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pathologicalreid · 3 months ago

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all we ever do is talk | s.r.

in which Spencer and wife!reader fear they're getting boring, so the BAU sets them up with a hotel suite for Spencer's birthday

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: i don't remember. hold on. oral (f and m recieving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, breeding but not like the primordial kinky type just like, having sex to get pregnant, drinking wine, this is like circa s11, not proofread i'm just a girl, david rossi being rich for the plot, i hate hate hate the word pussy but here we are, softdom!spencer. spencer reid certified gift giver! word count: 4.17k a/n: a fic based on a del water gap song? who's surprised? no one! anyways i blacked out toward the end of writing this one no clue what happens here also sorry about the breeding thing i really don't know where that came from

The robe you wore was luxurious, and the cumulative cost of every item in your hotel room likely cost more than you made in a year. Needless to say, you were starting to feel out of place in the room, your hair and makeup done to perfection as you waited for your husband to arrive.

Reaching into your pocket, you slip your phone out and check for notifications. JJ was your babysitter for the night, and even though she had insisted that everything would be fine, you had never actually spent a full night away from Eleanor. You had no idea how Spencer did it time and time again for cases.

You: Everything good? JJ: Shouldn’t you be with Spencer right now? You: He’s on his way. You: Everything good?

She responds with a picture of Nell, your sweet toddler, who was seemingly too focused on the bowl of mac n cheese in front of her to even look at the camera. You type out a reply to JJ before forwarding the photo to Spencer.

JJ assured you that Eleanor would be in good care with her and Will, and it’s not that you have any doubts, it’s that she’s your baby and this is your first time being away from her.

The door to the hotel room clicks, and you set your phone on the comforter, watching as Spencer walks into the room before returning the key card to his wallet. “Hey,” you greet from the bed, crossing one leg over the other.

“Hey, honey,” he says, striding over to you before pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, “You smell nice.”

You nod in the direction of the bathroom, “I got here early and took a bath.” Slowly, you take a better look at him, “You look good, I like that suit on you.”

He holds his arms out and looks down at himself, “I heard through the grapevine that you have a fantastic dress for tonight, so I figured I needed to pull out all of the stops.” Years ago, Rossi had gotten all of the BAU men custom designer suits, that must be the one your husband had chosen to wear tonight. It was fitting, seeing as Rossi was probably fronting most of the bill for your night.

“I’ve never heard Penelope referred to as a grapevine before,” you respond in jest, getting up from the bed before you make your way to the bathroom. “She helped pick the dress,” you inform him, shedding your robe before stepping into the dress. It was a short, black velvet number that clung to the contours of your body in a way that you hadn’t thought was possible. Instead of straps, two dainty chains went over your shoulders, leaving excess dangling over your back.

Spencer clears his throat, “So, how did the drop-off go?” He missed the big goodbye, which was probably for the best.

You sigh, “Nell was great. I was a mess.” You had only been given a few days to prepare for being away from her.

Carefully pulling the chains over your shoulders, you look at yourself in the mirror before slipping your heels on and stepping out of the bathroom. Spencer was standing in front of the windows, watching the sunset over the horizon, “For what it’s worth, I had no issue with the original plan for tonight.”

Initially, you had planned to celebrate Spencer’s birthday at home with Eleanor, and there was meant to be a party with the rest of the BAU tomorrow evening. Somehow, the team had gotten the idea that the two of you needed an evening out, so they chipped in to give you just that—some members more than others.

“I’m always alright with spending quality time with my girls, but—” his voice cuts off as he turns to look at you, “Never mind.”

You chuckle, “What?” Looking down at yourself, you smooth out the front of the dress with your palms.

His eyes wander as he unabashedly checks you out, “I’m finding with every passing moment that this might be my preferred plan for the evening.” He watches attentively as you go back to sitting on the edge of the bed, fixing a twisted strap of your heel while Spencer stands directly in front of you.

“When was the last time we went out on a date?” You ask, strapping your heel around your ankle.

He hums, fake thinking about your question even though he knows the exact date, “However old Nell is, add approximately ten months,” he answers.

You look up at him, your face warming in surprise, “Has it really been that long?”

Spencer nods mournfully, “Almost three and a half years,” he sits down on the bed next to you, placing his hand on your bare thigh and swiping at the soft skin with his thumb.

Holding your hands up to your face, you glance at Spencer with wide eyes, “Oh, Spence. When did we get boring?”

“We aren’t boring,” he insists, “We have a two-year-old. We work.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, “Other people do those things, and they’re not boring.”

He matches your look, “We aren’t boring,” he repeats. “Let’s make a deal,” Spencer offers, “Tonight, you and I won’t be boring.

“Right, so we’ll have a glass of wine at dinner tonight and then return to being boring tomorrow?” You say glumly, watching as he shifts on the mattress, adjusting his weight distribution.

“No,” he whispers, leaning over to press a kiss to your lips before sliding off the mattress, leaving him on his knees in front of you.

Blinking absently at him, your heart jumps at the sight of him in front of you, “You know we have dinner reservations, right?”

He gives you a slightly incredulous look, “You know it’s an open reservation, right? We have it until midnight.”

Your head bobs in acknowledgment, silently permitting him to part your knees, and you watch him come to the realization that you weren’t wearing any panties, “I didn’t want any lines to show under the dress,” you explain. There was also a part of you that hoped your evening would go in this direction.

Placing his hands on your hips, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, rolling your dress up to your waist, leaving you bare in front of him, “You’re perfect,” he breathes, “I don’t tell you that enough.” His fingers carefully prod at your core, a ghosting of pressure as he sweeps his index finger over your folds, an array of goosebumps forming over your skin.

Your breath hitches when he grips one of your thighs, placing it over his shoulder in the way he’s done numerous times before, but it always seems to take your breath away. “You tell me plenty,” you say, the sensation of his breath on your wet heat affecting you in ways you haven’t felt in ages.

“That’s not nearly enough,” he scolds himself, craning his head forward to press a kiss to your clit, chuckling when you jump as a result.

Releasing a breathy laugh, you look down at Spencer, your heart racing as you await his next move, “Then tell me again,” you whisper.

Spencer hums in response, slipping his pointer finger inside of you as he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”

You let out a soft moan as his finger slowly starts moving out, taking it slowly as you lean back on your hands, careful not to mess your hair up too badly, “Spence,” you whine at the pressure.

“I know,” he tells you, “It’s been a while, huh?”

Closing your eyes, you nod quickly as he slips a second finger into your cunt, a gasp escaping your lips as your body stretches around his fingers, “It’s been too long,” you tell him, lifting one hand to your mouth and biting down on your knuckle to muffle your sounds—a habit you’d picked up since having a baby.

He hums, peering up at you through hooded eyes, “This is a honeymoon suite, angel. It’s engineered to keep sound in.”

Your hand drops obediently, falling back to the mattress as you ignore the implications of the BAU reserving the honeymoon suite for you and focusing on your husband, who was bending his neck down to suck your clit. His lips encircle the sensitive nub as you let out a low whimper, knowing what’s about to come making you apprehensively excited.

Steadily, Spencer works at you, thrusting his fingers while suckling at your clit, periodically using his tongue to apply pressure, and reveling in your high-pitched moans as he drives you closer and closer to what you’re sure will be your first of many orgasms of the night.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, moving one hand to the top of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging at the strands.

He shifts on his knees slightly, coming up for air as he adjusts the angle of his fingers inside of your cunt, going back down on you as his fingers find a new pace. They curl inside of you, targeting the spongy button that makes your abdomen tighten and your thighs tremble.

Overwhelmed, you repeat his name like a prayer while you pull at his hair, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you cry, helplessly staring at the ceiling while Spencer keeps his motions going, his fingers relentlessly thrusting into you while he sucks at your clit, encouraging your orgasm.

Your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm rips through you, your legs shaking as your husband remains buried between your legs, working you through your orgasm, “So perfect,” he pants, gently massaging your pussy as he withdraws his fingers, pressing soft, tender kisses to the insides of your thighs. “We don’t even have to go to dinner,” he says, looking at you hungrily.

You smile down at him, “We should go, Dave called in a favor to get us this reservation.”

Spencer straightens up and nods in agreement, holding his hand up to your mouth, “Open,” he says, looking satisfied when you poke your head forward, putting your lips around his two fingers and tasting yourself on them.

Sucking your own slick from his fingers, you focus on his eyes as you swirl your tongue around them, watching the dilation of his pupils because you know exactly what effect you’re having on him. He slips his fingers from your mouth before dropping a kiss on your lips, the entire exchange reminiscent of the time before you had Eleanor. You weren’t complaining.

Checking his watch, Spencer stands up straight in front of you, helping you stand, he holds onto your waist while you find your balance, “How are you feeling?”

You peer up at him through your mascara-coated eyelashes, “Most decidedly not boring,” you answer, following him into the bathroom so the two of you can clean up.

“C’mere,” Spencer beckons, looking at you from across the table. “You’re too far away,” he explains, the table at the restaurant keeping the two of you apart when you’ve already established that you want to be close tonight.

Taking your napkin off of your lap and setting it on the table, you grab your glass of wine and make your way to your husband. In the private room that had been reserved for you, “Here I am,” you present yourself to him, the privacy glass that surrounded you concealing the way his arm snaked around your waist, guiding you to his lap.

He smiles up at you, “That’s better,” he says, your legs latticed over his own.

Looking over your shoulder at the table, you hum an acknowledgment, “This table is almost comically large for two people.” You imagine it’s intended to be fancy, a long, glamorous table for a glamorous restaurant. You lean your head against Spencer’s, closing your eyes and appreciating your closeness, “Happy birthday, my love.”

“It’s not my birthday yet,” he murmurs, tipping his head back and kissing you softly, the taste of the wine that had been chosen for you was faint on his lips.

A soft giggle bubbles in your throat, “Then I’ll have to stay up until midnight so that I get to be the first one to tell you.”

Humming, Spencer settles a hand on your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze, “The real challenge there is staying up until midnight.”

“I’m sure we can think of something to keep us up,” you grin cheekily, swinging your legs. “So, before you’re officially older,” you begin, “What do you want to do with your next year of life?”

“Finish the bathroom remodel,” he answers almost immediately, referring to your main floor bathroom that had been in disarray for months. The countertop that you had chosen was still on backorder.

You raise your eyebrows, “What do you want to do that will help us on our pursuit to become less boring?”

Spencer studies your expression, taking his time before answering, “I’d like to at least discuss having another baby,” he responds.

Admittedly, it had been on your mind recently. With Kate leaving the BAU to spend time with her baby and JJ announcing she and Will were expecting, considering having a second baby wasn’t out of the realm of imagination. “You want another baby?” Your question is soft, you look at him, studying the brown eyes that he had passed down to Eleanor.

He nods, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles on your bare thigh. “I know that you’ll bear most of the responsibility if we have another baby. I’ll still be around as much as work will allow, but there’s only so much room for variables in the BAU. I wouldn’t want you to feel alone in it, but I— I’d like for Nell to have a sibling.”

“Okay,” you breathe, not needing much convincing to come to a conclusion. Admittedly, you weren’t expecting this conversation tonight, but it wasn’t a conversation you’d ever had before. Eleanor was about as much of a surprise as a baby could be.

Spencer looks surprised at your reply, “What?”

Slinging your arms around his shoulders, you shrug, “Let’s have another baby. This time next year Nell will be three, so, now almost feels like a perfect time.”

“It takes most couples months to conceive when they’re trying,” Spencer tells you, “Only about thirty percent conceive in the first three months.”

You raise your eyebrows doubtfully, “How long does it take couples who have a luxury hotel room to themselves for the night?” Your loaded question easily slides off your tongue as you lift your hand to his chest, thumbing the silk fabric of his tie while you wait for his answer.

He led the way to the hotel room, luckily the hotel and restaurant were connected; you would’ve hated for a cab driver to see you dazedly staring at your husband with the promise of what comes next.

Pulling his keycard from his wallet, Spencer pushes the door open, dragging you in behind him before pressing you up against the wall. You shove at the lapels of his jacket, trying to get it off of him.

Haphazardly, you drop pieces on the floor, Spencer’s jacket, your heels, his tie, everything falling away as the two of you stumble to the bed. You yelp when you fall back onto the bed, Spencer catches himself above you and a fit of giggles erupts from your mouth. A sort of light, airy feeling goes through your head while you’re beneath him, the freeing feeling of knowing you’re about to have sex and you don’t have to worry about your toddler knocking on your door was overwhelming.

You kiss him while fiddling with the buttons of his dress shirt, pulling the white fabric from where it was tucked before discarding that as well. “Wait,” you say breathlessly.

Spencer sits up, panting as he looks down at you, “What is it?” He asks, eyes searching for something wrong.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, “I bought lingerie for tonight,” you tell him, eyes flickering over to your overnight bag. The blue, lacy set was calling your name.

Hovering back over you, Spencer bows his head and presses a soft, unhurried kiss to your lips, “Show me later?”

Nodding, you watch him as he pulls his undershirt off, another bundle of fabric lost to the ground. Gently, you push at him, making it so his back is on the mattress as you place one knee on either side of his waist.

His hands tug at the hem of your dress, ruching the fabric around your waist as you slowly grind your hips over his. “Fuck, baby,” he hisses, already tightly wound after your earlier activities.

Understanding, you start to leave a trail of kisses down his chest, continuing to go lower until you’re unbuckling his belt and undoing his fly, placing your hand over his already hard cock and palming him on top of his briefs, “You’re so hard,” you moan, your mind thinking ahead to when he’ll inevitably fuck you.

In the interim, you tug his pants and briefs halfway down his thighs, leaving his length standing at attention for only a moment before you duck your head, licking a long stripe up the veiny underside of his cock. Spencer’s hips buck up from the mattress in response, and you take him in your mouth, using your hand to touch what you can’t fit in your mouth.

Pressing your tongue flat against the head, you moan with him in your mouth when he grabs a fistful of your hair. You were no longer worried about your appearance, only about driving him as crazy as possible.

“Angel,” he says, his voice strained, “I can’t— I need to be in you.”

You lift your head, moving back up to him and straddling his hips again, placing your bare pussy on top of his hard cock. Wiping drool from the corner of your mouth, you raise your eyebrows at Spencer, “Are you ready?”

He nods, mouth falling open when you lift yourself up and position his length at your entrance, “Oh, wow,” he breathes, gently rubbing at your clit as you ease yourself onto him, your walls throbbing around him. His hand settles on your hip as you take a moment to adjust.

Pulling at your dress, you tug it over your head, leaving it on the floor of the hotel room, “Ah,” you sigh, rolling your hips slightly to try and help your body adjust.

“Absolutely no lingerie necessary,” he says, his eyes studying your body as if he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. “I’m so thankful for you, my girl,” he murmurs with lust-hooded eyes.

You hum in response, bending at the hips to put your lips on his, a whimper escaping your lips when his hips buck up from the mattress again, “Fuck, call me that again.”

“My girl,” he echoes, thrusting up into you again. “I’m not going to last very long,” he admits, groaning as you start to lift yourself up and down on his cock.

Small whines come from your lips with every movement, you shake your head, “That’s okay, we can…” your voice trails off, “I don’t think I will either.” The admission comes as a bit of a surprise to yourself, you hadn’t realized you had gotten so worked up.

Snaking his hand between your bodies, Spencer focuses his attention on getting you to your second orgasm as your movements grow unsteady, “You’re doing so well,” Spencer encourages you, knowing you aren’t usually on top.

“Shit, Spence,” you gasp, your resolve failing as your torso drops forward, giving him the freedom to continue lifting his hips up into you, “Oh,” your cunt clenches down around him, “I’m cumming,” you tell him, burying your face in his chest as you cry out. His thrusts start to overstimulate you as he chases his own orgasm, and eventually his movements falter.

You can feel the pulsing of his cock inside of you as his hot cum fills you, a tired sigh as his rigid body relaxes back into the mattress, “Oh, my girl,” he whispers, smoothing your hair back as you catch your breath on top of him, “Why don’t you stay up here for a little bit?”

Nodding, you look up at him, a pink flush splattered across his face as you watch him, “I love you,” you breathe, glancing at the clock, “Happy birthday.”

Spencer spares a glance at the clock, three minutes past midnight, “I love you too, angel. Thank you.”

You sigh, lifting yourself on shaky arms and grabbing a box from his bedside table, “This is for you.”

He releases a breathy laugh, obviously amused at the idea of opening a birthday gift while he’s still buried inside of you, “I got you something too,” he admits, sweeping a strand of hair from your face.

Tilting your head to the side, you frown, “It’s not my birthday.”

Shaking his head, Spencer agrees with you, “No, but I find I can’t resist giving you gifts.”

You inhale sharply when he twists to open the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a rectangular box and resting it next to him so he can start to open the gift from you.

“Oh, honey,” he says, opening the watch box. His old one had a damaged mechanism and needed to be replaced, but it wasn’t something he was likely to spend the money on for himself. Naturally, you did it for him.

You raise your eyebrows, “It’s engraved,” you explain. Watching him take the watch out of the box and look at the back, the dates that you had carved in being significant markers in your relationship. Your wedding anniversary. The date Eleanor was born. There was plenty of space to add more dates too, should the time come.

“It’s perfect,” he tells you, placing the watch back in the box to keep it safe, “Thank you,” he says, shifting under you as he reaches for the box.

Rolling your eyes, you accept the box anyways, “Now, why would you get me a gift for your birthday,” you tut, undoing the ribbon on the box before opening it. “Oh,” you breathe, “Oh, Spence,” you say, tears pricking your eyes.

Inside of the box was a necklace, and strung on the dainty chain was a teardrop-shaped sapphire. “It’s Eleanor’s birthstone,” he explains, “I saw it last time Penelope dragged me to the mall with her, and I thought it was perfect for you.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, moving to fasten it around your neck, the only other thing adoring your body being your wedding ring. You grin at your husband as you duck down to press a kiss to his lips, half-conscious of the way he’s kicking his pants off until he’s flipped you onto your back.

He hums as you moan, “You’re beautiful. You’re so, so beautiful,” he muses, burying his face in your neck and placing soft kisses along the column of your throat.

Opening your legs more, you invite him to come closer into you, “I would have agreed to have another baby a long time ago had I known I’d be treated so well,” you tease him gently, gasping as his lips attach to your breast, littering kisses all over you.

“I always treat you well,” he insists, taking a tentative thrust into you before taking you into his arms.

You whimper softly at the pressure on your pussy, “Spence,” you sigh, your sensitive cunt clenching around his cock. “Oh, god yes,” you mutter as he begins to find a pace, pressing his full length into you.

He drops a kiss to your shoulder, “I know baby,” he says, sticking to his rhythm and pushing your legs open wider, “I’ve got you.”

A curse falls from your lips as you screw your eyes shut, tilting your head back and gasping at the sensation, “I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you too,” he says, equally out of breath with you as he fucks into you with abandon, chasing a new high as you dig your nails into his back. “You’re so good for me, baby,” he hisses, “I’m gonna cum in you,” he warns, snapping his hips to yours.

A high-pitched moan comes from you as he paints your insides with his cum, the sensation of him filling you leading you to your third orgasm of the night as your walls pulse around him.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, waiting for someone to catch their breath as your eyes go wide. “Are you alright?” Spencer’s the first to speak, carefully pulling out of you and chuckling lightly when you whine at the empty feeling.

Nodding, you turn your head to the side, “Yeah, are you?”

He smiles, “I think this might be the least boring birthday I’ve ever had.”

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clovermoters · 5 months ago

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Slim Pickin’s

☕️ ln4 x bestfriend!reader

☕️ where your childhood wish becomes a reality

☕️ warnings - none !! just some fluff and kisses

☕️ word count 1.5k

☕️ a/n : so i heard sabrina carpenters song that’s gonna be on short n’ sweet and then this was born two days later !! enjoy <33

“Maybe I'm gay.”

your best friend, lando, looks at you, confused. “what?” he asks through a chuckle.

you were fed up. The number of douchebag men that you have in your phone and not one of them has ever made it to a second date. That fact makes you want to rip your eyeballs out.

“maybe god just forgot my gay awakening and that’s why i can’t find a boyfriend! maybe i just don’t like men.” you throw your head back on the couch in lando’s living room in monaco.

“i doubt that he just forgot,” lando giggles

you knew this wasn't true. you knew you liked men and only men. because you definitely liked the man sitting at your feet, and you have since you were both 15. you’ve just never ever told him.

And you planned to keep it that way.

you groaned. “No, Lando, you don’t get it! it’s slim pickings around here. half the men in my phone don’t even know the difference between there, their and they’re!” quiet giggles from the man sitting across the couch from you filled the room.

Lando knew you were only joking, yet he can’t help but feel bad at your lack of dating life when he has models flocking toward him at all hours of the day. granted, the girl he wants isn’t even a model. In fact, she’s sitting right in front of him, sprawled out on his couch, complaining about boys. but she didn’t know that.

