your eyes roll back in your head as your jaw falls open, a symphony of pleasured cries flit through the air. Your fiance eagerly works you through the orgasm he so easily gave you, tongue swirling and circling your clit until your thighs clamp shut and you push him away, still trembling and shaking from the aftershocks. 

He pulls back, chest heaving as he finally takes the first deep breaths he’s gotten since he started. 

“Good?” he asks, licking his lips to clean your cum off of them.

You nod, breathless, “Take me inside and fuck me, please Si.”

He’s on his feet in seconds, scooping you up bridal style before hurrying back inside, forgetting all about the book you left behind – and the audience still on the porch next door. 

You learn that Simon seems to really enjoy torturing your two neighbors when just a few nights later, he corners you in the bedroom. 

“Our neighbor’s a nosy little bastard,” he coos into your ear. 

You cast a glance over to the window where you can see Soap is lingering in front of his window, acting like he wasn’t watching and waiting to see what would happen next. 

“He’s waitin’ so patiently,” Simon says, “It’s only polite of us to give him somethin’ to look at.”

“Glad to see you’re finally being neighborly,” you tease, a cheeky grin growing on your face. 

Simon’s fingers hook under the hem of your shirt, sliding it up and up until you lift your arms and let him tug it over your head. Your bare breasts bounce free and Simon sucks in a breath at the sight.

“Fuck,” he coos, large hands cupping them, “Can’t believe I get to marry you some day.”

“We still need to pick a date,” you mutter, voice cracking when he wraps his lips around one perked nipple. 

He groans against your chest, “I’d marry you right fuckin’ now if you’d let me.”

You whimper, hands carding through his messy hair before he abruptly pulls away. He grips your shoulders and turns you so your back is pressed against his chest and you’re facing the window – and Soap, who still stands there stunned. 

Kyle pops in from the left, mouth dropping open at the sight of your tits on full display for them to ogle. Simon stares over your shoulder, watching their reactions as he gropes your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. 

You can’t stop the soft whimpers and gasps that fall from your lips as he plays with your nipples. Your thighs clench together, a weak attempt to quell the ache that settles in your cunt. You never thought you’d enjoy being watched like this – it felt so dirty and wrong but that’s exactly what turned you on. The fact your neighbors wanted you so badly that they would just watch you get touched like this. 

“You wanna give ‘em a show?” he asks, voice dark and deep in your ear, “Somethin’ they’ll be fistin’ their cocks to later?”

“Yes, anything, Si,” you whimper, hands coming up to grip his wrists as he squeezes your breasts, “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Then get on your knees,” he orders, letting your chest go so you can drop to your knees in front of him, “There you go. Just where you belong.”

He unbuckles his belt and pulls his zipper down, reaching inside his boxers to pull his half-hard cock out. You watch with wide eyes as he slowly strokes himself to full hardness. 

A bead of precum oozes from the tip and it makes your mouth water. Before Simon even says anything, you lean forward and wrap your lips around the head of his cock. A soft, sweet sound comes from his throat at the feeling of your hot, soft tongue sliding over the sensitive skin. 

His hand comes down to cradle your jaw, lidded gaze watching how you start to take him deeper. 

When he feels his cock pop into your throat, it feels like the air gets punched out of his lungs. His touch moves from your jaw to your throat, feeling the way it bulges the deeper you take his length down. 

He glances out the window to find Kyle has joined watching with rapt attention at how you swallow his cock. The sight of it makes him pulse in your throat and you whimper at the salty taste of his pre-cum on your tongue. 

When you’ve swallowed all of him that you can take, you bring up a hand to stroke him to the same rhythm that you bob your head. Simon tosses his head back, brown eyes rolling into his skull at the sloppy sounds of you choking and drooling all over him. 

He feels your spit dribble down his balls and over your chin to his hand. It’s everything – it’s messy and sloppy. He can’t even bring himself to look at you, too scared he’ll blow his load right down your tight little throat before he can even fully enjoy it to the fullest. 

“Fuck,” he groans, the sound going straight to your cunt. You can’t help but slip your hand down your panties, finding your cunt slippery and wet. Your fingers circle your clit as you gag around your fiance’s thick cock.

“That’s it, lovie,” he huffs, “Touch that pretty cunt for me.”

Your lashes flutter at his words, rocking your hips against your own touch. Simon’s hand rests on the top of your head, slowly starting to rock his own hips, heavy balls slapping against your chin with the movement. You halt stroking him with your hand and brace yourself against his thigh, giving him permission to fuck your face as he wants. 

“There you go,” he grunts, teeth gritted, “Cum on those fingers for me and I’ll cum down your throat, yeah? Think you can do that?”

You nod your head, doubling your efforts between your legs. The mess of drool that Simon fucks out of your mouth froths and drips everywhere, the entire endeavor growing messier and messier with each thrust he makes. 

Simon watches the way your eyes roll back in your head, thighs twitching and spasming around your hand. He can feel the muffled vibrations as you whine against the cock filling your mouth. 

With a final, deep groan, Simon’s balls draw up and his brows furrow before he’s spilling right down your throat – as deep as he can. You eagerly swallow around him, taking down every single drop he has to offer. 

When he’s finally done, cock still twitching in sensitivity as he slowly softens, he pulls out. His cock was a mess, drool and cum still clinging to the skin in sticky strings. 

