#I’m going to be so insufferable when this movie comes out

[metallicabirder]

you can’t catch me now (olivia rodrigo tbosas) has the same kinda witchy sentiment as silver springs and I wish I had any editing ability bc can you IMAGINE a Lucy Gray edit to silver springs! Her voice (the mockingjays) will haunt Snow until his death and he never fully escapes her (as evidenced by the bird imagery surrounding both maysilee and Katniss, both headstrong girls from 12, his violent dislike of both mockingjays and underdogs, etc). All of the edits of rue and prim and Lucy Gray to you can’t catch me now are so good and like it’s just this feeling of placing a curse on snow that’s WOW

[phox-129]

New icon bc I have been thinking abt spiderverse a lot recently

[crookedteethed]

18+ slight smut (unprotected piv), sex tapes, mentions of anal, jealous!reader, weirdo behavior

⋆ ★ thinking about how dad!rafe constantly gets hit on by slutty moms and how you have to come in and set them straight : (

Rafe loved his baby girl, but he would bash his fist into the wall if he had to listen to Somewhere Over the Rainbow get played as he watched his little girl prance around in her ballet class one more time. 

Don't get him wrong, Rafe loved spending the daddy-daughter time with his little girl, and it was something (even more) persuasive about your daughter wearing an adorable pink tutu that made him agree to get ice cream after Every. Single. Class.

It was the other parents (and The Best of Oz) who made it so insufferable—not just the other parents—the moms. 

The dads were particularly cool. They typically sat there like Rafe, hunched over into a man's spread, aggressively typing on their phones. 

But the moms--no--the fucking moms always wanted to talk, but not just talk, flirt!

The moms were like cougars, always purposely sitting down next to Rafe, peering over his shoulder, debating whether they should talk to him. 

When they finally do muster enough courage to talk to him (the ones that do), they typically say some dumb shit, like: 

"My heart always goes out to single fathers; it does. I’m single, too. We should grab a drink sometime.”

It was only Cynthia Fucking Allen that asked Rafe dumb shit like this. 

It was dumb because she knew that Rafe wasn't a single father and knew well that you two were happily married. 

The other moms were never as Bold as Cynthia. They typically just tried to talk with Rafe to talk to someone as attractive as he was—which Rafe didn't mind.

Cynthia was a cougar because she didn't fear rejection. She'd never turn down an opportunity to make a pass at Rafe--whether it was inviting him over to dinner or trying to set up "supervised playdates” (which Rafe had always turned her down) or going as far as complimenting his derrière in his khakis.

And though Cynthia's constant badgering was becoming a nuisance to Rafe, Rafe never needed to cut into Cynthia because deep down, Rafe had felt bad for the woman.

Rafe had once heard from you, who heard from one of the other mothers that Mr. Allen, Cynthia's husband, had filed for a divorce. So maybe she was just trying to get her groove back or something, Rafe thought.

Shockingly, you were the one to snap and cut into Cynthia for her nuisance behavior, finally. 

It was a stupid and risky idea, and you don't know what had come over you, honestly. It was something the Queen Bee would do in a raunchy teen movie. 

You had sent Cynthia a video of Rafe full-on fucking you. 

And I mean, you went all out. A tripod was set up and everything. 

It was an 11-minute length video of Rafe fucking you in two positions. 

For five minutes straight, Rafe took you from behind--your plush ass dangling off the edge of the bed as Rafe pounded into your sopping loud cunt, standing up, with his thumb occasionally pressing into your asshole.

With each thrust from Rafe's hips was met with your ass, causing the skin-on-skin slapping to fill the room. 

And then for another five minutes, he fucked you in missionary--with your legs pressed to his sides, Rafe sucking and biting your neck and cursing in your ear about how this is "Your dick."

You had made sure to include a minute of Rafe jacking off and cumming on the folds of your pussy and onto your clit. Then, you told Rafe to hurry up and grab the phone and record him fucking his cum deep inside of you because you were the only one indeed that owned Rafe's cock, and seemingly Cynthia needed to be reminded of that.

When you sent the video to Cynthia, you set it on vanishing mode and made sure it was to be deleted as soon as she finished watching it, so if she ever mentioned it, it was her word against yours.

You never told Rafe about sending Cynthia your sex tape, and Cynthia never brought it up, but you knew she had gotten the message since she never bothered Rafe again afterwards.

[milfsdoll]

Did I tell you how beautiful you are, already?

Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Your best friends drag you to a club to celebrate finishing college, and when you cross eyes with a stunning older woman it makes you do something you’ve never done before.

Warnings: +18, smut, alcohol, soft dom!Agatha, sub!reader, oral sex, finger sex, strap on, choking kink, praise kink, etc.

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: Just a reminder that English is not my first language, and... I might have got carried away writing this.

Masterlist

“Come on, please, do it for me?”

Your roommate, Yelena, has been begging you to go to a club with her and her girlfriend Kate for a whole week, you weren’t the type to go partying, so many people in such a tiny space overwhelmed you, but you just finished your last day at college and Yelena really wanted to celebrate it with you. 

You have been studying and working so hard for the last four years she wanted you to get loose just this once “you deserve a break, come on” she whined following you around the apartment while you went to have a shower.

Maybe you did need a night out…

“Fine” you scoffed turning around to look at her, her face breaking into a excited smile “just for a few hours ok? I don’t want to spend the whole night out” 

Yelena squealed and hugged you tightly “it’s gonna be the night of your life!” 

You really doubt it, you’d prefer spending the night watching a movie with them and drinking the, really bad, cocktails Kate did, but well, I guess you could make the best out of tonight. 

“Yeah, yeah… let me shower in peace now” you chuckled and she ran to her room, hearing a too enthusiastic ‘yes!’ From Kate “these two…” you whispered to yourself before getting into the shower. 

You spent the next two hours getting ready, doing your make up and the girls’, this was the only part you really enjoyed about going out, getting ready with music blasting from your tv, you and Yelena laughing watching Kate dance her soul out.

“I hope you’re taking me to a only women club or something, I don’t want to spend the whole night rejecting guys” 

“You really think we’d ever go to a club with straight people? Oh no, we’re going to a gay bar, maybe you’ll find a girl to distress yourself a little bit”

“Hey!” You looked at her with a shocked face, making her burst into laugher “whatever” you rolled your eyes, trying to hide your blush as you turned to the two outfit options you had laid out on your bed.

You’ve been on a dry spell for like… a whole year probably, you don’t even remember the last time, since you broke up with your girlfriend you drowned yourself in your career and you job at the university cafe, deciding you didn’t want any distraction from finishing it.