And he planned on keeping it that way.

—

Throughout your week-long stay in Monaco, you decided to set yourself on a mission to meet a guy and go on a date. On the fourth day, you were successful!

During a coffee run while lando streamed, you met a guy who asked you out to dinner the following night. You were so excited since given your history, the chance of a guy asking you out was close to zero. When he asked you even scanned your surroundings to make sure he was talking to you specifically.

you were getting ready in the guest room of lando’s apartment, since you were staying there during your visit.

while applying your lip liner and gloss, you heard a knock on the door. “Hey, what are you thinking we do for din- woah.”

the curly haired brunette stared at you in awe. you were always beautiful in his eyes, yet right now he was looking at you like you were the only girl in the world. it then clicks in lando’s head that you’re not dressed for him. “Why are you all dressed up?!” he teases, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“oh i have a date!” you hum with a smile.

he looks at you confused, like he doesn’t believe you fully. leaning against the doorway “what happened to slim pickings?” he pokes, crossing his arms atop his chest.

“can’t a girl meet a guy and go on a date? gosh.” you scoff, slightly annoyed that he’s teasing you over this. you’d hoped he would be happy you’re crawling your way out of this slump of being single. it was one of the things you loved about him — how he always treated you with nothing but kindness and support.

“Fine, fine, whatever. have fun, i guess” he turns around and ducks into his office, closing the door harsher than you expected. Just as you make a mental reminder to have a talk with him about it, your phone chimes — your date is waiting in the lobby.

lando watches you from the cracked doorway of his office, as you do a final check of your makeup in the mirror of the mud room. he thought you looked beautiful and was silently raging at the fact he isn’t the man you’ve dressed up for tonight. he’s liked you since you both were young kids running through the suburban bristol streets while your parents sat on the patio of his childhood home socializing over cocktails.

You were always there to support him through his racing career and you were the first person he called after McLaren chose to extend his contract. While he doubted himself and everyone told him to leave, you told him to follow his heart and do what felt right to him. Now, he’s a race winner with the team he calls home. To him, it’s always been you. You have always been the girl he pictured his life with.

But his gut always told him you’d never return these feelings back to him.

—

your date went horrible. All the guy did was talk about himself. and once he found out you were friends with some celebrities, the date had ended there for you. although you got some free drinks and a meal out of it. it only made you fall further into this loneliness.

the elevator dings, signaling you’ve arrived at the floor of lando’s apartment. you stumble to lando’s door. the alcohol takes effect and makes you trip into the door, startling Lando who’s standing just on the other side, waiting for you. He throws the door open, finding you standing there with slightly messed up hair and a frown on your face.

“c’mere,” he says quietly, taking you to the couch. sat on the coffee table in front of you, he gently took your foot into his lap. you feel his soft touch as he gently removes your heels from your feet. sending shivers down your spine.

“It was horrible. all he did was talk about himself,” you say frustrated. “I also accidentally let it slip that I knew you, oh, and don’t even get me started on his horrible taste in just about everything.”

He helps you up, taking you to the bathroom and sitting you down on the counter. He rummages through your toiletries bag, before taking out your makeup remover. As he starts removing your makeup, you study every inch of his face, counting every freckle and watching the way his jaw muscles clench as he focuses.

god he was beautiful.

you feel a lump in your throat as tears begin to fill your eyes.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Lando asks, halting his movements.

“it’s just- i'm pretty sure every good man in this world is either taken or dead and its not fair.” you say letting a stray tear fall. in your head you knew you were being dramatic, but the three glasses of wine you had to get through that date have taken full control of your emotions.

Lando chuckles lightly, folding with the used makeup wipe in his hands, he looks to you “well, i’m neither of those things.” he says softly, almost as if he’s upset.

fuck. shit.

“no, no, wait, lando- i didn’t mean it like that, you're a great guy. an amazing guy actually.” you say quickly. he smiles at you as you continue to ramble “i mean, shit, i’d date you in a heartbeat-“

“what?”

you slap your hand over your mouth. holy fuck, did you really just say that? and Lando not saying anything just solidifies that he doesn’t return your feelings. Lando is staring at you like you’ve got three heads coming out of both of your ears.

you start to panic “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i said that, forget i said any-“ you’re cut off with the feeling of lando’s lips crashing into yours. his hands gently cup your face as he kisses you. you instantly return the kiss. The world slowly falls away leaving just the two of you. your hands moving to find home in his curl, slightly pulling on them. Lando releases a quiet groan. His hands work their way down your body to rest on your hips, gently pulling you closer to him.

Lando pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “I have literally loved you since we were 16.”

you smile at him, “i love you, too.”

The two of you find yourself in Lando's bed watching your favorite movie, wrapped up in eachother. Lando turns his head to look down at you resting on his chest. Admiring your sleepy state as you attempt to stay focused on the movie he gave up on watching. How can he focus on anything else when you were sitting next to him?

the girl he's wanted since the two of you sat on his porch on a late summer night, eating the ice cream his mother tried to hide. giggles filling the air while you pointed out constellations to lando, chatting about where you wanted to be in 5 years.

“Well I hope to be in formula 1” Lando admitted. “You'll be there, I'm sure of it.” you added giving lando a smile he swore was brighter than the stars sat above.

He gasps slightly “don't move”

you freeze as he reaches a hand to your cheek, softly swiping a fallen eyelash holding it in front you.

“Make a wish” he breathed.

You shut your eyes tight, emphasizing the wish you were making before taking a big breath and sending the eyelash into the air. Followed by the sound of giggles coming from the brunette, he asks what you wished for. “If i tell you it won't come true!” you gasp faking offense.

who knew that after 8 years, your wish would finally came true.

🤍☕️.

AYAYAYAYAY ALL DONE !!

big thank u too my lovely friend who edited this and helped me <33

#formula 1 #lando norris #ln4 #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris x yn #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #f1 fanfic #lando fluff

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gothgoblinbabe · 4 months ago

Text

Nothing Worth Saying Aloud

Logan Howlett x fem reader

A/N: This one is short n' sweet! Inspired by the song "Need 2" by Pinegrove which I had first heard because I read this one shot that used that song as inspiration! Theirs is much better I'll be real but I had this festering in my brain for too long every time I'd play that song on repeat

Summary: Misunderstanding and miscommunication makes for a terrible combination that leaves you feeling like you've had your heart ripped from your chest

Warnings: Angsty as all hell, a lil' bit of fluff at the end, that's really it!

Word Count: 2K

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་

You’d gone through a couple break ups in your life, a handful of failed situation-ships that ended awkwardly - even a long term relationship or two - but all the heartbreak you’d experienced couldn’t compare to the chest-crushing agony you experienced now.

The terrible moment of facing the music; accepting what couldn’t be, even if you wanted it more than anything.

Logan was not into you and he was never going to be.

You had to confront that when you’d gone down the stairs of the mansion one night to get a glass of water, almost certain you were the only person awake. That was until you’d stopped short in the hallway, seeing Logan and Jean standing with their backs to you. You couldn’t hear their conversation and didn’t think anything of it until you watched his arm snake around her shoulders, pulling her into him for a hug.

Your stomach sank. You really should have known.

The way he talks to her, looks at her, is always there to help her; it must have been obvious to anyone but you. You’d been friends for so long that you were almost dumbfounded that you never realized, probably too blinded by your own rose colored glasses.

You turned on your heel immediately, climbing the stairs to hide in your bedroom. Your chest felt heavy and your skin felt like it was on fire. You never ended up sleeping that night, too sick to think of anything else but Jean and Logan.

That was maybe two weeks ago now and you’d avoided Logan every day since as best you could. You’d gone from being nearly inseparable to speaking only when you had to. He’d try his best to get you to talk to him about anything at all but you only gave him one word answers. He even tried to keep you after training one day, gently having a hold on your bicep.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” He asked bluntly. He tried to look you in the eyes but they were nearly glued to the metal floor of the basement corridor, your hair falling in your face.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine, Logan, really,” you were able to mutter out, somehow keeping your voice from cracking. Before he could interrogate you further, you shrugged yourself out of his soft grip and speed-walked to the elevator, tears flowing the second you turned away from him.

You were not fine. Your eyes were always red and puffy from crying yourself to sleep and everyone could tell something was off.

Ororo even stopped you in the hallway outside your bedroom one night, begging you to tell her what was wrong and what she could do to help.

“It’s nothing, I - “ you had started to dismiss her, but she was having none of it.

“Stop with that! Enough! You need to tell me what’s up or I’m gonna have to force it out of you somehow and you know I do not wanna do that. Now tell me.”

You sighed, never picking your gaze up from the floor.

“Come here, I don’t want anyone to hear me,” you beckoned her into your room.

She sat by your side at the edge of the bed as you confessed what you had seen and how badly it had torn you apart, rubbing your back gently when you choked out a sob.

“Honey,” she cooed, pushing some hair from your face and wiping a tear away, “I think you need to talk to him. This is gonna eat you up inside if you don’t and I think maybe it could’ve been a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know, ‘ro. I can’t even look at him without feeling like I’m gonna burst into tears,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes with the collar of your t-shirt.

“Think about it. I can’t tell you what to do, but I think you really should. And if it was what it looked like, sweetheart, this is not the end of the world,” she reminded you.

“It sure does feel like it,” you joked, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

“I know,” she sighed, patting your back gently, “talk to him.”

You nodded and she left the room, reminding you to come find her if you needed anything at all.

You thought her words over and ultimately still hid in your room the next day, skipping training to rot in bed in sweatpants and a tank top. The thought of having to confess to Logan that you were really in love with him was far too paralyzing. It almost made you sick If you thought about it too long.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to keep shuffling sad songs on repeat and yet you did, keeping your CD player at a low volume so you wouldn’t bother anyone and they wouldn’t bother you. Your hair was a mess and you were glad that at the very least, you’d had enough energy to shower that morning after three days of not doing so. You held your knees to your chest while laying on your side, burying your face into your pillow to muffle your wailing sobs.

Logan was downstairs at the same time, making his way towards the stairs, only to run into Scott.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Logan spoke, stopping him with a hand on his upper arm.

Even through Scott’s glasses, Logan could tell he was glaring suspiciously.

“About what? Why?”

Logan said your name, looking around to be sure they were alone in the hallway.

Scott’s expression softened and he leaned against the wall, waiting for him to explain.

“Do you know what’s up with her? She won’t talk to me, she hasn’t in two weeks. She won’t even look at me. Has she said anything to you?” Logan spewed out, rubbing the back of his neck as a nervous tic.

“No, your girlfriend didn’t mention anything,” he teased, shaking his head, “but hey, just talk to her. You’ve been close for a while now, you just have to confront her.”

“She’s not my - okay, whatever. Yeah, I’m gonna go talk to her. Maybe she’s in her room,” Logan sighed.

“She’s always in her room lately. If there’s anyone that can pull her out of it, it would be you.”

He quickly thanked Scott and finally reached the stairs. He had been walking through the hall, finding your bedroom door and stopping when he heard a noise he couldn’t quite make out. He heard you sniffle and his heart dropped.

You were crying.

He tried to give you your space, work through whatever it was that was bothering you, but it broke him to see you the way you were and his prodding didn’t seem to help. Still, he didn’t know how much longer he could let you dodge him in the halls or live with the fact that you wouldn’t even look at him anymore. He had planned to talk to you that day, but you rarely came out of your room now.

So, he laid a hand on your doorknob, turning it slowly. He would’ve knocked - he always did - but every time he had recently, you laid silent and pretended not to be in the room. He always knew you were, recognizing the smell of your perfume behind the door.

The door cracked open a few inches and he saw you, curled in a ball in your bed with your face in your pillow. Your shoulders moved up and down as you sobbed, gripping the pillow so hard that your knuckles turned white.

There’s no way Logan could leave you like this. He slid into the room and closed the door gently, but you could hear the click of the knob over your music.

Your head shot up and you saw Logan standing with his back to your door, an almost devastated look on his face.

“Oh god, Logan, please, don’t - “ you choked out, turning your face so he couldn’t see you and waving him away. Out of everyone you wanted to see right now, he was at the bottom of the list because this was humiliating.

He’d seen your bloodshot eyes and pink nose, your cheeks wet with tears. There was no way you could tell him you weren’t crying.

“You have to talk to me. Please, what did I do?”

The last thing you wanted was for him to think it was all his fault. It wasn’t, really. He didn’t do anything to hurt you on purpose; He couldn’t have known it would upset you in the slightest or that you were even in the hallway that night.

“Nothing, Logan, please, just go away - “ you begged, still facing away with your face buried in your hands.

“I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s going on,” he said firmly, “you won’t even look at me. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’ll make it up to you.”

You still had your face buried in your hands when you felt the bed dip as he came to sit beside you.

“I miss you, you know. You won’t train with me anymore, you won’t come out with me, you won't talk to me. Please, I don’t know what to apologize for if you don’t tell me.”

His voice so close to you made your heart ache. You wanted to just hug him, tell him you missed him too, but you sat paralyzed. He really wasn’t going anywhere until you said something.

You removed your hands from your face, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. You took a long inhale, closing your eyes and trying not to let your voice crack.

“It’s nothing worth me saying aloud,” you muttered, gnawing on your bottom lip. You felt like you needed to, though - like a lump in your throat that you couldn’t cough up.

“Please,” Logan’s voice was quiet, his hand arm coming to rest around your waist.

You squeezed your eyes shut and scrunched your face in an attempt not to cry even harder when he touched you. You had wanted him to for so long, but not like this.

You inhaled sharply, standing up as you did so to pace around your room. You couldn’t sit still with his hand on you.

“I - “, you tried to speak, the words getting lodged in your throat, “ it’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you, it’s not that.”

“Then, what? Tell me. You know I’d do anything to help.”

He would, and that’s what made it all hurt so much worse; how sweet he could be to you. You reminded yourself that he was also probably like that with Jean and you shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the thought.

“It’s so stupid, Logan, really - “

“Pretty girl, it’s not stupid if it’s making you cry.”

Pretty girl. He probably called her that too.

Fuck, you couldn’t get it out of your head no matter how bad you wished you could.

“Ugh,” you groaned, leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling. Maybe it would be easier to spit it out when you weren’t looking at him. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to get it all out in one go.

“A couple weeks ago, I went downstairs in the middle of the night and I saw you and Jean.”

You couldn’t see his expression, but Logan’s eyebrows were furrowed, completely lost on what exactly it was that you saw.

“And it’s so fucking stupid, I know, but I - “, you choked back a sob, “fuck. Logan, I love you. I’m sorry. I’m in love with you, I don’t know how to handle it, not when I know nothings ever gonna happen.”

When you didn’t hear a response, you dreaded the moment you finally tore your eyes from your ceiling. Logan was still in the same spot at the edge of the bed, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Sweet heart - “, he began, but it only hurt you more to hear him call you stuff like that.

“Logan, please, I know, just - I don’t want it to be a big deal and you don’t have to give me the rejection speech, trust me.”

“Are you gonna let me explain?” His tone was mildly frustrated, though he was still clearly worried about you.

You sighed, hands on your hips as you stood almost completely across the room. He got up to meet you where you were. He wanted to put his hands on your shoulders but he could tell you didn’t want to be touched.

“Explain what?” You muttered, gaze glued to the floor when he stood in front of you.

“There’s nothing going on between Jean and I.”

Seeing that your expression never changed, he continued.

“I think I know what you saw. I hugged Jean, that’s what you’re talking about, right?”

You swallowed hard, dreading any details he wanted to spill. You still didn’t believe that there was nothing, convinced he was lying to save your feelings. You nodded anyway, still looking at the floor.

“I gave Jean a hug because her and Scott got into a fight. She said she fucked up and wanted my advice, I hugged her and that was all. Honey, I’m telling you, nothings going on.”

You were nearly turning pink at the realization that he was being truthful.

“And another thing,” he began again, tentatively pulling your hands from your hips so he could hold them in his, “you think I don’t love you?”

You finally met his gaze then and his heart broke when he saw your watery eyes. He brought a hand up to wipe your tears, leaving it there to cup your face while his other still held your hand.

“I love you. I’m in love with you, too. I don’t feel that way about Jean at all. I thought it was obvious, but I guess neither of us have the greatest communication skills, huh?” He laughed a little, nervously waiting for you to finally say something.

You were still soaking in his words, first about Jean and then about you.

“Really?” You squeaked, unable to say anything more.

“Really, baby,” he said sweetly, continuing to wipe away your tears.

You sniffled and leaned into his touch, happy to just be near him again.

“I missed you too, you know. I miss everything about you. I just couldn’t look at you when I thought - I don’t know, when I thought you couldn’t love me like that. Oh god, I’m so stupid, Logan, I’m so sorry - “ you began to apologize and he cut you off, shaking his head.

“None of that, c’mere,” he pulled you into him gently, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to hug you.

You smiled into his t-shirt. You missed the smell of his cologne, the warmth of him, the way he called you sweet names. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, standing on your toes to do so.

“I love you, Princess. I’m so glad I get to say it,” he mumbled into your hair, neither one of you letting go of the other, “and I’m a dumbass for not saying something sooner and letting you think all that.”

“No, I’m a dumbass because I should’ve said something sooner instead of assuming. I was just terrified, I guess.”

“No more being terrified, right?” He pulled away a little to look in your eyes.

You nodded, a smile on your face for the first time in weeks. You both stood there in the middle of your bedroom, frozen in an embrace with your eyes locked on each other.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his hand rubbing up and down your back reassuringly, “you can say no if it’s too soon -“

You leaned up to press your lips to his, not wanting to waste any more time than you already have. He kind of grunted in surprise, relaxing into your touch when you ran your fingers through his hair at the back of his head. It was better than you could have ever imagined. His lips were so soft and he was so gentle with how he held you that your knees could’ve buckled. He pulled away reluctantly after a few seconds, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I didn’t wanna ruin anything,” he explained, tucking your hair behind your ear, “you know, just being with you. I would’ve swallowed it all down to be just your friend if it meant I wouldn't lose you.”

You brought both of your hands to cup his face, scratching lightly at his mutton chops, “Really?”

He nodded, kissing your forehead, your cheek and your lips again. It was sickeningly sweet, making you giggle into the kiss.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’. Just really happy.”

“Me too, pretty girl. Hey, you owe me a couple of movie nights, by the way.”

“Race you to the TV?”

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་

A/N: ik this ones pretty short but it was rotting in my google docs so here u go <3 pls like and reblog if you enjoyed!

#logan howlett #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut

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hoffmansgirl · 1 month ago

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❛ 𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘿 𝙈𝙀 & 𝙀𝙓𝙋𝙇𝙊𝙍𝙀 𝙈𝙀. ⎯ nicholas a. chavez

₊˚⊹౨ৎ 𝓐'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: based on this request !! hope you enjoy! writing this was so much fun xx 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. smoking (weed) ‧ sexual tension ‧ oral (f!receiving) ‧ unprotected piv ‧ size difference ‧ best friends to lovers trope ‧ this one's soft & sweet tbh <3 𝘄𝗰. 4318

"𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗦𝗧 fucking movie I've ever seen", you groaned, squinting your eyes before taking a puff of your shared joint. You heard Nicholas hum in agreement as he reached for the remote to shut the TV down. You let your head fall back against the couch, handing the joint to the man next to you blindly.

"Waste of time", Nick commented, deep groan of satisfaction leaving his throat at the burning sensation in his lungs. "But this... This is some real good shit". Your eyes snapped open at the remark, and you smirked, nodding. "Yeah. It is. Fuck". You let your body relax against the couch, before you heard Nicholas speak again.

"Let's...", You could hear the playful smirk on his lips while not even looking at him ⎯ at which you turned your head to watch him. "Let's play a game".

He threw his arm around the backrest of the couch nonchalantly, tilting his head, as if he was challenging you.

His hair was a mess, eyes glistening and slightly red from the joint. Nicholas' pearly smile seemed to light the whole room up, and you could see the outline of his muscles through the white, tight t-shirt he was wearing. He undeniably looked good ⎯ and if he wasn't your best friend, you'd say he looked like the most dreamy man ever.

"A game? What are we, twelve?", you huffed, rolling your eyes before stealing the joint from between his fingers. Nicholas sent you a glare, though his smirk never flattered, as he moved to take a sip of his Pepsi. "What kind of a game?".

"Truth or dare", he shrugged playfully, and you stubbed out the joint. You already began to roll a new one ⎯ you had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

"But it's just us two", you remarked, putting a strand of hair behind your ear, stealing him a glance.

"And that is what makes it even more fun", Nicholas smirked, and you silently agreed. You huffed, lighting the joint and putting some music on in the background ⎯ a playlist you and Nicholas made of your favourite songs.

"Okay. Let's do this, then". You rested your back against the armrest of the couch, playing with the hem of your shorts mindlessly. Mischievous smirk made its way onto Nick's face as he got comfortable.