“Fuck,” he laughs breathlessly, “That little throat is dangerous.”

You giggle, biting your lip as he moves towards the window, sending a last look to your neighbors before drawing the curtains closed. End of the show, it seems.

You never thought about how you would feel when you’d have to face your two neighbors again. Given the fact they were actively in the military, you could go days before you caught sight of one of them again. Ever since Simon had started this little game of teasing the poor guys you hadn’t actually spoken to them face to face. 

“I invited Soap and Kyle over for dinner,” Simon muttered one late afternoon as he sipped on a cup of tea.

You nearly dropped the knife you were using to chop vegetables as you turned to look at your fiance in shock, “You what?!”

“Saw them while I was out on my mornin’ run,” he explained, taking a sip from his cup that was all too nonchalant for the utter anxiety that you felt, “Thought I’d be neighborly and invite them for dinner since we haven’t yet.”

“Simon!” you cry out indignantly, “How am I supposed to face them!?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, hiding his smile behind the cup.

“Th-They’ve watched us do all sorts of shit!” you whine, turning back around to anxiously cut the vegetables once again.

“So?” he hums, “We’re all adults. You think they can’t act normal just ‘cause they’ve seen you with a cock down your throat?”

You let out a frustrated sound, “You’re so-!”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he croons, placing his empty cup down, “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

You should have known better than to believe him. Simon seemingly couldn’t resist teasing the two men. As soon as all four of you were sitting at the table, you knew right away that this was not going to be the peaceful dinner you were hoping for. 

Kyle and Soap were painfully quiet, trying their best to keep their eyes off of you in fear of making your fiance angry. Simon was keenly aware of this and before any of you had a chance to finish your meals, he was pushing his chair back and pulling you from your own seat, your back pressed against his front.

“I think we all know what we want,” he sighs, “So why don’t we cut the shit and get on with it.”

Rough, experienced fingers slowly start undoing the buttons on your shirt. You had dressed up so nicely for your company and here he was, stripping it off of you in front of them instead. 

One by one the buttons came undone, your fiance giving you ample opportunity to stop him and back out should you decide this wasn’t something you wanted to do. But you never did.

Your breathing fastened and your heart raced in your chest at the excitement of the whole situation. Soap and Kyle sat in their seats, wide eyes following each methodical movement of your fiance until the final button was undone and they were able to see your bra. 

Kyle licked his lips at the sight of your breasts wrapped in the sheet material, giving just a hint at what was beneath. 

Soap follows Simon’s hand as it slides down your front to the button on your jeans. The button comes undone followed by your zipper, giving a little peak of the maroon colored panties you wore. 

“What do you think?” Simon asks them, nosing softly at your cheek until you let your head fall to the side, exposing your neck for him to kiss. 

“A fuckin’ dream,” Soap whispers, sounding like he’s in a daze. 

Kyle audibly gulps, too lost in a daze to say anything as his eyes practically burn holes into you. 

After pressing a kiss against your jaw, Simon finally slides the shirt off of your shoulders. The fabric flutters to the ground but you don’t have time to think about it before the clasp of your bra is undone and your bra joins it. 

Both men at the table inhale sharply at the sight of your bare breasts. 

“Prettier up close…” Kyle mutters, resting his chin on his hand, simply admiring the view before him. 

Simon takes a second to cup your tits, squeezing them in his rough hands before his thumbs hook under the band of your pants and tugs them down. You shimmy in place, helping him tug them over your hips until they pool on the ground and you can step out of them completely. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap whispers, leaning even closer from where he sits, trying to get an even better view of you standing in just a pair of pretty, sheer maroon colored panties. 

“Aren’t they so lucky?” Simon coos in your ear, one hand slipping between your thighs to cup your clothed pussy while the other eagerly gropes your tits, “Gettin’ to see you like this when only I should get to.”

“Si…” you whimper, gripping his arm in your hands as he carefully strokes you through your panties. 

“What do you say, men?” Simon asks sharply, glaring at your two guests.

“Thank you, sir,” both of them say in unison without taking their eyes off of you. 

Simon hums, seemingly satisfied enough to slip your panties down so you’re completely bared – the only one naked in the room. It made your cheeks burn in humiliation but that humiliation only made your wetter. 

Simon’s fingers slid between your folds, a sticky noise accompanying the movement. You hear him suck in a breath when he feels your slick coating his fingers. You lift your leg and place it on the nearby chair, giving both men at the table a perfect view of your pretty cunt being spread by your fiance’s fingers. 

“There you go, lovie,” he coos, “Show them how wet you get for me.”

He slips his middle finger inside, letting it slowly sink in the final knuckle. Your lashes flutter at the feeling of being stretched but it’s not enough – one finger would never be enough when you’ve had his perfect cock inside you so many times before. So Simon quickly slides his ring finger in right alongside his middle and your head falls back against his shoulder. 

You practically forget about the two pairs of eyes on you when he crooks his fingers just right and grinds the tips against that gooey little spot that makes your thighs tremble. 

“Si!” you squeal, nails biting into his wrist as you grind your hips, humping your hardened clit against his palm. 

“Yeah?” he responds, tucking you firmly against him so he can fuck you properly with his fingers. 

