#yet I somehow manage to love both of them

[cherrycranes]

Dream Girl 3 (Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader Summary: Your boyfriend Neil becomes your co-star when you film something really special with him... Word count: 3,208 Contents: (Minors DNI). Reader is a camgirl. Fluff & smut, filming, unprotected sex. Author's notes: Happy birthday to me lol. Here's the final part of the dreamgirl series! Hope you enjoy. Here's part 1 and part 2. Co-written with the wonderful @fuckiingloser. XOXO

Neil, with his beautiful baby blue eyes glimmering like a child’s on Christmas morning, took your hand and helped you out of his car, leading you up the steps of his lovely suburban house like a total gentleman who didn’t just fuck you on his office desk half an hour ago.

“After you…” He said courteously, opening the front door for you and making you chuckle.

His house, homey and comfortable, with movie posters and memorabilia everywhere, welcomed you like it had been expecting you all along, like you were the missing part of it.

“So… what do you think?” Neil guided you through the first floor, giving you a slight smile of satisfaction at the way you looked around.

“It’s definitely very you…” You chuckled, and he joined you.

“That’s a good thing? I hope?” He asked, crossing his fingers so adorably you couldn't help but say yes.

Despite how cute and sweet the moment you shared was, you both looked quite tired, not unexpected, as it was 11 pm and the last few hours had been… Intense.

“We could stay up if you want… watch a movie on the couch?” He offered. “Or we could go right to bed, whatever you want…” 

He truly made your heart melt, so caring and always making sure you were comfortable.

“I’m pretty tired from earlier…you really put in work…” You joked with a little smirk, and Neil nodded in cheeky agreement.

“Me too… My room’s upstairs.” And with that, he held your hand just as gently as before and led you up the stairs to see his typical, but rather clean, boy room, decorated with movie posters and a big, comfy bed in the middle. From his drawer, he pulled out a big, old Led Zepellin t-shirt for you.

“You can wear this to sleep… one of my favorite shirts…” he smiled charmingly, so kind yet somehow it never failed to surprise you. He then pointed to his bathroom door on the left. “Feel free to use the bathroom too, there should be some new toothbrushes under the sink, pick one out and it can be yours…” Butterflies filled your stomach. 

“You’re quite the host, Mr Lewis…” You joked softly, making him smile.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable…” He assured you, giving you some space to settle comfortably for the night. In the bathroom, you shed off your tank top and skirt, replacing them with his big band t-shirt that just barely managed to cover your little thong. You picked the promised brand-new purple toothbrush from the drawer and brushed your teeth, then washed your makeup off, a little nervous to let him see you so unfiltered and natural for the first time. But today had a lot of firsts, and all of them had been good so far…

When you finally came out of the bathroom, Neil was already in a simple white t-shirt and plaid boxers, sitting on the bed watching an old movie. When he turned to look at you, his baby blue eyes widened, putting him in a mindless trance for a moment before he could gather his wits and smile sweetly and genuinely at you. 

“God, you are stunning.” He muttered in awe, and your heart fluttered. You climbed into bed and sat next to him.

“Neil, I don’t even have makeup on…” You whispered, self-consciousness taking over after only being seen in your best. Neil reached up to touch your cheek. You truly didn’t know what he saw. 

“Shh… every part of you is beautiful, makeup or not…” He whispered, both his voice and touch so gentle with you. So good it was hard to get used to.

Instead of using your words, you leaned in and gave him a soft, thankful kiss, not only for being so sweet and lovely, but for the impact it was having on you. After a second, you got under the covers with him, safe in this oddly comfortable cocoon that felt like home despite this being the first day you met in person.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whispered softly after a while, breaking the peaceful night silence of the suburbs.

“Of course…” Neil whispered back, his baby blue eyes curious, his brain silently racked as he wondered what you could possibly have to tell him. 

You swallowed a little, finding your words.

“I-I never offered a private call to anyone else…” You started nervously, almost like you were confessing a sin and not something this sweet. “Only you… was hoping you’d do it so I could have a reason to talk to you and see you privately…” You rambled on, finally revealing your secret.

You watched as the anxiety left his face and was replaced by a sweet smile curling up. 

“Really?” He asked in somewhat disbelief. This entire thing started because you had initiated it… You wanted to meet him first. 

You nodded shyly.

“You just seemed kind… sweet. Just wanted a reason to see you… Talk to you one on one…”. Neil's smile grew even bigger.

His response was to lean in and give you another gentle, perfect kiss that said more than words ever could. 

Maybe he was perfect…. Maybe you were perfect for each other after all…

──── ୨୧ ────

Six months had passed after that fateful night you took a chance and met him in person, and so much had changed since. You and Neil were now dating, both incredibly smitten and in love, spending all your time together at his place, yours, or Gumshoe. 

Neil truly was the picture-perfect boyfriend, showing up at your door with a bag of Chinese food whenever you had a bad day, binge-watching old black and white TV shows all night, having constant dates at the movies, art museums, restaurants… And whenever you let him, he’d spend hours between your legs ravishing you… Overall, you did it all. He was the kindest, cutest, goofiest guy you had ever known, and he was yours.

As for your work, it was an adjustment for him at first, of course, but he understood. Like the stars in the adult film section of Gumshoe, it was just your job. Eventually, he started to help you out, editing your videos and lightening your workload.

The men who purchased your content only got you in 10-minute videos through the screen. Neil got you all the time in real life, authentically. Your mind, body, and spirit were all his at all times, and that was all that mattered.

It was a rainy Sunday night, and you and Neil were already snug in his warm bed after spending the entire weekend together. The TV flashed over you as you made out, your favorite thing to do.

Your tongues swirled together in the slow, passionate makeout session as Casablanca played in the background, completely ignored by now. His big hands roamed your body, and you rolled around his bed together. He gripped your hips and pulled you closer before wrapping his arms around you tightly.

You moaned into his mouth when he ground his hard-on against you, making him groan too. His hands released your hips and slid under the band of your underwear, gripping your ass cheeks greedily as you melted into each other. 

“You make me so fucking hard…” He groaned into your lips in between kisses, bringing a smile to your face. Although it was obvious, you still loved hearing it… Neil always made you feel like the sexiest, most beautiful girl in the world. 

He rolled you over, pinning you onto his bed, kisses moving from your lips down to your neck with reverence, then tracing all the way over to your ear.

“What if… We made a little movie tonight?” He whispered into your ear, and your eyes shot wide open. You had suggested this a few months ago, still in the throes of a particularly hot round of sex after a date night and a bottle of wine. The idea thrilled you; a real homemade tape with no crazy edits, no cheesy music, just his cock and you recorded from his point of view.

But, despite all the things you had done in your prolific camgirl career, you had never filmed with a partner. It was all about you and you alone, and doing something like this would be a first for both you and Neil. But at the time, he wasn’t ready. Not completely refusing, but not being the most confident either, so you understood and moved on, thinking that maybe being part of your content just wasn’t for him… Until now.

“You're serious?” You asked him honestly, looking deep into his eyes in search of certainty and conviction.

“I’ve been thinking about it…” He admitted. “I think it sounds so hot… Let everyone see how good I fuck my girl…” Your pussy fluttered at his words. He did fuck you good, and he knew it.

His newfound confidence in the moment was shocking yet so sexy. Usually, he was a pretty quiet, reserved guy for the most part. Something you had been helping him work on for the last few months. And finally seemed to be bearing its fruits.

“I’m down if you are…” Your eyes were as wide as your smile. Any nerves you could have in that moment were squashed by the excitement and lust this confident Neil made you feel.

He smirked, leaning in to kiss you. His tongue slid over your bottom lip in a hot kiss before breaking it to reach for his phone and get off the bed. He took you with him to the edge, standing between your parted legs and unceremoniously taking your lace panties off and tossing them away. Then, he pulled his boxers down, his hard cock springing free, already leaking precum at the sight of you.

With one hand on his cock and the other on his phone, Neil opened the camera app, the light flashing between you briefly. You bit your lip, focused on his pink tip as he rubbed it between your folds, coating them in arousal.

You looked up into the camera, smiling for it. No nerves could get to you in this moment; you were a natural. It was just you and your boyfriend.

“You want my cock baby?” He purred confidently from behind the camera, his voice low with arousal. You smiled, biting your lip a little. Seeing him easily step up to the challenge and slip into the role like a pro made the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“Yes, please…”You looked up into the camera, giving him your best eyes, pleading so sweetly you almost wouldn’t think you were begging to be fucked. Almost. Neil smiled in satisfaction at your sexy submission before moving his hips forward, the leaking tip sliding between your folds. His hand found your soft thigh and then pushed it even farther apart from its twin.

Your mouth fell open, letting out a loud, breathy moan. His long cock slid in until it bottomed out and filled you up. He groaned loudly, his eyes fluttering shut, forgetting for a moment what you were doing, too caught up in the hot tightness of your little cunt and the pretty sounds of your moans.

“Fuck me-you love it, baby?“ He breathed out, hips starting to move back and forth. The flash of the camera picked up the glisten of your slick coating his cock with every thrust. You nodded frantically, trying to remember how to respond as he picked up speed. His free hand moved from your thigh to pull your shirt over your bouncing tits, giving the camera a perfect point of view.

“Love your big cock-” You panted, brain turning into mush already. He pistoned his hips even harder than before, the sounds of his balls slapping your ass filled the room and got picked up by the phone’s mic. Maneuvering it, he took a close shot of his cock spearing in and out of you.

“This pussy takes me so good- so fucking tight n’ hot…” He almost growled, pulling the camera back to see your whole frame; tits bouncing rhytmically, whimpers falling from your lips as he fucked you stupid, so much so, you were not even putting on a show for the audience like usual. Neil was just that good.

Your cunt squelched around his cock deliciously, the familiar tingle of a looming orgasm making you close your eyes in utter pleasure. Moaning like a slut, you arched your back, lifting off his bed with your toes curling.

“Tell me how good it feels, pretty girl…C’mon, you can do it…” He encouraged you behind the camera, his free thumb finding your clit and keeping up with the delirious pace that slapped into you. 

“I-i-i love it…” You stuttered, your overstimulated brain struggling to speak. 

Neil panted with a smile, watching in amazement through the phone screen and alternating with the sight of you. This had been much easier and far better than what you always imagined. You were both born for this.

“Flip over, baby.” He commanded, voice so rough with need it took you by surprise. He took his thumb off your sensitive clit, nearly making you whine and cry from the missing stimulation. This was not part of the plan, completely improvised by his inner film director, but you trusted his vision… And you were too fucked-out to care.

Neil pulled out his hard cock coated in your slick. It bobbed with need, just waiting to sink back into your tight cunt. You flipped over obediently, face down, ass up, back arched for him and the camera. He groaned at the sight of your tight little asshole and pink puffy folds from the back.

He zoomed in for a moment, giving the future audience a perfect view of his index and middle fingers spreading your pussy open, before pushing his hips forward to sink into you again, moaning in unison as you connected.

“Jesus Christ, this pussy is so good- I swear it was made to be wrapped around my cock…” he groaned and you moaned loudly. Doggy was your preferred way to fuck, his long cock would always hit you deep and poke your g-spot over and over. And even before you started to move, it just felt so damn good he couldn’t stop cursing. Who could have ever thought sweet Neil Lewis could say such sexy, dirty things? 

He started his thrusts slowly at first, before gaining speed. One hand gripping your hip viciously as he pounded into you, his full balls slapping against your clit. Your mind was so hazy with pleasure, no full coherent sentences could fall from your mouth now.

“S-so deep..” That was all you could manage before his big hand came down to spank your asscheek hard, leaving a handprint in its wake. You cried out, your cunt tightening around him, pain turning into pure pleasure.

From the camera’s point of view, your pussy swallowed his cock again and again, soaking it.

“m’gonna come…” You whimpered loudly, the burn of your orgasm in the pit of your stomach growing faster and faster…

“C’mon baby… give it to me… come on my cock…” He encouraged, going into overdrive- That’s when suddenly, you were right at the edge, babbling nonsense with your cheek smashed against the bedsheets. His pelvis slapped against your ass, urging you to give in. He gave you another sharp smack to the asscheek, making you whimper.

“Fff-uck…” You nearly screamed, writhing in pleasure. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave and refused to let you go. Every nerve ending of your body tingled as your tight cunt pulsed, finally creaming around his cock.

Neil whined loudly, feeling you let go around him. Your walls clenched tightly, trying to milk his orgasm out of him with desperation.

“Good girl-such a good fuckin’ girl…” He muttered under his breath. You were giving it all to him; moaning, whimpering, panting. He couldn’t help but come too. 

“Coming…” He barely choked out, pulling out and wrapping a hand around himself. He pumped his slick-coated cock, hot ropes of cum covered your sore asscheeks and marked you for the camera to see.

Webs of his semen dripped down on your soft rear, reaching your asshole and puffy pussy as he squeezed every drop from his tired cock. It was the hottest sight he had ever seen in his fucking life… And of course, he had to capture every second for posterity. 

“You look so pretty covered in my come, baby…” Neil praised you sweetly, making you giggle. You wiggled your ass for the camera a little, before he panned to your face against his sheets.

“Thank you…” You purred sensually, smirking a little and giving the tape one last perfect shot before he hit the stop button.

Dropping his phone onto the bed, he collapsed down next to you, completely out of breath. His chest heaved, looking up at his ceiling while you both recovered your energy and the air in your lungs.

After a minute or two, he reached over to grab a t-shirt on the edge of the bed and cleaned you up gently. He wiped most of his release off you rather lovingly, before tossing the now dirty rag into the hamper by the door.

Then, he pulled you closer to lie on his chest. You wrapped an arm around his stomach and stayed there, enjoying each other’s warmth.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asked with concern etched upon his pretty face, almost making you laugh from how sweet he was. You just had the time of your life, and he was worried about his spanks being too much.

“No baby, not at all, you were so good… Better than good…” You smiled, looking into his pretty blue eyes. Neil immediately returned to his sweet self, a stark contrast to the man who, just a few minutes ago, was telling you how good you felt on his cock.

You laid there in comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke again. 

“It was fun… We should do that more often…” He suggested with a cheeky, blushing smile, and you nodded right away. “Even if it’s just for our personal collection…”. You raised a playful eyebrow at that.

“You did say when we first met you’d always dreamed of being a director…” You teased him, making him laugh.

“That’s very true, baby...” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you even closer to pepper a few soft kisses across your cheeks and to your lips.

Neil was everything you ever wanted in a man, but never seemed to find, until the call that started everything so many months ago now. It had been a whirlwind since then… And look at you now. You went from perfect strangers, to client and camgirl, to partners, and now, you were co-stars too.

“All of my dreams have come true, I guess...” He whispered, brushing a hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear gently before leaning in to speak into it, his hot breath tickling your ear… “All thanks to my dream girl..”

Pinterest moodboard by @fuckiingloser

[badathumanemotions]

Hi! How are you? If you're taking requests, I have one: Emily Prentiss × female! Oc. It's a dirty request, where I want Emily Prentiss to be submissive and the female! Oc/SN to be dominant. A context behind it, so it's not just sex, is after the "Honor Among Thieves" case, from the second season, more specifically after a dinner between the two with Elizabeth Prentiss (Emily's mother) that managed to push the female! Oc/SN to the limit. That's it, thank you :)

The Weight of Expectations

Emily Prentiss x Reader MDNI Masterlist CW: Angst With a Happy Ending, Smut, Sub Emily, Dom Reader, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Tribbing/ Scissoring, SubSpace, Love Bites, Aftercare. WC: 12,503

(Not Proof Read)

The house was as immaculate as you had expected, but somehow more sterile than you had imagined. Not cold exactly, but curated in a way that made the warmth feel artificial. The expensive fixtures gleamed, the lighting was soft and carefully arranged, and every piece of furniture looked like it had been placed by a designer rather than lived with. Nothing here felt touched.

You noticed the way Emily paused just inside the doorway, like stepping into this space required her to become someone she had worked hard to leave behind. Her hand found yours for a brief moment, her grip firm before she let go to slip out of her coat, her expression already composed.

Elizabeth greeted you both with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, air-kissing Emily’s cheek before offering you a polite nod. She was perfectly dressed, perfectly poised, and already perfectly condescending without saying a word. Her tone was smooth and measured as she led you into the dining room, offering a compliment on your outfit that sounded more like a subtle appraisal.

The moment you stepped inside, Elizabeth announced that dinner was just being served, her tone brisk like she had timed it perfectly on purpose. There was no chance to settle in, no invitation to get comfortable. Coats were taken, pleasantries were thin, and within minutes you were seated at the long, gleaming dining table.

The table was set like something out of a lifestyle magazine, all gleaming silver and delicate crystal, arranged with such precision it felt like a performance. You had always known Emily grew up in an affluent, high-society world, but seeing her placed back inside it felt strange. It made the version of her you knew, with her feet on the coffee table, hair tied back, laughing with a beer in hand, feel even more like the real one.

The food was plated with delicate precision, the kind of meal that looked more like it should be in an art exhibit than in front of someone planning to eat it. Emily sat across from you, already holding her wine glass, her posture stiff and practiced. She hadn't said much yet, and neither had Elizabeth, but something in the quiet tension between them was already pressing in. Like a storm waiting for the right comment to crack the sky open.

Elizabeth settled at the head of the table as if it were a throne. She commented on how nice it was to finally meet you, then added that Emily had taken her time bringing someone home.

“You know, Emily,” Elizabeth said lightly, as if commenting on the weather, “I still don’t understand why you didn’t pursue something more… sustainable.”

Emily didn’t look up. “Define sustainable.”

“Something with long-term vision,” Elizabeth continued, resting her fork on the edge of her plate. “Something that builds toward something greater. The Bureau is fine for now, I suppose, but don’t you ever think about the future?”

You glanced toward Emily, watching her expression flatten just a little more. She drank again, deeper this time, before placing her glass down too carefully.

“She is thinking about the future,” you said, tone calm. “She’s doing something that matters.”

Elizabeth gave a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course. I didn’t mean to belittle what she’s doing. I just worry sometimes. There’s no real longevity in chasing serial killers.”

Emily’s fork hit her plate a little harder than necessary.

Elizabeth’s tone didn’t change. “But I had always hoped for more stability. Prestige. And I did try to give you every advantage. Boarding schools, language programs, summer internships with real potential. I thought I was opening doors, not watching you walk right past them.”

Emily set her wine glass down with deliberate care.

“You did open doors,” she said, voice clipped. “I just didn’t want what was behind them.”

Elizabeth turned her attention back to her plate, cutting another precise bite, then dabbing her mouth with her napkin.

You held your fork a little too tightly, trying not to react. It wasn’t your place, not here. Not now. Emily hadn’t asked you to bite your tongue, but you could feel the ask in the set of her shoulders, in the calm she was forcing herself to wear like armour. So you stayed silent, even as the urge to defend her curled hot in your chest.

Elizabeth went on. “You know, I still get asked about you. People wonder what you’ve been doing with yourself. They remember your potential. That time you spoke at the youth diplomacy summit, people were certain you’d end up in Geneva or Strasbourg, maybe even the UN.”

Emily gave a dry smile, no amusement in it. “I guess I disappointed a lot of people.”

Her mother didn’t deny it. “Well. There’s still time.”

Emily reached for her wine again, the movement slow, measured. She didn’t drink this time. Just held the glass.

Elizabeth looked at her daughter as though she were something to be gently corrected, not understood. “You were meant for more than this.”

Emily’s voice was quiet. “Maybe this is more.”

Elizabeth didn’t speak, but her silence echoed louder than any dismissal.

Elizabeth lifted her wine glass again, studying the colour with polite interest, then took a slow sip. She hadn't touched most of her food, but that didn’t seem to matter. The meal was theatre, not sustenance. A stage, like the furniture and the lighting and the immaculate arrangement of the table.

“You were always too quick to run from discomfort,” she said after a moment, her gaze still directed at Emily. “Never liked criticism. You’ve always called it pressure, but that’s such a dramatic word, don’t you think? I gave you opportunity. Structure. The kind of environment where excellence could flourish.”

Across the table, Emily sat with her fingers loosely curled around the stem of her glass. She wasn’t drinking anymore. Just holding it, like a weight she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to put down or throw. Her expression hadn’t changed, not really, but there was something brittle in it now. A crack under the surface.