"So, Y/N... Truth or dare?", he sipped on his drink, looking up at you challengingly. "Truth".

Nick rolled his eyes. "You're no fun".

"Shut up. We're only getting started", you groaned, hitting him with a pillow ⎯ soft enough not to spill his drink. "Ask away".

He seemed to think for a second, and you blew the smoke from your mouth, getting more and more comfortable against the couch. You drummed your fingers against the backrest, watching your friend with hooded eyes.

"The worst date you've been on", he smirked, leaning down and taking the joint from between your fingers. You huffed, throwing your heavy head back.

"Alan took me to this party once", Nicholas groaned at the name of your ex boyfriend, at which you laughed softly. "He called it a date, but he ended up ignoring me the whole night, getting wasted with his friends. Then he threw up in my car", you winced at the memory, and Nicholas did, too ⎯ the disgust evident on his face, and he didn't even try to hide it.

"He was such a dickhead", Nick laughed, and you couldn't help but stare at his perfect lips while he did so. "Yeah, he was. Truth or dare?".

Nicholas seemed to think for a second, and he hesitatingly replied: "Truth".

"You are such a pussy", you laughed teasingly, deciding to take things a little further. "When was the last time you masturbated?".

Nicholas' eyes widened, and so did yours ⎯ boldness wasn't exactly one of your strongest qualities, but the hazy atmosphere in the room seemed to have awakened something in you.

The air thickened with tension, and you caught a glimpse of Nicholas' stupid smirk ⎯ his confidence never flattering, even though he seemed to hesitate for a second. "Yesterday".

You didn't expect him to answer ⎯ not so directly, at least. You couldn't help but let out a quiet gasp, covering it with yet another puff of your joint. You squeezed your thighs together, hoping Nicholas didn't notice how flustered you suddenly became.

"To what?", you couldn't help but ask, but Nicholas tutted, spreading his legs and resting his hand on his thigh nonchalantly. Your eyes lingered on the veins that popped up on his arms. You always noticed how attractive he was. God, how couldn't you? He was charming, funny, and really fucking hot ⎯ but he was also your best friend. Yet you couldn't help but stare ⎯ the way his hair fell on his forehead messily, dark eyes looking deep into your soul, lips twisted into a little smirk.

Your head suddenly felt very heavy; you grew more and more relaxed with each passing second, yet your newfound confidence only seemed to get stronger.

"Not so fast", Nicholas winked at you, tilting his head. "Your turn. Truth or dare?".

Before you could think it through, you were already replying. "Dare".

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze to rest on your thighs ⎯ the shorts you were seemed to be ridiculously exposing now, every inch of your skin burning with something you couldn't quite name.

"Bold, aren't you?", Nicholas chuckled lowly; his low, teasing voice making your whole body shake. "Hmm. Exchange smoke with me".

You lifted your head from the couch ⎯ it wasn't unusual for the two of you to do it, so you felt pretty confident as you instantly moved closer towards Nick. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and you suddenly felt breathless, as he twisted his body to sit perfectly across from you. You took the joint from between Nicholas' fingers, brushing over his hand in the process. Spark of electricity run through you ⎯ you could barely hear the music playing in the background anymore, Nick's smile consuming every part of your body. It was the first time you felt this type of tension lingering in the air ⎯ the one that made it hard to breathe, the smell of your best friend's cologne invading your senses.

You let out a shaky breath before lifting the joint to your lips, taking a deep puff, putting your other hand on Nicholas' cheek to get him closer. You were hypnotised by the look in his eyes; predatory, as if he was seeing right through you, hearing your thoughts.

Nicholas' lips opened, and you leaned down to blow the smoke into his mouth. Your lips brushed in the process, just slightly, but enough to make your heart race. Nicholas' left hand landed on your side, travelling up to brush over your back softly.

You pulled back and he inhaled, closing his eyes for a second before breathing the smoke out. His eyes were dazed, playful smirk playing on his lips; you traced his defined jaw with your pointer finger lightly, feeling his muscles clench under your touch.

You stubbed out whatever was left of the joint, squealing in surprise when you were pulled on Nicholas' lap in one, swift movement. He hid his face in your neck, both of his hands travelling up your body to rest on your hips. You should be surprised, pull him away and ask him what he was doing ⎯ yet, due to the buzzing in your head, how tired you suddenly became, all you could do was press your back against his chest and get comfortable.

"New perfume?", his voice came out low, raspy, sending sparks of electricity down your spine. You shifted on his lap, causing the bulge in his pants to press against your ass tightly. "I like it".

A part of you knew it was wrong ⎯ he was your best friend, you knew each other since forever ⎯ but his touch on your bare skin, the heat radiating off him; all of it was intoxicating, way too good to just let it go.

"Yeah. Cherry⎯ Cherry and almond", you whispered, and Nicholas hummed, pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder blade. "But it's your turn now. Truth or dare?".

"Dare", he didn't even hesitate, and you shifted again, earning a soft groan from him ⎯ you bit back a moan at the vibration of his voice against your sensitive skin. His soft, big hands travelled up your rib cage, stopping just below the hem of your top.

"Kiss me, Nicholas", you managed to get out, squeezing your eyes shut, your whole body on fire, and your friend froze behind you.

"I⎯ Are you sure?", he asked, and you rolled your eyes, twisting your body so that you could straddle his lap properly. "Only if you are".

You smiled fondly before pressing a soft, sweet kiss on Nicholas' lips. Your hands found their place on his broad shoulders; his muscles twitching under your touch.

"I don't want to ruin our friendship", he whispered softly, and you hummed, eyes half-closed as you lowered your head to brush your lips against the side of his neck teasingly. Nicholas gripped your hips, grounding you on top of him, his erection now brushing against your inner thighs.

"You drive me crazy", he mumbled, transfixed on the way your soft breath tickled his skin, his eyes threatening to close from the sensation. "Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?".

You couldn't help but laugh at the stupid question; Nicholas' chest vibrated against yours, sweet giggle leaving his mouth, and the atmosphere seemed to lighten just for a second.

"You're talking too much", you grinned, meeting his dark, chocolate eyes, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Nicholas' demeanour switched as he took you in, and, unable to control himself anymore, he pulled you towards him in a soft kiss.

The feeling of his lips, soft, warm and delicate against yours ⎯ it was everything you never thought you needed. Everything you did was in sync, the prolonged, shaky breaths leaving your mouths, or the way your hands tightened on the other's skin ⎯ pulling each other closer as your lips brushed against each other in a slow dance.

Soon enough, you grounded yourself against the tent in his grey sweatpants, inaudibly begging for more. Nicholas' hands travelled down your back, testing the waters as his fingertips grazed over your ass teasingly. You grinded your hips down, causing him to moan; allowing your tongue to enter his mouth swiftly. There was no more softness in the way you moved anymore ⎯ you grew bolder, your tongue rolling over his' with passion, as you tugged on his soft hair playfully.

"I've always wanted to do this", Nicholas whispered, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes ⎯ making sure you knew he was being honest. You smiled, breathing heavily, your heart swelling at the words.

"Only this?", you chuckled, kissing the tip of his nose softly. Your friend bit his lip at the words, his cheeks and neck slightly flushed, at which you smiled softly.

"No. Not only this. I just⎯ I never thought you'd want it, too", he admitted, his fingers tracing circles on your lower back.

"And what if I tell you...", you lowered your voice, brushing your lips against Nicholas' ear teasingly. "I want it just as much as you do? And I don't want you to hold back on me".

Nicholas' hands on your back tightened, and he seemed to hesitate for a second, before he caught your lips with his' again. His demeanour seemed to switch again, as he bit on your lower lip roughly, tugging on it with his teeth before soothing the pain with a bruising kiss. You squealed in surprise when suddenly you were lifted from the couch, Nicholas' hands on your thighs as he walked you both to your bedroom. You giggled into the kiss as he stumbled, causing you to tighten your legs around his hips.

The second you stepped into your bedroom, Nicholas' used his foot to shut the door behind you both, pressing you tightly against the cold surface.

His lips were back on yours in an instant, and he pressed his lower body tightly against yours.

You tugged on his shirt, inaudibly begging him to take it off, and he obeyed. Nicholas dropped you to the floor carefully ⎯ your knees were shaking terribly, and your breath hitched when he took his shirt off.

With all strength you had left, you pushed Nicholas to the bed, and he grinned, moving up until he was resting on your sheets comfortably. You straddled his lap again, licking your lips as you took him in.

It wasn't the first time you saw Nicholas' chest ⎯ he often took his shirt off when the two of you were together, but this time it was different. You run your hands down his abdomen, feeling the strong muscles under your fingertips. The urge to worship every part of him was too strong, now ⎯ you lowered your head, sucking on the soft skin of his collarbone, running your hot tongue over his soft skin. Nicholas' let out a shaky breath as you marked him, and he didn't protest when you left bruises everywhere you could reach.

"You're so hot, Nick", you mumbled, your hands travelling down his abs as you looked up at him, circling your tongue around his nipple teasingly. Nicholas' lips opened in a silent moan, his hands tugging on the sheets tightly. "A fucking work of art".

Your lips closed around the pink nub, and you grazed your teeth over it experimentally, watching as Nicholas' head fell back against the pillows, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You teased his sensitive nipples for a while, before moving down his body, brushing your lips against his hard stomach insatiably. A breathless moan left Nicholas, and his hand was in your hair, pulling you off him as you reached the waistband of his sweatpants.

You were on your back in a second, Nicholas' hands tugging on your shirt greedily. You obeyed, taking the excess material off your body, exposing your bare chest to him.

His eyes widened ⎯ he didn't expect you to not wear a bra; his mouth was slightly agape as he stared at your exposed chest. A small, shy smile appeared on your face as you watched the admiration filling Nicholas' features. "You're so beautiful, baby", he rasped, moving to kneel in between your legs, his hands spreading your thighs as he latched his mouth on your breasts greedily. He licked, bit and kissed your soft skin, and your back arched off the bed at the feeling. You could feel his hardness press against your clothed centre, and a breathless moan left both of you when Nicholas pressed his hips against yours tightly. You tugged on his hair, and he bit on your nipple softly, sucking the nub in between his teeth before pulling away with a pop.

He rutted his hips against yours experimentally, causing a loud, choked sound to leave your mouth.

"You sound so pretty", he groaned hungrily, pressing a wet, bruising kiss on your lips before pulling away.

His hot hands travelled down your chest, roaming over your stomach before lingering just above the waistband of your shorts.

"Are you...", he began, but you were already rolling your eyes before he could finish.

"Fuck, yes, I'm sure. Stop holding back. Please".

His eyes darkened, and you bit back a moan as he practically ripped the shorts off your body, along with your lacy, black thong. He cursed under his breath, before spreading your thighs wide, admiring the sight of your wet, exposed pussy. You clenched around nothing, his gaze so intense, so greedy, it almost had you closing your legs.

"Such a pretty fucking pussy", he groaned, laying down between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs tightly. "Bet she tastes sweet, too".

With these words, he dived in, lapping at your cunt as if he hasn't ate in days. You let out a high-pitched moan, your hands finding place on his hair, tugging tightly with every stroke of his tongue. He sucked on your little clit, his eyes falling open to watch your face confront in pleasure. Groans left his mouth at the taste of your sweet juices coating his tongue, his hips rutting against the bed ⎯ his own need evident in every movement.

You cried out when you felt his tongue circling your sensitive nub tirelessly, your legs beginning to shake, signalling your orgasm was near.

"Nicholas, oh my God", you whined, throwing your head back, hips beginning to move in sync with his tongue. "I'm so close, baby⎯ Don't stop".

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending vibrations right through your core, and in an instant you were coming all over him, your juices creating a wet puddle under your ass.

"Tastes so good", he groaned, continuing his assault on your pussy even when you shook in overstimulation. Tears blurred your vision, but you had no energy to stop him, not when it felt so good.

He was being overly messy, swirling his tongue around your heat in a way that had you breathless ⎯ his groans vibrating against you, his eyes following your every reaction. He teased your entrance with his tongue, before dipping into it experimentally, smirking when your legs shook around his head.

"Nick, oh my God⎯ 's too much", you cried out, and he doubled his efforts, his arms pinning your legs to the bed, leaving you completely at his mercy.

"I love this sweet fucking pussy", he whined, licking a stripe up to your clit, before his mouth closed around it again. He sucked, hard, and you were seeing white, sweating all over your satin sheets, barely able to breathe, tears blurring your vision. "I can't wait to see you cum again".

Two of his thick, long fingers circled your entrance before he pushed them into you in one, swift movement. He sighed at the feeling of your tight walls gripping him like a vice, and he curled them upwards experimentally, having you see stars with a little to no effort.

You let out a shallow breath as Nicholas' lips moved up your body, his fingers plunging into you again and again. The pressure in your stomach was ready to snap any second now, and when he grabbed your neck tightly, staring down at you with hooded eyes, you swore you could cum from the sight alone.

"You're so filthy. I love it", he smirked, cutting your airflow with a squeeze of his hand. You grabbed his forearm tightly, your eyes rolling back into your head as you felt his thumb press tight circles into your clit.

With a choked scream, you squirted all over his hand and your own sheets, and Nicholas pulled back to watch the transparent fluid escape your cunt with every withdraw of his fingers.

"Good fucking girl. Let it all out", he cooed softly, helping you ride out your orgasm. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and Nicholas removed his hand from your neck, allowing you to take deep breaths. "Holy shit, Nick", you managed to choke out, your legs shaky from the overwhelming pleasure.

Nicholas' gaze on you was hard, demanding, as he brought his drenched fingers to your mouth. "Suck".

You didn't hesitate for a second, opening your mouth and letting him press his fingers down against your tongue. You lapped on your own juices covering his long fingers, holding onto his forearm for dear life, moaning at the taste of yourself. Nicholas' other hand found place on your head, as he caressed your hair softly, almost lovingly, thrusting his fingers down your throat experimentally. You gagged, hollowing your cheeks while looking up at him, battling your lashes. Nicholas let out a strangled groan, pushing his fingers as far as they could go, watching you struggle. "I can't wait to see these pretty lips wrapped around my dick", he rasped, and you moaned when he finally freed your mouth.

With the little strength you had left, you pushed yourself up, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants greedily. Nicholas obeyed, too horny to ask you if you were sure ⎯ his pants and boxers were on the floor in an instant, and he was already kissing you with urgency that left you breathless.

You felt his dick press against your thigh, heavy, long and thick ⎯ and you started to worry about if he was going to fit at all.

Nicholas could almost feel your sudden uncertainty, as he pulled away, towering over your much smaller form ⎯ the size difference never really mattered that much, until now. You stared at his cock, wide eyed. His size made your mouth water, the glistening, angry red tip almost too tempting.

"You⎯ You're so fucking big", you sighed, reaching down to wrap your hand around him. Nicholas' head fell down when he finally felt your touch on his painfully hard cock, his cross necklace swinging just above your face as he pressed both of his hands on the sides of your head, pinning you under him. Soft grunts left his mouth, and when you teased his tip with your thumb lightly ⎯ you felt his whole body clench above you.

"As much as I⎯ Fuck⎯ As much as I'd like to cum in your mouth or in your hand, I need to be inside you. Now".

His voice was rough, leaving you no room to protest as he leaned back, his hand replacing your own on his length. He pumped himself a few times, his dark eyes roaming over your form greedily, before he run his tip over your clit lightly. Your eyes rolled back into your head at the pressure, and Nicholas grunted when your wetness covered his aching cock. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed the tip into your tight, weeping hole.

Your eyes snapped open, and you felt yourself clench around his thick tip ⎯ Nicholas let out a strangled pant at the feeling of your warm, inviting cunt.

"Oh, fuck. I thought I prepped you well", he managed to let out, drunk on the way your cunt took him in.

He slowly sank deeper into you, letting you adjust to the painful stretch, running his hands over your thighs to help you relax. "Almost all the way in. I'm so proud of you", he cooed softly, at which you clenched again, nodding your head to signal you were ready for more.

When he finally bottomed out, you cried out, feeling as if he was ripping your insides apart. Nicholas' eyes fell closed as you kept on clenching around him, and he swore he could cum from the feeling alone.

"Ba⎯baby, you need to relax. Fuck. Just relax", he groaned, and you tried to do exactly what he had told.

After a few seconds, you finally managed to get used to the stretch ⎯ now feeling so incredibly full, so deeply connected to him, but you needed more.

"Nicholas, move, please", you begged, and he was more than happy to obey.

He pulled out almost all the way, before snapping his hips into yours, watching the way your tits bounced with the movement. He pressed your legs flat against the mattress, and you cried out when he leaned down to tower over you again. His thrusts were slow but deep, the angle making him hit that spongy spot inside of you, and you were shaking, completely at his mercy.

"You're taking me so well", Nicholas praised, kissing the corner of your mouth sweetly. "My good little girl. So tight, so warm".

You swore you could cum from his words alone, and when his fingers moved up from your thigh to press soft circles on your stiff, overstimulated clit, you were on the edge immediately.

"You feel so good, baby", he continued, speeding up, the sounds of his skin meeting yours filling the air. "I know you want to cum for me. Go on baby, let go for me".

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, and you nodded mindlessly, digging your nails into Nicholas' strong shoulders, drawing blood in the process.

Nicholas' tip kissed ⎯ no, fucked ⎯ your cervix repeatedly, as he buried himself in you over and over again, holding his own orgasm off.

When you finally let go, you felt as if your orgasm lasted a lifetime ⎯ you clenched around him so hard it was nearly impossible for him to keep his steady movements, your hips lifting off the mattress, grinding against his own as your orgasm washed over you.

"Fuck, I love you", Nicholas cried out, letting go of your legs only to stroke your cheeks in his big hands. He kissed you softly, groaning into your mouth as he painted your walls white, filling you with his cum.

At first, you didn't even comprehend his words ⎯ it took you a second after the earth shattering orgasm you had just experienced. Nicholas pulled away from your lips, letting you breathe, his forehead pressed against yours as he caught his own breath.

After a few seconds, he carefully removed his cock from you, laying down on his back, and you cuddled into his side. You traced soft circles on his chest as he covered the two of you with a blanket, kissing your forehead lovingly.

"Did you mean it?", you whispered, looking up at him, and he smiled softly. "Yes. I meant it".

"I love you too, Nick", your heart swelled as he pulled you closer, big smiles adoring both of your faces as you fell asleep in each other's warm embrace.

tags: @darlingnikkisixx @titsout4nicholas @brlwla @blackynsupremacy @mrs-riddlexo @essentialwriter @nicholaschavezslut69 @niteskysx @millietozier

#nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas alexander chavez #charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew smut #charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie mayhew #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #hoffmansgirl nicholas ♡#nicholas alexander chavez smut #father charlie smut #father charlie grotesquerie #father charlie mayhew smut #father charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie x reader #doctor charlie mayhew smut #doctor charlie mayhew x reader #doctor charlie mayhew

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norikuna · 2 months ago

Text

GREEDY — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → pretty, prodigal, and teasing. how far can you push your former teacher before he snaps? gojo's about this 🤏 close from releasing a hollow purple on the world.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. màstúrbation (m.) and rough sèx, creaḿpie. some angst/doubt. angsty love confession before gojo póunds reader into the mattress. incorrect use of reversed curse technique. arguments and stuff. description of injuries. def mean!gojo a bit and he's got vampire tendencies.

reader is of legal age (implied to be 19-20) and gojo is 28 so age gap!romance. obsessed!gojo and popular girl!reader trope. gojo is absolutely a mess in this, and reader is described as wearing short skirts, and wearing makeup.

rather questionable ethics and dynamics (teacher/former student) but rest assured its clear that his feelings are pretty recent. reader has him twirled and whipped around her fingers. reader is also def a baddie and ambiguously bi.

word count. 8.7k words im mad actually. this was meant to be headcanons song inspiration. greedy — tate mcrae

a/n. this is was gonna be from reader's pov but i thought it would be more fun from gojo's 🙂‍↔️

mp3. i see you eyeing me down, but you'll never know much past my name. or how i'm running this room, but i'm still half your age. yeah, you're looking at me like i'm some sweet escape 😛

gojo satoru was not a weak man, no. he knew that he was an anomaly of nature, an unstoppable power that could reduce enemies to dust and make entire clans crumble with nothing more than a flick of his wrists.

so how was it, that when it came to you, his resolve was paper-thin?

every time your open gaze met his, every time you brushed past him, every time your presence filled the space around his infinity, gojo felt something inside him unravel. his breath would be caught in his chest, leaving his pulse to quicken and suddenly, all that strength and control would slip through his fingers.

gojo cursed himself for this, you see. he had never been one to lose control, but he was not quite sure when his entire body has started to betray him.

but no, fuck that, and he did his utter best to run his focus back onto the lesson at hand. unfortunately, the lesson at hand was with you. standing in front of him, arms slightly raised, palms out, and raising your brow as boredom passed over your face.

gojo cleared his throat, "your stance is good, but your cursed energy is all over the place. focus, breathe. centre yourself is what i'm saying," he instructed, but the words felt hollow as they passed through his lips.

unfairly, you're weren't the problem. he was. and now this was getting ridiculous. you had graduated not two, three years past? it would have been a disservice to still call you his student, but even as a mentee, you were still under his tutelage. and as recent as this immature infatuation was, this felt wrong.

but now you were frowning, starting to waver and the sharp, staccato tap of your heeled boot punctuated the wooden floor, click, click!

gojo looked to the sky, briefly, if to pray for patience and a calm of some sorts. he stepped forwards towards you, placing a hand on your waist to guide you into a better stance, and trying to ignore the way your skin felt warm underneath his fingers.

focus.