You’re unable to stop the cries and sobs of pleasure as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm with every press of his fingers against your sweet spot and every slap of his palm against your clit. Drool drips down your chin as your whole body twitches, eyes rolling back in your head as the orgasm builds and builds. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Kyle breathes, a trembling hand placed over his mouth in awe. 

Finally, your high washes over you and you slump forward, held up only by Simon’s strong arm grappled around you. Your knees tremble as Simon’s fingers continue to fuck you through it until you’re gushing in messy spurts all over his hand every time his fingers are stuffed back inside. It splatters to the floor and drips down your thighs, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment. 

Simon pulls his fingers out of the hot clutch of your cunt with a humiliatingly loud squelch before he pops the digits right into his mouth, humming at the taste of your cum on his tongue. 

He lifts your chin up and immediately plants his lips right on yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You sigh into the kiss, cum-drunk brain getting lost in the familiar affection. You don’t even notice Simon undoing his jeans until you feel the hot, blunt head of his cock prodding your entrance. You whimper into his mouth when he simply ruts his hips, sliding the head back and forth, over your clit and back down – coating himself in the cum he had already fucked out of you with his fingers. 

“How are you boys enjoyin’ the show?” Simon asks, suddenly reminding you of their presence. 

You dazedly look at them, finding both of them sitting back in their chairs, stroking their cocks in the open. Soap’s got a thick, veiny cock that looks like it would make you cry if you tried to take it down your throat. Kyle, on the other hand, has a long, pretty cock adorned with a piercing on the tip that makes your cunt clench around nothing just imagining what it would feel like. Maybe you should ask Simon to get a piercing just to see.

“Fuckin’ incredible, sir,” Soap chokes out, squeezing his cock tight in his fist. 

Simon chuckles under his breath before his attention turns back to you, a well-practiced rut of his hips sinks the head of his cock into your warm, sticky cunt. Your mouth drops open at the feeling, eyes accidentally locking onto Kyle’s, who is watching you with a dark, focused gaze. 

You find yourself unable to break eye contact as your fiance slowly and carefully stretches you open on his cock until he finally sinks to the hilt, full balls sleeping against your clit. Your eyes roll back and you bite your lip to suppress the absolutely sinful sound that threatens to escape your lips. 

Simon groans at the feeling of being clutched so tightly by your precious cunt. Your hand comes down to circle your clit with desperate, shaky movements until you’re suddenly cumming around his cock.

“Shit!” Simon practically howls, blunt nails biting into your skin as he holds your twitching body against his through the sudden orgasm you’ve given yourself, “Cummin’ just from gettin’ my cock in you? So sweet, lovie.”

You whimper his name in a little hiccup, tearily looking up at him from where your head thumps back against his shoulder. The pathetic look in your eye is what prompts him to start moving – fat cock sliding out of you before a powerful roll of his hips ends it back deep. He prods your cervix in a way that makes pain mix deliciously with pleasure – an addictive feeling that only Simon could ever give you. 

His harsh thrusts jostle your entire body, your tits bouncing in time to the movement. You’re not able to keep quiet, every time he sinks deep, it punches a moan out from your lungs. His heavy, fat balls slap against you, only adding to the lewd sounds of squelching and moaning. 

Soap and Kyle continue to stroke their own cocks to the sight of your getting fucked. Leaking cocks squelching quietly in their own grips. 

“Shit…” Soap groans through his teeth, “Wish I could wrap my lips around that pretty clit, darlin’.”

You whimper, eyes rolling back at the very thought of having a tongue worshiping your neglected clit. With Simon’s cock stuffing you full, you know it would work the most magnificent orgasms out of you. 

As if sensing your greedy thoughts, Simon wraps a rough hand around your throat, forcing you to look up at him, “Felt that little cunt squeeze me when he said that. My cock not enough for you?”

“Y-You are!” you sob, tears filling your eyes from how he starts an even rougher pace, “J-Just wanna cum, Si!”

Your fiance scoffs at your words, harshly knocking your leg off of the chair that you had it propped up in. You cry out at  how the angle changes with his hand still wrapped around your throat, forcing you to arch your back to look up at him. His cock grinds incessantly against that gooey little spot that makes your entire body twitch every time he pounds against it. 

It’s even more difficult to keep yourself upright without the chair to help, both your knees are shaky and if Simon wasn’t holding you tight against his chest by your throat, you’d certainly be slumping to the floor. 

Simon’s hand tightens around your neck and it cuts off the noises that are escaping. Your vision fuzzes up as your orgasm builds and builds. 

“Si, Si, Si–” you choke out, drool dripping down your chin, “Please, I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Course I am,” Simon snarls, letting his free hand drop to your clit, harshly slapping the little bud before rubbing soothing circles around it. 

That sends you over the edge, gushing all over him and down your thighs. You squeal, unable to do anything except hang on for the ride as Simon fucks you through your high until he reaches his own end – spilling his load inside you without a second thought. 

You’re left trembling and twitching, gasping and whimpering with tears dripping down your cheeks. Finally, Simon allows you to slump forward, your chest meeting the kitchen table as he pulls his softening cock from your dripping cunt. Sticky, thick strings of his cum connect to his length from your clenching pussy. He soothes his hand down the length of your spine, soothing the little trembles that still wrack your body as you come down. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Soap pants, wiping his cum-covered hand off on his pants.