Elizabeth set her glass down. “Other children would have been grateful. Most parents don’t know how to navigate diplomatic circles or secure elite internships for their daughters before they’re even out of school.”

You didn’t speak. You could feel the way Emily had gone still across from you, the silence she was holding like a shield. It wasn’t your place to break it, not yet.

“I gave you everything,” Elizabeth continued, as if speaking to herself, though her voice was deliberately pitched to carry. “And somehow you always managed to choose exactly the wrong thing.”

Emily’s voice came then, low and careful. “Wrong by your standards.”

Elizabeth’s expression didn’t shift. “My standards aren’t arbitrary, Emily. They’re based on results. On outcomes. And I’m sorry, but I fail to see how sprinting after violent men across the country for barely passable federal pay qualifies as a sound return on investment.”

“Then stop thinking of me as one,” Emily said, her voice sharp now, the words precise.

Elizabeth blinked once, slowly. “You’re being emotional.”

“I wonder why,” Emily said flatly.

There was another silence. One of many that had stretched across the table since the night began. But this one was heavier. Elizabeth’s knife moved against her plate with soft precision, rearranging rather than eating. She brought her napkin to her lips, dabbed once, then folded it again in her lap.

“You always had an eye for chaos,” she said lightly. “Even as a girl. You were drawn to it. You liked mess, like it proved something. Even your friends. There was always someone troubled. Someone in need of saving. I assumed you would grow out of it eventually.”

Emily didn’t move. She didn’t speak.

Elizabeth looked across the table at her daughter, then at you. “But now you’ve built a life around it. You must be tired. All that travel. All that emotional residue. It’s a job that ages you quickly.”

Emily’s jaw tightened. Her hand flexed around the glass.

“I mean, really,” Elizabeth went on, tone smooth and unbothered. “You’re not getting any younger. These are the years where you should be consolidating, not chasing. Do you even think about what comes next?”

“Constantly,” Emily replied, clipped and firm.

“Then perhaps it’s time to make some adjustments,” Elizabeth said, sitting straighter. “I don’t mean to imply that you’ve wasted your time. But you haven’t exactly positioned yourself well. No lasting relationship, no children, a job that doesn’t translate into anything beyond fieldwork…”

Her glance toward you was brief. Not cruel, just clinical. Observing rather than attacking.

You saw the way Emily’s throat moved as she swallowed hard, still not drinking from the glass she held.

“I have a partner,” she said, so quietly it almost didn’t register as defiant.

Elizabeth gave a faint smile, too polished to be kind. “For now.”

Her tone carried the kind of passive dismissal that didn’t require correction. The implication was clear. You weren’t real. Not in the terms Elizabeth had defined as acceptable.

Emily’s chair shifted suddenly, the legs scraping against the floor with a sound too loud in the curated quiet of the room. She stood, pushing the wine glass away as she did. She hadn’t touched her plate. Her posture was sharp, upright, too rigid to be calm.

“I’m not doing this.”

“Emily,” Elizabeth said, feigning surprise, “honestly, this is—”

“A waste of time,” Emily cut in, voice low but clear. “I came here trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. I thought maybe, if I just played along for one night, it would be different. But it’s not. You haven’t changed. You’ll never see anything I do as enough, and I’m tired of trying to make you proud when you’re not capable of being proud of anyone who doesn’t live by your rulebook.”

She moved toward the doorway without looking back.

Elizabeth gave a soft, incredulous laugh. “My god, Emily. Do you ever stop performing? You could at least have the decency to sit through dinner like an adult.”

Emily didn’t respond. The doorframe swallowed her, heels hitting the polished floor with measured, furious steps until they faded into the hall.

Elizabeth turned to you with a cool sort of exhale, shaking her head like this was all some exhausting display. “She’s always had a flair for scenes. One little comment and the whole evening unravels.”

You didn’t stand right away. You met her gaze across the flickering candle light and spoke in a voice that was quiet but crisp. “It wasn’t one little comment. It was a series of calculated insults, framed as concern, dressed up just enough to maintain plausible deniability. But I imagine you’re used to doing that.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed slightly, though her expression stayed composed. “Excuse me?”

You stood then, slow and unhurried, pushing your chair back with less care than Emily had. “You didn’t want dinner. You wanted confirmation that she still orbits your approval. And when she didn’t, you did what you always do. You punished her for it.”

Elizabeth stared at you, still holding her wine glass. “That’s an unfair interpretation.”

“No,” you said simply. "It's the truth, you've just always counted on others being too polite to point out."

Elizabeth didn’t respond, but the flicker in her eyes said she heard it for exactly what it was.

You stood there a moment longer, the stillness sharpening around you like glass. Every instinct screamed to tear into her, to say everything Emily never got to. But you held it, kept it coiled tight in your chest where it burned clean and cold.

“She’s extraordinary,” you said, each word precise. “Brilliant. Stronger than you’ll ever give her credit for.”

Then, after a breath, quieter, darker:

“And if you can’t see that, that’s not her failure. It’s yours.”

You didn’t wait for her to answer. You just turned and walked out, not bothering to shut the door gently behind you. Letting the silence speak for everything you didn’t say.

The car was dark except for the soft glow of the dashboard, and Emily hadn’t said a word since pulling out of the driveway. Her grip on the wheel hadn’t loosened, her posture too straight, like she hadn’t let herself exhale yet. You didn’t try to fill the silence. You could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw kept tightening and loosening, how her eyes stayed fixed ahead but weren’t really focused on the road. She was somewhere else entirely, playing every second of the evening back through a filter of self-doubt and barely buried resentment. You knew she was tearing herself apart from the inside, turning her mother’s words over again and again, wondering if she should’ve said more or less or nothing at all. But you also knew she didn’t want to talk. Not yet. She just wanted to drive, to put space between herself and that house, and maybe to sit with someone who wouldn’t ask her to explain why. So you sat there beside her, quiet, solid, and close, letting the silence do what it needed to.

Emily dropped her keys into the bowl by the door like they weighed more than they should. She didn't say anything, just moved through the space like someone performing muscle memory. Shoes off, coat hung, lights flicked on with fingers that trembled just slightly before steadying. She didn’t look at you once. Not because she was upset with you. Just the opposite. She was trying too hard not to fall apart.

She moved to the kitchen, opened a cabinet, stared into it like something inside might offer her a script. When nothing did, she closed it again. The fridge was next, the door hanging open for a long moment as she stood there with one hand on the handle and the other pressed flat to the counter like she needed grounding. She wasn’t hungry. She didn’t want anything in there. She just didn’t know what to do with herself.

You stayed in the doorway, watching the quiet unravelling in real time. Her movements were too careful, her breathing too even, like she was afraid to make a sound that might betray her. You saw the way her jaw was set, the way her eyes didn’t focus on anything, just moved restlessly from one spot to the next, as if trying to outpace whatever was crawling up the back of her mind.

When she finally shut the fridge, her hand lingered against the stainless steel, head bowed slightly. You could see it. The tight coil in her spine, the way she was holding herself so still it ached to look at. The silence stretched on.

She needed something. She wouldn’t ask. She never did. There was too much pride in her, too many years of being taught that needing was weakness. But she was exhausted, pulled thin, the weight of the night pressing down on her with nowhere to go.

So you stepped forward without a word. Closed the distance slowly, deliberately, until you were just behind her.

You didn’t touch her right away.

She was still standing there with her back to you, one hand pressed to the fridge door like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her shoulders were rigid, arms locked in that military-trained kind of stillness, the kind that tried too hard to look in control. But you knew better. You saw the way her throat moved when she swallowed, the small falter in her breath. The way she hadn’t said a word since unlocking the door. She wasn’t standing still because she was composed. She was standing still because she was barely holding together.

“Close the fridge,” you said quietly.

There was a pause, just a second too long. But then she did, without a word.

“Turn around.”

This time, she hesitated. You could feel the pride dragging at her, the instinct to resist, to prove she didn’t need anything from anyone. But her body betrayed her. She shifted, slow and stiff, until she was facing you, her hands now crossed in front of her like a shield.

You stepped closer, slow and measured. Your voice stayed calm. Grounded. The opposite of how she was feeling.

“Put your hands on the counter.”

Her eyes flicked up to yours for the first time. Something sharp and defensive moved behind them, but underneath it was what you’d been waiting for. That flicker of want. Not desire. Not yet. Just the aching need to not be in charge for once. The need to stop thinking.

She opened her mouth like she might object. Like she might joke it off or pretend she was fine. But she didn’t say anything. Just turned and placed both hands on the counter, fingers spreading slightly over the cool surface.

You came up behind her, close but not touching.

“Stay there,” you said.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t try to regain control. And that silence from her, so rare and so loaded, told you everything you needed to know.

She was ready. She needed this. Even if she’d never ask for it.

You watched her shoulders rise with a breath she didn’t seem to notice taking. She was holding tension everywhere, even in the way her hands pressed into the counter. Like she was bracing herself against something unnamed.

You stepped in behind her and let your palm skim slowly up her spine, not soft, not teasing. Just steady. Her body gave the faintest response, a shift in weight, a flicker of something deeper grounding into her heels.

“You’re doing fine,” you said, voice low and even. “Exactly like that.”

She didn’t speak, didn’t nod, but the way her hands settled told you she heard it. The way her breath caught at the top before sliding out again. You trailed your fingers back down, slow, ending at her hips, then tightened your grip just enough to anchor her there.

“Don’t move unless I tell you.”

A pause. Then, a barely-there whisper. “Okay.”

It wasn’t surrender, not yet. But it wasn’t resistance either. You could feel her pulling inward, slipping out of her head by inches, letting your words do the thinking for her.

You leaned in, mouth at the curve where her neck met her shoulder, not kissing her, just letting her feel your breath.

“Take off your shirt.”

Her hands moved. Not perfectly. One caught on the hem, like her body was still catching up to the instruction. But she got there, arms lifting, the fabric peeling away. You waited, letting the silence stretch until she was still again, bare and quiet in front of you.

You ran a hand up her arm, over the muscle, the tension, the effort she didn’t know she was making just to stay still.

“Good,” you murmured, and her fingers curled slightly against the counter. That one word did more than anything else.

You reached up and gathered her hair loosely in your hand, not pulling, just holding.

“You’re going to do exactly what I tell you,” you said, voice calm, certain.

Another breath from her, this one slower. She nodded.

“No,” you said gently, “use your words.”

“…Yes.”

You smiled. Not smug. Just sure.

“Good girl.”

You saw it in the way her shoulders softened, the barest shift in her weight. That phrase wrapped around her like something she hadn’t realized she missed until it landed. It stripped a layer of defence clean off her.

Her breathing was deeper now, but not rushed. She wasn’t waiting for pleasure. She was waiting for direction. For purpose. For the next instruction that would let her be useful. That would give her something she could get right.

You let your hand move down, smoothing over the curve of her ass, not teasing, not testing, just reminding her that you were here. That she wasn’t carrying herself alone anymore.

“You’re doing so well,” you murmured, and her fingers curled again against the counter. A soft shiver passed through her.

You leaned in, not touching with your body, just letting your mouth brush the edge of her ear. “Tell me you’re ready.”

A pause. One breath. Then, quietly, “I’m ready.”

You didn’t answer right away. You stepped in behind her instead, close enough that the warmth of your body brushed hers without contact. Her breathing had gone shallow again, ribcage shifting in small, measured pulls. You let your hands trail up the curve of her back, over her shoulder blades, fingers tracing the straps of her bra. She didn’t flinch, didn’t tense, but you felt the smallest tremble run under her skin. Not fear. Restraint.

You reached for the clasp.

It came undone with a soft click, the straps loosening at once. You didn’t pull them away right away. Let them linger, trailing down the backs of her arms until they slipped free and dropped to the floor without a sound.

“Drop it.”

She let it fall from her hands. You watched it hit the tile beside her feet, a soft little heap of fabric.

You didn’t speak. Just laid your palms on her now-bare back, dragging them down the length of her spine. She was so warm. All soft skin and carved tension. Your fingers traced the line of her ribs, the curve of her waist. She wasn’t breathing deeply anymore. Just short, stilling inhales, like anything more would draw too much attention to herself.

You palmed over her hipbones, thumbs brushing the tender skin there, then smoothed down again, barely grazing the backs of her thighs.

You didn’t tell her she looked beautiful. Didn’t need to.

Every second of stillness from her, every quiet shiver and obedient shift, told you she knew she was being seen. Known. Claimed.

“Skirt next.”

She moved immediately. No hesitation. Hooked her thumbs into the waistband and eased the fabric down her hips, past the swell of her ass, over her thighs. You stayed quiet, watching her hands. She stepped out of it slowly, folding just slightly to keep her balance. The way she moved told you everything—how deeply she was inside herself now, how focused. No pretense. No attempt to pose. Just bare skin and compliance.

Then came the last piece.

She didn’t wait for the instruction this time. Just reached for the band of her underwear and drew them down too, letting them slide all the way to her ankles. Another careful step out. She was fully nude now. Not posed. Not guarded. Just standing there in your kitchen, spine straight, hands loose at her sides.

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked at her. Her bare back, the curve of her thighs, the little dip at the base of her spine, all held under the quietest thread of tension. She was trembling again. Not from cold. From restraint. From being seen this way, this fully. From being allowed nothing to hide behind.

“Perfect.”

She let out a breath, long and quiet. Like that one word had pulled something loose.

You stepped in again and laid your hands on her hips. Ran your palms slowly over her ass, down the backs of her thighs, then back up again, slower. The weight of your hands was steady, deliberate, not teasing, not tentative. She didn’t make a sound, but her body shifted under your touch. Like she was trying not to lean into it too hard. Like she didn’t trust her own restraint.

“Bend.”

Her hands came up, planting firmly on the counter. She leaned forward, folding at the waist with that quiet, composed grace she carried even now. Her hair slid over one shoulder, baring the long line of her back. Her ass was exposed fully now, parted slightly from the way she was standing. Vulnerable. Waiting. Her weight settled into her heels again, body straining to hold still.

You watched her a moment longer. Then you brought your hands back, running your fingers over the full, bare curve of her again. You cupped her. Squeezed. Felt the tension spike, then fade. You gave her one short, firm smack on the side and felt the way she tensed, then let go.

“Good girl.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just took it.

You stepped back, slowly, peeling your own clothes off one by one. Not rushed. Not showy. The rustle of fabric, the soft drag of it against your skin, the shift of your weight on the tile. You let the silence build again. Let her feel it. Let her stew in it, naked and still and waiting.

You let her wait like that. Bent, silent, exposed. Her breath had settled into something slower, deeper. Not quite relaxed, but muted. Stripped down. Every part of her still, held there by choice.

“Kneel.”

The word dropped into the space between you like a stone in still water.

She moved without question. Hands left the counter. She lowered herself with that same controlled elegance, her knees touching the tile, bare and unprotected. Her back straightened as she settled, arms loose at her sides, her chin tilted just enough to suggest pride that hadn’t fully left her yet. But everything else had quieted.

You stepped forward, filling the space where she’d stood. You climbed up onto the edge of the counter, right where her palms had pressed down moments ago. The surface was faintly warm. She’d left part of herself there.

Your knees parted slightly in front of her. She didn’t look up. Just stayed perfectly still, bare skin flushed, breathing soft and even, the tile beneath her knees unforgiving. The pose was simple, but nothing about her looked casual. Her body was a held breath.

You reached down and touched her face, brushing your thumb lightly across her cheekbone, then over the slope of her jaw. She leaned into it, just slightly.

“Perfect,” you said.

You let your fingers trail down from her cheek to her chin. Tilted her face up, just enough to bring her focus where it belonged. Her lips were parted, breath warm against your skin, eyes lowered like she already knew what was coming.

You held her there for a moment, not forceful, just firm.

“Use your mouth.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her hands stayed right where they were, resting on her thighs, steady and obedient. Her mouth moved first, lips brushing against the inside of your knee in a kiss so soft you almost wouldn’t have felt it if you weren’t watching her. Then another. Higher. She mapped a path up your inner thigh, her pace slow but deliberate, reverent in the way she offered herself.

You didn’t move. You let her work for it. Let her earn every inch.

When she reached the heat of you, she paused. Not from doubt, not from nerves. Just a breath, a single beat before she gave herself over fully. Then her mouth opened, tongue sliding between your folds, gentle and sure, like she already knew exactly how to take you apart.

You inhaled through your nose, fingers finding her hair without pulling. She moaned softly the moment you touched her, the sound vibrating straight through you. But her hands didn’t move. She kept them still, exactly where you’d left them, needing no more instruction than what your voice had already given.

She licked you again, slower this time, like she wanted to feel every part of you against her tongue. Her breath came fast now, warm against your skin, but her rhythm didn’t falter. She chased your taste with something close to hunger, her mouth messy, greedy, but careful too, like she knew just how much pressure to give.

You parted your knees a little wider. That was all it took. She leaned in closer, tongue flattening against you, dragging slow and deep from the bottom up. Her lips closed around your clit at the top, suckling gently, then harder, just once, before pulling back and starting over.

“You're doing so well,” you murmured, fingers sliding a little deeper into her hair.

Her whole body responded. A slight shiver ran through her, her back straightening just a touch, like your praise had pulled something from her spine. She made a sound then, low and aching, buried against your cunt. Her hips rocked subtly where she knelt, but still, her hands didn’t move.

“Keep going,” you said.

She obeyed instantly, mouth wet and eager, licking you like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Her cheeks were flushed, her face slick, her tongue tireless. You felt her moan again, and this time she pressed in deeper, the angle firmer, her nose nudging your pubic hair as she mouthed at you like she couldn’t get close enough.

She wasn’t trying to be good for the sake of it. She needed to be. Needed to make you come, needed to feel it, needed to hear you say she’d done it right. Everything about her body said so. The way her mouth worked harder each time you let your breath catch, the way her fingers curled slightly against her thighs, fighting the urge to touch you.

But she didn’t.

She stayed still, devoted and desperate and waiting for your permission, even as she lost herself between your thighs.

You could feel everything.

Every flick of her tongue sent sparks running up your spine, sharp at first, then melting into something warm and unbearable. The deeper she pressed, the more the heat in your belly tightened, thick and slow and crawling outward like molasses. Her mouth was relentless. She moved like she was memorizing you, like she needed to earn every sound you made with the drag of her tongue and the soft pull of her lips.

Your thighs trembled a little where they framed her shoulders. Not from weakness, not yet. From the steady build of it. The pressure she worked up in you was precise and consuming. It didn’t peak all at once. It climbed. Grew. It curled through you in waves that made you press your heels tighter against the counter, needing to stay grounded.

She circled your clit with her tongue, slow and unhurried, again and again until your hips started to roll against her mouth, small and instinctive. She didn’t change her pace. She kept licking you like that was exactly what she’d wanted. Like she’d drawn it out of you on purpose. Her tongue flattened, then lifted, then flattened again, always returning to the same rhythm, the same spot, until the ache between your legs deepened into something slick and hot and endless.

You let your head tip back as your fingers curled tighter in her hair.

“Just like that,” you said, voice rough with it now. “Don’t stop.”

Her moan was immediate, hungry and eager, the vibrations pressed right up against you. She was chasing it too. Not her own pleasure—yours. The way she licked you, the way she sucked your clit back into her mouth and rolled her tongue over it like she wanted to wring it out of you, it was all for that.

The pressure inside you twisted, sharp and deep. Your stomach clenched, hips rocking into her mouth now without hesitation. You could feel how soaked you were, how slick her chin must be, how messy you’d made her, and she didn’t care. She wanted it. She stayed buried in you, lips parted and mouth open, drinking it in like she was desperate to taste every part of you.

You gasped, quiet but broken. The coil inside you pulled tighter, so tight it was starting to burn. Her pace stayed steady, exactly the same rhythm, exactly where you needed it, like she’d found the perfect way to unravel you and was clinging to it.

Your thighs twitched. Your breath caught.

Then you said her name, low and wrecked, and everything inside you started to give way.