Shaking your head to get out of those thoughts you studied the clothes in front of you, the first outfit was some black plain pants and a lace corset, and the second one a black mini skirt with a deep v neck red top “that one” Kate pointed to the skirt and top “I’m sure you’ll get laid if you wear that top” You groaned at the pair laughing at your flushed face, you shoved them out of your room and got ready, opting to agree with Kate.

Not on the last part tho…

You paired the outfit with your favorite black leather boots before going to the living room where the pair was “ok I’m ready, we can go now” you said making sure you had everything in your purse when you heard Yelena whistling and Kate saying something you didn’t even catch “god you two are insufferable, let’s go” 

They knew how shy you got when they hyped you up, and they really loved doing it.

The three of you got an Uber to go to the club, neither of you knowing if you could drive back home later, so you decided for the safer option.

You spent the ride laughing and chatting a bit, finally out of the stress of college, telling what you were going to do now, your plans and dreams for the future. You’d take a year off, deciding to travel around before getting tied down by studying for two more years, you’ve been saving for it these years, and you were gonna live the best time of your life visiting places, you were sure of that.

When you arrived to the club you stared at the entrance, a few people seated outside, smoking and chatting, while Yelena paid the driver, she insisted the whole night was on her, and honestly, you weren’t going to complain a bit “it will be fun, I promise” Kate pushed your shoulder with hers playfully, sensing your anxiety “let’s go” she held your hand and guided you inside.

The loud music reached your ears, it made your whole body shake from the vibrations, the warm lights making you ease your nerves a bit, you looked around, sighing in relief when you only saw women on the dance floor and the bar, you didn’t have anything against men but you really didn’t want any near you, not tonight at least.

“I need a drink” you announced the pair who was already dancing, chuckling slightly at them “do you want any?” You were sure you were gonna end with a hoarse voice tonight, having to yell over the loud music so they could hear you. Yelena nodded at you and gave you her credit card.

She really was going to pay for everything. 

You walked to the bar, already feeling a few eyes on you, you sighed and sat on one of the stools “three shots of tequila please” you almost yelled to the waitress, she just winked at you, in a friendly way, and started making your shots. 

You looked around while you waited out of boredom, your body slightly swaying to the music, when you looked to your left you saw a woman at the end of the bar, her eyes already on you as she talked to a redhead woman who got her back to you, when you felt her gaze running your figure up and down you immediately turned your head, your cheeks feeling hot.

You couldn’t really see her very clearly but… you could tell she was attractive.

“Your shots” the voice of the waitress pulled you out of your thoughts, you thanked her before paying and made your way to the girls, not without glancing again to the brunette woman, who was still following you with her eyes. 

“What’s with the flushed face?” Yelena raised an eyebrow at you while taking her shot, Kate taking her as well.

“Nothing” you just shrugged it off and downed your shot, the hot liquid in your throat making you hiss, the couple glancing at each other shocked, but deciding to let it go.

Kate pulled you to the dance floor, the three of you starting to dance to the music, shouting along the lyrics, but you couldn’t shake that older woman from your head, that wavy wild hair and those blue eyes checking you out.

It felt like she put a spell on you. 

Yelena came back with another round of shots, downing them immediately she discarded them on one of the nearest tables. You started to feel the liquor easing your mind, your worries about your life slowly disappearing, only feeling the music and the lights above you. 

Closing you eyes dancing to the beat like you were the only one in the club, it’s been so long you didn’t feel this way, not caring about anything or anyone, you made a mental note to thank Yelena for convincing you to come, maybe you would regret it tomorrow morning when the hangover arrived but you didn’t care a bit about that now.

When you opened your eyes you realized you lost the couple, looking around the dance floor you saw them far from you, dancing and practically making out in front of everyone, you giggled at the view and turned around, ready to go to the bar when you saw her, right in front of you still sitting at the stools. You paused for a second, watching as she sipped her drink calmly looking away from you.

Your eyes travelled her form, how the suit hugged her figure in all the right places, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up to her forearms making her look even better, your gaze went to her face again, admiring her side profile, that prominent jaw, watching how she licked her lips after sipping on her drink again, and then her eyes landed on you.

Fuck.

Suddenly everything went quiet around you, you could only hear the music blurry in the back, your heart pace quickening, only focusing how the woman winked at you, in a way of saying she caught you staring, but the smirk she wore told you she didn’t mind a bit.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just the way her eyes encouraged you to do something, but you felt a wave of boldness in you, making your way towards the woman, her smirk widening at the act “hi” you told her your name, you were sure she could hear your heartbeat, you felt like it was going to pop out at any second.

“Agatha” she simply told you, grabbing your hand assuming she was going to shake it, but your breath hitched when she took it to her lips, kissing the back softly “can I buy you a drink?”

You just nodded, your voice failing you to let any word out and she just chuckled at that, finding your flushed reaction really cute “come sit with me, beautiful” she patted the stool next to her, you didn’t hesitate sitting down, trying to hide your blush with your hair a little “you want something in special?” 

“Whatever you’re drinking is fine” you smiled at her, seeing how her lips pursed in a hum, her eyes lingering on your legs for a second, making you more flustered if that’s even possible. 

She ordered the drink before turning her attention to you again “might sound like a cliche but, are you here all alone?” God her voice, that deep, slightly raspy voice, it sounded hypnotizing.

“No” you giggled and shook your head “I came with my friends, who almost dragged me here, but now they are somewhere making out” you shook your hand towards the dance floor, making both of you chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad they did, it would have been very bored for me otherwise” 

“Oh? How’s that?” You raised an eyebrow at her and sipping the drink the waitress laid in front of you.

Agatha got closer to you, her chin resting against the palm of her hand “you’re the only one who seemed interesting in this place” her other hand carefully sneaked it’s way to your knee, her finger tips dancing through your skin, quietly asking for permission.

You grabbed her hand in yours and put it flat on you upper thigh, making the older woman bite her lip, her thumb caressing your skin “the feeling is mutual then” 

Your eyes stared at each other for a minute, you could cut the tension between you with a knife, and when you felt her move towards you, her lips parting a little, you suddenly stood up, you were not gonna fall that easily.

The fun just started. 

“Wanna dance?” You held your hand to her, seeing as she chuckled in disbelief.

“Oh no sweetheart, I don’t dance” 

“Too bad, I’ll have to dance alone then” 

You sighed dramatically and walked backwards to the dance floor, wiping a fake tear from your eye. Agatha shook her head at you, secretly loving the show you were putting on.

When you hit the dance floor you slowly started to sway your hips to the music, you hands traveling up from your sides to your head, tangling them in your hair as you closed your eyes, turning around so she could get a perfect view of your backside. 