“You,” Kyle adds, “are one hell of a neighbor.”

property of rowarn. do not modify, translate, or report on other websites. reblogs OK!

[bows4tyun]

Can you write virgin reader and Soobin with bad corruption kink pleaseeee, I just read the 2 of your fics and I'm obsessed 🫶🏼

BROKEN ANGEL - ! ⸝⸝ 최수빈

୨ৎ: soobin was always fond of how innocent and pure you were, not having a single clue of all the twisted and dirty thoughts that went through his head, the subtle touches he would give you, or not even how rock hard you had him all the time. he never knew that your innocence would soon effect him like never before.

𓍼 paring ! - husband!soobin x virgin!reader (f)

𓍼 warnings ! - softdom!soobin, sub!reader, they're so in love, massive corruption kink, virginity loss, breast worship, nipple play, praise kink, size training, bulge kink, breeding kink (he really wants to get reader pregnant), lots of kisses, soobin referred as binnie by reader, soobin calls reader bun, bunny, angel, and good girl

-

𓍼 # lexi adds ! - heh i rlly like this one :3 I like this one so much I'll cry in the corner of my room and wish to have a love like this. "thank you anon!" we all say in unison!!

you loved your husband and he loved you too, always showing you how much he loved you with soft kisses everyday or baking you some sweet treats. it had never gone as far as anything sexual.

you don't know why, but it just never happened even after a 2 year marriage with him. of course, you were still a virgin, you had never had a sexual experience with any other man.

if soobin had wanted to then why didn't he just ask? well the answer was simple;

he loved how innocent you were.

soobin was always fond of how innocent and pure you were, not having a single clue of all the twisted and dirty thoughts that went through his head, the subtle touches he would give you, or not even how rock hard you had him all the time. he never knew that your innocence would soon effect him like never before until one fateful day...

it was a day just like any other, soobin was heading back home from work, smiling at the text message he had gotten from you, giving him a small heads up that there would be dinner ready for him as soon as he got back.

he absolutely adored the way you thought ahead for him, and only him. he wanted it to stay like this forever, just you and him, him and his sweet angel.

everything about you was just so perfect and angelic, how did soobin ever get so lucky to have his own real life angel all to himself?

he dreamed of starting a family with you, him working while you stayed home taking care of his babies, it was everything he wanted. but in order to make babies, you had to have sex.

soobin just couldn't get himself to ask for sex, not wanting to break your innocence in any shape or form. you guys were both adult, more than capable of making your own decisions, so maybe this time soobin would have a go at it.

⸝⸝

he felt nervous as he entered your cozy and loving home, being greeted by a warm embrace and small peck on the lips right as he stepped foot inside the house which dissolved all the nervousness in his body away.

soobin planted a soft kiss on your forehead before you helped him removed his jacket and place on a hook from the coat hanger.

"i made your favourite." your voice calm and collected yet heavy with love and adoration. soobin liked this feeling, being with you, a smile always painted on his face while having you close to him.

with a small nod, he allowed you to lead him to your small dining table of two, the table well organized and ready for the two of you to have a loving and home-cooked meal together.

a small yet gentle smile tugged at soobin's lips once he saw the prepped dinner. instead of sitting down, he hugged you once more, this time more tightly than before. he leaned down enough to whisper in your ear, "what did I do to deserve you?"

a giggle escaped past your lips,feeling ticklish from his whisper against your ear. "binnie, let's eat first."

he leaned back his cute dimple visible as his grinned affectionately, "oh right... yeah let's do that."

⸝⸝

after dinner, soobin had gone to your shared master bedroom to change while you cleaned up and washed the dishes, it was so calm in your house, only the sound of water running bouncing off the walls.

not paying much attention to your surroundings, you're startled when you felt soobin's hands creep up around your waist. "binnie, you scared me!" you say as you turn around to face him. he chuckles at your cute reaction, cupping your face with his hands and pecking you on the lips.

"sorry bun, I'll make it up to you." he says, "anything you want." and he pecks your lips again.

"I don't need anything from you, binnie, just having you here is enough." your words might have sounded cliche but you meant every single thing. he was the most important thing to you and nothing could ever change that.

soobin lets his hands fall to his sides, admiring your beauty for a few seconds, the moment is so sweet, just the two of you, so stupid in love with each other, it was something you'd both cherish forever.

suddenly, you're lifted into soobin's arms, startled once more and you yelp as he holds you, carrying you the same way he had on your wedding day.

"soobin!" you squeal.

nothing but a small snicker escapes past his lip as he stares into your eyes, "it's okay, I got you bunny" his voice reassuring as he leads you to your room.

you wrapped your arm around the back of his neck to ensure you don't fall even when you know soobin would never drop you, never in his life.

he took you in the direction of the bed, placing you down on the soft and comfy mattress, admiring your beauty as you laid under him, looking as pure as ever, his angelic wife.

you feel his eyes on you, his warm brown eyes enamoured by your content beauty. the nervousness gets to you, causing a warm feeling to rise to your cheeks, painting them a mellow pink hue and your hand moves to hover over your mouth.

soobin placed a comforting hand on yours, his touch warm. he moves your hand away from your face, keeping it close to your chest. "don't hide yourself from me bunny, I want to see your pretty face..."

your other hand envelopes his as you stare into his eyes. "what are you trying to do binnie...?" your question curious yet innocent as your eyes search his for an answer.