"don't let your body twist like that when you utilise your own cursed energy. keep it straight, balanced," he muttered, adjusting your posture slightly, hand on your spine — the heel of his palm pressing into a dent. a deity from the sky must have struck him with a cursed arrow, for his whole body was on fire.

because there you were, standing right in front of him, so close that gojo could feel the soft heat of your breath, the faint scent of a sweet perfume wafting off your skin, vanilla?

"you're not focused," gojo grimaced, though he wasn't sure if the rebuke was at himself, or at you — whose eyes widened briefly, and gojo tried not to recognise the curiosity and challenge that flashed across your face.

look at how she's staring at me. and gojo felt utterly ridiculous, and exposed, she knows. but instead of pulling away, you shifted ever so slightly towards him, your body arching as the barest brush of your breasts against his forearm had heat pulling through his body.

would you taste as sweet as you smelt? would you lean more into him if he asked?

he cleared his throat, "okay. relax, not every stance or position works for an individual. perhaps, you'll be able to focus better like this," and with his hand still on your waist, he pulled you into a swift spin. one that left your back pressed against the hard planes of the chest, and you facing the other wall.

you hummed, this time not in the way he wanted. your lips were lightly parted, and there was that soft sheen of gloss catching the light, making your lips look impossibly soft. gojo caught himself staring, wandering what it would be like to press his own mouth to yours, and whether you would squeal or moan.

still, if there was anything that gojo was good at, it was deflecting like a champ, "i think you're distracted," he laughed, low and amused, "is something making you lose focus?"

you tilted your head, and gojo didn't miss (nor did his heart or groin) that your gaze flickered to his mouth for the briefest second before meeting his eyes again, feigning innocence, "don't tell me you're underestimating me, sensei. because i'd hate to think you can't keep up?"

gojo bit back a grin at the obvious bait, "careful," brushing strands of white hair that had fallen into his face away, "if you get too cocky, you tend to miss danger. you start to ignore things that should be noticed."

your voice dropped to a droll whisper, eyes glinting, "you think i don't notice things? i'm aware of plenty."

gojo forced himself to focus, to ignore the way that your lashes flutter with unshakable composure. trying to regain control, or some semblance of mind, he started counting each individual lash painted dark with mascara, lingering on the outermost curls that framed your sharp eyes.

after a beat, he forced himself to break eye contact, "alright," he said, stepping back with a casual shrug that he hoped conveyed just how nonchalant he was, "we’ll call it a day here and continue training tomorrow."

"backing out already?" you teased, leaning in just a little, making him tense at the closeness.

gojo chuckled, feigning nonchalance. "for your sake. you may be powerful, but you have to pace yourself."

you shrugged, nodding, "i'm going out anyway this evening," you said, hopping back a step before bending down to gather your things. gojo politely averted his gaze, his heart hammering from your previous proximity, and desperately hoping to avoid a...reaction, that would be quite inconvenient, as wide and loose as his martial pants were. like a fuckin' school boy with a crush. gross.

but as you slung your pastel bag over your shoulder and straightened up, he couldn't help a quick glance, catching the small, coy glimmer in your eyes as you turned to leave.

gojo sighed, pulling up his blindfold once more, "have fun," he half-heartedly offered, but you were already out the door.

the corridors were now empty, the clang of metal and chatter now silent, replaced with a quiet hum of the air conditioning. gojo wiped his face with the towel wrapped around his neck, the damp fabric clinging to his skin and the muscles in his arms and chest still warm from the intensity of training. his arms and chest glistened, the muscles warm and taut as he stretched, rolling his shoulders back with a low groan. exhaustion settled into him like a weight, each movement of his tired, bare torso slow and deliberate.

"oh, you're still here, sensei?"

gojo's eyes snapped open, drawn to the sound of your inquisitive voice. you stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light from the hallway, and he immediately felt a rush of heat flood his chest.

well, fuck, now his mouth was dry. clearly, your previous iteration of 'going out' was a bit more glamorous than you had led on, and he was certain his wandering eyes betrayed him as it flickered over your figure. it took a titan's strength to keep his eyes from trailing down your long legs, the way your dress hugged the swell of your chest, or over your glistening neck. there was a faint shimmer, a glitter of some sort? it coated your skin, and gojo wanted to lick it off with his tongue.

what? no. who said that?

he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his composure.

you scowled at his reaction, clearly mistaking his silence for distaste. "what? i did say i was going somewhere," you retorted, your tone sharp but amused. "i’m more than allowed to leave the campus grounds.”

"of course,” he replied, voice outstandingly steady but his mind still trailing after every curve, every detail that made you look...well...dangerous in the best way, "don't let me stop you. who's the lucky guy?"

you arched a brow, folding your arms over your chest, and now, gojo really did have to look away and pretend that he was busy with retying a dark piece of cloth over his eyes, "who said it was a guy?"

gojo thickly swallowed, wondering if he'd just made a colossal blunder with no return, "that's not what i meant." the words 'my bad' stuck in his throat as you laughed and sighed.

"joking, sorry. it's a guy, this time." now you were fiddling with your long nails, with a satisfying clack as they ran across each other.

"i hope he shows you a great time then," he offered, half-hearted, blasé.

you took a step into the room, and gojo didn't even need six eyes to know that your eyes were raking over his chest, "i'm sure he will," all sweetness and sugar, "i've been training so hard, i deserve it, don't i?"

the words hit him harder than he expected, and he had to remind himself — she's not yours, satoru. but that didn't stop the gruff irritation bubbling up.

"a real man should be taking you out on a date like this,” he said, his voice a bit too rough for his liking. "not some guy who’s probably just looking for a good time."

you scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes. "are you saying that there's someone else out there who can do a better job?" your tone was playful, but there was a challenge in it — an edge that made his heart skip once more, "sadly, there just aren't many who've handled me well."

he ignored your immature, faux pout, and ran a hand through damp, icy hair — ignoring how his temper flared, rearing its ugly head.

was this all on purpose? to toy with him?

"you want to be handled, sweetheart?" gojo's voice dropped a little lower, indulging your teasing, "i've seen you lose focus easily, you could easily break."

your lips creased up, painted a tempting shade of dried-blood red (what the fuck was wrong with him? was he now just a horny vampire?) as you purred, "i'd need some help testing out that theory." your expression was open just enough for him to see the tiniest flicker of something in your eyes — something that told him you were enjoying this far more than you should.

an invitation of sorts, he wondered. did you want him to move? to make a move? it wasn’t a secret that you had always been a popular student practically a legend, rumours swirling around you like wildfire — whispers of broken hearts and sweetened smiles that could captivate anyone in your path. he had never paid attention of course, gossip always ran wild among students and he discouraged such whispers of who-did-what, for a grade 1 curse would never indulge such behaviour before they would get torn to shreds.

and even now, long after graduation as you worked around your old alma mater, men and women — everyone swooned at the chance to speak with you, and yet, here you were, playing this dangerous game with him.

gojo scowled, trying to push past the desire building inside him, the urge to have you underneath him, right on this mat in the training room. "well, don’t hang around too long," he said, his tone sharp as a blade. "i’m sure your date is waiting. go have a good time."

invitation declined. the morally right thing to do. right?

he didn’t need to look to see the small sneer that curled at the corner of your lips, or the way it turned into a fleeting expression of annoyance. he could hear the click of your heels echo down the hallway as you sashayed out.

what the everlasting fuck was wrong with him?

lo and behold, the great gojo satoru often found himself alone in his own private rooms. for 'the strongest' rarely had time to accommodate some other forms of company.

and frankly, he had no desire to do so now regardless. not when the echoes of your clicking heels still reverberated in his mind. the silence that echoed around him was heavy, suffocating and he was sure he looked erratic.

gojo ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the thought of you. but it was useless. his body was still on fire, the heat of jealousy smouldering in his chest, coiling in his gut like something alive, something dangerous. he had walked to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, his legs splayed wide apart as his shoulders slumped under the soft, amber glow of the setting sun that streamed through the windows. the sorcerer let his head fall back against the chair, eyes closed.

how absolutely ridiculous, he thought, running his fingers through his tousled hair. no, he just couldn't stop it. couldn't stop thinking about how badly he wanted you. wanted you to want him too. and now, with the way you’d left, with that knowing smile on your lips, all he could imagine was the man you were with now, the man who’d be holding the door open for you, who’d be pulling out your chair, whoever the hell he was.

maybe even a casual, non-sorcerer. some random guy that you had indulged because he was no threat. but he wouldn't be able to touch you, not in the way that you demanded. the man would laugh at your jokes, brush his hand against yours, but wouldn't be able to let a real smile bubble from your lips like satoru could.

and what would that man do next?

would he try to take you back to his place? some small poorly-lit apartment where he'd try to kiss you, to claim your lips without even pulling away for air. would you kiss him back, curling into his frame?

before gojo's even registered what he's doing, his own hand has found his hard cock. despite the tattle of assistance, and dreamy-eyed mongers, pleasure is rare for him. relief, even less so. his schedule just doesn't allow it, and so he oft find himself chasing some distant contentment like this, alone in his rooms.

but he squeezes at the wide hilt, at his base, pulling his hands up, upwards as his brows furrow under blindfold, and he tugs the offending fabric off, away from him, as laden balls smack against his wrist.

maybe the man would then trail his lips down your neck, maybe he'd try to slowly sink his teeth into delicate flesh, leaving blooming purple marks that wouldn't fade, not when gojo saw you tomorrow.

he's running his curled hand up towards the fat mushroom tip, almost glowing pink with heat and pre-cum that's leaving his hand slicked with faint moisture, "shit, that's it."

then what? he can imagine your teasing smile as you decide to take your pleasure as you see fit. how you'd suddenly push this faceless man off, and move so you're straddling him, letting his hands wander around the curve of your hips, digging into plush flesh.

now he's starting to pant, open-mouthed, "ah - fuck! wish i had you here, right here." gojo must be a madman, breathing out to the empty, open air.

but in his mind's eye, you're reaching behind your back to undo the zipper on your outstandingly tight dress, giving the faceless man a coy smile as you push the fabric of your dress down, letting your plentiful tits spill out and against the man's chest.

his wrist is moving faster now, and there's a cramp starting to build up as he pistons his hand over his stretched shaft, and one arm is thrown over his face — the soft hairs on his thick forearm tickling his face as he tries not to gasp or whine too loudly, but he's bucking his ups now, pretending that it's not his hand that he's spilling into, but your tight cunt. and later, he shudders and tenses up, with apologies whispered into the air, "look, look - shit, i'm sorry - i'm sorry. couldn't help it, fuck." and gojo's bitten his lips so hard that he's certain he's drawn blood, vibrant red blooming on pale, creamy skin.

and a lamp had exploded as he came. damn, he'd have to replace that.

you don't deserve someone like him, no. not when he's sitting here, absolutely filthy with thick, white seed entirely over his tense abdominal muscles and stiff hand. not when he's trying to catch his breath after imagining how snug your pussy would feel around him, and how you'd beg for him to give it to you harder.

you didn't deserve someone so messed up with guilt, with mistakes, with the kind of weight that made him too much for anyone, let alone someone like you. didn't you deserve better than a tortured man who couldn't control himself, better than an overzealous mentor who was supposed to keep his distance, to do what was right.

but that didn’t stop his thoughts from swirling, as he separated damp, thick thighs from the smooth surface of the chair, reaching for a tissue. he couldn’t help it. and it made him feel like a damn fool.

the meeting room buzzed with tension, voices rising in sharp, clipped exchanges — some angry, some demanding and others clueless and questioning. gojo had woken up in a foul mood that morning, with some ill-gotten storm brewing beneath his chest. perhaps it was the thoughts of you that lingered from the night before, a gnawing jealously that left him feeling too tight in the stiffness of the uniform dress pants.

but he had forced himself to be dragged through this meeting, plastering a snarky light-hearted grin over his face as he leaned against the wall, letting the higher-ups argue themselves into oblivion.

amidst the storm of words, gojo's focus was nowhere near the mission being discussed. no, his attention was fixated entirely on you. you stood at the far end of the table, eyes flashing with ire as you tore into some pompous old fool who’d dared question your power. the others in the room shifted uncomfortably, deferring to you, as they often did, despite your youth. you had that rare combination of presence and bite that made people recoil back when you sunk your teeth into them, and this was not a knot gojo was interested in unraveling.

kojiro, one of the bumbling administrators, had turned his babbling attention to gojo, "you're still planning to face that curse head-on, gojo-san?" the poor man is wringing his hands at gojo's flat look (made all the more unreadable through a blindfold, satoru would wager), "don't you think it would be well - unwise? instead of expending your time and energy on one cursed spirit, you could handle five lesser ones. efficiency, you see."

gojo's gaze briefly flickers back to you, standing with your arms crossed as one hand fiddles with the end of your braid as your petal-pink lips scowl at some other official with words that don't fit his stature. your other hands keeps reaching around your neck, adjusting a plaid scarf over and over, like you're desparate to hide something under the fabric . well, fuck that.

"i'm aware of the risks," gojo turns his attention back to the matter, "but no one here has time for hesitation. if the curse is special grade, don't you at least think that delaying with lead to more destruction?"

"is it really the cursed spirit you’re worried about, takumi-san?" you asked, your voice low, the kind of voice that could make someone forget their own name.

gojo's gaze snapped to you from under the blindfold, but you weren’t looking at him, not even speaking at him. instead, you were locking eyes with one of the other sorcerers — takumi, a grade two with a shaggy mop of golden hair, one who had been a student alongside you and hardly subtle in his admiration for you.

gojo tries to hide a scoff at how takumi's eyes are wandering over you, ignoring the newpapers that have been flattened on the meeting table, with bold inked letters reading doom-portents such as 'unexplained explosion, 4 dead and 12 injured."

time and place, man.

"you don't think i can handle this mission. if you're worried about me, just say so," takumi's now leaning into you, even as gojo tries to train his ear on kojiro's economic-obsessed babble instead.

gojo can see your eyes flicker to the dastardly newspapers as well, clearly curling your lips at the dour news and takami's disastrous attempt at getting his hands under your skirt. but he also knows that sharp glint in your eyes, the one when you toy with those around you, to pull them in without ever committing to anything. clearly, you've decided to indulge this game.

"takumi," and you draw out the younger man's name, "shouldn't you bring more strength to the table? of course, i'm worried about a friend getting hurt. but even if you were stronger, or the strongest, a special grade curse could do some real damage."

and your eyes have flicked right towards gojo, raking over his frame leaning against the pale cream walls. he's glad for the blindfold, so you can't see how he scowls and furrows his thin brows at you, at your blatant hopes for a reaction from him. were you so unobservant that you did not know how much you bothered him?

the pointed sharpness in your words made takumi pause, and for just a moment, gojo could see the man’s grin falter. it was clear that you weren’t impressed by his attention, you had no need for his slimy attempts.

there was no mistake about it — this wasn’t just a flirtation. this was a game you played, and gojo was not only aware of it; he was caught in it. he tries not to feel irrationally angry, fuck, so much of his life revolves around his work, his job and now he can't even do that properly without feeling like you're using your long nails to dangle something in front of him, wanting to snap his teeth out and snatch it.

so you wanted him to see this. you wanted to claim that you could unravel the strongest sorcerer from the heavens to the earth below, to make him lose his composure. gojo feels as if there is crackling ozone in the air, and wonders dimly if the weather forecast predicted a rain storm for later today.

takumi, sensing the shift, finally backed off with a huff, but not before giving all around him a lingering look, as if it was their fault that you weren't interested.

"enough distractions," kojiro's interjected, raking a finger through a beard streaked with gray, and he's shooting a pointed look at you, snapping rose-pink gum, and takumi, shuffling with his hands in his pockets. "we're here to discuss the mission, not flirt." and then, he's off mumbling something about how this was why he hated having younger sorcerers join the meeting rooms.

his ire only grew. gojo stood with his back against the wall, outside the meeting room, once everyone had left with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. you stood in front of him, your eyes flashing with anger, your chest rising and falling with each sharp breath.

"absolutely not," gojo stood his ground firmly, "no-one will let you go on this mission."

you stomped on the floor, once as your heels snapped an echo, "they will if you say so."

gojo stuffs his hands in his pockets, "who said that i would also allow you?"

you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest, mimicking his previous stance but with a clear defiance in your posture. "and why the hell not? i'm more than capable of handling it. it's my fucking choice, and how can extra help hurt?"

"enough!" gojo snapped, feeling a tense pain in between his eyes, "it's too dangerous. and you're too young -"

"too young!" you've interrupted him, "i'm not some helpless child, sensei. i'm a grade 1 sorcerer! one of the best, i don't need to be treated like i can't handle a mission."

"grade 1. not special-grade."

his eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. gojo could see the fury in your eyes, but there was something else there, something deeper, a vulnerability that he had seen before in students, some desire to prove themselves and be heaped with praise. he knew you were good, better than most — hell, better than many of the adults he’d seen. but this cursed spirit was unlike anything you’d faced before. and yet, here you were, challenging him, pushing him, daring him to stop you.

"you don’t get it," he muttered, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. "you think you’re invincible, but you’re not. you're too reckless."

"reckless!" now you had taken a step towards him, narrowing the space between you both. your eyes were fierce now, but there was something else in them — a spark of hurt that made his chest tighten, and gojo began to wander where this would start spiral. "i’m not reckless. i know exactly what i’m doing. the only reckless thing here is you thinking you have the right to control my every move."

"i'm the one in charge here," he said, his voice hoarse, the words coming out sharper than he intended. "and i'm telling you now, you’re not going. you’re not ready for this. don't involve the higher-ups in this."

you were so close now, just inches apart. his eyes flicked to your lips, with the arch of a blooming flower kissed by the sun, for a brief moment, and then back up to your face, where anger and frustration mixed with something else — a challenge.

"maybe that’s the problem," you said, your voice quieter now, but still holding an edge. "you think i'm still some child who needs you to tell me what to do. maybe you just don’t want me to outshine you."

the words are ridiculous, and he can see by the mild quiver as your throat bobs that you don't mean what you say. it takes a rare type of courage to tell the first person in four hundred years to be born with limitless and six eyes, that he could be outshined. but satoru doesn't say a word to rebuke your obvious and false bait.

your body is so close now that gojo could feel the heat of your skin, your breath brushing against his. he could smell the faint sweetness of vanilla again in the air mingled with fresh, crisp apples, could see the subtle shine of your lip gloss catching the light. it was a testament to his spirit, he thinks, that he did not lean in straight away and touch his mouth to yours in this scenario that certainly did not warrant it.

"you want me to stop you that badly?" he hissed, his voice a mix of frustration and something darker, that had not yet snapped. "is that what this is? a game? a way for you to get my attention? to see how far you can push me before i do snap?"

now he's got your tongue, and your expression has flickered for a brief moment before schooling into an impassive mask, and gojo briefly wanders if he's crossed an awful line and misinterpreted everything. if they're gonna stick a white dunce hat on his head and parade him through the streets of outer tokyo for being an assuming fool.

but then you've stepped even closer, your breath coming faster, the weight of your chest almost pressed against his, and gojo doesn't move and he's briefly aware that he's let his infinity down.

"partly, you know it's not just about you though. i do want to go on this mission, but -" you tilt your head and look right up at him, and the older man's head starts to reel from the fact that he was right all along, "i do want to see how far you can go before you snap."

his heart pounded, and for a moment, everything went still. all the tension, all the heat, the anger, and the desire — everything seemed to converge in the space between you. gojo's hand twitched, aching to touch you, but he held himself back, his muscles straining with the effort.

"stop,” he rasped, barely able to get the word out. "you don’t know what you’re doing, or what you're asking for."

he's never felt quite like this before, breathless as if the air has been punched out of his lungs. all gojo could think was how much he wanted to pull you closer, to kiss you until there was nothing left between you.

but he couldn’t.

he puts his hands on your shoulders, fingers digging into the expensive fabric of your top, and gently pushes you away.