Her eyes never left your form, watching you dance so deliciously, eyes going from your swaying ass to your fabric less back, noticing your floral tattoo for the first time making her breath hitch, her fingers twitching around her glass, imagining how it would be to feel your soft skin under her touch.

She gulped down the rest of her cocktail and stood up, making her way towards you, carefully sneaking her arms around your hips not to scare you “you are something else, you know that, doll?” Her low voice whispered right into your ear, making goosebumps raise all over your skin, a shiver running down your spine. And when you went to turn around she held you back tightly, pushing your back to her front “nah ah”

You let out a gasp, your hands holding her wrists that rested on your abdomen, her hips started guiding yours, making you both moving in unison, you felt her breath on your neck, moving your head to the side making room for her to plant a light kiss just under your ear, one of her hands guided yours to the back of her neck, your fingers interlocking into her hair.

“For someone who doesn’t dance, you move pretty good” you turned your head so you were looking into her eyes, your teasing smirk making her chuckle darkly.

“You have no idea…” she rubbed her nose against yours, feeling her breath against your lips, your eyes flickering between her mouth and her eyes, she slowly turned you around, her fingers softly caressing your spine.

It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to someone, feeling her soft hair around your fingers as you scratched the back of her head, her eyes never leaving yours, she made you feel shy under her gaze, biting your lip you looked away from her.

But it didn’t last a second, her hand grabbed your chin and made you look back at her, her thumb pulling your lower lip from your teeth, stroking it slowly “if I kiss you now, will you pull away from me again?” She asked with a teasing tone, her eyebrow raising for a second.

You just shook your head, looking up at her with doe eyes “I wouldn’t dare” you whispered, your breath hitching as she closed the gap between your lips, you closed your eyes, your lips parting a little, waiting for the woman to finally kiss you, but after a second of waiting you felt her laugh under her breath as you looked at her again, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, she was smiling diabolically, ghosting her lips against yours but never properly kissing you.

With a huff your hands grabbed her cheeks before pulling her towards you, your lips finally meeting, causing Agatha to hum in surprise but kissing you back without hesitation, her arms on your lower back pulling you flush against her “eager, are we?” She hummed between kisses.

“Shut up” you bit back letting out a chuckle, but the woman didn’t like that, her teeth biting you qlower lip in a warning before her tongue intruded your mouth, making you moan into her mouth.

She liked control… 

Good. 

The kiss was soft, but intense, she tasted like sweet alcohol, her hands squeezing your hips, and when she pulled away for air you pouted, already missing her addictive soft lips.

And when she was about to comfort you she saw two girls behind you, looking at the two of you not very subtly, she turned to you clearing her throat “I hope those are your friends” 

“What?” You looked at her with a questioning face before she pointed to them with her head, you turned around, her hands never leaving your body, when you saw Yelena with her arms crossed and raised eyebrow playfully and Kate giggling behind her “oh come on” you groaned and hid your face in your hands. 

“Oh no, don’t mind us” Yelena said with a smirk “we were just about to leave, are you… coming home with us or…” she looked between you and Agatha. 

You turned to Agatha, not really knowing what to do, you didn’t want to leave at all, not now, but you didn’t want to go home alone later “you can come to my place if you want” she whispered in your ear and winked at you, making your face flush red, your breath shaking for a moment. 

“Are you sure?”

“More than sure” she squeezed your hip and nodded at you confidently.

You turned back to the girls, perfectly knowing they saw and heard the interaction “I’m staying, don’t worry about me” 

Yelena nodded before turning to Agatha “I don’t forget a face, so be careful with her, or be sure I’ll search for you”

“Yelena!” You huffed at her in disbelief, leaving Agatha’s hold to push your friend away before she embarrassed you any further “I will call you if anything happens, I promise” 

“I told you the top would work!” Kate squealed behind you, making you blush even harder.

“Yes, yes, now please go” you whined looking at her desperately, she gave you a quick hug and a ‘have fun’ whisper before dragging Yelena out of the club. You sighed in relief before going back to Agatha, who was trying to hold her laugh with her hand over her mouth “God, I’m sorry” 

“Hey, they’re just looking out for you, it’s cute” she chuckled and pulled you close to her again by your waist, it was cute really, seeing how protective they were of you, she wished she had someone like that in her youth, it would have saved her from a lot of unwanted situations “now… do you want to go to my place?”

“Right now?” 

She hummed nodding her head “only if you want to, of course” the last thing she wanted was making you uncomfortable “we can walk, I only live a few blocks from here” 

“I do want to” you reassured her, holding her hand and squeezing it, and you two walked outside, hand in hand Agatha guided you to her house. 

You made a little chat, talking about meaningless things mostly “are you cold?” She said seeing you shiver at her side, you just shook your head, telling her you were ok, but she just took off her blazer and placed it on your shoulders “if I let you freeze I’m sure your friend will kill me” you both chuckled at that, it was true, if you came home with a cold Yelena would certainly kill the woman.

Soon you arrived at her place, it was nice, a cute house in a neighborhood, she let you inside before her, allowing you to look around a bit “I wish to have a house like this some day” you smiled at her, following her to the kitchen. 

“If you work hard enough you’ll have it in a few years” she winked at you, watching as she grabbed two glasses from a cabinet, she poured you both some wine “and something tells me you’re a smart girl” 

That made you blush “well I just finished college, that’s why my friends wanted to go partying” you said while hopping on her island.

“Cheers to that then” she clicked her glass with yours before sipping it “What did you study, if it isn’t much to ask?” Her hand stroked your upper thigh, making you hold your breath for a second. 

Her touch was just so… electrifying, so warm, it felt so good, you didn’t know this woman at all, but you knew you wanted to feel her touch everywhere, her voice praising you right in your ear.

“I studied creative writing”

You earned a curious hum from the woman, seeing how she made herself comfortable between your legs “I want to be a writer, but I have to get my master’s degree to get a good job, but my brain is so fried of studying I’m going to take a year break and maybe start writing my first book, who knows? It might blow up and I won’t have to study anymore”

The woman listened to you, paying attention to every word you said, a smile growing on her lips “that’s very interesting, and I’m looking forward to read your book” she squeezed your thigh, making you giggle “it’s true, I’ve always admired the creativity of the writers, or of the artists in general”

“Yeah, it takes a lot of imagination” you hand played with her shirt “what do you do, if I can ask?”

You didn’t know why but you wanted to know everything about the woman, you were sure she has lived a lot of adventures, the decoration of her home agreeing with you, it was full of paintings and sculptures of all around the world. And she did tell you, she told you she was an archeologist, how she has travelled all around the world, studying about all cultures and collecting so many treasures. 

Her eyes glowed when she talked to you about her job and her trips, and you loved it, you wanted to be like that someday, being proud of who you were and what you have done.