"you've had me worked up for way too long, bun. I can't take it. I want to make love to you, only if you're okay with it, of course. I know it's your first time and I don't want to hurt you," he says, "I'll accept any answer you give me."

his words make you feel an unusual sensation in your core, you're never felt this before.

finally, you nod you head meekly a small "mhm" leaving your mouth. "I've been waiting for you to ask, binnie..." you turn your head and gaze elsewhere, to shy to look him in the eyes.

his face instantly lights up from your response, not believing what he was hearing. his hand moves to your chin as he gently turns your head back and he kisses you, softly and lovingly, just so full of love.

"I'll start slow, don't worry, bun" one by one, pieces of your clothes are removed from your body, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable in front of him, soobin leaving small kisses on every inch of newly exposed skin he saw, not wanting to miss out on anything. "fuck, can't believe I have you all to myself now, bunny. you're just like an angel, all for me..."

He kisses your lips once more before kneeling in front of your thighs, watching the way your cunt glistens with your slick.

you whine from the desperate need of his touch, you feel like an animal in heat, it felt pathetic.

he pushes a finger into your awaiting hole, watching how it clenched around it as if it's life depended on his contact

"b-binnie..." you stutter from the overwhelming feeling and he stops.

"are you okay? did I hurt you?" his tone of voice sounds alert and concerned for any of your discomfort.

you shake your head, and he leaves from inbetween your legs. "n-no I just..." you say, embarrassed "I want you to touch me... "

"is that what my angel wants, to be pleasured?" he coos softly , caressing your hair and moving his other hand to your breast, squeezing the soft squishy flesh and tweaking at your nipple, drawing mewls to fall from your lips.

"b-binnie...!" you whimper his name out again, not knowing what else to say accept feel the immense feeling of pleasure coursing through your body.

"yeah? you're doing so good, such a good girl..." you moan pathetically at the pet name, not knowing how much you'd actually like it. "you ready to take me in?"

his body moves up to hover over you again, his eyes scanning your face and reactions like a scientific study.

"not yet-!" you watch as soobin's head shoots down and his lips attach to your nipple, sucking lightly, hardening the sensitive bud. you squirm and whimper, you can feel soobin smirking at the sight infront of him, your face contorted in pleasure as your brows furrow and your eyes screw shut.

his lip detach themselves from your nipple, a small string of saliva connecting the two of you together before breaking, he licked his lips in hunger, wanting more. "it's okay, bunny, take your time."

his hands run down your sides in a soothing way, the dim light in the room letting you see all of his features just right. he was so handsome, he always had been. so cute too. you couldn't believe he was your husband. that's when you spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper, "soobin... I'm ready..."

his eyes widen, "a-are you sure...? like, completely sure?"

with a small nod as a gesture, he picks you up again, sitting himself on the bed and placing on on his lap, his head against the headboard.

your clothed core presses against his thigh, a slight whimper escaping from the feeling. you sit on his thigh, your clit pressing against him and you feel a huge burst of pleasure and your eyes close again.

soobin smirks and chuckles at the sight of you pleasuring yourself, his hands on your hips to keep to steady. "there you go, bun. you're getting the hand of it, aren't you?" he says, "now let's get this dick out, wanna do it for me?

you're a bit shocked by his question, your eyes opening only to see him signalling you to take his dick out his pants. you agree to his offer, you hands finding their way down to his bulge, pulling the waistband of his sweatpants down and you grab his hard dick, he hisses at the feeling as you pull it out.

it's huge, you never knew that they could be that big. you're startled a bit, and soobin notices, caressing your hair in a comforting manner. "don't be scared, bun. I'll take care of you, I would never hurt you."

he lifts you from his thigh, tugging your matching laced panties off of your body. throwing it into the pile of your long and forgotten clothes.

"tell me if it hurts and I'll stop, okay?" he says reassuringly, not wanting to scare you away.

"I got it binnie, I want to try."

"don't push yourself too hard." he kisses you softly before you align yourself with his cock.

"is this right?" you question innocently, not sure of what you're doing.

he smiles warmly, "perfect. you got this, bunny. just push yourself down of it, okay?"

with his words of affirmation, you're finally able to get yourself to push his cock inside of, it hurts, a lot. the sting pluses through your body but you keep going despite the pain, not wanting to disappoint soobin.

a small cry and hiss leave your lips and soobin stops you from going any further, "bunny don't hurt yourself, please."

"I'm fine binnie..." you whisper, trying to convince him but he doesn't believe you.

"bunny, if you can't handle it, don't keep going, please."

"I can do it..." and with those words you push yourself completely , bottoming yourself on his cock, feeling your skin finally touch his. he's so deep inside of you, his tip kissing your sweet spot just right.

you moan out and pull yourself off his cock, your hole stretched out like never before, but you push yourself back down without soobin's help. he watches as you repeat your actions and fuck yourself up and down on his dick, the pleasure only getting better.

"ah- binnie! f-feels so good...!" you cry out, soobin only admiring the way your tits bounce right in front of his face, his hands moving up to cup them.