"my decision is final. don't make this harder than this, you're forbidden from the mission."

how sick and twisted, that you've fled with embarrassed tears pricking at your eyes, and he's stuck with a raging erection.

well, he had seen worse. but it didn't make this curse any less vicious. it was ancient, he could presume, and maddening. its cursed energy was warping the night air like a violent storm. but again, not the worst thing that he had encountered in his twenty-eight years, and with the right timing, he'd been able to calculate every strike and counter.

but then he saw you.

at first, he thought it was a blur — a trick of the light. but then, there you were, standing at the edge of the pavement, your figure framed by the chaotic crackle of cursed energy. fuck your stubborn nature.

this is not what is meant to happen. gojo's heart has skipped a beat, and he's not sure what he's more furious with. you, for defying his concern for your safety. or himself, for getting so distracted in. a battle.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?"

yes, he knows you're good. good enough to move with precision against a special-grade curse, your stance instantly and suspiciously better than the other day in the training rooms. it's only through his six eyes that gojo has been able to keep a track of your movements as your jujutsu is able to dodge the creature's brutal force.

impressive. but reckless.

and that never lasts.

you had moved to cast your own cursed technique, but the curse was intelligent enough to anticipate it. with a sudden lash of its tail, the creature swung its power straight at you, knocking you off balance. you stumbled, your footing lost, and before you could react, a flash of dark energy slicing across your shoulder.

a scream had torn from your lips as you fell to the ground, blood spurting from the deep cut.

and briefly, just for a flicker of time, gojo sees a dark-haired man in violet robes leaning against a brick wall, with his shoulder torn off, 'at least curse me one last time.'

blood rushing in his ears, before he even realised it, he was on top of you, his body hovering over yours, his jujutsu flaring as he shoved the cursed spirit back with a brutal force that made the earth tremble, an exorcism that will not take long. he kneeled beside you, his breath ragged, eyes locked on the wound on your shoulder. the blood was already soaking your clothes, darkening the fabric as you winced, your breath shallow and unsteady.

"you —” gojo isn't sure if his hand isn't shaking from how irate he is, "what the hell were you thinking? fuck, don't move."

your eyes were unfocused for a moment, but when they snapped to him, there was defiance there — even in this moment (get a grip!), as you gritted your teeth against the pain.

"save it, it's fine," you spat, your voice weak but vexed, "that bitch is still there."

"what did i tell you! what did i say would happen?" he cursed under his breath, focusing his reversed cursed technique as he tried to heal you, but the moment felt like an eternity as bright red blood moved too fast for him to seize it.

an assassin's blade in his throat, his arteries giving way and bubbling out and up.

now you don't answer, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. gojo's gaze darted to the cursed spirit, which was now advancing again, enraged by the interruption.

it won’t touch you again.

he stood, pulling you away from him, your body slumping slightly out of his arms. he could feel the heat of your blood soaking through his sleeve, but he had no time to dwell on it. the curse roared in fury, and gojo's infinity flared up around him again, a shield of pure energy blocking its path.

"stay down,” he growled, and all he received was a weak, "fuck, you think that's funny?"

it's only later when he's pulling you back up, that he realises that his reversed cursed energy has done enough to stem the bleeding, but not enough to leave you unharmed as your breath is shallow, your face taking on a more sickly pallor.

"don’t you ever — ever —do that again," he snarled, his voice raw and he wonders when something (or someone) has ever undone him so much. but the anger in his voice doesn't carry to his touch as he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, tracing the lines of your jaw.

the sterile walls of your room did nothing to soften the tension in gojo's chest as he stood by your bed, his eyes tracing the curve of your sullen form beneath the sheets. your shoulder was bandaged, with red seeping slowly through the white strips.

"you really are unbelievable," he snapped, his voice sharp as he paced around the room, every step heavy with frustration. "i told you it was too dangerous. i told you not to fucking go."

you lay there, your eyes half-closed, as though you weren’t even listening, but the twitching frown on your lips is sign enough that you're not as sorry. his fingers flexed at his sides, itching to do something — anything — to release the tension building in him.

"are you even listening to me?" he know he sounds bitter, over-reactionary, angry as he moved towards the edge of your bed.

you blinked slowly, your gaze still infuriatingly calm, "i'm fine, now. save the lecture."

he doesn't want to start sputtering so he settles for crossing his arms over his chest, but your voice breaks the silence again.

"you know i want to be a special grade sorcerer, right?"

gojo only looks down, not wanting to indulge an excuse and he studies the tight grip of his knuckles on his slender fingers, "well, i don't know why. the pay isn't that good." it's a weak attempt at a joke, but you're smiling.

"i was told i could only become one if i was the one to exorcise that special grade."

"by who? the higher-ups?" and you nod, wincing as you do.

what a fucking surprise. the way that the jujutsu world works is no surprise to gojo by now, having been surrounded by it his entire life. but the harshness of their reality still shocks him, old and doddering officials who cling to their silk robes are prone to sending out younger sorcerers (those who are still green, barely out of school) to do their dirty work for them, and the cemetery outside of jujutsu tech is ever growing.

he ground his teeth together, his chest tightening as he stared down at you. the bandages, the damp skin, the stillness of your body — it made him want to tear something apart. "fine! if they were giving you a hard time, why didn't you just come to me then?" he repeated harshly.

"would you go ask someone to help you, for something like this? if you were asked to prove yourself?"

gojo runs his tongue behind his teeth, "i'm the strongest, princess. i don't need to ask for help."

you groan, turning your head away from him, but a faint smile dances upon your lips.

he inhales sharply, his fingers digging into the edge of the bed. "you think this is a joke?"

"all four limbs are attached and i'm living and breathing. okay, so fine. my bad. i won't do it again. will you stop snapping at me now, at everything -" and gojo wonders if there's really some hurt colouring your voice, "what's going on?"

the words slip out, rough and unrestrained. "what’s going on is that you’re driving me insane. you act like this doesn’t matter, like i can just stand by and let you throw yourself into danger like it’s nothing — like you don’t matter — but you do. you do matter."

his chest was heaving now, his hands shaking as he reached out and grabbed your wrist. his thumb brushed over your pulse, the tiny fluttering beneath your skin driving him wild. "i can’t — i can’t just stand there and watch you get hurt," he continued, his voice hoarse. "you don’t get to do whatever you want without consequences, damn it. you don’t get to make me feel this way, and then pretend like it doesn’t matter."

for a moment, there was silence. gojo's pulse was hammering in his ears, his body coiled with the intensity of everything he was trying to say. everything he was trying not to say. everything he wanted to act upon.

and then, with a slow, almost lazy smile, you turned towards him, "i didn't know the great gojo satoru was like this. who would have thought?"

his breath hitched in his throat. gojo wanted to say something, to snap at you again, to maintain that distance — but the truth was that the distance between the two of you had disappeared these past few weeks. his chest tightened, his hands trembling as they slid to your face, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, and he relished how your facade almost cracked and you lightly shivered.

at least, he hoped you were shivering because of his touch. and not, like, a fever building up from your injuries.

fuck it.

and then, before he could stop himself, gojo was leaning down, his lips crashing into yours with all the force he could muster, desparate and hungry and that frustration and fear that he had been holding onto. his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you towards him with a force that made your breath catch, as you responded with a soft gasp.

had he misstepped? no, for you kissed him back, tentatively at first, as if you were testing the waters, but then building up to a sudden urgency that mirrored his own. your hands slid to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pushed yourself closer to him, before crying out.

"ah! fuck, my shoulder."

small beads of blood surfaced where your collarbone met your shoulder, each one glistening like tiny rubies against your warm skin. they gathered slowly, delicate droplets that clung to you before tracing faint, uneven lines downward. the red stood out, vivid and fresh, dotting your skin in a stark, almost mesmorising gojo as they welled up and began to trick in thin, crimson trails.

"stay still," gojo rasped, his voice low and rough as he leaned in, pressing closer. his mouth met the fresh blood pooling on your skin, tongue tracing over the small rivulets that had seeped from beneath the bandage.

he lingered, almost savouring the taste, his eyes darkening as the sharp tang of iron lingered on his tongue, smacking his lips slightly as he drew back, gaze fixed intently on you, on your heavy breathing as he stole away another kiss from you.

gojo's lips left yours briefly, his breath ragged as he stared down at you, his eyes wild underneath the blindfold, gasping as your nails reached up to hook the fabric down so his hair loosened, falling around his face.

you were staring back at him, breathless and wide-eyed, and in that moment, gojo knew — he couldn’t stay away from you. no matter how much he tried.

your lips were soft, so soft, but there was fire behind the way you kissed him back, your hands landing on his chest, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. he groaned, deep in his throat, and his fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you closer.

his mouth moved urgently over yours as he shifted to stand beside the bed, his body hovering over you, every muscle tense, straining with the desire that he had tried so hard to ignore. gojo just couldn't think about anything else.

and your lips broke apart only briefly, and you let out a soft laugh, that damn, dangerous laugh of yours. "you're greedy, you know that."

his chest heaved, and his heart pounded in his ears, and blood was now pounding to his nether regions. he wasn’t sure if it was the previous anger or the ache between his ribs, but he couldn’t stop himself as he threaded his fingers through your soft hair, "i am greedy. greedy for you. only you - mmph! shit!"

you had run your long, painted nails (with the little painted charms on the end) down his neck before pressing them, hard enough to cause a sharp sting.

"you wanted to put me through hell," he whispered harshly, and his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, "until i realised i liked it. until i realised i wanted you, all of you."

his hands moved down to your waist, squeezing gently as his lips found the tender spot beneath your ear, trailing kisses there, letting his teeth sink in, to see small bruises appear. gojo's breath was ragged as he fought to keep control, and something deeper inside of him roared with the need to claim you completely.

"you’re mine," he growled against your skin, the words hot and possessive. "i don't care what happens. you’re mine now."

you tilted your head, still smiling, but this time there was something different in your eyes — something that burned with the same intensity. "if i'm yours, what are you going to do about it? hmm, satoru?"

and that final thread, that last remnant of honour that he had been nurturing and holding onto, snapped.

"is this what you want, princess?" he draws out the nickname, letting it roll off his tongue, as you suddenly inhale sharply. his hands are all over you now, large hands exploring and kneading at your torso, and before he can even let you blink, they're under your top.

he's pressing his hot mouth to your sternum, wet and open-mouthed, and he wonders what sort of effect you have on him. what force in the world leave him panting like this, desparate as his hands find their way behind your back, to unclip whatever's holding your tits in place — just so he can reach back and run his palms over your hard nipples, flicking them and rolling them in between his fingers.

and faintly, in the back of his mind, he's aware that his reversed cursed technique must be working overtime, because suddenly you're rolling forward into him with no care in the world for your previously injured shoulder, as your own hands trail down the front of body, right over his bulge.

but he slaps your hand away, pressing you flat against the mattress, "fuck, not yet. you think i'm just going to let you get away with all this," and as you mewl a soft yes, followed by a please, he rolls his eyes, "wait. behave and i'll give you what you want."

and then, softer, "need to make sure you're ready first."

his arms are caging both sides of your head, and he's got one hand on the headboard (although, you will marvel at the burnt imprint that he's left, later) and the other is tearing your top off, just so he can lean down and let his canines press into the soft fat of your chest, so he can slip a pointed nipple into his mouth and tug it, ever so gently.

but gojo needs to continue lower, and his hand squeezes at the waistband of your short skirt, snapping the elastic twice as you heave your bare chest, "please, please, satoru!"

it's heaven down here for him, and gojo's dizzy at how outstandingly wet you are, with just a single swipe of his fingers in the soft, damp fabric of your underwear.

your clear, sticky arousal clung to his fingers, stretching in thin, glistening threads as he spread your thighs apart, knocking your knees to either side so he could slot himself in between them. your slick shimmered slightly under the light, translucent and tacky and he just couldn't help himself, bringing them up to his mouth to slowly taste.

"shit, princess. you taste so good, can't believe this is what i've been missing out on."

he's playing an instrument, he thinks. gliding his fingers along sodden folds, twirling his index finger past a thick wad of skin and pressing right over your clit in hot, tight circles that have you bucking your hips, "hnngh, right - ah, right there 'toru!"

'toru.

as a reward, he plunges his middle finger straight into your gaping heat, your tight wall of ringed muscles that had been fluttering in light pulses for his attention. fuck, he almost reaches his own climax by feeling how you squirm and writhe, moan and mewl as he starts pushing his finger in, and then out.

in, and then out. in, once more. and out, again. and then, another finger.

his fingers sank into your soft, damp pussy — which yielded easily enough with a soft pssh! as the digits pressed in. gojo pulled his hand back out from your thighs, enjoying the tight resistance and suction as your cunt has resisted being empty once more, leaving a cool moistness on his skin.

but now your hands gently cup his face, and he isn't sure how to not crumble with how you look at him, eyes wide and glossy, "wan' more, want your cock, 'toru."

now, gojo feels as though he's truly ascended, gone onto some higher plane of existence. because how can he resist when your hands are weakly pawing at his belt, at his waistband and he's letting you pull his thick shaft out.

it's hot, and already weeping angry tears of pre-cum, and he just loves how your eyes widen at the sheer size and girth.

"yeah, princess was sooo brave earlier, wasn't she? wanted my cock, ah! shit - did she?" and he's letting the wide tip lay heavy against your clit, knocking it once, and then twice, through your heavenly folds.

you've reached a leg up, and around his waist, pulling him closer and gojo has to pierce his lip with his teeth to not let out a gutteral groan from his cock sliding through the your folds, "i don't - don't care, i really don't fucking care if it's too big. just put it in now, m' so wet, i'm wet enough."

your babble is endearing, and he marvels at how easily he has you cock-drunk without even being in you right now. he jostles further, until the tip is right at your flittering entrance, pressing forward and slipping through the heated, slick gummy texture in a way that has the strongest's head spinning.

"easy, princess. oh fuck, you're too tight. way too tight, i'm gonna -" and gojo inhales, steadying himself, as the wet heat enveloped him as he moved, each slide through the soft walls of your pussy leaving him acutely aware of every inch, the warmth coating him further until your slick was dampening the white, stray hairs of his groin.

he pulls your lips close again, one hand coming up to gently cradle your head, and his fingers weaving slowly through your hair.

"you're so deep in me, 'toru! so - hnngh," and your words are cut off by a staccato thrust of his hips, and your teeth clack around a moan that gojo gladly swallows.

"hey, i'm right here. i've got you, yeah? got you so good, just hold onto me."

and he keeps a steady pace, plunging into molten silk, with a sensation so intense and so enveloping that it left him breathless, with a rush of heat that made his head spin.

he's toying with your tits, pressing his face into the shadow that lies between your mounds, and gojo's certain that he could die a happy man like this, exactly like this.

he realises that the faint laugh is coming from him, so distant is he in his pussy-drunk reverie, that he realises he must look and sound like a madman, "pretty pussy is so tight, so fucking tight. haah, i think i'm gonna have to fill you up, gorgeous?" and he must be blathering, "want me to fill you up? shit- want me to stuff... ah! stuff you so full of cum that we just hafta stay in this bed all day then?"

he had his fingers now moving in circles over your throbbing clit, exerting a gentle pressure that had you so beautifully keening and bucking your hips up, jolting right into his pelvis. and gojo bit back as a groan as his heavy balls started to smack, and smack! over and over again, right onto your dampened skin.

"she must be close right, pretty little pussy must be almost tired now," and gojo's now slapping your clit, lifting three fingers up and bringing them down with enough force to not harm you, but make you jolt, "she. must. be. so. close." and each word is punctuated by the slippery spank of his fingers bouncing right off your mound.

"makes me want to have you - you and her," and gojo's revelling in the slick of your pussy, now throwing his head back without shame.

and when your walls start to flutter, when you start writhing in his grasp, pressed right against his chest with your legs knocked back as far as they reach on other side of his broad frame, he feels himself unravel. feels the rhythmic quake of your tight cunt literally milk him dry, letting pools of thick, white seed plug within you, and he almost shakes and tears up himself, at the idea of claiming you like this.

later, he has you resting against his chest and the knot in his chest, that nasty plague that sent him afoul has disappeared, and gojo feels as though he's about to start purring, from the feeling of your nails trailing little shapes over his skin (little hearts, perhaps?) and how soft your hair feels under his own hands. he can't resist himself from pressing his lips softly to your forehead, "happy?"

you laugh, a genuine, soft sound that erupts from your chest as you press your bare body into him, "you have no idea."

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #works #daphworks

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81evermore · 18 days ago

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OSCAR PIASTRI FIC RECS 🌟🤍🐈 in which i show u my favorite oscar fics <3

this christmas by @httpiastri - so so so amazing. who doesn't love a little christmas fluff !?!??! they're so cute and the scenery and setting are soooo good!!!!!! love love love

HEY OSCAR! by @aleskie-hischier - i am a hey stephen #1 fan so i loved this sm. best friends to lovers always hits 🙂‍↕️ absolutely amazing and can't wait to read maybe more oscar from the author ?? who knows

free now by @theonottsbxtch - i am a whore for angst. that's all. also absolutely brilliant and i love it

gorgeous by @priniya - so so so !!!!!!! cute i love

such a klutz! by ^

nobody has to know by ^ - actually so so so amazing 😞 it's so good and also sad and also happy UGH this fic might be perfection

talks like an angel (looks like me) by @spiderbeam - who didn't have a crush on the lifeguard when they were a kid. SOOOOOO amazing i love love love!!!!!! so much

but that's just when you happened by @pastryfication - ☹️☹️☹️ love packing it up and my hopeless romantic heart is hurting after reading this.

en pointe by @scuderiahoney - everything by this author is SO amazing. i'm being fr. go and read EVERYTHING

in motion (series) by ^ - not joking, my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE oscar series ever. the writing had me tearing up (again my inner hopeless romantic) it's so so good. i don't have any words to describe how much i love this. this is a MUST read even if u are not into hockey 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

be brave by ^

in from the rain by ^

tangerine by ^

make you fall in love by @maxivstappen - was giggling and kicking my feet while reading this yup yup!

maiden wins & secret meet ups by @katsu28 - i love love love LOVEEEEEEEEEEE this help mee

part 2: home cooked meals & crashed dinner dates

oscar's a grouch (or is he?) by ^

guts by @harrysfolklore - i adore the f1 driver x popstar trope UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

table for two by @foreveralbon - so so so so so cute i love ☹️

we never talk about it by @cherry-leclerc - yet again i am a whore for angst. so amazing. i'm amazed. i'm wowed. based on one of my fav songs from short n sweet so i knew that it would be so good. I LOVEEEEE ANGST I LOVEEEEE ANGST I ADORE ANGST

in conclusion NEVER stop writing oscar fics bc i will be reading them until i die!

#f1 #f1 x reader #fic rec #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fic rec #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #f1 fic rec #f1 fanfic #fluff #angst #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri fluff #smau #oscar piastri smau #f1 smau

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lilreidgirl · 28 days ago

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Where do I sign?

Summary: You have a tattoo that you`re teased for by others but when it`s just you and Spencer, you realise that it`s all worth it.

Warnings: MDNI(18+), fem!reader, tattoo, smut/sex briefly mentioned, swearing, alcoholic drinks, ownership kink??, English is not my first language

WC: ~1.2k

A/N: Came up with this a few weeks ago but only now wrote it, hope you enjoy!!

You knew, deep down, when you first got the tattoo that it would raise eyebrows. If anyone found out about it, you could already imagine the reactions: weird looks and perhaps a few teasing comments. You were prepared for the judgment. You understood that most people would likely think it was strange and that was okay.

What mattered was that you liked it and that Spencer did as well. After all, you are the one who has it permanently engraved in your body and he’s the one who’ll be staring at said print on your body for the rest of your lives.

As soon as Spencer mentioned the idea, you were obsessed. Not a single feeling of hesitance found itself into your body the day you got the tattoo. Only pure excitement made shivers run down your spine as you walked into the tattoo parlour, which Spencer had deduced was the best one courtesy of tons of hours of research on online reviews, distances and health department tattoo regulation inspections.

_________

The team had organized a little get together at a bar; family, friends and all, so naturally Spencer brought you.

Spencer wore a white button-down shirt, but it wasn’t a pure snow white—more of a faded off-white, as if time had softened the fabric just a little. The shirt was messily tucked into a pair of black slacks. His hair, which was even messier than the cloth he tucked under his belt, lay unruly and untamed in tousled waves on his head, as if he had just rolled out of bed and let them fall where they may. It was the usual look for him, and you couldn’t help but love how effortlessly charming it seemed.

You chose a pair of blue low-rise jeans, the ones Spencer had always said were his favorite. You paired them with a light grey shirt with three little buttons at the top. You deliberately left two of them undone just enough to catch Spencer`s eye without being too revealing.

The bar was cosy but packed with constant laughs and conversation crossing the table you sat at. Unaesthetically pleasing lights shone from the ceiling a few flickering with the same rhythm as the nostalgic party songs that were played from the big speakers spread out all over the room. Rossi announced the first round be on him, no surprise there.