She was inspiring.

You didn’t know when or how but you ended in her living room, seated on the couch facing each other, wine still in hand, Agatha asked you about where you wanted to travel this year, telling you advises and warnings from the places she had been.

She told you stories, anecdotes, you spent hours talking, it felt so easy with her, you’ve never met anyone this interesting.

You were both laughing at something she said, your hand fell on her thigh softly for support, when she suddenly grabbed your glass and discarded it on the coffee table with hers, when she sat back she pulled you close, pulling your now bare leg over her lap “you are really beautiful, you know that?” She said wiping a hair out of your face, her thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“I could say the same thing about you” you smiled at her, your lips kissing softly the palm of her hand.

“I’m old” she scoffed and bit her lip.

“You’re not that old, and so what if you are? I’ve always found older women gorgeous” you made yourself comfortable on her lap, your hands stroking her collarbone and neck “and you are gorgeous”

Agatha just hummed and pulled you closer, her hands laying comfortably on your bottom “well thank you, sweet girl” she planted a kiss on the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, making her way down your neck, causing you to gasp, your hands going into her hair.

“Agatha…” you breathed out, her teeth biting on you pulse point “please… kiss me” she turned her head to look at you, admiring the love bite she just left on your neck.

“Such a good girl” she hummed, her nose rubbing against yours softly “let me hear you beg for me a little more, hm?” 

You pouted at her, yours hands traveling down to her shirt, unbuttoning it slowly “please, I need to feel your lips everywhere, I need you, please Agatha” 

“Everywhere, huh?” She asked, making you nod eagerly “I can’t deny such an obedient girl then” she said before her lips were on yours, how she perfectly molded your lips together, her tongue dominating yours into your mouth, it was intoxicating, addictive even.

The woman stood up from the couch, wrapping your legs around her middle as she walked up the stairs, holding you tightly so you wouldn’t fall, her lips only parting from yours for air, immediately yours landed on her neck kissing and nipping softly, hearing how her breath hitched with your act.

When she arrived to her bedroom she laid you on her bed softly, seeing her stand on the end, her hair a mess from your hands, her lips puffed from the kiss, her shirt half unbuttoned, showing the purple lace bra underneath it made you shiver, your thighs closing on their own, feeling how wet you were already, it was embarrassing. 

“None of that, open your legs for me”

Her eyes darkened suddenly, her voice lowed an octave while she finished taking off her shirt, throwing it somewhere in the dark room. You obeyed of course, your legs opening for her causing your skirt to ride up, your eyes never leaving hers, watching as she crawled the bed on top of you, her lips kissing the naked skin between your breasts.

“You’re too dressed for my liking” 

You felt her hands pulling your top upwards, and you raised your arms so she could take it off completely “fuck” she whispered when she saw your bare chest, her fingers softly dancing around them “did I tell you how beautiful you are already?”

“Yes” you said gasping out, you felt her lips wrap around your left nipple, making your back arch from the mattress, your hands holding her hair, she just hummed and turned to your neglected nipple, tugging it carefully, earning a moan from you.

She was already addicted to your sounds, loving how you hips rolled into her with every touch, she wanted to hear you scream her name, to have you ruined beneath her, only the thought of that made her core clench into nothing.

On your end you were trying to ease your breath, it’s been so long without any kind of intimate touch you were so fucking embarrassingly soaked already, but you were sure if it was with anyone else you wouldn’t feel like this, her touch was like magic, it made you feel so freaking good.

Agatha kissed her way down your stomach, leaving marks here and there, loving how they looked on your pale skin, when she reached your skirt she signaled you to lift your hips, her hands pulling the fabric down before discarding it on the floor “oh my sweet girl…” she almost moaned at the sight of your ruined panties “I didn’t even start yet” 

Her fingers ran down the wet spot, making you whine and hide you face in your hands “I’m sorry” you whispered out.

“Don’t be… it’s fucking hot” she pulled your hands out of your face, the smirk on her face reassuring you she was being truthful, you nodded, watching her slowly pull your panties down your legs, your breath hitching in anticipation.

You only saw how her face changed, seeing you completely naked, spread out on her bed with her marks all over you, waiting for her next movement impatiently, your hips slightly moving on their own, you looked perfect, she wished she could take a picture of this moment.

With luck tonight would only be the first of many.

She started kissing your knee, painfully slowly making her way up your thigh, feeling her breath over your mound as she continued her tease on your other thigh “Agatha please” you huffed desperately, your fingers wrapping her sheets tightly “just fuck me please”

Agatha chuckled, deciding to put mercy on you before her tongue ran through your folds, making both of you moan, you tasted like heaven, and she made you feel like you were in heaven.

She wrapped her lips around your puffy clit, her hands pining your hips down into the mattress with force, never taking her eyes from your face, seeing how it squirmed in pleasure, your head arching back into her pillow, your moans increasing with each movement of her tongue, she played with your entrance with her fingers, rubbing your wetness all over you hole.

Your hands flied to her hair when you felt her finger slowly pushing inside of you, she groaned at how easily you let her, yet how tight you felt, her mouth never ending the abuse on your clit, nipping and sucking on it, hearing how your voice failed you to let any sound, only gasps and broken moans. 

“You feel so good” she moaned biting you thigh “being such a good girl for me” she felt you clench around her finger, slowly pushing another one in, keeping her pace slow but deep.

Your mind was blurred, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t talk, just feel her long fingers inside of you, curling and spreading, your climax growing quickly in your lower stomach, hearing her praises, how good you were taking her, how good you felt around her fingers, it was maddening you. 

She could tell you were close, so close, your cunt tightening her fingers, your moans getting louder, you legs slightly shaking already, she had to be face to face with you, needing to see your expression when you came for her, her thumb continued stimulating your clit, her lips kissing your neck, going up your jaw.

“Cum for me” 

Her deep voice in your ear made your insides snap, crying out her name you reached your orgasm with force, your back arching into her, seeing stars through your closed eyes. Agatha helped you ride your high, her fingers slowing their pace, staring at your blissed out face, how a smile broke into your lips.

She carefully pulled her fingers away, watching you open your eyes and looking into her eyes, your breath slowing easing, she brought her fingers to your lips “suck” she said, your mouth immediately opening for her, wrapping your lips around her digits, cheeks hollowing as you suck on them, your tongue cleaning them whole.

“Such a good pet you are” 

Fuck yes, that pet name, if anyone else said that to you, you would have laughed, but coming from her… it made you immediately wet again, a shiver running down your spine.

Pulling her fingers out of your mouth she attached her lips against yours, biting your lower lip before her tongue intruded your mouth, you both could taste yourself on your mouths “can you go again for me, pet?”

How could you deny her?