"that's right, bunny. you're such a fast learner..." he says in admiration, groping your tits softly "fuck your tits are perfect." he admits, "I'm so glad that I'm the one taking your innocence, angel."

your soft whimpers and moans are absolute music to soobin's ears, he would listen to you all day if he could.

as you bounce on his dick, the sounds of wet and lewd slapping echoes and bounces off the walls. the sounds of your moans and soobin's groans filling the room that was now full of the scent of sex.

"hmph! binnie! I'm feel something in my stomach-!" you grip his shoulders as he grips onto your waist.

"that's a good thing bunny, a very good thing," he huffs out " you're taking me so well, such a good girl... " he can't help himself and begins to thrust up into you, hitting your cervix on repeat, causing your moans to grow louder and even more desperate than before.

"I can't take it...! binnie-!" you find yourself fucked dumb on his cock and soobin feels his balls tighten, knowing his release was soon, very soon.

you finally release on his cock, feeling as it was embarrassingly fast, but you continue to bounce on his dick despite your orgasm.

he suddenly stops you from bouncing, holding you in place and he thrusts up with so much power, leaving you only to whimper and moan out pathetic babbles, only fueling soobin to chase his high.

"fuck bunny, im going to fill you up so good! want me to fill you with our first child, hm? want me to get you round and pregnant?"

you can't understand what he's saying, your mind fucked dumb as you just agree and nod. "yes! yes please binnie...!"

he snickers " I'll give you exactly what you want, bun. you know I always do."

and fill you up he does, right to the brim.

he leaves the both of you breathless as he stays snug inside, not wanting to let his cum go to waste. you feel as some of his cum swivels down and wets the mattress under you.

"let's stay like this for a while, hm? I want to just hug you and cherish you in my arms. I love you, bunny."

𓍼 taglist ! - @hyunj00 (please lmk if you want to be tagged in any of my future works!)

reblogs are appreciated!

[innorality]

imagine fucking clark kent... mid air.

this probably—most definitely—wasn't your brightest idea.

but it's not everyday you get to fuck and fly with superman now, do you?

you had to convince him to do it. he loved you, and loved being intimate with you, but this was—and he was sure of it—one hell of a bad idea. so it took you weeks, actual weeks, of begging and convincing, talking about it, mapping out every reason why you thought this was genius.

"please, kent, please! it'll be so fun and refreshing!" you sat on his lap while he was laying down on the bed, looking up at you, shaking his head. "people will notice and see us, sweetie." you ran your hands up his chest, "if you go high up enough, they won't even see a thing!"

finally, after two weeks of not touching you (because you refused to let him do so unless it was to take you mid air), he agreed.

you were tightening your silk robe around your waist, waiting for him by the balcony. you obviously weren't wearing anything underneath it, considering the main goal was intimacy. he arrived, in his own black robe, and grabbed you firmly yet delicately by the waist.

"are you ready, pretty?" he asked, voice low and protective. your knees buckled a bit, but you nodded. "of course." and he tightened his grip around your waist before jumping up in the air, and holy shit-

you were flying.

then, you noticed his hand wonder. the hand that he hadn't used to grip you was snaking its way inside your robe, brushing against your boobs and hardened nipples, before migrating all the way down to your cunt.

"f-foreplay? mid-flight?" and he chuckled, his eyes darkening with lust. "when did we think we were gonna do it?" and before you even has half the mind to answer, you felt two of his thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding inside.

he pumped inside you and your legs felt like pudding—half from the whole flying thing, and the other half from the fact he was fingering you mercilessly just like he knows you like. his palm is slapping against your clit and your legs tremble at every impact.

"w-when are we stopping?" and he paused for a second, before giving you that grin that tells you you're knees deep in this mess. "when you cum."

the simple sentence made a moan bloom from your chest, walls clenching down on his fingers. "y'wanna cum for me, baby?" you nod, "yeah? yeah? wanna give me one before the real thing?" and his dirty talking is throwing you off the edge, white droplets of cream dribbling down to his hand as she moaned his name as loud as she could. who cares? they're in the sky.

finally, the movement comes to an alt. they stop flying, stop moving.

you're still delirious, but smiling victoriously when he undoes his robes, hard cock revealing itself for you.

you salivate and bite your lip, feeling his dick rub against your sticky folds, jumping a bit when his mushroom top bumps into your clit. "this is so..." he trails off and you finish, "filthy?" and he hums while nodding, eyes closing while he loses himself at the sensation of your wet pussy.

finally, finally, he starts pushing himself in. it's scary and surreal, the thought of fucking in mid air turning you on more than it should. you love how you can see the birds flying next to you guys and feel his big veins hitting all the right spots inside you. he's so focused, focused on not letting you fall, focused on not being too rough, focused on making you feel good.

and fuck, the adrenaline rush heightened your senses and you could feel every fucking thing.

the way his vein bulged everytime you moaned in his ear, how tightly he was holding onto you, the cold breeze caressing you exposed skin, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against you..

you were close. dangerously close.

your own hand snaked down between your legs and you rubbed your clit softly, making yourself twitch in pleasure. "f-fuck, clark!" your voice got louder and louder with every string of sweet sounds getting pulled out of between your plush lips and he couldn't get enough.

your orgasm hit you like a train.

the adrenaline and stress of falling made everything feel ten times more intense, your walls clenching rapidly around him. cream started dribbling down your hole, forming a ring around his girthy base. "oh my fucking-" was really all you could coherently say in such a situation, every other word melting with eachother.