Your hips jerked forward into her mouth, your grip tightening in her hair. The pressure inside you didn’t unravel slowly. It tore itself loose, raw and overwhelming, dragging your body with it. Your moan came sharp and low, punched out of your chest before you could catch it. Your thighs tensed, your stomach clenched, every nerve burning through the release.

And Emily didn’t stop.

She kept going just as you’d told her. Her mouth stayed locked to you, her tongue working you through it without pause or hesitation. There was no flicker of thought behind it. No hesitation. She was just doing what she was told. Completely focused. Completely yours.

The sensation stayed sharp. Wet, tender, almost too much. Your legs trembled. Your back arched. Pleasure kept pulsing through you in smaller, broken waves that left you open and twitching and soaked against her mouth. You could feel everything. Her breath. The texture of her tongue. The soft, persistent suction she never once let up.

She was still on her knees, still upright, her face buried between your legs with no concern for anything else. She didn’t need to know if she was doing it right. You’d already told her she's a good girl.

So she kept going.

Your body jerked again, sensitivity rising high into something sharp. You didn’t pull her back. She didn’t slow down. You clenched around nothing, stomach tightening again, breath caught and stuttering. It was too much and not enough all at once.

You looked down at her, hair mussed from your grip, jaw moving in steady rhythm, eyes half-closed and unfocused.

Still chasing your pleasure. Still waiting to be told what to do.

You swallowed, hand resting heavy in her hair.

“Stop.”

You kept your hand in her hair for a moment longer, fingers gently threaded through the strands, holding her close not because you needed to, but because you didn’t want to let go of the warmth still radiating from her skin. Her mouth was soft and wet, lips swollen, her breath ghosting over your thighs in shallow little exhales that made it clear just how hard she’d been working to please you. Her obedience wasn’t stiff or hesitant. It was molten. Pure heat pressed into shape.

“Good girl,” you said, voice thick with satisfaction.

Her whole body shuddered like the words struck something deep in her. She didn’t look up. Didn’t need to. She stayed where she was, perfectly still, perfectly quiet, like she was waiting for whatever came next, like that praise was enough to keep her right there on her knees.

You slid off the counter slowly, letting your feet find the tile, your muscles humming from the release she’d pulled out of you. You were still warm between your thighs, still sensitive, still open from the way her mouth had ruined you, and the moment your eyes dropped to the floor in front of her, your breath caught.

There, between her knees, were small droplets of slick catching the light. Not a mess, not a flood, just distinct beads of arousal, slipping down her inner thighs and falling to the floor beneath her. Her cunt was wet, impossibly so, her pubic hair damp and tangled, glistening with it. No part of her was hiding it. She wasn’t even trying. Her thighs were glossy with the evidence of how desperately turned on she was, how much obeying you had affected her. Her folds were flushed and visibly pulsing, slick still gathering there before another drop slid free and joined the rest.

You moaned without thinking, the sound low and wrecked. The sight of her like that—kneeling, completely exposed, dripping from being so good for you—sent another wave of heat rushing through you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the mess between her legs, from the shine of her skin, from the way her pubic hair was wet and dark with arousal, her need painted all over her in a way that felt obscene and perfect.

“God, Emily,” you breathed, your hand tightening in her hair again. “Look at you.”

She didn’t move, didn’t reach for anything, didn’t even shift her weight. She just stayed exactly where you’d left her, soaked and waiting, ready for your next command.

You reached for her, hands slipping beneath her arms, and pulled her up in one unhesitating motion. Her body followed without resistance, pliant, bare skin pressed to yours. She barely had time to find her footing before your mouth was on hers, rough and claiming, nothing delicate about it. Your hand gripped her jaw, holding her steady as you kissed her hard, lips parting hers, your tongue pushing deep, demanding everything she had left.

She moaned into your mouth, body arching into yours, caught in it. You didn’t let her settle. Your hands slid down her sides, over the curves of her waist and hips, firm and grounding, keeping her close as you started walking her back, step by step, out of the kitchen.

“You’re going to be good for me,” you said against her lips, barely pulling away between kisses.

“Yes,” she whispered, breath shaky.

You pushed her another step, then another, until her back hit the doorframe. You kissed her again, slower this time but no gentler, your hands exploring every inch you could reach. Her body trembled under yours, heat radiating off her in waves.

Every step made her thighs brush, made more slick trail down. You could hear it, faint and obscene. It only pushed you further.

She hit the doorframe and you didn’t stop. Your mouth stayed on hers, wet and deep, your tongue claiming every inch she offered. She kissed back like she didn’t care if she could breathe, like she was chasing whatever you gave her without thinking, just pure obedience strung tight around hunger.

Your hands didn’t leave her body. You pushed her back again and again, walking her into the room, her bare skin catching the faintest chill in the air but never pulling away from you. She moved only when you did, letting you guide her, control her, press her exactly where you wanted her.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to.

Her thighs hit the edge of the mattress and you didn’t give her time to catch her breath. You bent, hands sliding under her legs, lifting her with a firm grip at the backs of her thighs. Her arms flew up to brace around your shoulders, more reflex than thought, as you hoisted her up and laid her back onto the bed.

She landed softly, hair spread out over the sheets, skin flushed and marked from your mouth. Her legs stayed parted where you'd placed them, knees falling open with ease. You climbed up after her, mouth finding hers again in a hungry tangle, tongues slick, lips catching, your body stretched over hers.

Your hands roamed, palms dragging up over the sides of her ribs, fingers sweeping the curves of her waist. Her skin was hot to the touch, damp where your mouth had already been, thighs sticky where you'd felt her dripping against you. You let one hand slide lower, down the length of her stomach, dragging slow until it found the heat between her legs.

She moaned into your mouth and you swallowed it, deepening the kiss, fingers sliding through the wet mess below as your hips pressed flush to hers. Her body arched but she didn’t move away, didn’t reach for more, just lay there open, breath stuttering against your lips as you kept kissing her like you couldn’t get enough.

You shifted your weight, settling between her thighs. Her legs were already open, but you wanted more. You hooked your hands behind her knees and pulled them up, spreading her wider, guiding her exactly how you wanted her. Her breath caught as you adjusted her, her body pliant under your touch.

You kept her like that, hands gripping behind her thighs to hold her open, and lowered yourself until your hips pressed flush to hers. The first grind sent a jolt through both of you, wet heat meeting wet heat, slick against slick. Your breath caught, and hers broke into a quiet, gasping sound that barely reached your ears before you moved again.

You rocked into her, slow and deliberate, your cunt dragging over hers with each press of your hips. It was messy, hot, everything slippery and flushed, and you could feel how soaked she was, how easily you both slid together.

Emily’s thighs trembled under your grip, but she held position, just like you’d placed her. Her fingers dug into the sheets beside her, gripping tight, trying not to move even as her hips twitched with every grind of your body against hers. She was soaked, hot, the slick glide of her cunt against yours making it impossible not to gasp.

You pressed in harder, the friction more intense now, your clit catching on hers just right. Emily cried out, her breath ragged, but she didn’t shift out of place. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the sheets, muscles tensed like it was taking everything in her not to thrust up and meet you.

“You’re doing so well,” you breathed, your voice low as you moved against her again, slower this time, dragging it out. “Just like that. Let me use you.”

Her head tipped back into the pillow, mouth open in a moan. Her hips jerked up before she could stop herself, a desperate little stutter, and then she froze, chest rising in a sharp breath as she forced herself still again. You watched it all, every ripple of restraint across her body.

“You want to move,” you said, voice warm and wrecked, “don’t you?”

“Yes,” she panted, eyes fluttering open, pleading without words.

“But you won’t.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll be good. I promise.”

You leaned in, kissed her again, deep and filthy, grinding your cunt against hers harder this time, wet and messy and perfect. Her moan vibrated against your mouth, her body straining underneath you without ever breaking the rules you set. It was obedience wrapped in need, discipline soaked in desire. And every second of it made you ache for more.

You didn’t slow down. The steady grind of your cunt against hers stayed just as deliberate, just as wet, each slick pass dragging another moan from her throat. Her body stayed where you’d left it, thighs spread, arms taut at her sides, shaking with restraint.

You sat up slightly, just enough to get your hands on her chest. Your palms slid over her breasts, thumbs brushing slowly over her nipples. They were already hard, begging for attention, and the second you touched them, Emily whimpered, her fingers clutching the sheets tighter.

You rolled one nipple between your fingers, firm but careful, then leaned down to kiss the other, mouthing at it while your hips kept moving. She gasped beneath you, hips twitching again, caught between staying still and the instinct to move with you.

Her moans were getting higher, less controlled, like each pass of your cunt against hers was chipping away at what little she had left. You dragged your tongue over her breast, then bit lightly, just enough to make her cry out. Your hands were everywhere now, squeezing, playing, pressing her deeper into the bed with every grind of your hips.

“That’s it,” you said against her skin, voice low, breath hot. “Take it. Let me feel how good you are.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. Her body arched, but still she didn’t lift her hips. She just lay there, trembling, breathing hard, slick coating both of you, overwhelmed and obedient and desperate to be good.

You ran your hands over her slowly, palms gliding over the smooth expanse of her body, taking in every detail. Her skin was pale and impossibly soft, like it hadn’t been touched enough, like it had been waiting just for this. Every place your fingers passed left a faint warmth behind, but it was your mouth that truly marked her. You leaned in and kissed the swell of her breast, then scraped your teeth over it, and when she whimpered beneath you, you bit down hard enough to leave a deep flush in your wake.

The red stood out starkly against her skin, heat blooming under your tongue. You moved lower and left another. Then another. Along her ribs, her hip, the side of her stomach. You were deliberate about it, kissing first, then biting just enough to make her gasp, not cruel but undeniable, painting her with your mouth until she was dotted with proof of how much she belonged to you.

Her breath hitched every time your teeth caught. Her hands clung to your shoulders, to your arms, to anything she could reach without breaking the position you'd put her in. You felt her trying to stay still, trying to obey, her thighs trembling just slightly under yours as you rolled your hips again, slow and deep, grinding against her. Her slick was everywhere now, hot and wet and messy between you, and still she didn't chase, didn't take, just waited for whatever you gave her.

You brushed your fingers down her side, over the curve of her waist, and watched goosebumps follow in your wake. Then you leaned back just enough to take in the sight of her laid out beneath you, flushed and panting and covered in the marks you’d left behind.

“Look at you,” you said softly. “All mine.”

Emily let out a soft, desperate sound at your words, her fingers tightening against your back like she needed to hold onto something solid. Her hips rocked up instinctively, trying to follow the rhythm of your body, though she caught herself before she gave in too much. The restraint made you smile.

“Yours,” she gasped, the word slipping out between moans. “I’m yours.”

You ground down harder in response, catching the perfect drag of her soaked cunt against yours. The friction was hot and messy and perfect, every grind sending sharp bursts of pleasure through you both. Her head fell back against the mattress, exposing the long line of her throat, flushed and trembling.

You leaned down to kiss her again, slower this time but just as deep. She opened for you instantly, moaning into your mouth, her hands sliding up to your shoulders, then back down your sides, clutching, needing. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to grab your hips, wanted to pull you in and fuck up into you, but she didn’t. She kept her hands where they were, obedient even now.

You felt how close she was. Her whole body was straining for more, her thighs twitching with every roll of your hips, her breath stuttering every time you pressed in just right. And still she waited for you to give the signal, every part of her pleading without a word.

“Good girl,” you whispered into her ear, voice rough with need. “Keep taking it just like that.”

Emily was a mess beneath you, flushed and trembling, her skin damp with sweat and hot to the touch. Her fingers gripped the sheets in tight, shaking fists, knuckles white from the effort of keeping them in place. You rocked against her slowly, keeping the rhythm steady, dragging your pussy over hers in long, wet strokes. Her breath caught every time your clits aligned, hips jolting like she could barely stop herself from chasing more.

You cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples, watching her back arch and her head tip into the pillows. Her thighs twitched around your hips. She whimpered, the sound high and helpless.

“Don’t move,” you reminded her, voice low.

She nodded quickly, breath stuttering. “I won’t. I won’t. I’ll stay still.”

Her voice was ragged, words trembling with effort, like every part of her was focused on obeying. She moaned again, louder this time, unable to stop it, her thighs slick where they pressed against yours. Her body gave everything away—how close she was, how badly she wanted more—but she didn’t beg. Didn’t buck up into you. Just lay there trembling, panting, trying so hard to be exactly what you wanted.

“Perfect for me,” you murmured, letting your fingers roll her nipples between them, watching the way her face twisted with pleasure.

That praise broke something loose in her. She cried out softly, hips flinching, her whole body straining for more. Her moans kept coming, louder now, raw and needy, each one punched out with every grind of your hips.

She didn’t ask for anything. Didn’t beg to come. She just stayed obedient, stayed open, and let you use her the way she was meant to be used.

You held her steady, firm grip on her thighs keeping her wide and open beneath you. Your hips moved with purpose, every grind deliberate and deep, your slick catching against hers in hot, soaked friction. Her skin was flushed everywhere you touched, her body pulled so taut you could feel the tremble in her legs with every press.

Emily was falling apart under you. She tried to hold herself still, tried not to buck up and chase it, but her body betrayed her with every breath. Her grip on you tightened, fingers digging into your back, anchoring herself to the one thing she couldn't ask more from. Every time you circled your hips down, her mouth opened in another moan, louder than the last, desperate and sweet.

You could see her trying. Her thighs flexed, her abdomen shuddered with the effort it took not to fuck herself up into you. She was panting now, sweat at her temples, lashes damp as her head tipped back against the pillows. “Please,” she whimpered, voice cracking. “Please, I— I need to—”

You didn’t give her the permission she thought she needed. You just kept grinding down, kept your rhythm steady, made her feel every second of it. “You can come,” you finally said, voice low and rough, right into her ear. “Be messy for me. Let me feel all of it.”

And she broke.

It ripped through her with no elegance, no composure. Her whole body arched up into yours, thighs tensing in your hands, cunt clenching hard as she cried out, loud and raw. It echoed in the room, her voice shaking with it, nothing held back anymore. Her hips jerked uncontrollably, dragging herself against you even as you kept her pinned, making her ride the wave to its edge.

She sobbed your name, not from pain but from sheer relief. Her breath came fast, catching on the sound of her own release, thighs slick and trembling, her face flushed to her chest. Her orgasm came in waves, one after the other, body wracked with it, overwhelmed by how much she’d held back until now.

You stayed with her, grinding slower, dragging her through the aftershocks, feeling every twitch of her cunt against yours. Her nails raked blindly across your back, and then her hands fisted in the sheets, clinging to anything she could. You kissed her shoulder, her throat, the corner of her jaw. You gave her your voice again.

“There you go,” you whispered against her skin. “So good. So perfect like this.”

Her mouth parted, lips trembling with the afterglow. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, but she turned her head just enough to chase your mouth. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you…”

You smiled, still holding her thighs, still feeling her pulse under your touch.

“Anything for you, sweet girl” you murmured.

She was still trembling under you, her thighs twitching where your hands held them apart. Her body had gone soft and shaky, but her eyes stayed on you, glassy and reverent, mouth parted like she didn’t know how to close it again.

You didn’t stop.

Your hips kept moving, slick grinding into hers, dragging every aftershock out of her and using it for your own. She was so wet beneath you, swollen and sensitive, but she let you take what you needed. Gave you everything, again and again.

The tension in your own body had been building for so long, you hardly recognized it anymore. Your thighs were tight, muscles burning as you rocked down onto her, chasing friction, chasing release. Her skin was still hot, her breasts rising against your chest, her breath catching with every pass of your cunt over hers.

You could feel the heat coil, sharp and low. The sounds of her soft moans, still fucked out but eager, pushed you closer. Her praise. Her obedience. Her eyes on you like you were the only thing she needed. All of it built under your skin like pressure that had nowhere left to go.

Your rhythm broke for a moment, hips stuttering as the first wave caught you. A sharp gasp slipped from your mouth. Then your body locked up, muscles clenching tight as it ripped through you, sudden and overwhelming. You buried your face in her neck, moaning against her skin as your orgasm crashed down.

It hit hard, grinding slow and deep against her as you came, cunt pulsing where it met hers, slick mixing and smearing between your bodies. You barely registered the way your nails dug into her thighs or how your back arched so hard it nearly lifted you off her. You just felt.

Emily held on. Arms wrapped around you now, fingertips pressing into your back, her mouth moving in soft, breathless encouragement that you could barely hear over the blood rushing in your ears. You rode it out against her, grinding through every wave, until your body finally eased, your hips slowing, your breath catching in your throat.

You were still trembling when you sank down into her, completely spent.

You pressed a kiss to the damp curve of her shoulder. Took one breath, then another. Let your hand trail up her side, over the sharp edge of her ribcage, until your palm rested above her heart.

"You were so good for me," you murmured, your voice low and still wrecked from your own release. You lifted your head just enough to look at her. Her eyes were wide, glassy with arousal, her lips parted. You smiled, slow and fond. "You’ve earned a reward."

That made her swallow hard. She didn’t speak. Just nodded once, like she couldn’t trust her voice.

You kissed her again, softer this time, and then began easing her back onto the mattress. Your hands never left her. You guided her down until she was laid out beneath you, limbs open and pliant, chest rising fast. Her skin was flushed and slick with sweat, strands of dark hair sticking to her temples.

You trailed kisses down her throat, then lower, your mouth catching the edge of a fading bruise above her collarbone. You felt her shiver. Her thighs shifted, restless, already anticipating.

"Stay still," you said, barely above a whisper.

She did.

You kissed the valley between her breasts. Mouthed at the softness of one, then the other, your hands sliding down to hold her waist steady. You could feel how tightly she was holding herself together. Not from tension. From need. From wanting so badly to be good, to take everything you gave her and show you how much it meant.

You smiled against her skin and kissed your way lower.

"I'm going to take my time with you," you said, voice warm. "You deserve that."

You kissed her one last time, then pushed up, trailing your hands down her sides as you moved. She stayed as she was, legs still parted, hair a mess around her flushed face, her body damp with sweat and slick. She looked completely undone.

You shifted lower, moving down between her thighs, kissing a slow path down the centre of her body. Her stomach tensed under your mouth, a soft sound slipping from her as you got lower. She didn’t even try to hide it. You watched her chest rise with each breath, watched the way her hands curled into the sheets like she was holding herself together by a thread.

When you reached the curve of her hip, you slowed further. You let your lips graze over the soft skin there, let your nose brush through the damp, messy curls that covered her. Her pubic hair was still slick, glistening faintly under the low light, darkened in places where your grind had left her soaked. It wasn’t neat anymore, wasn’t styled or groomed into anything tidy. It was raw and real, the way it should be—sticky and wild from how worked up she was, from how hard you’d both gone.

You moaned softly at the sight, the scent, the sheer heat of her. She twitched, her hips barely lifting off the bed like her body was still chasing more.

“Look at you,” you whispered, voice dark with hunger. “Messy and wet. All for me.”

She whimpered, and your hands moved to her thighs, gently parting them even wider. Her folds were slick, swollen, flushed with arousal, and you didn’t rush. You leaned in and kissed the inside of her thigh first, slow and indulgent, then the other, letting her feel your breath against her without giving her what she craved just yet.

You kissed the crease between her thigh and her cunt, and she whimpered. Her hands fisted the sheets again, her hips twitching just slightly before she stilled herself.

You looked up at her, watched her chest rise in short bursts.

“Keep still for me,” you said softly. “Let me take care of you.”

She nodded quickly, eyes wide, mouth parted, completely focused on you.

You brushed your thumbs across the edges of her folds, spreading her slowly. Her slick glistened in the low light, gliding easily over your skin. You bent lower, kissed along the seam of her, then flattened your tongue and licked her fully, slow and deliberate, from bottom to top.

Her cry was instant, high and breathless.

You stayed with it, licking her again and again, never rushing. She tasted rich and hot, her arousal thick on your tongue. Her hips tried to move, but she caught herself, holding still like you’d asked. It made you groan against her.

“That’s it,” you murmured. “Just like that.”

You brought one hand higher, fingers pushing gently down on the slick hair over her mound to hold it out of the way while you focused on her clit. The pressure made her moan, hips arching, body straining for more.

You circled her clit slowly with your tongue, letting her feel every careful movement. You sucked it into your mouth, then let go, only to do it again, firmer this time. She gasped, legs shaking around you.