“Yes” you said breathlessly, pulling her into another kiss before she stood up from the bed “wait, where are you going?” You whined after her, hearing her chuckle and disappear into her large walk in closet.

A few minutes later she walked out, fully naked and with a harness around her hips, a big, purple, strap on standing proud and tall “fuck” you let out in a breath, admiring her beautiful body, her long wild hair now in a messy bun.

“Like what you see, doll?” 

The cocky smirk she wore on her face told you she already knew the answer, watching her walk to the bed, like a hunter walking to it’s prey, her hands landing on your waist as she got on her knees on the mattress, waiting for her to do whatever the fuck she wanted with you.

You were willing to take whatever she wanted to give you.

Suddenly she turned your figure around, manhandling you however she pleased, bending your knees, making you stand on your elbows, her hand wiping away the hair from your back, her fingers following down the pattern of your back tattoo.

It made you giggle, just for this moment it was worth the six hours you laid still getting the tattoo a few months ago.

“You like it?” You said in a teasing voice, turning your head to the side so you could look at her.

“You have no idea”

She hummed her hand making it’s way up your back again, stopping at the back of your neck, slowly she wrapped her hand around your throat, squeezing just the right amount to make your core clench around nothing, you mind suddenly fogging in submission “is this ok?” She whispered against you ear.

You just nodded, afraid your words would fail you.

“I need words, pet”

“Yes, fuck yes” you whined out, feeling her length slightly rub against your wetness.

Agatha chuckled at your state, you were so pathetically desperate, it was adorable. She planted a kiss on your shoulder, her free hand guiding the strap to your entrance, seeing how you rolled your hips into it impatiently, your fingers holding the sheets so tight you knuckles became white “one rule, you won’t cum until I say so, got it?”

She didn’t let you answer, feeling the large toy slide into you, making you hide your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your loud moans, but the woman wasn’t having that, her hand on your throat sliding into your hair, pulling your head out of the pillow “I want to hear you, pet” she moaned into your ear, the heavenly sound causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. 

“I-Is it-?”

“Double sided? Fuck- yes” she hissed between thrusts, it wasn’t fair, at all, hearing her moans and grunts into your ear as she thrusted into you, her pace hard and deep, feeling her right in your g-spot.

She had you cursing between moans, your legs already shaking after your first orgasm, the sound of her skin slapping against yours only making you closer to the edge. 

You looked yo pretty underneath her, so ruined, it made her clench around the toy, the base stimulated her clit just perfectly, moaning as she bit your shoulder, trying to get a hold of herself, feeling how her nipples rub against your back.

Her hand made it’s way around your throat again, loving the feel of the vibrations from your sounds on her hand, she pulled your middle up from the bed with her, her free hand sneaking to your clit.

“fuck-! I’m close, please-“ you let out a broken moan, your hand scratching the back of her neck, making the older woman shiver.

“Hold it” she moaned into your ear “be a good girl and wait for me” she was close too, feeling her lower stomach burst with fire, but she wanted to make you suffer a little longer. 

You whined out at her words, your nails digging into her wrist on your throat, tears threatening to spill out from the overstimulation, you were not gonna be able to hold it much longer, the feeling of her fingers on your clit making your cunt clench around her.

It only took her a few more thrusts, feeling on the edge with you “cum with me, pet” her voice weak while she bit on your shoulder, you didn’t hesitate a second, letting yourself go, the orgasm waving through your body, feeling the older woman tense behind you, her hold on your throat tightening for a second, cutting the air from your lungs as another wave crashed over you.

She let go of you immediately when she realized, making you fall on the mattress, seeing you shiver for a moment when she caressed your back, both of you trying to catch your breaths for a minute.

You didn’t realize her walking away, your mind to focused on the aftermaths of your high, it wasn’t until you felt her turn you around carefully, a damp towel cleaning between your legs making you hiss a little.

When she finished cleaning you up she threw the towel somewhere, laying down besides you, her hand wiping away the hair from your face making you hum “was it too much?” 

You opened your eyes at her worried voice, shaking your head immediately “it was perfect, thank you” you whispered, kissing her lips softly as you wrapped your, still shaky leg, around her middle, your hand stroking her cheek softly.

“Good” she chuckled pulling you closer to her. 

You stayed like that for a while, looking into each other’s eyes, still calming down after your highs, before you broke the silence “you know… I don’t do this often, never done it actually” you chuckled as you felt you shyness creep into your cheeks “and I really like you, so maybe… we could do this another time” 

Your heart was about to pop from your ribcage.

“Of course, I’d love to, doll” she kissed your forehead smiling, sensing your nervousness.

“Ok, good” you giggled, hiding you face into her neck. 

Agatha chuckled with you, stroking your hair as she felt you arm wrap around her comfortably “just to clarify, I don’t to this often either” she felt your shoulders shake with laugher.

After a few minutes you pulled your head from her neck, your elbow resting on the pillow, seeing how the rays of the early morning sun coming from her window light her beautiful face.

“Agatha… did someone tell you, your name sounds witchy?” You hummed in thought, the older woman looking at you in disbelief for a moment.

“That’s because I am a witch, doll” she scoffed playfully, pinching your side and making you laugh, falling back on the bed as she caged you between her arms.

“Where are you powers then? I mean, every witch has powers, right?” You raised your eyebrow at her, your fingers pulling her hair from the bun she still had on.

Agatha stared at you for a moment, her long hair caging your face around it, it almost felt poetical “did’t I just show you? Maybe your little brain needs a reminder” her bit back, her lips lowering on your neck.

“Touché” you just giggled, feeling her fingers tickle your sides.

And suddenly the sound of your stomach roaring made the woman look at you “oh my god” you hid your face in your hands, both of you laughing into the air.

“Come on” she stood up and handed you she shirt “let’s get you something to eat”

“Only if I’m able to walk” you chuckled, your legs still numb from the two powerful orgasms the woman pulled from you.

Agatha laughed, helping you up from the bed and down the stairs.

When you watched her cook breakfast for both of you, your only thought was you could get used to this.

And you thanked the heavens for Yelena to drag you out tonight.

[syoddeye]

woke up possessed by the need to write soapgaz x reader smut. i have no excuses. ~1.6k, lightly edited.

cw: dubcon/noncon elements (reader is drunk), alcohol, public/semi-public sex, oral, surprise you're in a throuple

dating kyle, whose best friend soap keeps showing up on your dates. 

you try to make a fuss about it, tired of ruined movie nights and dinners. the insufferable bastard’s jokes are lewd, his eye contact too sharp, and he’s so damn touchy. always grabbing your and kyle’s knees, looping his arms around your necks, or sandwiching you in hugs that flatten either your chest to his or slot your ass to his pelvis.

the last straw is when soap spoils what was supposed to be a couple’s trip. he cards into your hotel room just as you’re about to give kyle a show. barges in with a big dumb grin on his face.