"baby- baby, shit- yes-" you had the man of steel stuttering and drooling, the sensation of your mushy walls clamping down on him too much for the poor man. he quickly let himself go, his cum coating your insides in a thick, white and milky layer.

he gasped, breath hitching when he felt the warmth of his cum fill you up. he pulled out slowly, your name slipping out of his mouth, while still catching his breath.

the flight back home was full of panting and quick dirty jokes you threw at him to fluster him.

bonus : bruce wayne noticed superman flying up in the sky.. up.. and up... and then stopping? wait.. he's with someone.. what are those movements–oh. they're fucking. this is officially none of his business anymore.

[rainyhideoutnight]

spit roast with tfem lottienat <3. cw. blowjob, breeding, p in v sex, lots of cum, praise, degradation, slight dacryphilia. dom!lottie, dom!nat, sub!reader. mdni.

"are you ready?" lottie mutters once she pulls away from the kiss, her body pressed against your front. nat's standing behind you, littering kisses along your neck as her hands hungrily grope whatever skin she can reach.

you're all still fully clothed, but you can feel the heat in the room. they both want you, that's clear, you can feel it with how tightly they're pressing their bodies against yours, sandwiching you, making you feel how hard they both are.

"yeah." you murmur, voice shaky as your underwear soaks through with excitement. nat seems particularly impatient, due to how she's rubbing her bulge against your ass. she cups your cheek and tilts your head to the side to kiss you passionately, lottie shivering at the sight. "c'mon, let's get you out of these." nat orders after she pulls away. you feel two pairs of hands slowly taking off your clothes, piece by piece, treating you as if you were made out of porcelain. their perfectly synchronized movements only serve to arouse you further, your heart beating out of your chest once you're completely naked and they start taking their clothes off too.

you climb on the bed to get on your hands and knees. lottie kneels in front of you and nat gets behind you. from this position lottie looks even bigger than you expected. she seems to pick up on your nervousness, and cups your cheek with her hand to make you look at her. "relax, baby. i'll take it slow, okay? tap my thigh if it's too much." she says soothingly, to which you nod.

nat teases the tip of her cock on your entrance, not pushing in yet, staring at you as you lick a stripe up lottie's cock before wrapping your lips around the tip, gaining a groan from lottie. "god yes, take more of it, baby." she urges softly, and you start bobbing your head back and forth to slowly get more of her into your mouth. she's cooing and guiding you through it so softly that you feel yourself getting even wetter than before. nat can't take it anymore and pushes her hips forward, slamming into you to the hilt, moaning lowly. you cry out around lottie at the sudden intrusion, the vibrations making her hiss in pleasure, but she scolds her. "nat, be gentle."

nat just grunts in response, starting a rough pace that has your whole body rocking forward, as her hands grip your hips tight enough to leave finger imprints. "fuck, she feels so good, lottie. so fucking tight." she groans as she pounds into you, trying your best not to choke on lottie everytime nat delivers a particular hard thrust. lottie has her eyes on you all the time, moaning lowly as you keep sucking her and moaning around her. she threads her fingers through your hair, touching you gently, as you look up at her with big eyes. "you're taking us so well, baby. such a good girl."

meanwhile, nat's having the time of her life. you clench so deliciously around her shaft that she's having a hard time controlling herself, panting wildly as her tip hits your cervix with each thrust. the room is filled with a dirty symphony of nat's grunts, lottie's moans, the sound of skin slapping against skin and your muffled whimpers. it doesn't take you long to tip closer to your orgasm, due to all the attention you're receiving, as well as nat.

she brings her hand down to flick your clit from side to side, bringing you closer to the edge as her thrusts get sloppier and her voice gets whinier. "please— oh god, please come with me baby." it's her tone what finally breaks you, and your orgasm rips through you with a loud moan, gushing around her cock. nat's front slumps on your back as her hips give shallow little thrusts, pumping her sticky cum inside you as her teeth sink into your shoulder to muffle her cries. after you've come down from your high, lottie slips out of your mouth to let you take a breath, still incredibly hard.

your breath's still shaky as nat sits up and pulls out, watching with bated breath as her cum dribbles out of your hole, before they switch places. "hey, you okay?" nat asks softly, to which you nod, bringing your face closer to her crotch to start kissing her inner thighs right beside her soft cock.

lottie grabs the base of her cock and pushes the droplets of cum that drip down your folds back into your hole with her tip, also teasing it in before pulling back repeatedly, her free hand fondling the flesh of your ass. you whimper against nat's skin at your own sensitivity from the orgasm, and the sight is enough for nat to make her cock twitch again already.