“Please,” she whispered, voice tight. “Please don’t stop.”

You didn’t. You locked your arms under her thighs, holding her in place, and worked her steadily with your mouth. The muscles in her stomach fluttered. Her moans turned higher, messier, louder. She was unravelling, coming apart from the inside out, but still trying so hard to stay still.

You pulled back just a fraction, breath brushing her soaked skin. “You’re being perfect for me,” you whispered. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

That was all it took. She cried out, a ragged, desperate sound that tore through her as her body seized under your mouth. Her thighs trembled violently, toes curling, and her hips jerked up into your face before falling back down, overwhelmed. You didn’t let go. You stayed with her through all of it, licking her gently as she came, then softer, slower, easing her down when she couldn’t take more. Her body jerked once more under your mouth, a final twitch of overstimulation, before she went utterly still.

You kissed her inner thigh, then again, higher, then trailed your way up the soft planes of her stomach. Her skin was flushed and damp, trembling faintly under each kiss. You moved slowly, taking your time, worshipful even now. She tasted like sweat and the heady sweetness you’d left all over her. You brushed your cheek against the inside of her leg, held it there a second longer, then finally climbed back up over her.

Her scent clung to your skin, her slick drying on your thighs, every inch of her marked by the way you’d taken her apart. You smoothed a hand over her hip, then up her side, anchoring yourself in the quiet rhythm of her body. Her pulse was still racing under her skin, but she didn’t flinch when you settled over her again. She just let you come back to her. Let you hold her close.

Your breath was still uneven, your pulse still loud in your ears, but the moment you felt her body shift beneath yours, you refocused. She was limp but not unconscious, her arms loosely curled at her sides, eyes fluttering open then drifting closed again. Her mouth was parted, lips still kiss-swollen, a flush still high on her cheeks. You didn’t move away right away. You stayed pressed to her, skin against skin, one arm cradling the back of her neck as you murmured against her hair.

“You did so well for me.”

She let out the smallest sound in response, almost a whimper. You kissed her temple.

“I mean it. You were incredible. So good.”

You were both a mess. Sweat clung to your skin. The slick heat between your legs had left a wet sheen against her inner thighs, and your own had started to cool. Her breasts were flushed and marked, love bites standing out against pale skin, and her hair was wild with sweat and motion, sticking to her cheek.

Your hand moved slowly, tracing the damp strands of her hair away from her face. She was still far down, her expression soft, vulnerable, too hazy to form words but still trying to stay connected to you. You could feel her wanting to stay close to something solid, something safe. You kissed her again and gently pulled back, just enough to shift beside her.

You leaned in, kissed her slowly, and whispered, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

She blinked up at you with a tiny nod, not yet fully back but still trying. Her hand brushed yours in a quiet plea not to go too far. You kissed her again, slower this time, then slipped from the bed.

The bathroom light was soft and gold. You dampened a fresh cloth with warm water, then another. You added a little soap to the second one and worked it in gently. A clean towel rested over your arm. When you returned, Emily was still lying where you left her, limbs heavy, eyes open but dazed with the edges of subspace.

You climbed onto the bed and leaned over her, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

“I’ve got you.”

She barely nodded. Her skin was flushed and glowing, strands of hair stuck to her temple, chest rising slowly, still marked with love bites and the faint red prints of your hands.

You started with her face. The warm cloth passed gently over her forehead, then her cheeks, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that clung to her skin. She sighed, soft and nearly soundless, and tilted her face into your touch. You traced the cloth under her jaw, along her throat, and down the centre of her chest.

Her skin there was damp too, flushed from exertion, her sternum catching the light. You were slow and careful around her breasts, letting the cloth smooth over the soft curves, tender with the parts you’d grabbed and kissed. Your free hand anchored her, fingers spread low across her ribs as you cleaned her down to her stomach. She breathed deeply through it, like the sensation was easing her back into her body piece by piece.

“There we go,” you murmured. “Just like that.”

Only once her upper body was fresh and dry did you shift lower, the other cloth now in your hand. You kissed her thigh first, the soft inner curve, before gently nudging her legs apart.

“You’re alright,” you whispered, cupping the side of her knee. “I’m just going to clean you up now.”

She nodded again, and you moved with quiet care, wiping away the remnants of her release with slow, reverent strokes. Her folds were flushed and sensitive, slick still glistening where it had pooled, her skin tacky with the heat that had passed between you.

She flinched once from the oversensitivity and let out a tiny gasp. You stopped and soothed her with a hand to her hip, then kissed her thigh again.

“You did so well,” you said softly. “Let me take care of you.”

She exhaled shakily but didn’t pull away. You resumed with the same slow rhythm, cleaning every inch with warm, steady hands, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. Her body stayed relaxed, open and trusting.

Once she was clean, you took the towel and patted her dry from her inner thighs upward, then down the line of her hips and legs. You worked with patience, never rushing, never speaking louder than a murmur. You set the towel aside, then wiped your own body down quickly, cleaning away the sweat and slick that clung to your inner thighs, your chest, the curve of your back. Her eyes never left you, even half-lidded and heavy.

When you were done, you returned to her fully and reached out.

“Come here.”

She came into your arms like she belonged there, face buried against your neck, her breath warm where it landed. You pulled the blanket over both of you and cradled her close, hand drifting up and down her back.

“You’re alright,” you whispered. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She didn’t say anything, just curled tighter against you, one arm slipping around your waist like she couldn’t bear a single inch of distance. Her body was warm, still faintly trembling. You adjusted the blanket higher, tucking it beneath her shoulders, and kept your touch steady, smoothing over her spine in long, even strokes.

Every so often, you whispered something. Simple, grounding things.

“You’re with me.”

“You’re safe.”

“You’re doing so well.”

Each one seemed to sink into her, easing the tension from her shoulders bit by bit. Her breathing started to slow, the edge of her trembling softening. You kissed her temple, then behind her ear, lips barely brushing her skin.

She didn’t say anything, just curled tighter against you, her breath warm against your collarbone, one hand gently gripping at your side. Her body was still lax, pliant from the weight of it all, but you could feel the soft flutter of her pulse beginning to steady again. You adjusted the blanket up around her shoulders and rested your cheek against the crown of her head, letting her feel the shape of your breathing.

Neither of you rushed it. There was no need. The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of her inhaling against your chest and the occasional shift of the blanket. You kept one hand gliding over her spine, slow and reassuring, the other wrapped securely around her middle.

“You’re alright,” you whispered again, just to anchor her a little more. “I’ve got you. Just stay with me.”

It took a few minutes before you moved. Gently, so gently, you eased her back onto the pillows just enough to slip your arm out from beneath her. Her brow knit slightly, but you murmured, “I’m not going anywhere,” and she stilled again.

You leaned toward the nightstand and opened the lower cabinet. The small stash you kept for times like this was right where you’d left it. A fresh bottle of water, stored there intentionally for when neither of you had the energy to make it to the kitchen. You twisted off the cap and reached for her again, nudging her carefully into the cradle of your arm.

“Here,” you said softly, bringing the bottle to her lips. “Small sips.”

She didn’t resist. Her fingers curled loosely around your wrist and she drank, slow and obedient, her throat moving with each swallow. You watched her closely, brushing a thumb across her temple when she paused for breath.

“There you go,” you murmured. “Just like that.”

When she’d had enough, you lowered the bottle and set it back on the nightstand. Her head fell softly against your shoulder. You kissed her hair, lips lingering there as your arms folded back around her.

There was no tension in her body now. Only that slow return to herself. You could feel the shift in her breath each time your hand moved, the way her chest rose more deeply, like she was reclaiming the shape of it. You stayed quiet, letting your presence fill the space she might not know how to ask for.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” you whispered, your mouth brushing her hair. “Not to me. Not to anyone.”

She shifted, not pulling away, just adjusting, her nose brushing your neck. You didn’t know if she could hear every word. That wasn’t what mattered. You just needed her to feel them, in your voice, in your arms, in the way you kept holding her without expectation.

Your hand came up to her face again, thumb stroking her cheekbone.

“You are so much more than enough,” you said quietly. “Exactly like this.”

Her breath hitched, just once. She buried her face further into your skin and you felt the faintest tremor move through her. You didn’t pull back. You didn’t ask if she was alright. You just held her. Like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like nothing about her needed to be reined in, reshaped, or corrected.

You kissed her forehead once, then again, slower, and pressed your cheek to her hair.

“You should be proud,” you whispered. “You were incredible.”

There was a small, almost inaudible sound in her throat. Not quite a sob. Not quite a breath. You closed your eyes and held her through it, your hands steady, your body quiet and present, giving her all the room she needed to come back gently.

“You’re safe,” you said again, your lips close to her ear now. “You’re safe with me.”

Eventually, her breathing settled into something soft and even. Each inhale slower than the last, exhale brushing your collarbone like a secret. She hadn’t let go of you. One arm still curled around your waist, her leg hooked loosely over yours, like if she just stayed close enough, the rest of the world could wait a little longer.

You didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything left to say, not in words. Just this quiet, unhurried peace between you. You let your palm drift in slow, grounding circles over the middle of her back, tracing the soft line of her spine like it was familiar and sacred both. She felt warm and weightless in your arms, but there was something else there too, something settling under her skin. Not just relief. Something steadier.

When her eyes blinked open again, they were clearer than before. The vulnerability was still there, but so was a flicker of something new. A softness, yes, but something firmer beneath it. You held her gaze until she dipped her head, burying it into the crook of your neck like she was shy about being seen.

You pulled the blanket tighter around you both and kissed the top of her head. Your hand stayed in her hair, smoothing it gently, and your other hand rested low on her back, keeping her close.

“I'm proud of you.”

Her breath caught, not a sob, not quite, but something raw enough to make your own throat tighten. She didn’t speak, only nodded slowly against your skin. Eventually she exhaled, soft and deep, like those four words reached someplace she didn’t have language for yet. You felt her fingers twitch against your skin. Her mouth brushed your collarbone as she breathed again, slower this time. There was still a trembling at the edges of her, but it was the kind that came after release. After surrender.

You watched the faint rise and fall of her body, felt her toes brush your ankle. Her presence felt so immediate, so here, and yet somehow delicate too, like a thread you didn’t dare tug too sharply. You could feel how close she was to drifting off, but still right on the edge, hovering in that quiet space that comes after giving so much of yourself away.

She had given you everything tonight. Let you in completely. Not only to her body, but to all the quiet, careful parts of herself she usually kept buried. The parts she was still learning to trust in someone else’s hands. You held her a little tighter, not because she needed it, but because you wanted her to feel it, to know it was real.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered again, not because she needed reminding, but because you needed her to know it wasn’t just for tonight. It was a promise. One you meant to keep.

There’d be time later to talk. To untangle the rest. But this, this was enough.

And somewhere deep in that quiet, something else was blooming. Not just peace, but something stronger. You saw it in the way her breath evened out. In the way she stayed close instead of retreating. She was starting to believe in herself again. Not in the way others demanded, but in a way she chose.

Her breathing had evened out against your skin, her body loose and heavy with the kind of tired that didn’t just sit in the muscles but deep in the bones. You weren’t far behind. Every part of you ached, used and spent, but it was the best kind of ache. Earned. Shared.

You shifted only to tuck the blanket higher over her shoulders. She mumbled something too quiet to catch, but her hand slid across your side like she was making sure you were still there. You answered by pulling her in a little closer, tucking your chin above her head.

Her leg curled tighter around yours. Your fingers stayed at the small of her back, moving slow, lazy strokes that barely counted as motion. The air between you was warm and quiet, filled only with breath and the weight of everything you didn’t need to say.

Eventually, her body went still. Sleep found her first. You felt it in the way her hold loosened just enough to be unconscious but not enough to let go.

You didn’t bother fighting the pull of sleep when it came. Not with her still wrapped around you, her breathing deep and steady against your skin, your arms full of her warmth. You just let go, the weight of the night fading, and drifted with her into a soft peaceful sleep.

[harringtons-cupid]

idk if you're taking requests but i think it would be cute/ funny if joe and readers relationship was figured out by fans because they've been sharing jewelry and it was getting very noticeable in interviews and stuff

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, this was kept short and sweet! I did struggle with the fluff and I honestly think this would make a great fic!! A longer one!! 🤍

Please, like, reblog and send a request if you want to support me!🤍🤍

You and Joe had been secretly dating for a few months, managing to keep it under lock and key by careful curated disguises. Swapping clothes until safely inside buildings but during the Back On You Tour, you found it hard to be apart.

During one interview Joe attended whilst performing in Glasgow, a lot of photos were taken of him with the matching bracelet to yours.

There hadn’t been much mention of them until you were asked onto a podcast. With the camera set up directly between you and the host, you began to twirl your bracelet as you spoke.

You didn’t think much of it until you were told to check twitter a few hours later, photos upon photos comparing both you and Joe’s wrists were practically everywhere.

The moment you were on your own, you went to find Joe. Feeling slightly embarrassed about the fan’s behaviour, you were both snuck into a quiet restaurant nearby.

Hands reaching across the table, bracelets on display as you both hid behind sunglasses and caps.

But somehow, a few photos were taken and posted online. Which cause a surge of fans to examine the situation, you weren’t as a famous as Joe but you had a small fanbase.

You dismissed any question that mentioned your love life during interviews and Joe tried to bounce around it but you both knew that it would catch up to you at some point.

On the bracelets were both of each others initials but thankfully the fans had yet to figure out what the words meant.

During the next few weeks, Joe continued to play throughout his tour. You shadowed him by attending particular interviews before watching him perform, sneaking backstage for some alone time between sets.

You both hoped that the fans who were following the group, noticed that you were meeting them inside the venues rather than walking with them.

It was the only way that you both could hide without being seen, it was becoming a strain on your new relationship.

Joe was invited to do a few interviews, you were sitting off screen as he sat in front of the cameras. His eyes flickered to you numerous times, sending a wink your way.

“So, Joe. I think the fans want to know who gave you that bracelet” the interviewer asked him.

His cheeks flushed red, looking down at the bracelet with your initials on it. Playing with it as he was clearly trying to avoid the question.

“Woah, There are so many tweets coming through Joe” the interviewer laughed as they kept reading off their phone.

Joe was staring at you, deciding to encourage the comments. He leant forward, reading the comments off the screen.

The fans were blowing up at the fact that Joe hadn’t answered their questions, he was being @‘d by different people.

He looked at you for answers before speaking,

“It’s a friend, a very close friend” he stuttered as he laughed from being put on spot.

After the intense interview, he rushed off screen towards you. Pulling you away from the interviewers and cameras, his hands were on you as he laughed against you.

“What do you think we’ll able to hide the press and fans ?” He laughed with you.

“Oh baby, I think we could. But it’ll be much harder now” you kissed him, holding his face as you both smiled.

As he kissed you back, you realised that you didn’t mind if people figured out your relationship. You wanted to show the world that Joe Keery was more than a close friend.

[halfling-myth-lady]

How tf have I ricocheted into two Greek mythology fandoms that have no business being this good while still unfinished that I have also joined in the most convenient time plausible.

[fandomsarefamily1966]

Rockstar friendships that have very similar vibes to me

[ayzaart]

no cause the way jayce parallels ekko and victor parallels powder/jinx, always have always will

"In another life I would have really liked just dancing and making inventions with you"

[aroaceofthesea]

Welp i just spent literally 8 hours on a videocall with friends its 2am and its storytime in the tags

Noooo i reached the 30 tags limit todomal im not rewriting shit tho so if the story feels abruptly ended thats why lol

[hoshigray]

Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward person but somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why not both? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk, felt like doing a threesome for some reason lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting - sex in public places; gymnasium locker room + dining hall + college dorms - oral (m! + f! receiving) - face + throat-fucking - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping, grinding and licking/sucking) - face-sitting - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - anal fingering (f! receiving) - kissing/making out - protected sex (psa: warp it up or get tf up) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetie, sweetheart) - sato + sugu being whipped over you, hehe~ - slight humor - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k (pretty long for a req, lol)

“Oh, Y/n, it’s good to see you. Did you have a good weekend? Let’s walk each other to class; I was waiting for you.”

“Y/nnnn! This cold day is so much warmer now that you’re here. Let’s grab something to eat at the dining hall, okay?”

You thought college life couldn’t get any more difficult than it already is. Oh, how you were so wrong… 

Being on your own on campus was hard enough; states away from your family and having to rely on and take care of yourself while also striving for a better education. On top of this, making friends (outside of your roommates Shoko and Utahime) is such a social and excruciating chore as it’s challenging to put yourself out for people to notice you. Making small talk with your peers or talking/discussing group material in classes has your heart racing enough – not to mention trying to commit to clubs – making you feel a bit of a failure as a human being.

With that, you almost dwell on not trying at all. You’re utterly content with your inner circle with your roommates, waking up and heading to classes and back, eating college food, and sleeping after reading for a lecture. This routine of sticking to yourself was a notion you’ve grown to accept and find comfort in — no need to change it if it’s been doing you well this far.

That is until you meet them — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, the best friends of your roommate Shoko. 

Gojo is the star player of the school’s basketball team, a famous face among the class years, and the “disgustingly tactless, cutesy prince” of your year, as described by Utahime. By morning, he’s a dedicated student in his business administration major and history minor classes; by afternoon, he is his playful, social, and charismatic snow-haired soul, grabbing the attention of others and bringing life to those around him with his bright cadence. In addition, he’s a talented figure, capturing the hearts of many with his model work in fashion shows and playing fan-favorite roles in plays.

In contrast, Geto was a much more mellow star that pulled the hearts of students and professors alike. The raven-haired bioengineering major was a boy whose presence was easy not to notice yet quick to pull you in when making himself known. His tall, docile figure emitted an aura that accompanied the soothing tune of his voice, the perfect combination that made him trustworthy and obliging to the students around him and his lacrosse teammates. With the charming features of a heartthrob and the alluring speech of a leader, he’s someone many would turn to in search of a person to follow and praise.

Satoru and Suguru, two complete opposites – two best friends – who are, without a doubt, the twin stars of this school. However, there was one thing the two shared in common, something that made your heart skip and your mind race every time knowing this fact: the two were unmistakably and sickeningly in love with you!

How? You do not know. It all started when Shoko brought them over one night for dinner, and you saw them for a quick moment in the kitchen, quickly greeting them before rushing back into your room. Next thing you knew, you had begun to see and run into them every so often, which soon turned to at least once per day. And now, like a white bubbly puppy and a black, quietly affectionate cat, you could not shake them off you when and wherever you went.

Oh, it was something you were not used to, being sneaked up from behind by Gojo, who’d pull you in for a hug or lift you with every greeting in public (as if you weighed like nothing)! Especially in classes where Geto would surprise you with his calm voice and a warm hand on your shoulder to check if you were okay before claiming the chair next to you. And you couldn’t push them away — how could you when two of the most renowned faces on school grounds want to be around your presence!? Good Lord, it was all overwhelming, Shoko and Utahime having to step in to beat the boys into shape for making you uncomfortable.

And then there are those times when the two would butt heads with each other because of you! There have been a handful of times where if one had you to themselves, the other would bore glares to the former’s skull. Gojo would suck his teeth with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, white brows furrowed and ticked off blue eyes concealed by his dark circle shades. “Yo, Buddha with bangs, can you let go? Y/n promised to hang with me after their classes ended, and I’d be damned if you’d be third-wheeling.”

“That’s not happening, Satoru,” Geto’s hand grasps yours with more grip, royal purple eyes narrowed at his white-haired friend. “Y/n and I have a presentation to work on for tomorrow. Go lollygag somewhere else.”

Two positive bundles of life will immediately turn hostile when it comes to you, suffocating your very being as you’re stuck in the middle of them. It’s bad enough being with either of them has people notice and talk about you; it’s another thing when you’re being fought over like some small bunny between two snarling wolves. Oh God, why me!!??

But it wasn’t all bad. If anything, being fawned over by the two was a strange thing that has happened to you thus far, and not in a terrible way. Gojo has made you a lot more open and social than before, dragging you to parties he’s been invited to and to his crowded games (where he’s always sure to find you and blow a kiss). And spending time with Geto has sparked instances where you’re courageous enough to speak for yourself with a bit of a push from him, throwing in your inputs for class discussions or having him aid you in knowing your material when you two study together.