“what did i miss?”

you drag kyle into the bathroom and barely keep yourself from yelling. you demand he sends his friend packing. this is supposed to be a romantic getaway. kyle tries to soothe you, explaining that soap’s just going through a hard time.

“he needs us.”

“he needs a reality check.”

you storm through the room past a smiling soap, gather your clothes, and hastily dress. if kyle needs you, you’ll be at the hotel bar.

a couple of mai tais later, you’re still in a foul mood, but the edge is off. you’re worn down to a weary resignation that you’ll have to share this stupid holiday, thoughts clawing through the syrupy haze of rum and orgeat. kyle’s texted and asked you to return to the room twice, but you’ve ignored both. knowing he’ll probably come looking, you slip out to the beach with one last drink.

past sundown, it’s quiet. a few fires dot the shore, and you glimpse other couples. despite the sweetness in your mouth, your stomach twists into knots. if only you were so lucky. if only your boyfriend put his foot down. you’ll have to suffer through listening to soap snore on the room’s sofa instead of falling asleep thoroughly fucked.

you plop down away from the hotel and drain your cocktail until it’s half-full, stabbing aggressively at its garnish with the little straw.

the ocean hides their footsteps until they’re upon you, and you nearly drop your drink when two bodies bracket yours.

“so this is where you’ve been hiding and pouting.”

you instinctively tuck into kyle. despite being pissed at him, the vulnerable, tipsy part of you seeks his comfort. “i’m not hiding or pouting.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “no? then why’d you run off earlier?”

“i was mad, i’m still mad.”

kyle runs his hand from your knee to your thigh and toys with the hem of your shirt. “why’re you mad?”

“soap, he’s—“you hiccup and turn your face against kyle’s chest just enough to see the other man. soap’s smirking, eyes half-lidded. “he’s going to take you from me.”

they say alcohol loosens your tongue and encourages the truth. and there it is, your awful secret. your real fear, dangling out in the air for both of them to see.

a beat passes, and you hide your face again. you feel kyle’s laughter before you hear it.

“oh, babe. you’ve got it all wrong,” he squeezes you and kisses your temple. “soap, why don’t you show her how wrong she is?”

“aye, with pleasure.”

the scot shifts, and you realize it’s not kyle’s hand toying with your shirt. soap glides a palm up your side, pushing the fabric with it, and cups a tit before finding your lips in a hungry kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, greedily sipping the whines he cajoles out of you.

you’re dimly aware of kyle plucking your glass from your hands, too distracted by the fact your not-boyfriend is leaning you backward. the back of your head is cushioned by sand, nipple hardening as soap brushes his thumb over the cup of your bra.

they make short order of pushing your shirt up and pulling your tits out. your shorts are dealt with, your panties left in place for the moment.

“stay still, babe,” kyle whispers as you surface from the onslaught of soap’s kisses. soap lifts your head carefully so you can watch your boyfriend kneel beside you. he holds your cocktail up and then carefully tilts the glass until a few drops splatter across your stomach. you squeak from the cold and squirm, but soap holds you in place.

the look in kyle’s eyes is pure sin as he dips down to chase after the streams of liquor, tongue blazing over your skin. it dips into your navel, fishing a reluctant giggle out of you, then continues south.

he pauses to ruck off his shirt, then lifts your hips to carefully guide it beneath your lower half. he pinches the swell of your ass.

“you’ve been so good, babe. so patient. you’re learning, aren’t you?” he asks, licking his lips as soap moves to kneel at your head. “soap isn’t here for just me, is he?”

your eyes roll blearily in their sockets to find the man in question staring down at you. the heat in his eyes setting off more sparks in your belly.

“n-no.”

kyle beams and curls his fingers in the elastic.

“no. he wants both of us. isn’t that nice?”

you nod stiffly, eyes fixed on your underwear as he pulls them to your ankles. you should be embarrassed. humiliated, to have a man who isn’t your boyfriend see you like this. but alcohol and desire blur together, and you raise your hips with a tiny noise. a word. “please.”

“needy girl. i’m gonna make you feel good, babe. but if i’m gonna do that, i need you to make him feel good, yeah?”

soap’s fingers leave your tit to stroke the side of your head, gently nudging your face toward him. you’re met with the sight of his cock straining against his shorts, his free hand palming it slowly.

you glance up and realize this is the quietest he’s ever been. he’s always loud and boisterous. annoying when he invades your space. now he’s dead silent, save for the deep breaths from his nostrils. blue eyes narrowed in a predatory stare.

in an instant, you know. all this time, he’s been trying to run you down. wear away your resistance. get you accustomed to his near-constant presence. and apparently, he’s tired of waiting, wielding your boyfriend against you to sweeten you to some sort of package deal.

you should scream. tell both of them to piss off. instead, you slowly reach for the waistband of soap’s shorts, and help tug them down.

the alcohol coursing through your system makes you sluggish and clumsy, but soap does most of the work anyway. his cock languidly glides over your tongue and into your throat, erasing sugar with salt—the lines of your relationship along with it.

kyle’s tongue and fingers coax you into a state of euphoria, vision wet and glassine at the edges. you don’t think you could run away even if you wanted to. your legs are jelly, body pliant as hands grope at their leisure. kyle shushes you when you wiggle at the sound of distant voices, silencing you with a third finger and the seal of his mouth on your clit.

the muscles of your legs start to shake and tighten, pussy clenching around kyle’s fingers as he curves them inside. his mouth is sloppy over your cunt, partly due to how you writhe on his shirt. 

“christ, i’m close.” soap grits out overhead, his thrusts into your mouth becoming more erratic.

kyle unlatches his lips, “she is too.”

soap chuckles and pats your cheek, meeting your eye with a coo. “this’ll be special, pet. you an’ me at the same time, aye?”

a garbled moan around soap’s cock makes him jerk and curse, prompting his big hands to cradle your jaw. angling you with surprising gentleness to continue. you gag as he slips in too deep, too eager, but your attention’s split between needing oxygen and needing to come. kyle hasn’t let up, fucking you on his hand and groaning at the wet, sticky squelch cutting through the sound of the waves.

you come first with a gurgled shout, eyes rolling back in your head as you spasm and kick fruitlessly in the sand. soap’s a quick second, giving you a half-second warning before shooting thick ropes into your throat. kyle’s tongue laps at your folds as you swallow, both sensations overwhelming you to the point of tears. soap tucks himself away, and you hear him tut.