He and Emily had left to get the drinks, disappearing into the crowd for a few moments, only to return a short while later, their hands full of glasses. Rossi’s arms were loaded with tumblers filled with alcoholic beverages, while Emily was gripping a few more in her grasp. The sight of them juggling so many glasses brought a smile to your face as you watched them make their way through the room.

“Oh, you guys need some help?” you called out, already rising from the stool you’d been sitting on, eager to lighten their load. You moved swiftly, offering your hands to take a few glasses from their arms. He smiled, looking grateful for the assistance.

“Thank you, you`re the fucking best,” Emily praised, a soft chuckle leaving you at the sweet thank you involving such unfitting, vulgar language which infected her to let out a small laugh as well.

After you took a few drinks off their hands, the three of you started moving around the room, weaving through the different people and their conversations, delivering the drinks to their designated drinkers. Each time you made your delivery, you shared a brief exchange with the person before turning to pass the next drink along.

“Okay, last one! Who ordered a bud light?” Your eyes studied the different faces, landing on Derek’s as his voice announced, “Me, pretty girl.”

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, matching to your boyfriend’s, you made your way to the smirking man, placing the bottle in front of him. “Hear ya go.” You smiled sweetly before turning around, looking to walk back to your seat but being stopped by Penelope’s voice.

“What’s that? Is that Spencer’s signature?” She asked, confusion and a giggle present in her tone.

You stopped dead in your tracks, the ones you had barely made your way down, the sneakers you were wearing making a slight squeaking noise against the friction of the sticky bar floor.

The rest of the teams and their companion’s faces turned to you, more specifically your back, even more specifically, the little sliver of skin revealed between the blue and grey materials of your jeans and shirt. The skin clad with a tattoo reading “Spencer Reid” in his finest handwriting.

Slowly, you turned around, an awkward expression on your face before you met your boyfriend’s eyes and widened your own as a bit of a distress beacon.

“Oh- um…” for a guy with an IQ of 187, he probably should have been able to come up with something to say in that moment, but god was it hard in that stuffy room with countless expecting eyes peering at him.

“Didn’t know you guys were… that. Gee…,” Emily chuckled, her black hair gliding over her shoulders as she turned to look at the both of you one after the other.

“What is that-…,“ You tried to speak up but the rest of the words never even made it past the stage of being formed by your brain cells, the ones you were now hoping would explode so you could die before the situation got any more embarrassing. Defeated by your own inability to speak you looked down, gaze falling on the spotty floor of the bar.

“My man,” Derek grinned proudly, giving Spencer an encouraging pump of his prominent eyebrows as he laughed.

Spencer’s eyes met yours, both of your guys’ cheeks burning different shades of rosy and peach out of embarrassment, but the eye contact between the two of you communicated what you both knew.

It was worth it.

It was worth people thinking you were weird, every time Spencer laid his large hand on your lower back in public where his name lay written in the crevices between your skin’s atoms, reminding you what lay there, reminding you who you belonged to.

It was worth the embarrassment, every single time Spencer’s slender fingers, warm and delicate, gently traced the intricate pattern of ink that adorned your skin. Whether you were in the shower, the steam clouding the air around you, or snuggled up together beneath the soft sheets, his touch was always so tender, almost reverent, as if the tattoo held some hidden meaning only he could understand.

It was worth the teasing and the giggling, every time his eyes, barely hazel anymore because of his blown out pupils, stared intently at his signature, his mark, his claim, dug deep into your soft skin and your even softer soul as he fucked into you relentlessly.

It was worth it because it was proof you were his. Forever. The black ink sewn into your body that is immortally yours, always there to convey how no one could ever love you like he could and how you would never even have a trace of the same love for some other person that you feel for Spencer.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid one shot

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witchywithwhiskey · 18 days ago

Text

if the fates allow

pairing: avenger!captain america!steve rogers x tall!shield agent!female reader

summary: steve rogers accidentally got drunk at the avengers tower christmas party, and you're the one tasked with helping him get to bed. it's a good thing you have plenty of practice keeping your crush on him a secret.

warnings: sexual tension, steve is drunk, reader is conflicted (nothing happens while steve's drunk), feelings are expressed, kissing, sleepy cuddling, i think that's pretty much it!

word count: 2.9k

a/n: here's my december 13 fic for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: "I didn't know the egg nog was spiked!" tried to keep this one short and sweet so that i can catch up, so if something doesn't make sense, just ignore it i guess! also this is my first time writing a specifically tall!reader and that was nice since i'm on the taller side 😅 hope y'all enjoy!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

“I didn't know the egg nog was spiked!”

Steve Rogers’ voice was louder than it needed to be, and so close to your ear that you winced a little. You kept walking, a massive arm looped around your shoulders while you half-carried the ungodly large body of Captain America and tried not to think about how good he smelled.

Why exactly you had been tasked with helping the very drunk Steve Rogers to his quarters after the Avengers Tower Christmas party was still a bit of a mystery to you. You’d seen Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark with their heads bent close, like they were conspiring about something, and the next thing you knew, Bruce Banner was asking you to help Steve get to bed.

The phrasing of the request had sent your heart skittering in your chest, even under the less-than-ideal circumstances of its reality. You’d had a crush on Steve Rogers since you’d met him as part of your SHIELD assignment to Avengers Tower, and you liked to think you’d kept it secret from everyone.

But, well, you did work with spies for a living, and you had a feeling Natasha and Tony’s conspiring had something to do with your predicament.

You’d tried to protest Bruce’s request. Sure, you were one of the taller female SHIELD agents, but you were by no means the strongest person on your team, especially when it included Brock Rumlow. But apparently everyone else had gone home or they were helping someone else, and you were the only one who could do it.

Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” had been playing from the sound system of the Avengers Tower lounge as you’d made your way over to where Steve lay sprawled across the entire length of a sofa. He was singing along to the Christmas song—loudly and off-key—and nerves and excitement had fluttered through your belly like snowflakes on a winter wind.

You’d shoved your emotions away and put on the professional mask you always wore around Steve, pasting a polite smile on your face as you leaned over him and told him, in a not unkind voice, that you were going to help him get to bed.

He’d given you a dreamy smile and did his best to help you lift his large body from the sofa while you’d ignored the way the snowflakes in your tummy had swooped at his happy expression and close proximity.

With one arm wrapped around Steve’s waist and the other holding onto his wrist so his arm wouldn’t fall from your shoulders, you lifted a leg and kicked the elevator call button with your foot, only remembering to check to make sure no one was around after you’d done so.

Oh well. If you’d flashed someone with the move, the most they’d see under the short skirt of your cocktail dress was the gun strapped to your thigh and the shapewear the tight, clingy garment had required you to wear. Thankfully, no one was around except the super-soldier draped across your shoulders, his head propped sleepily against yours.

“Of course it was spiked, captain,” you said, picking up the thread of the conversation he’d started. Your voice was patient and professional, if a little cold. “It was Stark’s Christmas party—he spiked all the egg nog with Asgardian liquor.”

The doors of the elevator slid open soundlessly and you huffed a sigh of relief as you dragged Steve in. You made sure he was propped up against the corner of the elevator, then stepped away to hit the button for his floor. As discreetly as you could, you wiped some sweat from your brow before turning back to Captain America.

The expression on Steve’s face drew you up short. He was…not frowning exactly. Was that a…pout?

You tilted your head to the side, your eyes poring carefully over Steve Rogers’ familiar features—the little pinched line between his brows, the dimmed sparkle of his blue eyes, the protrusion of his lush lower lip. You forced yourself not to linger on his mouth, even though it looked particularly inviting…

Yes, that was definitely a pout, you decided.

Before you could wonder about what you’d said to garner such a reaction from Steve, he was talking. Or, rather, muttering.

“I don’t like it when you call me captain,” he grumbled.

The elevator was nearing Steve’s floor so you moved closer to him again, ignoring the way your body warmed when you pressed into his side and lifted his arm over your shoulder. The fresh scent of him wrapped around you like the most delicious blanket, and you wanted more than anything to be able to breathe it in until it lived permanently in your lungs.

“What should I call you then?” you asked, mostly to distract yourself from your body’s reaction to Steve. He was drunk, and you needed to get yourself under control.

You tried to pull him out of the corner, but you didn’t have enough leverage and instead of budging the big super-soldier, you bounced back into him, landing against his hard chest with a surprised little “oomph.”

Before that moment, you’d known, in theory, that you were only a couple inches shorter than Steve Rogers. But it was easy to forget because he had such a large presence, and he could very easily toss you around that mats of the Avengers Tower gym with his super-strength.

However, in that moment you learned that the minimal height difference between you and Steve Rogers had a consequence you hadn’t considered. When you fell against his chest, your face was almost perfectly level with his—specifically, your mouth was almost perfectly level with his.

You could taste the Asgardian rum on Steve’s breath and the thought of closing the distance and licking it from his lips was far more tempting than it should’ve been.

“Steve,” he rumbled, his arm tightening around your shoulders and hauling you even closer. “You should call me Steve.”

Your soft curves molded to the hard planes of his body and your breath caught in your throat as your mind raced, trying to figure out what he was doing. His blue eyes were dark, even under the bright lights of the elevator, and they were fixed very firmly on your lips—but they were still glazed from all he’d had to drink.

“Steve,” you said, his name soft and tortured as it fell from your lips, your eyes dropping to his mouth.

You knew you couldn’t kiss Captain America while he was drunk, and you knew that if he tried to pull you any closer, you’d have to push him away. But you wanted so desperately to close the distance between your lips, the desire felt like it might incinerate you from the inside out.

The ding of the elevator arriving at Steve’s floor brought you back to reality and you jumped away from the super-soldier, shaking your head at yourself as you grabbed his arm and heaved his weight onto your shoulders. You dragged him out of the elevator on stumbling feet, your mind spinning with what you’d almost done—what Steve actually had done.

For all the time you’d crushed on Steve Rogers, he’d never shown any indication of reciprocating your feelings. He’d always been just as professional and aloof as you’d been, and you’d taken that to mean he didn’t have any interest in you outside of work. But you were beginning to rethink your assessment…

Thankfully, Steve remained quiet and well-behaved for the trip down the hall to his quarters, and getting him inside seemed a bit easier after your practice with the elevator. You half-carried him to his bed and it took only a little push to have him sit down on the soft mattress.

Somehow, the movement left you standing between Steve’s spread legs, his arm curled around your waist from where it had fallen off your shoulder. His face was close again—closer than it should’ve been as he looked up at you from where he sat.

“Pretty…” he murmured, the fingertips of his free hand reaching for you but hovering just a hair’s breadth away from touching you. “You’re so…pretty.”

Heat suffused your cheeks and you ducked your head. “Steve,” you whined softly, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, trying to extricate yourself from his hold. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he said softly, your name falling sweetly from his lips. He brushed his thumb over your cheek so gently, it made your knees wobble.

You’d managed to get some distance from him, but the sound of your name made you stop. You looked at Steve, and his eyes were still slightly glazed from all the spiked egg nog he’d drank.

You huffed a laugh that was sad and humorless. Of course the only time Steve had shown any interest in you, he was drunk.

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk and maybe I’ll believe you, Steve,” you said, a little forlornly, and pulled his hand away from your face, dropping it in his lap.

Stepping backward, you broke out of his hold, ignoring the way he was pouting again.

“Stay with me,” Steve said, his fingers catching the tips of yours as you turned away.

The desperation in his tone halted your retreat. When you looked at Steve again, his eyes were a little clearer, and his expression was pleading. You didn’t know if it was the best idea to crawl into bed with Captain America while he was drunk.

You were pretty sure he’d fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, so nothing would happen, but you worried about your heart. If you spent a whole night sleeping in Steve’s bed, breathing in Steve’s scent, it would be that much harder to pretend you didn’t have feelings for him. And you couldn’t seem to imagine he had feelings for you, despite what he’d said.

“Please,” Steve said, his voice cracking slightly. His face was washed in the dim light of the New York City skyline filtering in through the windows, and he looked like a work of art come to life, flawlessly gorgeous features and perfectly expressive eyes.

Your heart thumped in your chest, and were helpless to resist his request.

“OK,” you whispered, twining your fingers with his and giving his hand a small squeeze while you smiled shyly.

Steve beamed happily at you and then flopped back on the bed. A grin was still fixed on his face while he kicked off his shoes and fought to pull down the blankets so he could slide under them.

You bit back a laugh at his gleeful reaction, shaking your head as you went to the bathroom to clean off your makeup and strip out of your gun holster and shapewear. Thankfully, your dress was comfortable enough to sleep in for one night.

When you returned, you found Steve passed out under the covers still wearing all of his clothes. You took a moment to appreciate his handsome features, softened in sleep, and then slipped into bed beside him, leaving plenty of space between your bodies.

It took you a little while to fall asleep, but the quiet, steady snores coming from Steve helped lull you, and eventually you drifted off.

The soft wintry light of the morning sunrise was just beginning to peak over the Manhattan skyline when you roused, your body bathed in a nearly overwhelming heat that came from something pressed against your back and banded around your waist.

It took you a long, groggy moment to realize the source of that heat was Steve Rogers.

At some point in the night, he must’ve moved closer and wrapped himself around you because one of his arms was curled around your waist while his broad chest was pressed flush against your back. You were so close together, you could feel his steady heartbeat against your spine.

You must’ve shifted even to wake him because you heard the tenor of Steve’s breathing change. He buried his face in the back of your head and took a deep breath before letting out a contented sigh.

“Pretty girl,” he mumbled, the words muffled and barely discernable. His arm squeezed tighter around your waist, dragging you even further into the wondrously warm cage of his body.

The sound of you sucking in a sharp breath was loud in the silent bedroom and Steve suddenly tensed. Quick as a flash, he removed his arm from around your waist and shuffled back a few inches, giving you space.

Cold flooded in, even while you were still buried under the blankets, and you had to fight off a shiver. You missed his warmth, but you also needed to understand what was going on. You took a deep, steadying breath and then rolled over, looking at Steve warily.

He was propped up on one arm, his blond hair mussed from sleep and his cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment. But his blue eyes were clear and curious, watching your reaction with interest.

“What did you call me?” you asked in a trembling, hesitant voice. It probably wasn’t the first question you should’ve asked, but you had to know if you’d heard him correctly, and if he’d known he was talking about you when he’d said it.

Steve must’ve recognized the uncertainty in your voice or on your face because his expression softened and he lifted his hand, his fingers tracing the air next to your cheek. He was deliberately not touching you, and you had the urge to close the distance and feel his warm contact.

“You said to tell you you’re pretty when I wasn’t drunk anymore,” he said, his voice low and rough with sleep. His eyes had been wandering over your features, like he was trying to memorize the way they looked in the wintry morning light, but his gaze caught yours before he went on. “Well, I’m not drunk and you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Steve.” His name was a soft, desperate sound, your heart racing into a gallop as you tried to process the fact that Steve Rogers thought you were pretty.

Before your mind had caught up, your hands were moving, reaching for Steve, eager to drag him closer. Your fingers were curling around the lapels of his dress shirt and you caught a glimpse of his crooked smile before you were both closing the distance between your bodies, his mouth slanting to yours for a kiss.

Heat and pleasure filled your body and soul, and you kissed Steve Rogers for the first time, your lips pressed together ungracefully in your excitement. After a few moments of blissful fumbling, you settled into a rhythm that was as delicious as it was delightful, made all the more breathtaking by the way you could feel Steve’s reverence for you in the way he held you.

It was a long time before you came up for air, and when you did, you laughed giddily when you saw the way Steve’s eyes were glazed over, a dreamy smile curling his lips, and you knew your expression matched his. He was drunk on kissing you, just as you were drunk on kissing him.

Steve dropped one last sweet kiss to your mouth and then he rolled you onto your side, tucking you into the warmth of his body while you both faced the windows, watching the sun rise over Manhattan. You were for a moment quiet as you enjoyed being with him, but something still bugged you.

“I still don’t understand why Bruce asked me to help you to bed,” you said, your fingers playing with Steve’s hand that was clasped in yours. “But I’m glad he did, since it led us to this.” You pressed a kiss to his palm, marveling at how even that part of him smelled fresh and wonderful.

At your comment, Steve made a rough sound in his throat, something halfway between a cough and a laugh. It piqued your curiosity and you turned your head, catching his eye over your shoulder.

“That might be my fault,” he admitted, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I may have confessed to Nat that I think you’re pretty—and she’s been trying to set me up for ages.”

Suddenly, everything from the night before clicked into place. Natasha and Tony’s conspiring, the way your SHIELD teammates were all otherwise occupied, the fact that Bruce—the least devious, and therefore, least suspicious of all the Avengers—had been the one to ask you to help Steve.

It was all a very elaborate setup, and you had to feel a little impressed with Natasha, even as you rolled your eyes because it didn’t need to be so complicated. She could’ve just asked if you were interested, and then set you two up on a normal date. Instead, she’d concocted an elaborate scheme, just to get you and Steve alone.

But you had to admit, it did work…

“You Avengers can never do anything the easy way, can you?” you teased, grinning at Steve over your shoulder. You reached back, fingers twining in his hair and pulling him close enough to brush a kiss to his lips.

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” Steve murmured playfully against your mouth, kissing you more deeply before settling back down on the bed.

For the next little while, you watched the December sunrise with Steve Rogers, basking in the feeling of being in his arms while he idly hummed “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” in between brushing delicious kisses to your neck.

You did have yourself a very merry Christmas indeed.

december daze challenge masterlist

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #captain america steve rogers #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans fluff #christmas fanfiction #december daze #witchywithwhiskeywork #tall reader

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rafeskiss · 1 month ago

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juno ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

word count: 980

summary: boat days with rafey make you so fucking horny<333 based on the song ‘juno’ by sabrina carpenter

warnings: no actual smut, use of y/n, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, probably more i dont fucking know

authors note: IM BAAAACK! bringing back the short n’ sweet inspired rafe fics

boat days with rafe were your favorite days. you didn’t have to be sexual with rafe to have fun together, and you guys had your own way of showing appreciation— which, of course, included sex some days, but you also just got each other.

your love for each other was showcased best on the druthers on hot and sticky summer afternoons. you’d be tanning and feel a lack of warmth for a second, opening your eyes to see rafe towering over you, blocking the sun. a fruity seltzer in his hand, he’d hand it to you and you’d continue tanning. you didn’t ever have to tell him what you were thinking, he just gets it.

or he’d let you apply sunscreen on him— this was a rarity. he claimed he didn’t care if he got burnt or not, and you’d always reply with something along the lines of ‘you will care when you get skin cancer in 20 years!’ so you’d stand on your tippy toes, rubbing the white substance on his face, chest, back, arms, and legs until you saw fit. this was also a perfect excuse to feel him up. you hated his father, ward, for giving him life-long daddy issues but this was one of the only times you’d thank him. God bless his dad’s genetics, because rafe cameron is one sight to see and feel under the north carolina heat. beads of sweat dotting his face and chest, small freckles appearing on his nose and how gorgeous he looked driving the boat.

today was one of those days; you in a tiny pink bikini and rafe looking particularly fuckable edible hot pretty. you watched as he steered the boat towards wherever the hell he was taking you, his grip on the steering wheel showing off his toned, muscular arms. you just about melted in your sun chair rafe layed out for you.

it was days like this where you seemed to be so in love you’d do just about anything for him. rafe was too busy steering the boat, leaving you alone in your thoughts as you soaked up the vitamin d. you often thought about your future with rafe, and rafe doesn’t talk about the future rarely ever, but you knew he’d want your touch for life. he hasn’t and probably won’t ever come out and directly say he wants to spend forever with you, but his words always allude to it.

you never take the things he says during sex seriously; he’s always grunting about putting a baby in you or telling you to never ever leave him— you wouldn’t dare— but you wonder if he really truly means it. however, this doesn’t stop you from hinting at the fact you would like this all to become a reality. he’d be picking you up to go to dinner and you’d do a little twirl, showing off your dress. he’d tell you you look great, just like always, and you’d be like ‘well, there’s actually one thing missing…’ rafe would grumble something like ‘fuck are you talkin’ bout, kid? you’re fully dressed.’ and you’d stick your left hand out to him, showing him your naked ring finger. ‘missing a rock right there.’ and he’d roll his eyes and tell you to get in the damn truck.

you hopped off the tanning chair and found your way to a mini fridge that’s always stocked with various drinks. you opted for a twisted tea and you grabbed rafe a beer. you giddily walked to find rafe who was standing by the steering wheel, one hand on it and the other glancing down at his phone.

“here ya go,” you smiled and handed him the glass bottle.

“thanks, baby.” he said while placing a kiss to your temple, turning his phone off.

you looked at his hands on the steering wheel, noticing the lack of a wedding ring on his hand. you frown, “looks so boring right here, right?” you look up at him, your finger pointing to his ring finger.

“can you just wait?” he scolded.

“i just think this day would be even more perfect with a mini us running around!” you declared, looking around the boat imagining a tiny rafe or a tiny you waddling all over.

he rolled his eyes and continued steering the boat.