The two most popular guys in school who flatter and are obsequious over you. That in itself is enough to make your cheeks and ears dial in warmth, shielding your face in your pillows just thinking about them. You like them both, bound to be drawn in by the handsome boys and their pursuit of you.

However, their infatuation was something you’d find out goes beyond words and handholds. An obsession for you embroidered in their very minds…and bodies.

“…Mhahhh, Go—Mmmph! Gojooo…we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Aww, c’mon, Y/n, you know I don’t like it when you call me by last name. It’s just the two of us here…Fuck, keep licking it like that…”

Sneaking into the basketball team’s locker room is one thing; sneaking in with the star player in the team with you between his legs on the bench and sucking his dick? Oh, that’s a can of worms you never thought you’d open in your entire life. 

Gojo brings his head back, banging on the locker behind him as the contact of your tongue on his pink tip sends shivers up to his shoulders. “Fuuuck, you feel so good, baby. Gonna make me cum again…” You peer up with lidded eyes as you suck his tip into your mouth, him humming at the warm sensation of your mouth swallowing his length whole. Your face is hot of embarrassment, being looked down on by him as you do such an indecent thing on him in a place of changing for men. 

This was his idea – bringing you to the gymnasium to watch him practice with his teammates for an upcoming game. Then, he pulls you aside once the guys want another fifteen-minute water break, bargaining into the men’s locker room and pulling you in for a hot kiss. Sucking on and nibbling on your lips and tongue has you mewl sweetly for him, distracted as he pulls his shorts and briefs down to expose the erection growing inside him. “Sorry, you just looked too cute watching me from the side,” he’d say with a hazy glint in his eyes shielded by his shades.

So here you are, sucking him off to the hilt, where your lips meet strands of his white pubes, making your boyfriend cum for the second time. Gojo brings a hand to your head for purchase, moaning as your hand massages his balls. “—Ahh, fuck…God, you’ve gotten so good at that, cutie. Can’t get enough of you...”

His words burn your ears, his aroused tone making your face even more hot to bear. Gosh, this was such a dangerous game; your nerves constantly on edge in hopes nobody would walk in.

However, your worries might have been what jinxed your fate because you two heard the door to the locker room open. You instantly move your mouth away from Gojo’s cock and stand to panic. But before you could, Gojo quickly grabbed you by the wrist and took you to one of the bathroom stalls. You sat on the toilet, bewildered at being dragged all over this fitness center. Then, Gojo brings his dick to your face again, and you give him the most shockingly confused expression as if he can’t hear the commotion of two people speaking where they used to be.

“Relax, no one’s coming here,” Liar, we almost got caught! He pushes the tip to your mouth, and you murmur on his length, filling your mouth and throat. “Let’s make this one quick, okay?”

You were too busy registering him place his hands on your head before he could slam himself to your mouth; the sudden thrust of his hips propelling his cock deep into the tight crevices of your throat makes you grip onto his shorts for dear life. The slap of his ruts fills your eardrums; you can’t tell how far or close the two guys who entered the locker room are. He’s making you focus on nothing but him — a selfish objection from a selfish man as he’s using you to relieve himself in the men’s locker room. God, this was such a bad situation, and yet your lower half couldn’t stop the throbs that have you shifting your thighs together. How embarrassing! 

“Hhnnn, fucking shit, your throat feels so good,”  he praises, his slender fingers massaging your scalp. Your tongue brushes the underside of his length in a way that has his pace go faster, and he has to keep his moans to a lower volume. “Shiiit, baby, I’m gonna cum…Take it all in…!”

You have no choice but to, forced to gulp down all of his load that he spills into your tight, warm throat. He still rocks his pelvis into you until every pump of his jizz is inside you. When your ears pick up the sound of the locker room door opening and closing with the dismissal of the two strangers, that’s when Gojo takes his long shaft out of your mouth, spit connecting from your tongue to his cockhead is wiped with haste. 

But then, Gojo pokes your cheek with his tip, a sign that he wants to go again. You throw quiet pleas, “N–No, Gojo! You have to get back to practice—“

“Shhh, those guys can survive a few games without me. And besides,” he gently slaps your cheek with his cock. How vulgar! “I’ll fuck your mouth til the end of the day if you don’t stop using my last name when it’s just the two of us here.” The playful grin on his lips doesn’t make that threat any better. “One more time, please?”

With hesitant eyes, you place kisses on his shaft while stroking him. “Only one more…okay, Satoru?”

He beams with the dimples of his cheeks. “Yes, pretty girl~.”

And it doesn’t stop there — because Geto is no better. 

“Aww, you two are so cute together~”

You squirm on the booth seat you’re sharing with your other boyfriend, you two sitting across from his friends — a senior couple he shares a lab with that invited him for dinner. Unsurprisingly, you were his plus one, knowing you’re not one for being around people you’re not familiar with. And yet here you are, caged by the wall and Geto’s frame to keep you in this conversation on the side of the busy dining hall.

Geto chuckles before brushing your cheek, "Aren’t we? But they’re the cutest thing to me.” He says as he places a swift kiss on your cheek; it’s an action that has your face grow in warmth — and the couple “awwing” at his affection.

The guy of the couple speaks to the dark, long-haired other. “I never knew you were one for relationships, Geto; you seem so busy with Bio and your clubs that you don’t seem to have time to lay low and be with someone.”

“Mmm, I thought so, too. That is until I met Y/n through a friend of mine,” you jerk at the silent touch of his pinkie grazing your thigh, noting it had sneaked under your skirt to graze its skin. Your eyes peek in his direction, finding that he remains eye contact with the guy he’s talking with. “And, you know, I got to know them here and there, shared some classes with them on the side. Now, I just can’t imagine them being out of my line of sight.”

The guy across laughs. “Sounds kinda obsessive!”

Geto shrugs with a chortle. “I guess it’s like that, I don’t know. I’m just really crazy about them; they’re my sweetheart after all.”

“That’s so sweet!” The girl senior across exclaims, turning to you to ask, “So, how long have you and Geto been a thing, Y/n?”

The question has you stumped for a bit as you weren’t ready to be thrown inquiries. And before you answer, you feel Geto’s hand rub on your thigh. “U-Umm, me—ahem—Geto and I have been a couple for quite a while now? My roommate was the one who introduced me to him—Mmmm!” You briskly flatten your lips at your squeak because the fingers inside your skirt pinch your skin. On command, you spread your legs for Geto to insert his hand inside your panties.

The girl asks more questions. “Oh? So, your roommate brought you two together. Did you know of them before?” 

“Well, not really…She and Geto—Ohh!” You bring your hand to your lips at the graze of Geto’s forefinger on your clit. You turn to him and are immediately locked into his violet gaze. He lifts a brow with an undisturbed smile, and you gulp. “I–I mean, Suguru and my roommate have been best friends since high school, so I kinda got…Nnmm,” you chew your lips when he bullies a digit between your folds to play and tease. “She was the one who introduced me to him…”

“Is that so? Hehe, it’s amazing how the world works, huh?” You listen, but your mind is too focused on Geto’s digits swiping and nestling across your wetness to have your body more excited about his touch. And it gets worse as he inserts his forefinger inside your vagina, causing you to jolt and suppress your mewl by leaning into his shoulder, gripping onto the sleeve of his turtleneck. “Here are two lovebirds all lovey-dovey with each other thanks to one friend bringing them together. It’s crazy imagining you two would’ve never met hadn’t that happened.”

Geto hums at that comment, “I agree; I have to thank Shoko for bringing this little angel to my arms.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead, completely nonchalant compared to the quickened pace of the digit scraping your insides. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

With trenched brows and a shaky breath, you try to reply to the awaiting couple. “Mhmm, yes, I’m so grateful that Suguru is in my life…He’s been such a help to me,” his forefinger goes slow, having you feel every dent and knuckle. “Hahhh, he’s so good to me, and I love him just as mu—Mmmph!!”

“Hmm? Are you okay, Y/n?” How can you tell the guy across from you that your boyfriend’s thumb just surprised your clit with a swipe?  You’d rather melt on this floor had you not buried your face into Geto’s shoulder. 

Speaking of who, he takes the initiative to answer for you. “I think they’re a little parched, must’ve been this lemonade I got for them. I’ll go get them some water—“

“Oh, no, no! I’ll go get the water; I was gonna get more of those garlic knots anyways.” The girl stops Geto from moving, sliding from the booth seat with her boyfriend’s hand to follow suit. “C’mon, let’s leave these lovebirds for a bit. We’ll be right back!”

And so they leave, thanking your lucky stars. Once their figures are nowhere to be seen within the sea of students, you probe the man with a trembling whimper. “Mmmph, Suguru, please, take it out before—Ahhh…! They come back…”

Luckily, he listens to your request with no argument, withdrawing his digit from your wet slick and underwear. And to your horror, he brings the finger to lick and suck and says with a dark look, “Just checking to see what I’ll be having later.”

It doesn’t matter wherever or whenever; Gojo and Geto will be sure that their love for you is expressed to you every chance they get. 

It doesn’t matter the day or hour, whether you are free from assignments, spending time with your roommates, or on your way out to study; those two will find a way to get to be with you. And, to be honest, it can be a bit overstimulating! 

When there are dates to the movies with Gojo, there’s private alone time with Geto on his bed as he eats you out. And when there are days when Geto holds hands with you and walks you to your classes, there are nights when Gojo will fuck you til his cock is warmed inside you in his slumber. It can go either way, the two competing for your affection and time when the other is out of sight. 

Again, sometimes it’s overwhelming for you, never knowing which of the two will have you all to themselves, nor knowing when you can have time to yourself! And it’s not like you haven’t tried putting your foot down to express your wish to be alone. But, albeit it can be utterly exhausting, you know those two love and cherish you so much that it drives them crazy. Hell, it’s driving you crazy just how much they can’t keep their hands off you! 

Especially now when they drag you to their shared dorm room, experiencing one of those days when the two wish to have you in the same presence. 

“Hahhh, damn, Y/n…you’re sucking me off so good,” Geto purrs with a whistle while lovingly patting your head. “So good for me, huh, sweetie?” 

The two stripped you off your clothes to be nude with them on the bed. Your naked frame straddles above Gojo, lying on his back with his face buried into your bare cunt for his mouth and tongue to please you orally. Meanwhile, you suck on Geto’s girth as he leans on the pillows and headboard. It’s his turn after sucking off Gojo (they settled this over rock-paper-scissors) and fingering you to warm you up first.

You whine of his member, Gojo’s tongue doing wonders on your delicate body. He licks on your clit just as you lap yours around Geto’s glans, and then he’ll suck your pearl right as you take in the tip with pursed cheeks. It’s such a mutual shared experience, with how Gojo’s hands wrap to your thighs to keep your chasm on his lips while you have Geto keen to your mouth and hands stroking him. 

“—Khhhh, Jesus Christ…Hohhh, right there, sweetie…” The raven-haired one coos as you kiss your way down to his balls to suck one as you continue to jerk him. “Heh, you doing good down there, Satoru?”

The snow-haired other removes his mouth from your folds, licking your essence that sticks to his lips like honey mixed with his saliva. “Hahaa, you have no idea. I could stay like this for hours,” his tongue licks your come to your clit tantalizingly slow, evoking you to almost choke on Geto’s girth. “Aww, look at you trying to move from me,” Gojo brings your hips back down to him for him to swirl around your labia, his grip on your thighs refusing to submit. “Don’t go anywhere, princess; I’m not finished until you cum on my face again.”

“Ohhh, shit, keep doing what you’re doing, Satoru,” Geto subtly bucks his hips, “I love the way they’re whining on my dick…”

With your puffy lips being busy in the front and your cunt being lapped and nibbled on from below, your senses are clouded by the two boys who seek nothing but your participation in experiencing pleasure. Your head gradually turns into mush with every rut to your throat and every lap around your clitoris. It’s to no surprise that your release seeps out of your body without preparation, crying on Geto’s length as your frame quivers in euphoric bliss. 

And if you think you couldn’t get swamped enough, think again. 

“—Nnngh, fuck, Y/n, you’re gripping on my dick like crazy…Hehe, is it because you can’t look me in the face? Damn, you’re such a cutie…”

Your face is nuzzled in the crook of Gojo’s neck as you’re straddling on top of him, your nude, sweaty bodies melted together to share heat. Your hips bounce up and down on his pelvis, where his rubber-covered length is scraping the walls of your vagina. His left curve grazes and jabs your sweet spots, and your body lies on top of Gojo, which brings more friction to your clitoris. 

“Hahhh, ahhnn—Ohhhh!” Your phrases have doubled down to that of whimpers of pleasure, thinking straight is impossible, and your mind is too deep in a haze to focus on anything outside of what’s happening. And it’s not like you can’t stop your hips from bouncing on his shaft — you’ve tried! But the moment your legs express so much as reluctance or fatigue, Gojo’s hands are right there on your ass to guide you back into the rhythm. So it’s expected when you climax on him once more, clamping onto him as you ride out another orgasmic wave. “Ahhaaa! Sa’toruuu, stooohhp—hic…! I’m ‘oo sens' tiveee!!” 

“You say that, but—hnnn! You’re rocking those hips of yours on your own, baby.” He chuckles at your slurred speech, placing kisses on your cheek as his hands massage your asscheeks. “Holy shit, you feel so unreal; wanna fuck you raw so bad with how tight you are.” 

“Don’t even think about it, Satoru,” you hear Geto’s voice from behind, the dent of the twin-size bed shifting with his added weight. “If I can’t go condom-less, you’re not getting any special treatment out of it either.”

“Psssh, yeah, yeah,” Gojo says with rolled azure eyes before he whispers to your ear. “Come on, angel, let’s get you prepped up.” The white-haired boy’s hands spread your butt, exposing his dick buried deep into your tight slit and your taint.  

Geto grins salaciously. “My, what a dirty sight for me, my love.” You chew your lips to his words, the heat in your ears causing them to ring. You then feel his fingers smothered in lube to meet your asshole, spiraling around it before inserting them one by one. Your holes instinctively contract, making Gojo hiss. “Relax, pretty girl,” he kisses your temple. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.”

You remind your figure to calm down, allowing Geto to play with your anus for it to accommodate the next foreign limb he’ll put inside. Gojo keeps kneading your butt, but he throws furtive thrusts up to your chasm to keep you on your toes. You gasp when Geto removes his digits suddenly, and now you bite your bottom lip at the contact of his cockhead touching your puckered entrance. “Stay calm for me, princess. Gonna go slow just for you…”

Breathing with your mouth is the only way you can function through his insertion; even after he properly lubed himself and the rubber, it never fails to amaze you how you’ve been able to take in his girthy dick times before. Every inch pushed inside you feels as if your breath is pulled away, feeling both your holes become occupied. And your head goes up at the snap of Geto’s pelvis smacking on your ass, mouth agape for drool to sneak down puffy lips. 

“Heh, there you are,” Gojo licks your spit before placing a kiss on your lips. “What a pretty face when you’re going dumb on our dicks, Y/n.”

You couldn’t even reply in modesty because Geto immediately goes pounding your ass with hunger. Your wails come out freely at the pacing of both boys propelling themselves into you. And it doesn’t help that your holes don’t stop contracting on their dicks as they push, the motion making you move your clit against Gojo and having your sore nerves active again. 

“Holy fuck,”Geto drills his cock into your taint, grinding his hips into you to make you whine aloud. He then bends to kiss your sweaty shoulder down to your spine. “You’re so tight, Y/n…like you’re gonna milk me dry.”

Words are exhilarated squeaks and shrills, your arms coming around Gojo’s neck and pressing your hot cheek on his. He snickers at how touchy you are, “Hey, baby,” he coaxes you through the onslaught of ruts that quicken in tempo. “God, you sound so fucking cute, angel…” 

“—Ahhahh…! Ohhh, guysss, pleaseee, slow d—Owwhhnn!!” You cry, eyes watering with the pokes and jabs on your velvety insides, the curve of Gojo scraping you in places you can’t reach, and Geto’s girth having your backside completely stretched for him. It’s all too much to focus on as your delicate bud is pressed on by your weight. “…Nhooo, God, I’m gonna—“

“Gonna cum, cutie?” You nod hurriedly, amusing Gojo for more chuckles. “Let’s cum together, yeah? Such a pretty girl…” And then, Gojo claims your lips for a steamy, passionate kiss, bringing a hand from your bottom to place behind your head to keep you on him. 

“—Hnngh!! Wait, sweetheart, don’t clamp onto me so sudden—Ohh, shit, shit, shiiit,” Black hair strands fall from Geto’s shoulders as he falters at your grip. “Gonna cum, too….Gahhh—“

Your crescendo is the first to appear, howling and mewling into Gojo’s lips while your trembling figure undergoes the shocks of the deep penetration on both ends. The fluttering sensations of your cunt and anus are what prompt the two men to spill their load into you simultaneously, groaning with pleasure from your body. Your head is undoubtedly dizzy, your brain spiraling with impulses as your frame jerks with every wave of your orgasm. 

After his climax is done, Geto slowly withdraws his cock from you. The condom filled with his essence. “Phew, that felt way too good.”

“For real, can’t get enough of this.” Gojo sighs while groping your asscheeks and kissing your forehead. “Ready for another round, baby? C’mon, let’s switch before Suguru gets all crybaby on us.” His sweet tone immediately flips to narrow his eyes at Geto for throwing his used, tied condom at Gojo's face for that comment. “Oh, you disgusting son of a bitch…”

“Shut up and switch, or else I’ll have you watch me pound Y/n for fifteen minutes.”

Being loved and obsessed by the two heartthrobs of the school is no easy work, which is evident when you can’t even get to nap by yourself after the sexual activities. With Gojo spooning Geto while he spoons you, there is no rest with these two; they might as well put collars around their necks and give you their leashes with how smitten they are to be around you.

Yet, at the same time, you don’t hate it — far from that. Because you know their feelings for you are genuine, you can see it in their sleeping faces as they’re probably thinking about you in your dreams as you observe. With a smile, you place kisses on their cheeks and silently leave the bed to use their shower. 

The warm water is just as welcoming and temperate as their love, keeping you safe and washing your anxiousness away. In your thoughts, you reflect on all the times you’ve grown because of them, and it goes to show that their involvement has done substantial help for you. And for that, you are forever grateful for them and will always reciprocate their feelings as you feel the same. 

“Hey, Y/n.”

Well, minus the immediate sense of apprehension that skyrockets once you hear Geto’s voice come behind you. You turn to see his naked self coming towards you to wrap his arms around your waist. “Suguru!? I–I thought you were sleep—“

“I was until you left my arms,” he says to your ear with his dulcet voice, his hands kneading the flesh of your wet hips. “Besides, saves us a lot of time if we share the shower, right?”

“Oh, Y/n~,” another voice enters the bathroom, and your dread plummets even further when Gojo opens the curtains with glee. “Don’t tell me you decided to shower without m—…Oh, you’re here, too.”

“Obviously,” Geto sucks his teeth at his roommate. “I live in this apartment and use this same shower, dumbass.”

Snowy eyebrows crease with irritation as Gojo enters the walk-in shower, sandwiching you between the two. “Well, don’t you think it’s rude for you to use the shower when our guest is using it first?”

“I could be asking you the same thing because who told you to come here?”

“Duh! I’m here to shower with my lover; are you stupid?”

“Are you? Don’t you see a boyfriend is trying to have some alone time with their partner?”

“Oh, eat horse shit.”

“Croak and die.”

You can only stand there and be mushed by the two tall boys arguing over you, unable to flee the scene as they both have their hands on you. Again, you don’t hate it at all. You love them just as much as they love and adore you. They may be the school favorites; however, you are the most precious thing they wish to engage with and want to keep to themselves.

…But would it kill them to give you some room once in a while!?

Jesus, how am I gonna survive with these two…

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[foreid]

smoke and stack come into the shop looking for bo chow only to find y/n at front desk and bo chow discreetly under her hehe

anon i love the way u think! one eater chow blurb coming right up :3

your hair was a mess, curls sticking up through every end and frizz spiking through its texture.

lips parted letting strings of whines as your husband was kneeled down in front of you, tongue lapping slow stripes against your slit.

the day was slow, only usual customers coming in and barely even meeting you at the counter.

bo thought he could use it to his advantage, missing the taste of your every aspect against his lips.

forearms holding you up against the counter, legs trembling from behind it as you hid moans between your lips.