"she's such a slut, isn't she, lott?" nat says in her raspy voice, amused by your need to please them. lottie hums in response, before finally sinking down inside you slowly. "so eager too." lottie muses in a deep voice.

you whine at the feeling of being stretched out once more, the sensation of lottie so deep inside you making you feel a little dizzy. nat fists your hair to press your face closer to her cock slick with your arousal, giving you an encouraging look. you silently comply, wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking gently, while your hand strokes the rest of her to get her hard again, as lottie starts moving in deep, slow thrusts.

lottie tries to be gentle, to take it slow, she really does, but she gives in more and more to her pleasure as your hole hugs her cock just right. her hands spread your legs even more, now splitting you apart with each thrust. "oh fuck, such a perfect pussy, i can't wait to fill you up too." lottie moans breathlessly behind you, as nat pushes your head further down making you gag on her hard cock, your eyes watering.

you feel completely defenseless as they both use your holes, your head clouded with pleasure. lottie plunging your hole, nat bobbing your head up and down, their sinful sounds of pleasure — you can't even think straight, your mind set on being good for them and taking it all.

you feel so close already, so close to the edge, that your walls clench tightly around lottie, making her moan loudly. "yeah, you're so close, i can tell. let go for me baby, just like that." she encourages softly, her voice sweet like syrup but breathless from exertion, as her hand snakes your lower tummy and presses down to where her bulge is, the action making you instantly tumble into another orgasm. you cry out as a few tears run down your rosy cheeks, the knot on lottie's abdomen finally snapping as she sinks balls-deep, emptying her heavy cream inside you with a sinful groan. the sight is too much for nat and a few seconds later she shoots her load into your throat, before pulling you away from her cock by the hair to paint your face with a couple spurts of cum.

lottie remains inside you for a bit longer, panting and shaking, as you rest your head down on the soft blanket, your heart pounding in your chest and your body completely exhausted.

lottie finally pulls out gently to let you catch your breath, pulling you down on the bed with her to spoon you from behind. nat stands up to walk out of the room for a moment, returning with a rag in hand. she kneels down in front of you and gently wipes away the mess off your face. "are you okay? was that too much?" she then asks softly, putting down the rag aside to lay down and cuddle you, once again leaving you in the middle. you shake your head, closing your eyes as you let them pamper you. "i'm okay. that was good." you murmur, feeling lottie press soft kisses on the back of your neck, as nat's hands caress your sides.

you'd gladly be in the middle of them anytime.

a/n. thanks for all the support guys love yall <3

[witchwyfe]

karma is my boyfriend - rc

pairing - (non-canon) Rafe Cameron x female reader

précis - a lil princess treatment from rafe :)

content/warnings - mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption, fluff,

word count - 673

"Rafe, Rafe!?" You're spinning around, looking for your boyfriend until suddenly you whirl around and bump into a broad chest.

"Hey!" You gasp, until you look up and see his face. "Oh! Hi baby!" You coo, reaching up to cup his cheeks. 

"Hi sweet girl." He smiles, running his thumb along your cheekbone. 

You greet him happily, leaning in to his touch. "Did you get my drink?" You wonder, suddenly remembering why he left you in the first place.

"Hmm, sure did." He nods, handing you an ice water rather than the vodka redbull you'd requested.

You don't seem to notice though, slipping the paper straw into your mouth and slurping it down happily.

"We gonna dance s'more?" You wonder, straw between your lips.

"We can't, baby," He says, smoothing a hand down the back of your head. "They're closing."

"Nooo!" You groan, throwing your head back.

"I know, I know," He soothes. "But we can go home and get some snacks and watch a show...?" He offers.

"Okay!" You're smiling once again, digging your fingers into his tee shirt.

"Finish your drink and we'll go home, kay?" 

You nod, bypassing the straw and tipping the rest of the water into your mouth, before handing your empty glass to Rafe.

You're not even that drunk, really just a little past tipsy but you're fine with letting Rafe handle everything and take care of you.

Suddenly his jacket is being draped over your shoulders, coupled with a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

"Thank you." You simper. You slide your arms into the sleeves and blink up at your boyfriend.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

You lead him out of the bar, arms shoved into the pockets of his jacket, while he has your little purse slung over his shoulder, your phone, his phone, and the keys all in one hand.

"How much farther?" You ask a few moments later, looking back at him.

"Not too much," He frowns looking out at the street. When the two of you arrived at the club, hours before, he'd had to park his car somewhat far due to the lack of space. "Your feet hurting, baby?"

You shrug a shoulder. "Yeah." You nod. "But it's just till the car then I'll take my shoes off."

"C'mere," He says, shoving both of your phones into his pocket.

"What?" You wonder, turning to give him a coy smile.

Your sweet boyfriend kneels down on the dirty sidewalk, taking your ankle into his hands so he can unbuckle your heel. You're flustered beyond words, heat rising on your cheeks while Rafe's rough palm softly works your foot out of your strappy shoe. 

"Stand on my foot babe, so I can take your other shoe off." He says, running his hand up your calf. 

Once both of your heels are dangling from his hand, he scoops you into his arms, bridal style.

"Are you sure, Rafe?" You wonder softly. "I feel bad, you don't--"

"You have nothing to feel bad about." He assures, lips at your temple. "Just let me take you to the car, okay gorgeous?"

"Okay." You hum happily, relaxing in his hold.

Your arms are sling around your neck and you have easy access to his neck if you strain a little--and you do--at least five times on the way to the car, so you can kiss his neck.

He pretends like he's not flustered by it, but you can see the rosy glow of his cheeks from the street lamps, the harsh light making him appear ethereal and you have to shut your eyes for a second to remember he's real.

You’re still in a fond trance when he uses one hand to open the car door and gently deposit you into the passenger seat. He buckles your seatbelt and tugs on it, before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Love you,” You croon, leaning back against the seat to look at him. 

“Love you so much more.” He promises. “C’mere angel, gimme a kiss.”

© witchwyfe 2024. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.