“like, one of me is cute but two though?”

rafe laughed, “are you ovulating or something? holy shit,”

you smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek, “can’t help it.”

“jus’… gimme time, baby.” he muttered before taking a sip of his beer.

so maybe having a baby at 19 wasn’t the best idea. but there were far worse things you could be doing with your life! rafe has enough money to support you and the baby until the end of time, including your retail therapy and regular therapy, so what is so wrong with that?

“give me one good reason why we can’t have a baby right now.” you said, crossing your arms which only made rafe take this conversation less serious because his eyes were immediately drawn to your tits.

rafe smirked, “shit, i dunno. i will say, your tits would be massive with a little baby in you.”

you gasped, “so you do wanna have a baby!”

“never said that.” he sniffed.

rolling your eyes you said, “whatever. god forbid i want a future with you!” you stormed off leaving rafe behind you.

of course, rafe didn’t want to hurt your feelings so he apologized very thoroughly later. he made sure to tell you that he did want a future with you, but he wants you to enjoy your young adulthood before potentially wrecking your life and freedom by bringing a baby into the world. in response to this, you stuck your tongue out at him.

“see, who needs a fucking baby when we got you around?” he said teasingly.

TAGLIST (reply to my tag list post to be added)

@xcinnamonmalfoyx @neediestpuppy @ethanthequeefqueen @maybankslover @pankowblues @drewsphswife @wearemadeofstardust0

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heldbykento · 2 months ago

Text

⊹₊ ⋆ ㅤ— “FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE . .ᐟᅟ ”

part 1 | part 2

wrd count: 1304

warnings: smut, fem!reader x josh, dry-humping, drinking, josh is a pervert, semi-plot, make out, drunk reader, smutty indications, aggressive teasing

a/n : my bi-monthly drop!!!! wrote this for my dear friend adri, and me :3 but also because i just finished until dawn and this sexy man is EVERYWHERE… will be writing more of him soon. stay tuned ! ;)

you knew your limits when it came to alcohol, what you could handle and what you couldn’t.

but joshua washington had to be the world's best sweet talker. because you’d convinced everyone at the lodge you’d be the most sober.

now you were the only one slurring out a random song with an empty bottle of expensive vodka wrapped around your perfectly jeweled up and manicured hand.

“jooooosssshhhhh…” you slurred to him, clinging onto his bicep that felt oddly larger than usual. all he could do was give that signature sexy laugh and shake his head at you.

he was gentle with you, still obviously teasing but not to an extent.

the boy knew you weren’t 100% yourself when you got this drunk.

“mhm, that’s my name.” he said to you, the two of you weren’t necessarily separated from the group, but you weren’t close enough to be in their conversations.

that was always the case when the two of you were together.

but to him, close was never close enough.

you were rubbing your face all on his flannel, cheek chubbying up and only looking up at him through your eyelids.

eyes big and full of drunken content.

to him, you were just so pretty vulnerable.

the way he was looking down at you was almost straight out of a cheap porno.

his wide eyes, now low and full of an extreme emotion that your weak brain couldn’t understand.

but you had an idea that it was what you were wearing, not to toot your own horn.

soft layers: a tight white tank top stacked with a hot pink zip-up that had fur on the hood and graphics on the back, your tight denim shorts and fleece tights that were meant to keep you warm, but anyone with a right mind knew they were just for show.

technically… you had packed more outfits like this for the trip, but that’s because you weren’t expecting the cabin to be so bitterly cold.

so it wasn’t really even your fault.

in reality, you were dressing this way on purpose.

okay maybe you were dressed like this because you loved the attention.

the peering looks he gave you anytime you walked by, the snarky comments that left his perfect mouth.

who were you to blame? look at that man.

“feelin’ clingy tonight, huh?” he taunted, laughing in your face at the way you were holding onto him and gawking.

“me—? clingy? y’r funny, washington…” all you could do was stutter and stumble on your words.

he made you nervous and you were so intoxicated you could barely think before speaking.

holding him like this made you imagine all the possibilities. all the things you could be doing to each other right now.

and it almost felt like he was thinking the same, like you were always riding on the same wavelength.

you know something else you could ride on.

it was stupid to imagine but there’s always been a tension between you two, so thick and palpable that it left you knees-weak every time he flirted with you.

“let’s just cut the bullshit. c’mon.” before you could even process that he was talking to you, a rough set of calluses were wrapped around your forearm, tugging you somewhere in the lodge that you couldn’t quite comprehend.

the second you heard a door close behind you two, you realized you were in the master bedroom,

only knowing this due to the sudden change of temperature in the room compared to the living room.

“wha- aren’t they gonna n— notice that we’re gone?” you were confused, but you trusted him.

despite the evident look of hunger and lust in his eyes. you trusted yourself in his hands.

“i don’t care. i just needed to get you alone.” his mouth made its way to your ear, slowly, as his warm breath came to touch with your skin,

your body froze up at the sudden attention, making you feel warm. “y/n. almost years i’ve been fantasizing about you, ever since we met,” he paused and cautiously reached for your hips.

his hands were warm and you felt safe, once you processed his words you became putty in them.

“huh?”

was all you could mutter out, keeping yourself in place by grabbing onto his triceps, looking up at him through your full and wispy eyelashes.

“i’m sayin’ i wanna fuck you, pornstar. your skin is so soft and warm. i wanna know,” he paused to straighten himself up and look at you.

“i wanna know what it feels like inside that pussy of yours.”

drunk, he was drunk this had to be the drinks talking. there was no way this was real.

even if he was intoxicated, that didn’t stop his words from going straight in between your legs. arousal pooling onto your lacy panties.

could’ve sworn your eyes started to roll back at the dirty talk, he was so good at it too.

“y’don’t mean that—“ he quickly cut you off, pulling you in nice and personal and grabbing at the plush skin that was covered by tight denim. “i do. with every fiber in me, i swear i do.”

the physical attention was overwhelming, and the verbal one was even more intense. you didn’t know what else to do but to give in to something you’ve been praying for for so long.

you couldn’t even suck in a breath before he was crashing his lips onto yours.

it was a kiss that made you dizzy, you melted into it though, wrapping yourself onto him.

he led you backwards, kissing you still while he was walking, pressing your back against whatever wall was close; stabilizing you with his knee between your legs.

you were holding onto the hair on the back of his head for dear life, loving the hot and messy kiss so much that it turned you on.

all the sexual frustration of not getting any in almost a year turned you into some horn dog.

your head was spinning, you could barely make out a thought. josh’s hand began to unzip your jacket, sliding it off your body while his lips started roaming down your neck.

“i ca— can’t take it,” a whine slipped out of your lips, head turned to face away from him to hide away your embarrassment.

this didn’t stop him though, you felt him smile against your skin and only itch on more.

rutting your hips for you against his clothed leg while he started sucking ravishingly against your neck, josh himself could barely keep himself from grinning at how much he’s won.

josh was the type for messy and quick sex. but when he thinks of having it with you, he wants it hard and slow.

painfully slow. so he can make you take in everything, make you feel everything all at once.

his fingers started sliding off the straps of your tight shirt, lips starting to make contact with the plush skin of your breasts.

“so fuckin’ sexy. just like i imagined. you g’nna let me give it to you? hm?” he was teasing, words muffled by the way he had his lips wrapped around your nipple.

“god i can’t wait to fill you up. gonna tell chris how good this pussy is.” josh snickered, grinning at the mess he was making of you.

and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

he brought himself up to bite on your ear, hands teasing your breasts as your hips (which had minds of their own) kept grinding on his knee, the friction making your brain go into mush.

your mind was completely blown, blank and empty.

fingers were digging and wrinkling up his flannel as your mouth was agape.

you were all hot and bothered, needing and yearning for more.

if you felt this good only from foreplay, imagine how good being so full of his dick was gonna be.

you couldn’t wait.

you were letting out noises you didn’t even know you could make,

and he was barely getting started.

#heldbykento #fan fiction #until dawn #josh washington #josh until dawn #joshua washington #josh washington x reader #until dawn fanfics #reader x joshua washington #smut fanfiction #josh washington smut #writing

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maxivstappen · 4 months ago

Note

congrats on 1k again mel 🤍 i'm so proud of u!!

i'm requesting for ur event: the lyrics "you make me wanna fall in love" from "juno" by sabrina, and the driver is oscar piastri

౨ৎ MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE ‧˚. OP81

౨ৎ PART OF MY 1K EVENT & my short n' sweet series (not posted yet) ౨ৎ

summary — you said it was casual, but you both knew it wasn’t. he liked to tell people that he’s certainly not in love with you, so maybe you just had to make him fall in love.

a/n — thank you so much for your constant support ml🥹 im not too happy with how this turned out, but i hope you enjoy reading anyway <3 based on the song ‚juno’ by sab!

warnings — kinda smutty?? jealous!oscar, making out, very suggestive, hints of angst, english isn’t my first language, not proofread

It really wasn’t your fault.

You decided to keep it casual as to not get him into any drama, so that people know his focus was keen on racing - becoming a world champion and whatnot - and also for your sake, because the hate, if you weren’t used to it, really could become unbearable, and the last thing Oscar wanted was for you to have to deal with any of that, you were just way too precious to him for that. So the decision was made. No strings attached.

Stupid, right? No strings attached is something to settle on before being all the way into it. Because at that point of your relationship, there was no way to keep it casual anymore. The only way was to take a few things that had been said two or three times too often back. To leave it all behind and really only do those things for ‚urgent needs‘ . No more spending the night or cooking together or meeting up without the friend group or sneaking away from said friend group just so he could finally rip the dress you had been teasing him with all night right off of you. But he had other plans, he seemed to just keep going with it. Telling you how much he missed you every time he was back from the long weekends, repeating the same three words over and over again as he makes his way down your thighs, kissing every clothed and unclothed spot he could reach from under you.

The first time it happened it was simply an accident, at least that’s what you told everyone. At least that’s what you told yourselves. But your touch and perfume still lingered even after a week, so the next time you saw each other at a birthday party of one of your mutual friends, Oscar couldn’t keep his hands off you either. Confessions of being attracted were spoken out loud and the only thing keeping you from taking it farther was nothing more than a mental holdback. You were scared of the public. He was scared to see you hurt because of that.

After a weekend during summer break spent together you asked him to finally decide on where to go on from this. He blurted out that he’s not in love, so there was no reason for things to get complicated. Your breath hitched. Casual hookups was what he said. Friends with benefits, you chuckled, seemingly angreeing with him as to not make this situation any weirder, even if it hurt just a tiny bit. But he was right. You had a different idea of a perfect life than he had. Racing was his passion, being in the spotlight was part of the sport, and you couldn’t even handle having to hold presentations in class because you hated being the center of attention. You two were just too different.

So yes. It is his fault! Because if he’s really, after all these lovey-dovey moment shared, still not in love — like you admittedly were — then he should stop acting like he did. Why would he get you flowers every few weeks? Why would he gift you a whole vacation with your best friend including hotel, trips and things a sane person wouldn’t even ask for for your birthday, and the rest of your friends would only get a normal birthday card and occasionally whatever small thing they had wished for? If you were really just casual, then why did he treat you as if none of this was ever just casual at all? Why did he treat you like his girlfriend if he so confidently stated that he’s not in love with you just months ago?

He couldn’t expect you not to want him to fall for you too if he was the one who made you fall for him in the first place. As if the “casual” sex wasn’t enough already, he just had to do the most romantic shit for you as to not let you get over him at all. He wanted to play with your head, he made it obvious. Too many mixed signs, too many actions done but too little words said. Lucky for you and for him, two can play the game.

If he was sooo sure he’s not in love with you, which he just had to be, maybe you just had to make him realize his loss if he ever lost you. You had to make sure he knew that you were desired also by men who weren’t him, and since it‘s his fault you fell for him in the first place, he should be the one who has to face he consequences of not loving you back.

In other words, a little jealousy clearly wouldn’t hurt him.

You were getting ready in the bathroom of your apartment together with your best friend, “juno“ by Sabrina Carpenter playing in the background while you gossiped about whatever came to mind — including Oscar and you. It was a secret to everybody else, but not to her. She was the one you cried to after Oscar told you he didn’t have feelings for you.

You finished up your makeup with some lipgloss, and once you were final,y content with your accessories and outfits, you made your way over to your friend’s, jack’s, birthday. Everybody was there, including Oscar. And Lando. His only ally and his biggest rival. If that didn’t make him crack, then nothing would, but you decided to try, at least. Lando and you got along alright already when you had only just met, and he was the first man to point out that Oscar and you aren’t just friends, right?

So when you suddenly put your hand on his arm, slowly rubbing up and down his biceps, he was confused at first, and then caught up on your quick nod in Oscar‘s direction while holding eye contact with him. Lando didn’t mean to do him any harm, but as much as he loved his teammate, he would never be one to turn down an opportunity to mess with him like this, especially not if he knew it would, at last, make Oscar snap so he didn‘t have to listen to his hopeless whining about his relationship with you being oh so complicated. Just ball up and confess, man.

It was innocent at first. Just simple touches, your hand on his chest for just a tiny second because you needed something to steady yourself on as your reached behind him to grab your drink from the small table the couch stood in front of, or his arm around your waist when you all stood next to each other to take a round of shots. Lando was certainly amused and your best friend was winking and giggling at you the whole night, seemingly loving your plan, because Oscar was definitely reacting.

His blood was boiling and he wanted to punch that smug look right off of Lando‘s face. How dare he touch you when he knew that Oscar, his own teammate, loved you?

Oscar thought it was better like this. Playing pretend instead of facing the truth, and he was pretty damn good at doing so. He was sure you believed him when he said that he doesn‘t want your relationship to include anything other than moments of lust, he thought it was easier that way. He thought it would make things less complicated, thought he could live his life without having to put you in any danger, live his life without needing you by his side every second of his damned life if he just put some boundaries. Surprise! It only made things worse, plus apparently, guys seemed to think you were available now, thought they could have you like only he can. And it made him fucking furious.

So when you stood up to pour yourself another drink in the kitchen, he followed, of course not before shooting the other driver for McLaren a death glare. Lando sighed and leanded back in his seat, happy to see your man finally making a real move. He hoped so, at least. Oscar closed the door after entering. It was only you two now.

“Fancy another beer?“ You asked calmly, but the feeling in your stomach was far from calm. This could end in complete rejection, maybe he could see right through your façade and thought you were childish for doing this? But how could you not?! Oscar himself made you do it with his mix of signs every damn time you saw each other!

He shook his head.

The tension between you was palpable as he watched your every move, back turned to him. You felt awkward, but tried to ignore it. The light was dim, and you could still feel the bass vibrating through the floor and the walls coming from the speakers in the living room. Was music this loud even allowed at this hour?

You finished pouring yourself some more champagne when you saw him walking over to you in the reflection of the glass cupboard in front of you. You sucked in a breath, not daring to say anything, feeling slightly hazy from the alcohol you‘ve drunken in the past few hours already. His cologne became starker as he stepped closer to you, eyes closed as you let the familiar smell of him take over you completely. You only opened them again once you realized he caged you between himself and the counter, pressing himself against your behind. He started softly kissing down your neck behind your ear, almost tickling you with how light his lips felt against your hot skin. You wanted this, you wanted him. But his touch wasn’t nearly enough, you wanted all of him, and not just his body. Every yet so little interaction you had during the evening left you with butterflies going crazy in your tummy, yet he never seemed affected, not until Lando came into view. Did he really only want your body and not more?

“What were you doing with him, y/n?”

Nothing but a moan left your mouth as he gently bit into your skin, sucking on your sweet spot as you subconsciously rubbed up against him. You didn’t even want to reply, you just wanted him to keep caressing your skin with his mouth. “Tell me what you were doing with Lando, huh, baby? What were you thinking?”

“Oscar I-“

“Keep talking or I’ll stop,” he whispered as he made his way down your back and then back up your shoulder, kissing and mouthing at every spot. Thankfully your best friend had convinced you to wear the backless top, you thought.

You huffed. This felt so humiliating, but you couldn’t keep going like this, not when he makes you feel like this and then leaves like nothing ever happened. You lived a lie and it was time to stop.

“I was trying to make you jealous so that you would finally stop and do something!”

Oscar’s furrowed his eyebrows and stopped in his tracks, hands still on you. What were you talking about The tension came crashing down onto your body once again, his doing not distracting you anymore. You seemed to want to have this conversation, and Oscar could easily put some of his lust away in moments like these. You didn’t get a reply, the cue for you to turn around and face him. You were still caged between him and the counter, his hands steady on either side of you now as he leaned down to look at you. you couldn’t focus like this, not with him so close to you and with the alcohol running through your body like blood. You looked up at him with doe eyes, prettily batting your lashes even if your mascara was slightly smudged already.

“Stop what? Talk to me, please. I didn’t like seeing you with him,” he looked concerned. Worried even, worried about what he might have done wrong. He wanted to be with you, keep you as his, so why would you want to stop being exactly that?

“Why don‘t you love me?“ You whispered, tears forming in your eyes. You hated it, but it was inevitable. The confrontation was overwhelming you anyway, and being under the influence managed to make it a lot worse. Your hands were all shaky and so was your every breath as you anticipated his reaction, expecting rejection but still hoping for more.

“I- What? Why would you think that?“

“Maybe because you literally said so?“

“Uhm, okay fair point. Listen y/n,“ he sighed, and you could practically hear your heartbeat throbbing inside your chest. He thought for a second, but didn‘t say a thing. Instead, he grabbed your face and kissed you like never before, he kissed you with more than just passion, he kissed you with love. his fingers wiped away a tear that had rolled down your face, kissing and holding you as gently as he could. “Don‘t cry on me, y/n, please don‘t,“ he begged as he now kissed down your cleavage, leaving lovebites on your collarbones. “Was just being stupid, didn‘t wanna hurt you baby, thought long distance is too hard,“ he said something, anything to make you understand that the only reason he didn’t confess was because he was scared of his life not being compatible with yours, and not because he didn’t love you.

You smiled into the kiss once he reached your lips again. You‘d have to talk about it more tomorrow morning after taking some aspirin, you knew, after all, that you‘d go back home with him. It wasn‘t enough to make it official, you weren‘t boyfriend and girlfriend, but you finally had the guarantee that he felt the same way, that he loved you just like you did him.

Oscar swore himself at that exact moment, when he felt you smiling while his lips were dancing against yours, that he would never make you feel so unloved again. It wasn’t his intention in the first place, but seeing your beautiful eyes filled with tears because of him made his heart shatter, and he never wants to see you like that again, not if he was the reason for your pain. And even though you did have to make him realize through making him jealous, you certainly didn’t have to make him fall in love with you.

Because he already was.

౨ৎ general taglist / sns taglist ::

@norrisdriver / @1655clean

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svndaysaweek · 5 months ago

Text

Wanna Make You Mine — {Feat. Minji}

5k words

A/N: Hi, it’s been a while! I felt like I should write and post something, and here it is. This was not written in my best condition, but it’s Minji😌. Honored to have had @chunksworld as a beta-reader and an editor! If you find some amazingly well-written sentences most likely it’s from him haha☺️ Enjoy!

******

It was a few days ago when rain poured heavily, unexpectedly leading to one of the hottest encounters you have ever experienced in your life. And the more you reminisce, the bigger your smile grows, bittersweetly. If someone told you it was a dream, you’d buy that. A fever dream, albeit a short one. But it hasan everlasting lingering image carved in your heart. It was fire-hot, it was ice-cold. Like bubble gum you savor it when it tastes sweet, but it diminishes when the sweet is gone.

The day you forgot your umbrella is a day you will never, ever forget. It was a surprise, a super hot one to you. And like a hit-and-run, it stuns you, and then leaves, barely leaving any marks.

******

You don’t precisely remember since when, but there’s something about her that made her stand out to you. Multiple times you caught her looking your way then quickly avoiding your eyes–it happened enough for you to sense how unusual it is.

It’s not because she stands out; she doesn’t. She is considered by many as a model student and everyone likes her. Acing quizzes, straight A’s and with a courteous manner. She was given every admirable virtue in her heart, and radiates it like it’s her body odor. A waking proof that humans can be perfect. But she’s not the one to boast about it, keeping down people’s envy in the level of admiration and friendliness.

For you, Kim Minji is just another student who happens to be in the same school as you. Sometimes you get a nod as a sign of greeting from her and sometimes she just passes by. Still, everytime you run into her, her tranquil smile tells you how she became the model student that she is. Not a single person in this school would succeed in disliking her. You see how everyone says hi to her just to hear it back. And with no exception, she does. To you, too, of course. Sometimes she says “hi” first, and sometimes you do.

A respectable student. That’s it. Nothing less, nothing more.

******

Today it is raining. At this point, it’s plausible that God knows you didn’t bring your umbrella for the third time this month. Third time you brought an extra tumbler, third time you left your umbrella at home, and the third time it rained. Youthink of repenting but deep in your mind you know God owes you a big apology, not the other way around.