“gie it a rest. she’s still got to ride you back in the room.”

kye laughs breathlessly and crawls over you. “still with us?” he smirks at the delirious nod you manage. “good girl. need help standing?”

you let them dress you and haul you to your feet. the world’s gone wobbly, and you list heavily against kyle. your arms are also negotiated around soap, slotting you firmly between them. kyle’s shirt hangs into a pocket, soaked, and with every step back toward the hotel, clarity and embarrassment steamroll you.

“i can’t—this was a mistake.” you hiss, though the three of you know your words don’t carry the weight you want them to.

kyle plants a kiss on your cheek. you smell yourself on his face. “we’ll see if you feel different in the morning.” 

“aye. probably just have sand where the sun don’t shine. i’ll personally see to—”

with your waning lucidity, your elbow finds his ribs in a harsh blow. he sputters and stumbles, almost releasing you from his hold, but not quite.

“jesus, our girl’s got some fire, garrick.”

“tried to warn you.”

you mutter something mean, setting the men off into titters of laughter, and try to ignore the flicker of warmth at our girl.

[forzalando]

what makes the sunset?

3k celebration blurb for @katsu28! you can find my celebration post here if you'd like to celebrate with me :) title inspired by the song what makes the sunset? - frank sinatra. if you’d like, give it a listen! that’s the vibe of lando x reader in this💛 word count: 845 summary: sappy sunset with lando. obvious they both love each other but no established relationship (i love idiots in love).

The time was nearing 8:00pm – you’d already cooked and cleaned up dinner, thrown a load of laundry in the washer, changed into comfy PJs, and vacuumed your entire living space.

The tick of your tv remote was beginning to drive you mad. Each time you scrolled to the next tv show or movie in your recommended, the sound grew louder and louder. After ten minutes of searching, you reached for your phone and went to the last text thread in your messages.

what should I watch? I literally can’t find anything that looks interesting and it’s driving me insane

The reply bubbles appeared on your screen almost immediately, but your (hopefully) saving grace decided to call instead of respond via text.

“What are you in the mood for?” Lando asked, his mouth clearly full of his dinner.

“Did you call me so that you wouldn’t have to take a break from eating to text me back?”

“Maybe, but I’m the one asking the questions here. What are you in the mood for?”

“Hmm,” you paused, “something beautiful, passionate, emotionally stirring. I want to feel something.”

“And you came to me for suggestions?” Lando’s laugh rang through the speaker, the sound filling you with warmth.

“Well, excuse me, Mr. ‘I’m a Scorpio and let me tell you all about it’! Aren’t you supposed to be passionate and emotional?”

“Alright, give me a minute to think!”

The silence was brief, not even 30 seconds had passed before Lando began speaking again.

“Be ready in 15 minutes, I’ve got the perfect idea.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant, the line went dead. You huffed out a breath and made your way to your room to change out of your pajamas – which, quite honestly, soured your mood a bit.

Exactly 15 minutes after your call ended, Lando Norris was furiously knocking at your door.

“Come on, come on, hurry up!!!” You could hear him yelling from outside your apartment – thank goodness it was early enough that your neighbors wouldn’t complain about a nighttime disturbance.

Swinging your door open, you came face to face with Lando, his arm raised to knock incessantly once again.

“You are insufferable,” you huffed. Those were the only words you could get out before Lando was practically dragging you towards the elevators.

“Where are we even going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he sang. You couldn’t help but laugh at his giddiness, following him blindly down to his car sitting outside your building, still running and somehow not stolen.

You tried to guess – ice cream, a friend’s place, a movie theater. With each guess, Lando shook his head and teased that he wasn’t going to tell you. Soon, Lando had parked his car in a familiar lot, one you’d driven to many times before when the weather was nice and he was miraculously home.  

The sand was white and inviting – it squished underneath your toes as you stepped onto the beach, soft and still slightly warm from the sun beating down on it all day. You began to sit down when you heard Lando shouting behind you.

“NO sandy bottoms in my car, I brought a beach blanket you heathen!”

Sure enough, you turned around and there he was with the beach blanket you’d bought for him last summer. It had papayas on it, you simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

“So what are we doing here, Lan?”

He gestured towards the view in front of you. “You said you wanted to watch something beautiful and emotionally stirring.”

You looked at him quizzically, his hint completely lost on you. He rolled his eyes teasingly, scooting closer to you and bringing his arm up to look at his watch.

“The sun should start setting in about…five minutes? If I timed this correctly.”

“You brought me to the beach to watch the sunset?” A soft smile graced your lips, and it was your turn to scoot closer to Lando, only a few centimeters separating your legs.

“It just kind of popped into my head, but I should have asked you. I didn’t totally think this through, I’m sorry – ”

“Lando,” you interrupted him. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He smiled at you and breathed a sigh of relief as he looked out towards the water, his shoulders visibly relaxing. It was silent for a few moments until he tensed again, turning to face you with wide eyes.

“Are you cold? The temperature is going to drop like twenty degrees, I have an extra hoodie in my car, let me go grab it.”

As he started to get up, you gently grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, finally closing the tiny gap of space between you.

“I’m fine, Lando,” you insisted, leaning your head on his shoulder and linking your arms. “You’re everything I need.”

He relaxed again and lowered his head slowly to meet yours, intertwining your fingers at the same time. As the two of you sat in silence, unspoken words and feelings swirled around in your minds.

Emotionally stirring was an understatement.

[chachued]

I wanted to request lando x fem reader if possible when he’s leaving for a while and they’re extra affectionate the night before with longer hugs and more reassurance, it could even get emotional??

Thank you in advance🥰

omg, yes. absolutely adorable!!! such a cute idea, this is.

━━ NEVER LEAVING | LANDO NORRIS ⁴

He never left without you, but you couldn’t come with him this time. It wasn’t easy, to say the least, but this night made it all the better.

↳ lando norris x fem!reader

W/C 0.5k

CONTENTS fluff — so much fluff, best bf lando, clingy reader, a bit of attachment issues, half proofread, short imagine

TOMORROW WAS THE DAY. Even though you begged for a day off—just to spend time with your boyfriend—today was too far busy, said your boss.

It was already late at night, so you expected Lando to be asleep already. He had to leave tomorrow morning, so you let bygones be bygones.

You didn’t know work would last so long, there’s barely enough time to be with him. And most of it will be used sleeping beside him. Everything consumed the energy that usually sparked inside you — The one that was excited to go home to him.

The key was deep inside your bag while you shuffled for it, prolonging the wait outside your door, which was insufferable. All you wanted to do was lay in bed—preferably with his arms around you.

The door handle clicked, and then it opened. “You’re home!”

“You’re still awake?” You were relieved, but rightfully worried because it is twelve in the morning.

His hand took yours, dragging you inside. “Of course, I am.”