“b— bo… someone’s comin’.” you gasped out, nails digging into the edge of the counter as he started to suck against your clit, knees buckling beneath your dress the more he continued.

he was humming in content, devouring you with full lips, his entire upper body hid by the fullness of your skirt.

your hand quickly covered a moan trying to escape your mouth as two men stepped through the doors, the jingle of the bell alerting you back to reality.

they walked sternly towards the counter, they were broad and a lot taller than you, staring down at you as they stood a respectable distance from the counter.

you swallowed dryly, the extra bodies in the room seeming to not stop bo at all.

“h— good evenin’, how ca— can i help ya?” a chirpy yet cracked voice, as if a moan was threatening to escape past your words.

the twin wearing red sort of just stood there, staring around the market curiously.

the other man, wearing blue, stared for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak.

“we mean no harm, missus, jus’ lookin’ for bo chow.” he spoke to you and his voice was low, gruttal, but he looked like he meant business, intimidating you for just a moment.

“is he here?”

only for a moment did you almost forget about the sensation between your legs.

and just as you thought, bo was not about to let you go through this without a fight.

before you spoke up, you felt a digit teasing your entrance, and as you were opening your mouth to speak, he was shoving it inside of you. knuckles deep.

“he’s— oh!” you perked up, gasping and quickly slapping your hand against your mouth.

you stared up at the two men, eyes wide as if even you were shocked at the noise you just made.

they both just looked at you with an insane amount of concern in their eyes.

you held a finger up, signaling them to give you a second as you swallowed dryly. clearing your throat.

when you tried speaking up again, all you did was choke up. so you decided to just expect your fate.

shaking your head ‘no’, and they seemed to get the hint.

one of them slowly nodded, a cocked up brow as if he was trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

“well. in that case, tell ‘im smoke needs t’ talk to ‘im.” with one last nod, as if to say ‘thank you’, he and his twin walked out the clear doors.

when their figures discarded out the stores line of view, you slammed your forehead against the countertop, letting out all the choked moans you’ve been trying to hide.

your hands grabbed at whatever was near, lips parted as bo started to fuck you with his fingers, plunging an extra one inside.

his tongue didn’t stop, and your hips started to rut against his face, your clit bumping against his nose, adding onto the pleasure.

he somehow managed to fit two digits knuckles deep inside of you, curling them against the plush of your walls.

that was it. he hit a familiar spot and you came undone against his lips.

your moans were unhinged and loud, legs feeling weak and knees practically giving out.

bo let you ride out your orgasm against him, letting you come down from your star-seeing peak.

one last moan of his name and a string of curses, your upper body became slack against the counter.

he appeared in front of you at some point that you couldn’t recollect because of the state of euphoria the orgasm had you in.

you managed to pick yourself back up, eyes meeting with a very proud bo chow.

his lips were glistening, eyes low and full of nothing but lust.

the look of frustration on your face made him chuckle, his hand reaching to your lower back in order to hold you close.

“did s’good, darlin’. taste j’s as good.” he murmured against your mouth, pressing his lips with yours.

lewdly tasting yourself momentarily. you still had a brain of putty, melting into the kiss as easy as ever.

“‘m give it to ya s’good tonigh’. my pretty lil’ wife.” he hummed as he broke off the kiss, hands grabbing at your ass through the dress, somehow simultaneously pulling you closer.

his words and actions screwed a quiet giggle out of you, fingers curling around his suspenders.

“i’d like that. maybe.” you teased, staring at your fingers as they played with the suspenders then back up into his eyes.

his head tilted a bit, grinning against your mouth again. “yeah? tha’s what ya want, peach?” before you could even respond, he was kissing you again.

this time with more fever, a hand grabbing beneath your knee to hold your leg against his side while he devoured your lips.

this is exactly what life was about.

a sexy husband who loved everything about you,

and that's exactly who bo chow was.

[lay-z]

How your men experience their first Father’s Day after you’ve given birth to the twins.  

The only ones who remember are Kyle and Johnny, because they’re still in contact with their families and actually care about their fathers—yet they’re oblivious to their own situation. 

They’re all fathers now, all four. It’s been decided since they made you theirs three years ago. 

Still, it’s surreal to them, the fact that they’re considered dads now, so they’re just as baffled as John and Simon when you suddenly go out of your way to make their day special despite your own exhaustion. 

John, who’s usually the first one up while the rest of the house is either eerily silent or filled with a snoring concert given by three other men, saunters into the kitchen after finding your spot in the martial bed empty and the nursery, too.  

His expression turns the slightest bit sour, not knowing where you and the babes have gone this early without telling anyone, though as soon as the smell of freshly brewed coffee and waffles hits his nostrils along with his favorite sounds reaches his ears—your gentle cooing and the adorable babbles of his babies—John Price is an absolute goner. 

Your eyes light up with glee as soon as you see his reaction. “Good morning, papa,” you greet him, standing behind the two highchairs of your babies, their chubby cheeks and mouths covered in waffle crumbs and mushed strawberry pieces. “Sleep well?” 

“I–” John’s chest feels terribly tight at the sight in front of him, how your eyes shine so brightly, and how his children smile their gummy smiles, babbling happily as soon as they notice him, too.  

“Your chipmunks are saying Happy first Father’s Day, daddy!”  

His throat clicks as he swallows hard trying to keep himself from tearing up. Words fail him as he stands there, love and gratitude blossoming fiercely in his chest and warming him up from the inside out until it burns in his fingertips and he can’t keep himself from approaching you and his babies, pulling you into a bear hug and kissing you slow and deep before smooching both his chipmunks’ chubby, sticky cheeks until they squeal. 

While John has breakfast and watches over the twins, you go upstairs after hearing the toilet flush. 

The ensuite bathroom door is cracked open; light spills into the bedroom, illuminating the silhouettes of Simon and Johnny still sleeping soundly in bed. 

It’s not easy to sneak up on a Special Forces operator, but somehow you manage while Kyle is bending over the sink, rinsing out his mouth after brushing his teeth, and his soul nearly leaves his body as he jumps and barks a high-pitched yelp. 

There’s some movement and rustling of bedsheets coming from behind, but your focus is on Kyle as you grin at him. 

“Bloody Christ, baby,” he curses under his breath, clutching his beating heart. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

You chuckle, stepping up to him until your chests nearly touch. “Skittish, are we?” 

Droplets of water drip off his chin, nostrils flaring as he glares at you for a few seconds—until his lips split into a bedazzling smile and his hazel eyes light up like fireworks in the night sky. 

“Cheeky minx,” he chuckles whilst slinging an arm around your waist to pull you flush against his solid frame. “G’mornin’.” 

You’re swift to reciprocate the embrace, wrapping your arms around his midriff before nuzzling against his sternum while warmth and the smell of sleep and comfort are still clinging to him. 

“Good morning, baby.” You mumble into his shirt. “Happy Father’s Day. I already made a special breakfast for my sweet, sexy hubbies.” 

But Kyle’s brain has already short-circuited as he realizes what day today is, and his fingers flex around your waist, needing to ground himself as his heart flutters rapidly in his chest, full of love and awe for the extraordinary little family he’s claimed for himself.  

And he embraces you tighter, burying his nose into the crown of your hair with a sigh. 

“Thank you, my love.” 

When Kyle parts from you, though not without another lingering smooch to your lips after absolutely railing your mouth with his swift tongue, to go downstairs to see his precious babies, you pad into the still semi-dark bedroom instead, crawling onto the custom-built bed toward the source of gravelly snoring. 

Simon must have snuck out while you were busy with Kyle, because now it’s only Johnny in bed, still splayed out on his stomach and with his head buried under his pillow. 

“Johnny,” you croon against his neck before playfully biting into the delicious thickness of his nape, eliciting a soft hum that dissolves into a whine when his body begins to stir. “Wakey, wakey, Johnny.” 

“Mhmmmpf–uuuck.” He burrows deeper under the pillow but pads his burly hand across the mattress uncoordinatedly, trying to snatch you up blindly. “Jus’ c’mere, hen.” 

A shriek escapes you when he does manage to catch your wrist only to roll onto his side and pull you in with ease, murmuring into your hair: “Thought ye could escape me, hm?” He chuckles darkly. “Nae.” His voice is even more attractive like this, rough and rich, hot gun oil dripping over gravel. It causes your thighs to squeeze together, and your breath hitch when arousal pools into the gusset of your panties while his limbs coil around you like a bloody snake. 

You tap out against his forearm that is now tucked under your chin. “I yield, J-Johnny!” He laughs again, a little louder when you bite into his arm, tugging on coarse body hairs.  

“S’tha’ how ye alway gonna wake me up on ma special day, duckie?” he coos, tightening his hold as you try to squirm only to end up mewling pathetically—which you’re aware is already a dangerous sound to make around Johnny. “Gonna make me a da again, hm? Want me ta fuck ye while our boys are havin’ a cuppa?” You can’t bite your lip hard enough to keep in your moan as he grinds the swelling bulge inside his boxers against your rear. “Have ye waddle ‘round the house while ye carryin’ our babe again?” 

Once you mew out a pathetic little ‘yes, daddy’, it’s over for you.  

By the time you’re able to walk and somewhat presentable again, Johnny is whistling a merry tune under the shower while you clutch the stair-rail as you make your way downstairs once more. 

John is reading the newspaper at the head of the kitchen table, still sipping on a coffee, Kyle is seated across from him, scrolling on his phone while nibbling on a buttered toast, and the twins are nowhere to be seen. 

“Had fun, baby?” Kyle asks cheekily while you blink away the post-orgasm daze. “Where are our children?” 

“Hm?” The newspaper crinkles when John peeks over the edge at you, the crunch of Kyle biting into his toast filling the tense silence before you gesture at the empty highchairs. “Our babies? They can barely walk, so I feel stupid to ask where did they go.” 

“Ah,” Kyle chimes in, wiping crumbs from his mouth. “Simon,” he swallows thickly, “said he’ll put ‘em down f’nap time.” 

“By himself?” you ask incredulously, brows furrowing. “They’re blessed with three daddies and–” 

“Darlin’,” John cuts you off before you can go on a rant, and your lips shut as you meet his stern, steel blue gaze. “Simon needs a moment alone with them. Okay?” 

Now that really shuts you up, and you nod after a moment, feeling utterly stupid for not even considering that today could mean even more to Simon than it does to your other husbands. 

The kitchen becomes livelier when Johnny joins the bunch; mohawk still damp, rocking sweats and a muscle shirt along with a shit-eating grin. He places a wet peck on your cheek before cupping your jaw and turning your face for a proper kiss. 

“Woah, woah, haven’t ya had enough yet, Tav?” Kyle complains, coming up behind you two while John watches in amusement. “Never,” Johnny retorts with a snort before grabbing Kyle by the back of his neck and crashing their mouth together in a bruising kiss—all while you can merely squeak at John for help, sandwiched between their bulky bodies. 

When you manage to escape the usual kitchen chaos, you make your way upstairs, coming to a soft stop in front of the door to the nursery. As you press your ear to the wooden door, you can hear the low murmur of Simon’s voice, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. 

The door creaks the slightest bit as you open it carefully to slip inside, and the sight that greets you nearly takes your breath away by the way your heart clenches so tightly. 

Simon is standing by the twins' cribs with his back turned towards you, his massive frame barely illuminated by the soft glow of the teddy bear night lamp on the nearby commode. 

He’s simply been talking to his babies. 

Slowly, you approach him on socked feet, your steps nearly silent on the plush carpet except for the trademark crack of one of your knees. As soon as you’re close enough, you embrace him from behind and rest your cheek against his shoulder blade while he slowly starts melting against you. 

“You deserve it just as much, Si,” you whisper, tightening your arms as best as you can. “Happy Father’s Day.” 

And you can feel how he inhales sharply, how his body tenses for a few seconds, before he relaxes again. The click of his throat loud in the otherwise quiet room as he swallows thickly, cupping his larger hands over yours and intertwining your fingers. 

“Thank–Thank you, lovie,” he sniffles quietly. 

And you both end up watching your beautiful babies sleep peacefully. 

I know it's too early, but Father's Day was last week here in Germany, so—Happy Father's Day! ❤️

[multiimistakes]

idk how to describe Des and Lance's relationship dynamic other than vaguelly calling it open and Lance telling Des he's the one scaring away the hoes.

[luvbabydoll]

soft target — john price

john price x teacher!fem!reader

warnings: some patronizing behavior from john

a/n: i may make a part two

you’re in early, like always. lights on, coffee half-finished, cardigan sleeves pushed to your elbows as you tidy the desks just so. your sundress floats gently with each step—soft blue today, the one with the little flowers on the hem. the school hasn’t quite woken up yet. the hallway’s still quiet.

so when there’s a knock at your door, it startles you.

you turn—and there he is.

john price, standing in your doorway like he owns the place. cap low, beard trimmed, fatigues neat but somehow still menacing. he nods once, slow. confident.

“mornin’, love.”

you blink. smile automatically, polite.

“captain price. you’re early.”

“mm. wanted a look at the battlefield before the troops show up.”

he steps in without waiting for permission, eyes dragging across your classroom like he’s assessing a threat. your posters. your bookshelf. the string of fairy lights along the board. all of it feels suddenly... childish under his gaze.

“cosy,” he says, tone unreadable.

“i try to make it welcoming,” you murmur, shifting your clipboard to the other hand.

he steps closer. slow, measured. eyes on yours.

“bet they love you in here.”

you glance away. “the students?”

“mm,” he hums. “them too.”

you pretend not to hear the implication. instead, you start gathering the stack of forms from your desk, fussing with the edges to avoid looking at him too long.

“you’ll be speaking during second period. i’ll introduce you to my class before that, if that’s alright.”

“more than alright, sweetheart.”

he doesn’t move. doesn’t leave. just leans one hip against a desk and watches you work like he’s got all the time in the world.

“what do you teach again? history, was it?”

“yes.”

“so you tell ‘em the truth, do you? or just what’s in the books?”

you look up. his eyes are sharp, curious, but there’s a challenge there too.

“i tell them what matters,” you say quietly. “what they’re old enough to understand.”

he nods slowly. “fair enough. still think you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“why’s that?”

he smirks. closer.

“‘cause you’re soft,” he says, like it’s a compliment. “kind. got that voice that makes people want to sit still and listen. but that don’t mean they will, yeah?”

you feel heat crawl up your neck. “i manage.”

“m’not sayin’ you don’t. just sayin’... wouldn’t last long on a base lookin’ like that.”

your breath catches. “like what?”

he shrugs, lazy. unconcerned.

“floaty dress. bare legs. that sweet little voice. no wonder the boys don’t give you trouble. probably all got bloody crushes.”

you stare at him.

he just grins.

before you can answer, the bell rings.

you’re saved. for now.

your students filter in, loud and chatty, and john shifts back into professional mode—if only barely. he stands by the board with his arms crossed, watching as you gently quiet the class.

“alright, everyone, we have a guest today,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “this is captain price. he’s here to speak about military recruitment.”

a few of the boys sit up straighter. one of the girls whispers something and giggles.

price gives you a nod, then scans the room.

“pleasure. won’t waste your time—unless you’re lookin’ to waste mine.”

the class actually listens. not out of respect, but curiosity. fear. maybe both.

you stand off to the side while he talks—sharp, clean delivery, his voice made for command. but every so often, his gaze flicks back to you. quick. deliberate.

and you feel it. like a brand, every time.

when the bell rings again, you thank him quietly. he waves off the compliment like it’s nothing. but then—then he lingers.

offers to help you tidy up. again.

and as you reach for a stray folder on the desk, his hand brushes your waist.

“steady there, love.”

you freeze.

his hand stays just a second too long.

“wouldn’t want you to twist an ankle in those little shoes, would we?”

you clear your throat. try to step away, but he’s already one step ahead, bending to grab the folder for you.

“s’nothing, sweetheart. happy to help.”

he hands it to you with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“i’ll be back next week. same class, yeah?”

you nod.

“good. maybe i’ll get a proper tour next time.”

and then he’s gone, just like that.

but you know—you know—this isn’t the last time you’ll see captain price in your classroom.

[orimuraa]

• I could be the rest of your life or whatever - 西村力 ↳ ┊: handlebars (feat. dua lipa) - jennie

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆nishimura riki was known as the school’s bad boy, but somehow, he managed to get his heart stolen by you—the school’s nerdy sunshine ⨾

۶ৎ bad boy!ni-ki x fem nerd!reader┆fluff┆cursing, petnames, one kiss┆wc 952

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: thank you to the @nodoubtily for requesting this! i love the idea of explaining how they met and how their relationship bloomed ^^ i hope you enjoyed!!

part 1

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

the first time you ever ran into ni-ki was in freshman year. you were all getting used to high school and the new environment. as usual, you were off in the library studying, not having anything better to do in your time.

that’s when he walked in. clad in a black sweatshirt and some grey, baggy jeans, he was so pretty. he gave off a serious “don’t talk to me or i’ll fuck you up” vibe, but you couldn’t help but watch as he navigated his way over to the studying tables where you sat.

you tried to focus on your work—you really tried—but he was too distracting! his pretty moles that scattered his gorgeous face, his duck like lips, and his dark and mysterious eyes that were focused on the paper below him.

you were about to introduce yourself when he stopped you.

“if you’re about to speak, i request that you don’t. i don’t have time for shit like this,” he said curtly, not even sparing a glance.

that made your lips seal with shock. this guy was nothing but a jerk yet for some reason, you wanted to know more about the mysterious pretty guy.

so you did. the next few months were spent with you running around the school to be with him, practically forcing him to be your friend.

at first, he cursed you out for following him, saying he didn’t need a new friend.

“god, piss off! i don’t need a fucking fan club,” he growled, but it didn’t faze you.

you continued to stay right by his side whether he wanted it or not, slowly learning new things about him.

you learned that he had two sisters and that he was actually from japan, making you swoon for him even more.

it wasn’t until one day (the only day in the whole year that you were absent), ni-ki realized that he actually enjoyed your company and relentless nagging.

he had no idea where you were and it worried him that you were in danger. he also missed the way you would appear when his classes finished (despite him never actually showing up to them) and the way you would chat his ear off about certain things.

he kinda just accepted it and let you stay by his side. you two would walk through the halls as you chatted about something that was going on in your life while greeting your fellow classmates. he admired your social ability and it definitely made his heart flutter seeing your adorable smile. you had done something to his heart and for the first time, ni-ki wasn’t scared of the feeling.

so when you showed up the next day, looking exhausted yet still so radiant, ni-ki tried not to make his panic visible.

“where were you?” he mumbled, wanting to stay nonchalant but also not being able to hide his concern.

“sorry…i was sick for the weekend,” you frowned at the tall boy, your voice still not fully recovered.

“don’t apologize. there’s nothing to apologize for. just…i’m glad you’re better,” he said shyly, the tips of his ears getting red.

“thanks,” you smile, choosing not to tease him.

you both walked in your usual way, you chatting his ear off despite your sore throat, but this time, ni-ki actually conversed back. he only chimed in small comments, but they were enough to keep the smile on your face.

you were shocked when you saw that ni-ki was the one waiting for you after class instead of you going to wait for him. he had your favorite drink in hand and the smallest smile on his plump lips, yet you still noticed.

“hi ki,” you smile softly, the nickname slipping out.

“ki? hmm, i like it,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair to which you scowl at. “maybe i’ll have to make a nickname for you..or can i just call you mine?” he smirks slyly, making your heart stop for a second.

“i- you’re crazy!” you shake your head, trying to avoid eye contact. you scurry ahead, trying to get out of the building for some fresh hair, ni-ki smirking with pride as he followed after you.

the breath of fresh air was amazing as you started to feel extremely hot confined in the building with ni-ki. as you stopped in your tracks, your heard ni-ki stop as well.

“better, princess?” he asked, that smug look still on his face. you blushed again, but you didn’t say anything.