The downpour is heavy so you decide to wait in school knowing that it will die down in a few minutes, well that's what you hope because you don't want to risk getting any of your stuff wet.

You are and have always been a quiet kid in school—an introvert. Just the right amount of friends, not really prone to being bullied, a surprisingly average amount of female interactions and above-average grades. Just one of those boys who loves listening to music, watching movies and a bunch of other things.

Can’t spend a rainy day without music on your headphones, can you? Plus, it’s just you in this big hallway so you wear it and turn the jazzy classics on while you stroll lazily along the windows. You blindly step to the comforting rhythm of the song watching the droplets kiss the window. Guess you won't blame God for the rain this time.

You look at the dark gray concrete walls, white window frames, bright gray limestone floor, and the wooden doors of the classrooms you walk by. With the music flowing through your ears and rain crashing on the windows right in front of you, even the gloomy colors of the school building looks rather comforting.

So you walk, and walk, and walk until you’re back in front of your classroom. The rain has become a lot more silent than when it started and it’ll get dark soon. You want to spend your Friday evenings at home and not in school.

The rain will have stopped by the sunset and theair would beclean then. You wouldn’t want to miss the glow of the setting sun with such a crystal clear sky. You imagine the view it’d give you, which songs would be perfect to listen to and you just can’t hold a smile back.

“Oh! Oh… hey…” When you open the door, Minji is frightened by you. She looks disheveled from head to toe. Her hair is frazzled, her face ruddy, her breath heavy. But what’s more desecrating is that her shirt is open, her unblemished midriff has a layer of sweat-like liquid coating it, taint on her gray bra. All of it is sent to your brain to process, which causes it to cease functioning for a second.

“D-don’t mind me.” Then she rushes to what you assume to be the restroom Kim Minji, who has never even opened a button of her shirt in school before and yet you just saw her bare belly. You’re blushing, trying not to think about it but you fail miserably. It feels dirty to be like this—she isn’t one of those provocative types of girls to you… or she wasn’t.

But you can’t explain why she’s so frantic with her skin so exposed. Why was she so out of breath and sweaty? Why was she so surprised to see you and then proceeded to rush outside the classroom?

Has she been sacred or sanctimonious? Has she been exemplary or errant?

You know it’s a rash judgment.

You step inside the classroom then walk over to your seat where you find an oddly-placed puddle on the desk. Not as big as a spilled bottle of water, not as small as the drool you usually make when you doze off with your face buried in your arms during class.

You examine it by dipping your finger on it.

Definitely not water.

Then what?

“What's this?” You find a blue switch and pick it up.

“Hey,” Flabbergasted, you turn around so quickly that it slips out of your grip. It's Minji who's standing at the door frame, leaning slightly on the wall.

Her shirt is still open, and so are the stains on her bra and her messy hair. It seems like she didn't tidy herself up in the bathroom.

“Did you spill something on my desk, Minji?” For the moment you think that's what happened. Every clue provided to you is telling you just one thing, and you're pretty sure you got it right. Maybe she'll apologize, and you're going to say it's nothing and help her clean it up. She'll then thank you and say you're such a nice person.

Well, it sure is a possible series of normal things to happen.

Unless Kim Minji brings a crazy plot twist for the two of you only.

“No, I didn't.” And step by step she approaches you. The way she walks draws your eyes to her slick legs and the uniform skirt she's wearing: dark gray as always. But it hangs way higher than usual, so high and short that you almost catch a glimpse of her underwear.

You're just standing there still, wondering why she’s acting unprecedentedly strange. You don’t even recognize that she’s already just in front of you. You’re trying your best not to look at her breasts even when she slowly squats down to the floor.

“You dropped this.” You realize when Minji hands it to you that it is a switch. That she wants it in your hand and that she wants to see you flick your finger on it and turn it on.

“Minji, is this…?” There is only a shy grin on her face. Swear to god, you didn’t even imagine in your dreams that such a thing would happen to you. You’re yet to escape the stage of denial, to be honest. Where was the heads-up to begin with?

“Wanna try turning it on?” Her tone is so casual that you didn’t get it the first time. You’re just totally dumbfounded. Minji sees it, knows it and understands it.

“Go on, do it.” Her eyes are on your fingers. Her teeth dig into her bottomlip. Her eyelids flutter. Your thumb is now on the switch, ready to flick it on. Your thumb presses on it, just enough for the knuckle to whiten up, but not really turn it on.

Her arms hug your neck, and the moment she does, you flick the switch up. You didn’t mean to, but when she hugged you your thumb automatically moved so it was turned on with a clicking sound. An embarrassed gasp leaves your mouth.

But when she buries her face in the crook of your neck and moans all the gibberish improvised excuses building in your head washes away.

At the risk of sounding grandiose, it’s rather the situation she lures you in that is overloading you mentally. It hasn't even been 5 minutes since you ran into her.

“Y-you know…” At this point you can’t even imagine what’s going to unfold. If she confesses that she is in fact an alien from Saturn you’ll sense no absurdity. You’ll just breathe it in.

You feel her body shaking by how her weight changes every second. And you’re standing there like a dumb statue, not knowing where to put your hands, even when she’s almost climaxing mere inches away and your lust is getting completely heightened by it.

“I’ve had a crush on you for so long…”

No one couldn’t have ever anticipated that. For a moment you forgot to breathe; Minji has taken it away. And when she bites into your shoulder you gasp, feeling the tingling sensation rushing down your spine.

“I’ve liked you eversince the first time I saw you by the way.” She’s struggling to make her words distinguishable in between moans and hisses, while you’re struggling to come up with a proper reaction to what you’re currently experiencing.

This whole situation you find yourself in is so foul and so hot given that she’s one of the most admirable students of your school. She was supposed to be out of your league and yet somehow the timid and quiet boy is who she wanted all along.

“You’re going to make me cum…!” Hearing it coming through her lips makes your head spin, makes your cock throb painfully inside your pants. You don’t even expect yourself to think straight, nor want to think straight.

During the day she’s a model student, then after school she becomes a kinky pervert. It’s the least possible thing in your life to happen and yet here you are.

But when she cums and squirts on your pants, you’re proven very wrong.

“I… I like you.” Out of breath she whispers, still cumming and you support her by her bare waist. You switch off the toy and just let her go through the bliss of post orgasm.

As she comes down her arms let go of you, still panting. “Do you like me too?” That’s not even a question, as her eyes are on your shirt and her hands are already halfway down unbuttoning it.

“Minji…” You take her already open shirt off of her arms before fondling her breasts over her bra. Your eyes are fixed at the pair in your hands while you can feel hers glaring into your eyes.

“Mhm. Go on. Take as much as you like.” Her hands seductively unbutton your shirt, one by one, from the top down. She’s not in a hurry but in a matter of seconds your top vanishes. Then she puts her lips dangerously close to yours, hovering and tickling your lips with subtle skims.

“But don’t forget to let me do the same, okay?” She sounds so full of confidence but her face is as red as yours. The eyelock doubles and triples the heat between you two and when the distance is completely eliminated by a messy lip lock, your heart begins to beat out of your chest.

Her tongue is aggressive inside around yours. Her hand is already a hand of a luster, already sneaking down on your pants sending shivers up to the crown of your head so easily. You grab and unhook your belt, and Minji purrs delightfully when she sees your erection spring out ontoher belly.

“This is a yes, right?” Minji pushes you lightly, just enough for you to know that she wants you on the desk. Her tummy brushes against your erection as she climbs up to face you again after swiftly removing her bra. You’re met with her mouthwatering pair of breasts pressed against your bare chest.

“I don’t understand why…” Her fingers trace down your jawline to your lips. The placidity oozing out from her words is making you fret over—inside, you want her to take advantage of this one-way situation as much as she can. Your hands find her sweaty tits and fondle them softly, and she moans with a dreamy smile.

“But you kinda make me feel things. Unexplainable, but certainly that’s more than just love.” It's an overwhelming lust you obviously planted in her. You can see how ripe it is, and now you’re reaping it. It’s sweet, the flesh, the hue is so mature and obscene.

“Say something, hmm?” When you part your lips to say ‘I like you too’, however, her tongue ties a knot on yours. You feel the pace suddenly upshift when she strokes your cock slowly and when you involuntarily moan and flinch. Your breaths overload your lungs while your mouth has totally fallen by what the intertwined tongues are doing inside.

“Minji… I-I like you too.” You didn’t mean to just whisper it. However it somehow did work as the cue to make her start pleasuring you with her hand.

The smirk on her face is almost a burden to your already weary mind, topped with the anticipating lip bite. And those glaring, sly eyes which eventually force yours to squeeze shut. The sensation is too much for you to take in as it is, so your nails dig into your palms hard and your head tilts backwards.

You don’t look comfortable at all—you aren’t, with all the unreal touches and heated breaths being poured on your skin. But that doesn’t mean you’re not enjoying this, of course. Her hand is pumping your cock at a constant rhythm, her groaning voice matches yours as if it’s as tantalizing to her as well.

“I’m glad you said that.” As if her confession was to be ignored by you. It was more of a seduction than a platonic confession to think about. Not that you can properly think while you’re getting mentally wrung by her.

“You would’ve never known…” Minji slows down her hand around your throbbing cock. You open your eyes to be faced with her orbs mere inches away.

Lust doesn’t seem to have dispersed from the jetty pair of pupils. “...how many times you relieved my stress from all the studying.” She continues her lewd confession of her sexual fantasies about you which could’ve been kept a secret… But what more to hide when you two are touching each other’s sex and mixing body fluids?

When your fingers brush against her inner thighs, she hisses and tightens the grip on your cock. Nearing her core, you can feel the moist lust seeping out, leaking and running.

“Do you think about me often too? Who am I to you?” You hesitate. But she doesn’t want any lies. Nor do you.

“You’re just a… the model student of the school. A pretty one. A pretty, smart girl that I run into often.” You amazingly finish the sentence while riding off to the very edge of your patience under her bewitching strokes.

Just enough to feel incredibly heady but still seconds away from exploding on her hand. Your fingers aren’t idle either, as two of those smoothly enter her damp entrance. The tips of your fingers reach her toy inside and you pull it out slowly.

You see her belly flutter from the sensation of it. “Put your fingers in deeper,” She pleads as grinding herself on your fingers, situating you two in a mutual masturbation.

“I want to cum with you.” Her words trigger so many things inside you. Deeper and darker things, something the superficial you don’t possess. Something every guy would hide and keep deep under the surface and wait for the very chance to bring up.

Your fingers move, inside and out while hers move up and down. Both relentlessly, hungrily almost. The desire to see each other drown in bliss is paralleling the desire to feel it for oneself. You’re almost there, hoping that she is, too.

“Minji, I-I am… I can’t-“ You’re miserably stuttering, tongue twisted by how unblemished the sensation is from all sides—her soft hands working ever so hard and hot on the head of your cock, her lewd moans tickling your eardrums. Her face, that face making a look that just screams sex.

In no time you explode first, spurt after spurt in her hands as she still keeps on pumping it with pace. Your groan never dies down until you’re completely out of breath and strength.

Then Minji restarts grinding on your fingers that she stopped when you blasted the turbid pleasure on her fingers. You look up from her cum-coated fingers to her eyes, and it’s a head-spinning hypnosis that beams into your eyes from hers.

Dense, intense, a bit lethargic in a way and flooding with lust—seeing her crush cum in her very own hand, must’ve sent her into another galaxy at least, possibly another dimension. That is what sex can do even to a woman of high status.

“That was so hot. Now will you help me with this?” You already are when you’re snapped back from drifting off in the ocean of bliss.

“I will.” You literally sigh words out as you still are trying to regain your breaths. You lay her down on the desks and crawl up to level with her face, fingers still making the dirty wet sound.

Minji’s face is a mess; it’s red, it’s sweaty, in need, desperate. Her eyes are fixed on your lips, her mouth agape, breathing into your face, it’s hot, her hands touching and squeezing her own breasts, her throat vibrates into your teeth and tongue when you kiss and bite it. And it happens to splash you all at once like a tsunami, but without the premonitory phenomena.

Kiss her neck, jawline and back to her lips. Her tongue welcomes yours, and after a few seconds she screams into your throat airily with her hands holding onto your shoulders.

“I’m close, I’m close, I’m-Oh!”

Hearing her you circle her clitoris with your thumb and it sends her away to bliss. To a heavenly abyss, where she doesn’t want to be bailed out. She’s squirting too, which makes it even hotter aside from her orgasming on your fingers. The watery sound makes you want to push into her even deeper.

You’re hard as rock again in no time after seeing the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, the least touchable girl in your school cum under your body on your own fingers. In school, in your classroom, on the table.

“Oh my god, is that your bag?” It’s a black backpack that her secretion is dripping onto. Minji is more entertained than concerned to your eyes however, and so are you. You wouldn’t mind if your iPad is broken from all the water for now.

“No, I don’t care. Mine is over there I guess.” You’re not sure, but not that you ever want to be. Because your eyes lock before hers darting at your cock on her above her belly. Then she looks into you again. And that’s it.

“Do you want to-“

“Yes.” It doesn’t even need any brainpower to say yes. So you take your agonizingly hard cock to her entrance. First you rub it against her pussy slowly, and it makes her let out a small gasp.

Her hands are on your arms, tightly gripping. Her eyes, they’re fixed at yours, her beauty beaming at you, and it flutters when your tip enters her hot cavern. Her fingers dig a little deeper into your arms, her teeth into her lip, as you enter her bit by bit.

It’s a whole new sensation to be wrapped around the wet walls. And considering that this is your first time, it’s not odd to be totally enraptured and indulge deep in straight away.

“Mmm…!” Your eyes roll back when you push in until you can’t. The world around you narrows down to only you two, hot breaths, sweaty skin and a mutual high that you never want to be detached from.

“G-go on, I’ll make you feel good.” As if you need any more motivation to dive in.

Minji’s coquettish smile is the last thing you see before you spontaneously shut your eyes and groan as you go deeper and deeper. You’re barely breathing, barely thinking, barely sensing anything.

“F-fuck me…”

Her shaking voice cooing those words is a complete switch-off to your reason. She said it shyly, with a burning face and big eyes looking up at you—it must be her first time to do this—and single-handedly sending shivers up your spine.

“Ah… Mmm yes!” You begin to move, and even to the slightest moves she reacts so sensitively. Her walls are wringing around your cock, pulsing and matching her intermittent moans as you gradually, tantalizingly raise the pace.

It’s as if time itself ceased running. Just you and Minji, feeling every part of each other, moaning against each other’s skin, a locomotive with a broken brake. Broken brake, but with a fully functioning accelerator.

As you up the pace her hands find your shoulders for support as yours roam around her torso. Her sharp shoulders, to her perky tits, brushing your thumb on her stomach randomly, overloading her with your touches.

You lack subtlety and it’s even visible to yourself. Not knowing where to put your hands, not knowing what to say, only thrusting in and out and getting so worked up by hearing her moans and her face flooding with sex.

Eyes barely holding on, moans escaping her agape mouth along with her hot breaths, blushed cheeks. Her hands find the back of your head and pull you into a kiss, and it gives you the feeling of being possessed.

Like you’ve become hers.

Like you’re fucking her pussy and now kissing her with intertwined tongues for her, not for yourself. Which somehow, to your surprise, aggravates the lust deep inside you. A hidden need for the dynamics, even unseen to you.

Seems there will be plenty of time for you two to explore it further.

You go even faster in return for the kindling kiss she dragged you into. Her grip tightens, traps you in her arms—not that you ever want to escape—suffocating you with the sloppy lip lock.

And it throws a barrel of oil to your already-flaming fire. Your breath is completely taken by Minji, without any chance to get out, your will is rather on the side of dying with Kim Minji absorbing the last breath you have.

Soon her walls begin to pulsate around your cock, her screams that reverberate in your skull are now about to tip you over into unconsciousness.

“So good… I’m about to c-cum.” Her voice shakes. Your thrusts keep the pace, at a steady rhythm you’re pounding into her leaking pussy. The tightness goes up like crazy, her thighs lock your hips in and it makes you, forces you to discover her inside even deeper.

With every thrust Minji voices out how well your cock is stirring her inside. And the elevating tension in her moans lets you know how close she is to-

“Cumming…! Fuck!”

A trance. It is a frenzy, an ecstatic upheaval that overwhelms your patience, that demolishes the dam and lets whatever behind the wall flood in.

When her fingers dig painfully deep into your head, when her teeth leave an intaglio of her love, when her legs lock you in, for you to join her with the heady pleasure…

A streak of benumbing orgasm shatters your nerves as you paint her stomach and her heaving chest. It seems to never end, spurt after spurt until the repose is here. You can only stare at her—her still high face, cum-coated breasts and tummy heaving up and down.

You both are taking in the messed up view of each other, eyes locked but no words or signals delivered. You just stare into her eyes hoping that she makes a move on you first. To take you where she wants, perhaps. Another round could be awesome, but either way you’ll be so satisfied.

Together. With Minji.

“Let me bring something to clean-”

“No.”

Her hands snatch yours. Not strongly, but just soft enough to let you know what she means.

“Stay here for more… With me.”

******

“Hey. So… Can I ask you exactly when?”

Dark purple sky, humid breeze of midsummer. Clouds that showered the earth with their own bodies are now completely gone, and you and Minji are walking down the street towards the sunset.

“It was when you picked up my notebooks I dropped. You were putting on your headphones. Hair was just long enough to look good, and on top of everything… What I fell for was the smile on your face. I don’t remember the date it happened, but it was special. So special.”

Her fingers then sneak under your palm, in between your fingers and lock with yours together. It’s warm and soft. A romantic placidity under one of the most beautiful sunsets you’ve ever seen.

Her thumb lightly brushes on the back of your hand as you keep walking down the serene road. “But I don’t think you’ve wanted to do this since then, right? Not complaining, but it was quite an unexpected way of confession. Especially from you.”

Minji giggles with her crescent eyes looking down at the ground. “It’s been only weeks… I got so stressed out from studying and one day… I tried touching myself then I suddenly thought of you. Since that day, you know, it’s been like that.”

But there’s no shyness anymore. It’s not a secret anymore, at least between you and her. Nothing is. Nothing will be.

It’s a hot thing to think about. A girl touching herself thinking about you. And that girl being Minji is what surpasses your imagination. She even got caught pleasuring herself in your classroom today-

Or even that was part of the plan. You think of asking her about it, but at the same time, you don’t want to make any gaffe come out of your mouth. Right now is where the tinge of romance should fade in, not that.

“You can, you know, call me honey… If you… want…” Minji’s grip on your hand gets tighter as her shy laughters follow. It immediately makes your face burn. You look at her and find that it’s doing the same to her too.

“Okay, Minji-I mean, honey.” You feel your face drumming to the beat of your heart. But it doesn’t hide the happy smile on your face.

A girlfriend.

And a boyfriend.

It’s mutual from now on. The first love in your life starts.

“It’s my home already.” She stops in front of a white two-story house and turns to you.

“Alright, goodbye, honey.” You let her hand go but it doesn’t leave yours. Instead, a zesty grin blooms on her face and she hums an airy chuckle.

“Not before this.”

Her lips find yours. They don’t open, but it’s a kiss filled with heartiness, a long peck, with an artificial smacking sound made by her.

“See you tomorrow honey!”

******

It is raining just like yesterday; you forgot your umbrella just like yesterday too. And you decide to stay at school until it stops.

As if you’re seeing a deja vu of yesterday.

Only if you could see a deja vu of yesterday.

Minji didn’t run into you today. She didn’t come to your class to say hi. She didn’t come to her class.

She didn’t come to school today.

The day passed uneventfully just like yesterday. Class after class, lunch breaks and “see you tomorrow”s from classmates. But painfully, the only one who said it yesterday with a kiss wasn’t here to keep her words.

And the day ended just like that. No sign of Minji.

“You heard that?” Just before you put on your headphones, something penetrates your ears.

“Minji moved to New York!”

What?

You almost shouted but managed to deal with that.

First, it’s denial that hits you.

“What do you mean? I saw her just yesterday!” The other guy looks as confused as you are.

Second, the word ‘why’ comes up in your head.

“I don’t know, man. Everything I heard was the teachers talking that there was a sudden incident that left no choice for her family but to move.”

Third, denial again.

You wanted to stand up and ask them, but what you are going to get is a weird look and a “Why do you even care?”

Didn’t she tell me ‘see you tomorrow’?

It’s all complicated for now.

Maybe you yourself are to blame for not asking your girlfriend’s number.

But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

It was your first love, starting hot yet pure.

Now it’s as if all was a reverie.

The air you breathe hasn’t changed, the classes you attend were the same, it rained like yesterday, and your umbrella stayed at home again.

But there was no Minji, although you still hear her merrily say-

‘See you tomorrow, honey!’

******

#kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #minji smut #newjeans smut

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