“listen, i uhh…i’m not the best with words but i just wanted to say that i think i like you…no- i know i like you. i like everything about you and i didn’t realize i could feel this deeply about someone,” ni-ki says, his voice laced with hesitation and anxiousness.

“then my plan worked!” you laugh. “i’ve been waiting to get close to you all these weeks! i’m glad it worked then,” you smile at him.

“wait- that was your plan the whole time??” he questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

“well…i just wanted to get to know you better,” you say shyly, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“then can i be your boyfriend?” ni-ki asks, a new found softness in his tone.

“yes, 100 times yes !!” you exclaim, going up on your tippy toes to throw your arms around his neck, hugging him close.

“thank you for giving me a chance baby,” he mumbles in your ear, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

“well now you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life!” you giggle, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“and i would let you stay by my side forever if it meant you stayed right here, in my arms.”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

michael kaiser wanted to be loved.

he wanted unconditional, ethereal, and never ending love. he wanted to always be supported, that no matter what he did, he will always and still be loved. he wanted the constant feeling of being supported no matter what, that he’s a lovable creature, that he isn’t subhuman like his father had once told him.

soccer brought that to kaiser.

with soccer came satisfaction. he would crush his rivals, his enemies, and each time, he felt a little bit more human, a little bit more loved. it got to the point where that feeling of pleasure and accomplishment became addictive for kaiser, and his sole purpose for playing soccer was to crush his opponents and receiving more and more love.

he became so obsessed with the glory that came from soccer that he began neglecting his own health and harming himself whenever things didn’t go his way when it came to soccer. his fingers wrapped tightly around his throat was once an action of his father, although it now carried on to him. bruises on his body was something that carried on from his childhood to his adult life, even though he had managed to escape his father when he was 15 after having been recruited from the prison.

whenever he lost a soccer match, he would go back to his room and cut off his airflow with his tattooed hand pressing right above the base of his neck as he struggled for oxygen, coughs constantly escaping him. it was only natural; after all, he lost a soccer match. he lost a bit of his humanity and love. he was just becoming subhuman again.

kaiser became so obsessed with soccer that he didn’t even realize that someone who loved him unconditionally was right there, right in front of him this whole time, and yet he was so caught up in his own life that he never even realized.

you and kaiser were childhood best friends. he was your mihya, not michael, no kaiser. he was small, weak, and couldn’t stand up to his father. he didn’t know how to speak to people in a kind manner. he bled when he fell on concrete, and yet he never cried. his face was always covered in grime and dried blood, his body was always littered in bruises, and yet he never cried in front of you. it took months after meeting you for him to finally even smile in front of you.

the first time kaiser ever cried in front of you was when you had gotten him a gift for his birthday.

kaiser never knew how to react to gifts, so he didn’t enjoy receiving them. but it was his eighth birthday, you were obviously going to get your best friend a gift. it was just a simple keychain of a blue rose, a flower you knew he liked. when you handed it to him with a cheerful “happy birthday, mihya!”, tears had sprung to his eyes.

he asked you why you were willing to give him a gift, why you were willing to spend time with him. when you just answered with a worried look and quiet “well, you’re my best friend, of course i would”, kaiser knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

maybe that was why his descent into madness and obsession hit you harder than it did kaiser.

you had indeed stuck with him, even now, at nineteen. twelve years after your initial meeting. you’ve had a crush on him for exactly as long as you had both met, spiraling from a small childhood crush to being deeply and hopeless in love and attached to him. and yet you had no idea whether kaiser liked you or not; he was too obsessed with soccer to show any signs.

whenever kaiser lost a match, you knew that he was going to commit to a session of harming himself for at least an hour so again. somehow, you felt more pain that kaiser did when he did so, always outside of his door, banging for him to stop and begging him to not do this to himself every time while tears escaped your eyes. you loved him; you didn’t want the boy you loved to be so willing and constant with hurting himself.

he ignored you every time, occasionally telling you to go away or mind your own business.

you had enough with it one day. you were sick of it, constantly hearing his choked noises from his bedroom every time he lost a match. finally, one day, when kaiser lost a match, he stormed off to his room again. but before he could slam the door shut, you shoved your entire body weight against the door, trying to stop it from shutting.

“what the fuck are you doing?” kaiser hissed, trying to push the door shut. “mind your own business. i’ll be done soon enough.” but no avail; you continued your weak attempts of pushing the door open. kaiser scoffed from the other side. he usually avoided getting mad at you, although it was hard for him to do so in the first place. but now you were starting to piss him off. can’t he offer himself a therapeutic session in peace?

“no! mihya, stop it and just open the door.” you were beginning to get pushed back from the door, before you used your final backup plan and shoved your arm in between the open space left from the door. you yelped from the pain, and kaiser instantly lost all anger at that moment, pulling open the door immediately when he heard your yelp. you stepped into the room stiffly.

“are you retarded? what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kaiser exclaimed, wide eyed as you clutched your arm, which was beginning to turn into the color of a rotting plum. you turned to glare at him, angry tears springing to your eyes.

“i’ll do this shit every fucking time for as long as you keep doing this to yourself every damn time you lost a match, you idiot.” you replied. you sighed before looking down somberly. “how long are you going to keep doing this to yourself, mihya? you’re obsessed with fame. you’re obsessed with all of this. you’re enjoying ruining the lives of other people for love. mihya, that’s not worth it. that’s not worth your body. that’s not worth your mentality.”

kaiser felt anger bubbling up inside of him again, and before he realized his, his voice raised to a level that he would usually never dare to use with you, although he would be fine using this tone with anyone else. “you don’t fucking understand! your father never called you a subhuman! he never choked you for no reason! your mother never left you! your father never beat you every day no particular reason! your father didn’t require you to steal every fucking day because his fatass can’t move two meters from the couch and his precious beer! soccer makes me feel loved! soccer makes me feel human! soccer is with me!”

for a moment, you stood there silently. you stared at him as he huffed, his breathing shallow from the loud rant. his eyes were sharp, and in that moment, only one thought ran through your head.

this was still your mihya.

he was yelling at you, you knew that. but he has every right to say all of this, to be mad at the world, at you. he has every right to be upset, to be angry. he has every right to rant about his trauma. he has every right to trauma dump. but at the same time, he’s missing a key component here.

“well, would soccer still be with you if you were nobody?! would all of those fans and self-satisfying thoughts still love you if you were no one?!” you shouted. your eyebrows knit together; did he not realize how fabricating this all was? how shallow this all was?

“no one loved me when i was no one!” kaiser hollered back. “no one loved me when i was just some stupid brat who spent most of his time outside of his house wandering on the streets! no one loved me when my father still used to beat me every day like some fucking punching back! no one loved me when i was still just a subhuman!”

and at that moment, a tear leaked from the corner of your eye. shit, this wasn’t even your problem, and yet angry tears were still flowing. your fists clenched, before finally, you screamed. “i loved you were you were no one!” finally, you finally finally finally got it out. kaiser froze, but you kept on going. “i loved you when you still wore dirty clothes every day! i loved you when you didn’t even know how to say a polite word to anyone! i loved you when you were still small and stupid and you!”

your lips quivered, more tears threatening to fall. you wiped your eyes. “before the ‘love’. before the fame. before soccer. and mihya,” you placed a hand on your swelling arm, that was going from rotting plum purple to the blue of kaiser’s eyes. “i still love you. i love you. but if you just can’t accept it and you’ll continue to wallow in that stupid destructive self-pity of yours where you think that no one loves you, then don’t come crawling back to me!”

you turned around to leave the room, your hand on the door knob, until a warm pair of arms wrapped around your waist. your felt tears begin to soak through your shirt from your shoulder, and your eyes widened. he’s crying?

“goddamn it, i don’t know why im fucking crying. i shouldn’t be. but what the fuck…” kaiser whispered into your shoulder. “i—i-“ he gulped, and your could see his hands interlock together as they squeezed the other like a lifeline. “i love you too.”

finally.

you turned around, separating his hands from the other and intertwining your fingers with his. you smiled softly at him, a small sniffle escaping you. “you said it. im so proud of you, mihya.” you knew how much trouble he had saying those words. how hard it was to say something that you had never heard before. “and i love you.”

silently, you got on your tip-toes, your lips almost touching his, before a few quiet words escaped you. “is this okay?”

kaiser huffed quietly. “way to ruin to moment. you’re this far into the process, and now you’re asking? but fuck yes.” you laughed before you softly planted your lips onto his.

the kiss wasn’t rough in the least, but it spoke of years of pent up emotion and unspoken pain. kaiser untangled his fingers from your and cupped your face so strangely gently, which he silently swore in his heart at that moment that he would never hold someone else like this, like the love of his life.

and when kaiser pulled away from the kiss, just a bit out of breath but just right, that’s when he saw it. deep in your eyes, and also in his.

the look of love.

word count: 1.8k (1878)

a/n: i watched shark tale for the first time the other day, and it had NO RIGHT being that good. the angie and oscar argument changed me forever, and it inspired me to make this. i was originally going to make this for isagi before i realized that isagi is AWARE that his parents love him, and that this prompt also matches with kaiser better.

[ryker-writes]

Okay okay, my ideas:

Bestfolk claims 'ownership' by biting. So if you bite a beastperson you're close to, it's considered a proposal. Now imagine one day, let's say Ruggie steals your food, and tries to run away. You chase him, you two start fighting, and you bite him. He freezes because Are you serious?! He has to tell his grandma right away, her little boy found someone! Or maybe Leona annoyed you because he skipped something again and you got in trouble for. In petty retaliation, you bite his ear. The dorm falls silent, and Leona is shook because how bold can you be?! Doing that in front of everyone?! You know he won't be king, right? And you still want to... Okay.

For Riddle, I can imagine there's a rule for it. It's pretty complicated, but somehow you managed to hit it to a T. Riddle is flustered, because you wouldn't do these things just for the sake of it, right?! Not in the correct order, not in this perfect way. You must know the rule, and this is a proposal, right?! Just.. give him a bit. You're both still so young, but rest assured he feels the same way.

Scarabia I can imagine their country has an old timey way of proposing. Because it's based on Aladdin, I can imagine it involves Jasmine flowers and a phrasing of fulfilling all wishes. Like making a flower crown out of jasmines, placing it on your beloved's head and telling them if they have any wishes, you'd be happy to fulfill them. Jamil is just frozen in shock. He's a servant, he was always told he comes second, he always had to give everything up to Kalim. Yet here you are, proposing to him. He can't believe his luck, and he'll make sure to be the best, so you won't ever think of leaving. Kalim on the other hand is just extatic, hugging you tightly and telling you of course and how much he loves you. You're confused, but okay. You did just promise to fulfill every wish he might have, he probably means he'll wish for you to come to every party. That'd be something Kalim would do. Until you visit Scarabia the next time, and everyone is preparing some big event. And Jamil is miffed at you because didn't warn him, and Kalim sprung this engagement party just on him. Do you not know the stuff he had to prepare?!

Pomefiore is different. Harveston probably has an old tradition of proposing too. But it's so old, no one really does it anymore. It's meant to show you can provide for your partner. Cooking and being able to carry them over the doorstep. So one evening, Epel comes to visit to escape Vil for a bit and vent. You listen, and offer him some of the food you made. By coincidence, it happens to be his favorite. You two banter, and somehow the topic comes to strength, and Epel confidentaly says he could carry you. You decide to test it, and he manages! For a few seconds, at least. Then, it's your turn, you pick him up, carry him a few steps. From the kitchen to the living room. Over a doorstep. Only on his way back to Pomefiore does Epel realize all this. You can't have known, right? Then again, you were in Harveston with him. Maybe his grandma told you? Vil's is easier. You know he wants to embody the Fairest Queen, but what you don't know is, that people sometimes used a mirror to propose for that. They'd hold it to their beloved's face and spill their heart out, as if they are the enchanted mirror from the tale. One day, you walk in on Rook trying to compliment Vil with a mirror. You take it from Rook, and give Vil compliments beyond his looks. Complimenting his passion, his determination, how his eyes look when he does something he loves, etc. Vil is flustered, because do you know what you're doing? Well, one way or another, he now knows who he wants to bring to the altar one day.

OMG WAIT THIS IS SOOOO CUTE I LOVE IT

all these scenarios are adorable and I would 100% accidentally do them ;-;

I bite out of affection so woops maybe I'm accidentally marrying Leona-

[awrkive]

tlp xmas special — jjk (m.)

hello awrkive nation!!! its late but merry christmas to those who celebrate!! sorry for being ia but heres a christmas gift from me to you 🫣 first of all i genuinely forgot abt the car s*x drabble that won that poll i made a few weeks ago which i promised you guys ISHDJDJ but here it is!! this drabble combines all of these three recurring requests for the tlp couple and this might also be the last drabble im doing for them (for now??) so do enjoy!!

pairing: tlp!jungkook x tlp!oc (main story)

summary: in which jungkook looks way too good carrying your sister's three-year old at her christmas eve party and you can't help but let your mind wander

w/c: 6k (ctfu)

warning/s: explicit sexual content (p in v s*x, car s*x, unprotected s*x, cre*mpie), oc having baby fever lol. genuinely not proofread sorry for any errors!

You find babies mesmerizing. They’re charming, they can be a handful, they’re irresistibly cute; so tiny, yet so loud. But to the core, they somehow manage to be a pure embodiment of joy.

Before Nayeon got pregnant, she shared something about having a “baby fever”. Of course you knew what it meant – but you never really felt it yourself. She said it was something about Minhyuk being such a good husband that she couldn’t wait for him to be a father. Well, you related to that specific part, at least; about your own husband being such a good husband. However, for the past year you’ve become a married couple, you never really thought about having babies. Or him being a father. Or you being a mother. 

It’s not like you don’t want to become a mother, like ever, or have a family with him. It’s just you thought you’re still way too young to be having babies. So you kind of just… gloss or skip over that idea – and for the record, Jungkook’s never brought it up, either. 

It’s not until your sister got pregnant for the second time, though, that you got yourself thinking. Seokjin and her had babies almost four years into their marriage, but it’s not very long until they decided to try again after Nari and now your sister is carrying her baby boy for seven months. 

It brings you here, gathered at their house for Christmas Eve. Your families haven’t arrived yet, but you and Jungkook decided to go earlier than the agreed time to help out with the – admittedly, big preparation. And currently, Jungkook’s got Nari – Seokjin and your sister’s 3-year-old – in his arms, asking for raspberries because Jungkook’s her favorite uncle. (Why wouldn’t he be? He spoils her a lot and carries her around when you come over.) He insisted on looking after her so Seokjin can help your sister out in the kitchen while you’re over at the counter island making some charcuterie.

Seokjin’s helping your sister take out the pies they’ve both prepared, with him guarding her and being extra with it because “my wife is pregnant and I’m growing white hairs because she wouldn’t just let me do everything”. Your sister is just so done chastising him for his overbearing antics, but you guess it’s cute, at the core of it all. You’ve always looked up to their relationship all these years. In fact, you kind of see Seokjin in Jungkook sometimes. Seokjin loves your sister the way Jungkook loves you. 

And then, the thought passes over your head like some form of looming possibility, unsettling yet intriguing. It lingers for a moment, uninvited but persistent, as if life is quietly hinting at something you’ve never truly considered before. The idea of a baby, of parenthood, feels distant but somehow more tangible now—like a door you never saw, now standing slightly ajar, waiting for you to decide whether to step through.

Would Jungkook be just as (lovingly) overbearing if you were pregnant? You imagine he’d be even more annoying about it. It’s rare for you to get sick, but when you do, Jungkook practically flips the house upside down just to make sure you don’t have to lift a finger. Takes care of you so seriously, as if the illness would never go away on its own in a few days. So what would it be like if you were carrying his child? Would he act like Seokjin does now, always hovering with a hand on your back, supporting your every move, scolding you if you try to do anything that requires even a little bit of effort?

The thought makes your lips curl. Because he probably would. You know he will. 

And as you look at him from across the room, carrying Nari around effortlessly against his body with one arm, with his red long-sleeve polo shirt pushed up to his forearms, white slacks, and freshly cut hair slicked to perfection for tonight’s occasion, he looks… delectable. 

Like a DILF. 

Except he isn’t a dad. 

But god, would you really, really like to fuck him. 

(And would he look way hotter if he – say – gave you a child?)

“Is it done?” Your sister interrupts your thoughts – thankfully, might you add. Because it’s going in a direction that’s way too inappropriate for a family occasion like this, and you need to be family friendly tonight for this Christmas party. 

When you turn around to see if she was talking to you, you find her looking at her husband instead, and with her stance and the tone of her voice, you know it doesn’t sound good. 

“Yeah. I think I just need to add a little more—” 

“Jin,” she says, sounding a little distressed. “Hurry. And make sure it’s perfect, okay? Everyone’s arriving in fifteen, and this is the first time I’m hosting Christmas and I really, really don’t want to disappoint your family and Jungkook’s parents and mom and—” 

“Hey,” You see Seokjin put a hand on the lower part of your sister’s back, effectively cutting her off. Gently, he tells her, “Everything’s perfect, alright?” 

Soft tunes of Christmas songs are playing all over the huge open space of their house, and you know you’re not supposed to listen in to the conversation given that they’re spoken in an almost hushed manner as some sort of discretion, but you can’t help but notice when she turns to Seokjin to give him a downturned smile.

“I just really want to give this my all…” 

He smiles down at her reassuringly. “You have, honey. Let’s not stress, okay? Not good for baby, remember?” Then, he begins to rub her protruding belly, and you see her visibly relaxing to his touch. 

You turn around quickly to not get caught watching, only to be welcomed with Jungkook making a beeline towards you, with Nari still in his arms. 

“Hi, baby,” Your sister automatically greets Nari, cooing at her, mood immediately picking up. The bright-eyed little girl lights up at the sight of her mommy, making grabby hands instantly. Laughing, Jungkook hands her to Seokjin, who receives his daughter and kisses her chubby cheeks with a smack. 

“What were you up to with uncle JK, little missy?” Seokjin says, swaying her side to side. 

Jungkook leans his elbow on the island while looking at the pair, smiling widely.

“Uncle JK said he’s giving me three presents! Three! I wanna open them!” She holds up three fingers, and you giggle at her cuteness.

Your sister softly laughs in response. “Your uncle likes to spoil you, sweetie. But we’ll open them later, okay?”

“Why not now?” She whines, and you smile at how seriously she takes it. “I want three presents!”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin laughs, “You’ll have lots of surprises when the grandmas and grandpas get here. But we need to change into your dress first.”

Nari giggles. “You? You’re gonna wear a dress too?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, why not?”

She shakes her head, still giggling, her pigtails swaying as she does so. God, she looks like a combination of Seokjin and your sister that it’s so uncanny sometimes.

“You’re so silly, daddy.”

Seokjin feigns shock. “Silly? Just wait, Uncle JK and I are going to be Ariel and Belle for New Year’s! Right, Jungkook?” He looks over at Jungkook, who widens his eyes comically.

You laugh, and Jungkook adds, “Well, I wanted to be Cinderella, but sure, I’ll be Belle.”

Nari gasps dramatically, putting her hand over her mouth. “But she’s my favorite, Uncle JK! You can’t be her!”

She’s such a cute kid – and you know everybody in the room agrees. No doubt her mom and dad think so, but when you look over at Jungkook, he’s cheesing really hard – with his nose scrunched into that expression of cute aggression. 

“These two boys are silly.” Your sister interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. She looks at her husband Nari, “Honey, take Nari upstairs and dress her up, please.”

“I can wear my new dress now?!” Nari shrieks, excitement showing with the way she wiggles in her father’s hold.

“Absolutely, baby, and the sparkly white shoes, too,” Seokjin nods. You all coo when Nari lets out an adorable, delighted “yay!” at the words, already leaning towards the direction of the stairs and telling her father to hurry. With a chuckle, Seojin turns to you. “Alright. And Jungkook, please help her with the food.” Seokjin’s gaze falls to your sister, a reminder before he goes completely.

“She’s so cute, I can’t.” Jungkook chuckles.

“Right… my sister was definitely not that cute when we were younger.” you tease, earning an arched brow to your way from your sister. 

“I was the cuter one between us, it’s an established fact,” she rolls her eyes. “When you two get a kid, it better look like Jungkook.” 

Maybe the remark sounded like such a throw-away comment that Jungkook just laughs it off as if it isn’t the first time somebody hinted at you two starting a family. Or maybe he just thinks it isn’t a big deal. Or maybe… maybe he likes the idea? 

You’re about to say something when your sister turns to you.

“You,” she takes you by the shoulders and you look back at her. “You might want to retouch your make-up. Party’s starting soon. And this charcuterie looks—” she looks to the side as if to check if Nari is still around, and when she deems she isn’t at all, she continues to say, “fucking perfect. I love you.” 

“Duh.” you reply, cockily showing off the board to her and to Jungkook who intriguingly looks at your work. 

“I knew you should have been a chef.” Jungkook comments proudly, grinning at you.

“Alright, man,” your sister says in a flat tone, making Jungkook and you laugh. “Jungkook, can help me transfer these to the dining table, please?” She points to the trays of food and Jungkook rounds the counter so he can do just as she requested. 

Before you can head to the powder room, Jungkook brushes past your waist – just one of the candid things he does to have some sort of physical contact with you when you’re not necessarily talking together or close to each other.

It puts a smile on your face as you enter the powder room. 

Inside, you make quick work of putting another layer of lipstick and pressing powder on your face, checking your hair before you stand upright and look at your reflection in the mirror.

You step backwards enough to see half of your body, and from there, you can see how beautiful you look in the outfit you’ve chosen for tonight. It’s a satin red dress with a halter neckline, the gathered drape cascading gracefully around your neck, exposing your shoulders. The silhouette fits at the waist and flows into a straight skirt that stops inches below your knees, and Jungkook may have had a hard time letting you go in your bedroom before you drove to your sister’s place – but you promised him a good time when you get back home so in the end, he had to tuck in a semi on the way from here.

Poor Jungkook. 

Though… you’re beginning to think poor you, instead.

Because you’re thinking about it again. Him in his outfit tonight; the silk polo so he can match yours, and the way he looked so good with a baby girl in his strong arms. 

You can already picture how good he'd look with his own child. He’d be the type of dad who looks effortlessly hot with a baby carrier, showers his kids with gifts because he can’t help himself, and simply excels at being a wonderful father because he’s Jeon Jungkook and he excels in everything he sets his mind to.

Now your brain’s going on a haywire. 

Because now it’s just Jungkook. Hot Jungkook. Jungkook with a baby. Jungkook looking smoking hot carrying his own baby – your baby. 

And wouldn’t it be nice? To carry a being formed by your mutual love? To have someone as adorable and smart and sassy as Nari? God. You hope she’d look like you, but have Jungkook’s eyes because they are your favorite part of him, and then his nose, maybe? And… and maybe have the mole under his lip too, if that was possible. Jungkook had a lot of hair when he came out of his mom’s womb, would your daughter have a lot of hair as well when you give birth to her? 

And why are you already thinking of the gender of your non-existent child? 

You think you’ve gone nuts, but the indulgent little devil on your shoulder is insisting that Jungkook would look so good with a baby girl because you know he’d be such a girl dad. There’s just absolutely no doubt about it, given how he treats Nari. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror again, and absentmindedly, you turn to the side, noting the very clear absence of a bump on your stomach unlike your sister’s. 

Would you carry a baby as gracefully as her? You know her struggles… but… maybe you won’t mind it with a husband like Jungkook… right? Just like she doesn’t mind with a husband like Seokjin. Because Jungkook takes really good care of you. He’d probably panic more than you about certain things. Be extra careful for the both of you. Fetch you your cravings. Love you more than he does now. 

You remember Seokjin rubbing a gentle hand over your sister’s bump, and it brings your own to caress the flat of your stomach over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Obviously no baby there. But… just imagine. You with a baby bump.

Hah. 

Weird, because it’s the first time the idea’s planted in your head and you kind of like it more than you thought. 

You nibble on your bottom lip as you continue to caress your tummy, not noticing the knock that came from outside. 

“Oh my—” 

“Baby?” 

“Jungkook.” Your hands retreat back to your sides. When you look at Jungkook, standing on the doorway, you let one hand clutch at your chest as you tell him, “You scared me.” 

The door clicks as he locks it behind him. Your husband arches his brow as he goes over to you. “What are you so jumpy for?” 

You ignore the question, looking back to the mirror again to fix your dress. But as you do so, you see his reflection – and you catch how he intently stares at you through the glass as well, walking behind you closer and pressing himself against you. His proximity suddenly makes you nervous.

“You should’ve knocked.” 

“I did. You didn’t answer.” 

“I didn’t hear.” When you turn around, Jungkook takes a curled strand of hair over your face and tucks it behind your ear. 

“You look beautiful. So gorgeous.” He says before he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips, one that you welcome fully even though you just reapplied your lipstick. When you break away, you see some remnants on his lips… and realize you picked the wrong lipstick for tonight. You should’ve brought the kiss-proof lippy instead.

You wipe it off and Jungkook smiles before he ducks down, not caring, and kisses your cheek for good measure before he speaks again, “What were you doing in here?” He wiggles his eyebrows, as if he knows you were up to something before he barged in. 

You avoid his gaze and turn back around. 

“Nothing,” You say, trying to busy yourself with your hair again. But Jungkook can be really annoying when he wants to be, so of course he pushes, quite literally and figuratively. 

“What was it? I saw you…” He teases, pushing his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tightening his hold around you. 

“What did you– Jungkook!” You half-snort and scoff when Jungkook bites your neck playfully. You turn around to push him, but he’s insistent on keeping the nonexistent space between you and cages you in his big presence instead, trapping you in between the edge of the sink and the heat of his body. 

“This damn dress…” Jungkook whispers as he splays his hand over your stomach, which makes your breath hitch. 

Did he really see? See you pretending to have a baby bump at the thought of him impregnating you? 

But Jungkook doesn’t really say anything further, just lets an idle finger run over the curve of your hips up to your waist, until it stops at the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you in this.” He whispers in your ear, eyes meeting your gaze in the mirror, not subtle in the way he checks out your body after. 

You huff out a scoff, giving a little more force into the push that you give him this time. His more relaxed hold on you makes him stumble a little bit backwards, chuckling when you roll your eyes at him once again. 

“You’re not even gonna take it off me?” You ask as your turn on the tap, arching your brow at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror. 

A sly smirk makes an appearance on his lips. “I don’t need to take anything off to make you cum, baby.” 

You turn around, leaning on the sink. “So you’re saying you’re not interested at all about my very elaborate choice of underwear tonight, then?” 

That catches him off guard, his brows furrowed in confusion and then realization.

“You minx.” 

You chuckle, swatting his hand away when he tries to touch you. When he whines, you take a step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and Jungkook’s predictably eager to encircle your waist in his arms back again. 

“Later. We have to keep it PG for at least three hours tonight. And you can—” you push at his chest for leverage so you can lean down a little to ride your dress up your thighs. Looking at Jungkook, you watch as he stares at you closely, intently, but oblivious to what you’re doing. He clearly enjoys it, though, judging from the hint of a smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes when more of your skin gets revealed. 

Especially when he catches a glimpse of your white lace underwear that he bought for you himself.

He whistles, and you roll your eyes at the predictable reaction. Taking one of his hands off you, you guide it in between your thighs, earning an involuntary moan from you because Jungkook’s palm automatically cups your heat when he gets close. 

“Ah…” 

“Fuck…” Jungkook looks down where his hand meets your core. “Goddamn,” He says, then you feel him push your panties to the side, dipping the tip of his finger in your pussy. “Why the fuck are you so wet, baby?”

“Y-yeah…” You whine against his chest, gripping his wrist when he attempts to move again. “Kook, don’t.” 

Jungkook halts. He looks at you. Then, he nods. “Alright. Alright. Stop this here?” 

“Hm.” 

He looks down at you with an arched brow. “You started it, though.” 

“You were being flirty.” You say as Jungkook brings your underwear back in place, but not without squeezing your ass first. You nibble on your bottom lip as he rides down the dress, letting it dangle on your knees back again, smoothing the front for you to get rid of the wrinkles. 

“Not my fault you’re hot,” he snorts. “Fuck.” 

“What?” 

“I’m kinda hard…” He says, and you both look down to the bump on his white slacks. Certainly not his full potential (like… you’d know), but it’s still apparent in the light color of his trouser. 

“Poor baby,” you say, can’t help but pat it a little condescendingly which earns a chuckle from Jungkook, him playfully swatting your hand away. 

“You’re so…” 

“I’m so what.” 

Jungkook’s face is a mixture of frustration and amusement. “You always do this shit.” 

You giggle, knowing exactly what he means. But you act like you have no clue. “What?” 

“Get me horny then leave.” He shakes his head, then pokes your waist. 

Chuckling, you kiss him on the cheek quickly, making a beeline to the door quickly lest he tries to kiss you again (and you’ll have no choice but to make out in your sister’s powder room, during her big Christmas party, mind you) and then give him a wink before you go.

 

The ride on the way home felt like it took sixty five years, and it might just be true especially when you’re horny as hell and you got a husband behind the steering wheel looking effortlessly hot in his element. 

You’ve been hot and bothered for hours, and maybe it’s the champagne – probably has gotten in your brain or whatever – but Jungkook was not even done parking when you made a move to palm him over the console. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, clearly not expecting it at all. He had that wide-eyed look when he frantically turned off the engine, staring at you while your hand grew heavy on his crotch. “Here?” You bit on your bottom lip as you nodded your head. He looked beyond conflicted. “But baby, we’re just ten floors away from our u–”

“Please?” 

And what was he supposed to say? No? 

Absolutely not. Not when your glassy eyes looked so pleading the way they did.   

He just makes your insides churn, especially when you look at him. And for the past few hours, you couldn’t stop thinking about his dick inside you and most especially his cum. (Translation: You can’t stop thinking about him fucking a baby into you).

But… the thing was, you’ve only ever fucked in a car once.

Jungkook’s way too pesky about stuff like that, and somehow, even though he’s already been made aware of your exhibitionist tendencies (cue unprompted sex in public areas like that one time in the beach, window sex at a Ritz hotel back in London and… admittedly many more…) car sex was just… a least favorite. The first and only time you did it was when you were still fresh into dating; at a drive-thru cinema, but it was kind of a whack in both your opinions because it was too cramped up and you bumped your head and you almost got caught which is way too embarrassing of a memory to ever revisit. 

But now maybe that really doesn't matter anymore.

Not when your husband looks like that.

And bottomline is: you just really, really want him to cum in you. 

Oh god. What is wrong with your head tonight? 

“Baby, fuuuck,” Jungkook hisses as you speed up your rhythm up and down his cock. His boxers and slacks are pushed down to the middle of his thighs while his shirt is all but buttoned. Meanwhile, your dress is bunched up in your mid-section. 

You’re near tears on his lap at this point, already feeling your thighs straining at the force you’re exerting in every bounce – but you couldn’t care less. 

“Oh my god, baby– you feel so good,” you moan, eyes shutting close at the feel of his tip hitting that spot inside you whenever you go down.

For the first few minutes, Jungkook took it upon himself to guide your hips in every movement just like he always does when you ride him like this, pounding into you from underneath, but he eventually let you control the pace, leaning way back to the reclined seat and watches you work instead. He stares at you with hooded eyes as you push yourself up and down on his hardened cock, stiletto heels digging the side of his thighs occasionally.

While you pleasure yourself on him, he slides your dress up further, gets a little frustrated that it’s tight on the waist so he can’t push it past your tits. So he feels for your nape to find the zipper because he knows it’s there – he zipped you up in this dress before you drove to your sister’s place – and he delights when he finds the small, cold material, pulling it down blindly until you noticed and help him get yourself out of it. 

Jungkook sighs when the top comes down, snapping the clip of your sleeveless bra and getting it out of the way before he greedily fondles your now bare breasts in his huge palms. 

“Ohh,” you moan when Jungkook flicks your nipples, getting them even harder. You push yourself back, leaning into one elbow on the steering wheel as you begin to rock against him in a back and forth motion,

“Fuck—” Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, squeezing your tits tighter that makes you keen in want. “So fucking sexy, baby. Shit – damn – l-love you.” 

“I-I love you too,” you say, more like a whine, chasing a high he knows is impending. 

Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes. Your hair that was once tidy and neat three hours ago is now all over the place, the high bun loosening and some strands falling off your pretty face. Your lipstick smudged and he’s sure the remnants are on his lips, and with your mouth agaped in that erotic o-shape while you pleasure yourself on his cock, Jungkook feels like exploding. 

“Ah– shit,” he groans, feeling the warm crevice of your wet pussy swallow him whole. When you climbed over his lap a while ago after he fingered you, he was gonna take out a condom from the glove compartment but you insisted to not use it, and the picture of you looking down while he pushed your panties to the side and looked into each other’s eyes as you sank down on him is still playing in his head like a broken record.

God fuck damn, you’re just so unreal. The love of his life. His wife. 

He wipes your tear-stained cheeks, torn because he doesn’t like seeing you cry but he does like it when it’s because you’re so eager to bounce on his cock that even though you know you’re pushing it, you continue to do so.

Jungkook lets his hand travel from a boob to linger on your cheek, and he keens on the way you purr when you lean into his touch, smiling slightly when you open your mouth as his thumb nears it. 

You eagerly suck it as if verbally prompted, opening your eyes just so you can stare at his as you lewdly slobber over his finger while you expertly move against his cock, breasts jiggling up and down right in front of his face – the obscene squelches of your lovemaking filling the air of his cramped up benz. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Jungkook whispers. “Perfect girl. You love bouncing on my cock, love? Just couldn’t wait until we get home? Hm?” His tone is a bit condescending and cocky. 

When Jungkook takes out his finger from your mouth, you bite your lip as you nod, resuming your up and down motion again. Slamming down on his dick, your hands come up to grip his shoulders tight. 

“We are home.” 

Jungkook chuckles, a rich and dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. A snarky remark gets buried in your throat when you feel a certain zap of electricity coming from your toes to your spine, the hot coil in your stomach edging to burst.

“I’m cumming– oh my god, Jungkook– baby I’m cumming—” You say, speeding up your pace once again. 

With your breasts bouncing in front of his face like that, he couldn’t help but dive right into it, wrapping his lips around one nipple, nipping and sucking and licking, while he busies one hand with fondling the other. He alternated in between both tits, groaning and grunting when your pussy tightens around him, and one more slam on his cock gets you spiraling as you finally cum. 

Jungkook closes his eyes when he feels you gush around him, and he really wishes that he could lay you down, spread you out, and eat the slick right out of you just like how he likes it.

“That’s it, baby – fuck. Good girl, good girl.” 

A long, drawl-out moan slips past your lips, and Jungkook takes it upon himself to keep you bouncing on his cock when your energy dwindles down, rocking his hips upwards, just as eager to reach his high as well. 

You try to pick up your pace to help him, planting your palms on his bare chest to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” Jungkook says in a hushed whisper, groaning, squeezing your ass tight that you know will leave marks the next day. 

“I know, baby – cum for me,” You lean down to capture his lips, whimpering when you feel yourself still coming down from your high.

“Ohh fuuck—” Jungkook moans, a tell-tale sign of his orgasm. “Fuck, I’m cumming—” 

It’s almost second nature the way he looks down on your crotch, hand going over to where you meet – and you almost panic when you realize what he’s about to do. 

“Jungkook, no,” you stop his hand, and he looks at you with utter confusion, rightfully so. Biting your lip, you stare into his eyes as you say, “I want you to come inside me.” 

You watch as his eyes widen, then, “You sure?” He says with furrowed brows.

You nod your head frantically. “Please come in me. I want your come in me. Please, please—” 

“Jesus fuck—” Jungkook’s hips stutter, his grip on yours tightening, gaze darkening as he processes your words. “Fuck. Okay, baby. No need to beg, okay? Fuck. I’ll come inside you.” 

You speed up your pace and you can feel yourself getting there for a second time, and maybe it’s the heat of the moment, but your next words fall from your lips without much thought: “Yeah, yeah –give it to me, Kook. Want your– ah– want your babies.” 

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, taken aback by your words. “Fuuuck…” He looks up at you, grabs your waist and makes you lean closer. “You mean that?” 

You nod your head, jumping on his cock up and down like your life depends on it. “Want your babies. Want you to cum in me.” 

“Shiiitt,” Jungkook sighs, and you feel him getting harder by the second. “Gonna– gonna fuck a baby in you, baby. Fuck. You don’t know what you do to me– shit, I’m cumming.” 

You both moan in unison when Jungkook finally releases inside you the same time you do so, his cock hardening in your walls, throbbing when you settle down on his lap with him still buried inside you. When the seconds pass, you feel the exhaustion wrapping around you, and you let Jungkook trail kisses up your shoulders and neck at the post-coital momentum. 

“Fuck, that was so hot.” He whispers against your lips, kissing your parted mouth. You sigh against it, all sweaty and fucked out. 

“Oh, baby…” You moan when Jungkook lifts you up and you feel yourself dripping from your cum. 

“Fucking hell, so beautiful baby...” Jungkook trails off, squeezing your breasts before pushing you gently to lean back on the steering wheel. You look down as you watch with a gasp when he slides his cock out from your heat, covered in white and slick, moaning lewdly when he pumps it out for more. 

Some of it spurts on your pussy, and you stare in awe when Jungkook inserts the tip once again in your heat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the blurred lines between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Goddammit.” Jungkook sighs, gratified, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times before he grabs your hips again so he can kiss you on the mouth. It almost gives you whiplash when he looks at you with such sincere and genuine eyes as he says, “I love you.” 

“Love you,” you say, closing your eyes when his kisses trail to your jaw and his hands come up to fondle your tits again. His favorite fixation – his words, not yours. “Kook.” 

“Hm.” 

“Sticky.” 

He hums again. You keep your position like that for a few more seconds before Jungkook helps put your panties and dress back in place, picking you up slightly as you climb over the passenger seat. 

You watch as he pulls his boxers and pants back up, buckling his belt around the waist. He hasn’t fixed the unbuttoned state of his shirt yet before he looks at you again with a smile.

“Come here, you,” He says, beckoning you to come closer with his arm around your seat. You grin, crossing the console again to meet the kiss he gives your mouth. Then, Jungkook breaks the contact, caressing your cheek as he speaks. “Babies, huh?” He brings up, eyes so bright; delighted, excited. He has that unshakeable grin. 

And you can’t help but mirror it. 

“Do you want to?” You ask instead. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously wait for his answer that doesn’t really take that long. 

“Fuck, yeah. If you want to, then I want to,” he responds. Then, he adds, “And I really, really want to.”

“Okay…” you say, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. “But it doesn’t have to be now. Or I don’t know. I know it’s only been a year since we got married and all that—” 

“Baby, stop,” Jungkook says before you can finish your thought. “Doesn’t matter if we were one month into the marriage. As long as you’re ready, then I’m ready. Are you ready?”

A few beats. 

It was your horny-adled brain that got you in this position in the first place – but you think about how life with Jungkook would be like with kids added in the equation in the near future.

It would be so far from bad. 

The past year had been nothing short of bliss since you married him, and as you watched Jungkook, a thought warmed your heart: he’d be an incredible dad. The way he loves you, so deeply and selflessly, leaves no doubt in your mind that he’d go above and beyond for your child—or children. You’re certain he’d love them as much as he loves you, perhaps even more.

A smile spreads across your face, and you nod to his question.

“I want a family with you, Kook.”

Jungkook’s face lights up with a delighted smile, mirroring yours. “So, we’re doing this?”

You nod again, biting your lip to temper your excitement.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You blink at him in surprise. “Why are you thanking me?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile and leans in to kiss you again. “Just… thank you.”

You furrow your brows, squinting at him in playful confusion. Before you can say more, he leans forward and nips the tip of your nose.

“Ow!” you exclaim, laughing.

“You’re cute,” Jungkook teases. “But we’ve gotta clean up and head home. Then, we can keep practicing putting my baby in you—on a nice, comfortable bed this time.” He winks, pecking your cheek as he buttons his shirt and unbuckles his seatbelt.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you do the same. “Admit it, you like car sex.”

Jungkook hums nonchalantly, his cheeky grin giving him away. You chuckle, shaking your head at him, love radiating in every moment between you.