“What’s that — And that smell?”

“Well, that is your favourite movie, with your favourite food, and your favourite snacks, actually.”

Wow. He really did it all for you.

There were candles that were already half-melted, probably the ones that were hiding in an obscure area. The line of expensive meals and cheap takeout showed a variety of food. It’s like he knew you hadn't eaten yet.

Lando couldn’t help but notice the way the light hit your face, highlighting that pretty smile of yours—melting him from the inside. “There’s also a bunch of blankets to get you comfy. I’m sure you would’ve been tired when you got home.”

“I love you so much right now.”

“You didn’t love me before?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling.

“I love you too.”

Anxiety piled up — That overwhelming feeling.

It finally hits you he’d be leaving tomorrow morning. All this effort and it didn’t even last long because, before you knew it, he’d be gone. It hurt, and you didn’t know why.

It wasn’t the fact that he was leaving. It’s because he motivated you throughout the day, promising kisses and goods—giving a reason to be excited about life. What could you do without him?

Lando was cuddled up next to you, lying on your chest, when he heard your sniffling. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“I’m here,” he said, and in all honesty, it made the tears harder to hold in.

But you stayed strong.

“It’s just… You’re leaving, and all that. I don’t know, I feel a bit silly.”

He held you tighter, not planning to ever let you go. His eyes were heavy, but he’d stay up all night to be with you.

No amount of sleep can replace you, he thought.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.” His hand slithered onto your cheek, wiping the loose tear. “I’m never ever leaving you.”

That was the promise he’d never dare to break.

It was insane. You felt insane. He was doing all this for you, and you felt like a burden. There was nothing you did to deserve this—

You felt his soft lips on yours—holding on for a second—and the warm embrace melted you in quick.

“Text me and I’ll fly back to you, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Alright?”

A giggle slipped out of your mouth. “Alright, yeah.”

This was home — Your home.

And it would never fall apart, not with him.

↳ bonus ; next morning ´ˎ˗

LOADING . . . ✎

all rights reserved © CHACHUED ━━ do not translate, copy, or claim my works as your own.

[ode2rin]

“you’re cheating.”

you accused firmly, your conviction unwavering. there was not even an ounce of doubt in your judgment. it seemed to be the only logical explanation for what was transpiring right before your eyes.

“i swear, baby, i am not,” reo pleaded, but you were having none of it. you clung to your accusation, refusing to back down.

there was simply no other way to interpret the situation.

unable to contain your incredulity any longer, you pointed directly at the perpetrator of your accusation— an unbelievably unfamiliar word that reo had placed on the scrabble board.

“phpht”, is he fucking serious? how were you supposed to even pronounce that?

scanning the jumble of letters on your own rack, you conceded defeat. “you’re cheating. i'm out,” you declared, playfully rising from your seat as if to emphasize your point.

reo stood up, facing you with protests laced with laughter, vehemently defending his outrageous choice of word. “i’m not cheating! i swear it's a real word. i'm not making it up!”

“who the hell comes up with that? phpht,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest and arching an eyebrow. “and did i even pronounce it correctly?”

“google it, it’s a word.”

“sure it is,” you retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “i’m done with this game.”

reo sat and leaned back to his chair, seemingly unfazed by your antics. “may i remind you, love, that this was your idea?” he teased.

the worst idea, apparently. 

if you had known how insufferable your boyfriend could be when it came to board games, you would have scoured every genre available on netflix to find a movie you both could have enjoyed instead of suggesting this battle of wits that you were clearly losing.

“yeah, because i thought it would be fun,” you huffed, “but here you are, taking it so seriously as if we were in a competition for the title of best scrabble player of the year!”

reo let out a laugh at your outburst that turned into a boyish grin adorning his face, “what can i say, baby? i simply have a wide vocabulary,” he playfully boasted, clearly enjoying your annoyance. “besides, you’re into smart men. i like to remind you of that from time to time.” he even had the audacity to wink.

“show off.”

“only to you.”

“i’m still not playing this with you anymore,” you declared, rolling your eyes, yet unable to suppress the tugging smile forming on your lips.

“how about this one then?” reo proposed, placing another board game on the table, his eyes seeking your approval.

oh, hell no. 

approval is the last thing he is going to receive for his choice of game.

playing monopoly with a man who religiously checked the stock market every day at 7 am like clockwork? you weren't crazily in love enough to endure that (you are, just not tonight).

“and have you criticize every property purchase i make? nope, thank you very much.”

a mischievous grin once again danced on reo's lips. “you could just admit and tell me i'm good at everything, baby.”

“good at everything, you say?” you asked, a hint of teasing in your voice. “i’m pretty sure you suck at hiding your jealousy, especially when—”

“alright, let's play snakes & ladders instead,” reo interrupted, a playful surrender evident in his tone. “i’d even let you win.”

and sure enough, you both played snakes & ladders, in which you miraculously lost twice. perhaps luck had ceased favoring you after you earned yourself a boyfriend like reo. 

you couldn't bring yourself to complain about it, though. you were indeed lucky to have a man like him, even when he’s pulling up words unknown to anyone in a scrabble game.

note. just a silly drabble because i miss him and i'm having the biggest writer's block rn. also, i swear that's a word don't make me defend myself here╰（‵□′）╯

[roguerogerss]

complaining

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

w/c: 3.6k

warnings: literally full on SMUT, bit of swearing, underage drinking but only if ur american, coriolanus is a warning in himself.

a/n: help my smut writing has gotten so good the past few months this popped off so hard. been obsessed with coryo since the movie came out (you cant expect a mentally ill woman not to fall in love with him. you just cant.) so here’s this. i’m disgusted by myself too. bye. (requests r open, send me stuff here)

-

Livia Cardew's 18th birthday had been a mistake to attend. The party had been held at Pluribus Bell's nightclub, a place in which you only found yourself when you made an appearance at your friend's birthday parties, and the entire club had been packed, not only with Livia's family and your classmates from the academy, but with their friends and families, too.

Overall, there must've been three hundred people there, all tightly packed together, some drunkenly pressed against eachother, dancing, others swaying silently by the bar or stood by one of the table booths, yelling in eachother's ears to get their points across. You thought that, of the three hundred, you might only have known thirty.

Livia, unfortunately, considered you as a close friend, which was certainly true when you were young children, but, as the years had gone by, you'd actually found her, and most of the other girls in your class, to be almost insufferable. Nevertheless, you'd managed to land yourself an invitation to her family's mansion before the party had started, and you'd pretended to be having a good time, even although the crystal glasses that you were drinking from and the buffet that Mrs Cardew had set out on the gold-trimmed marble dining table, had settled a queasy feeling into the pit of your stomach.

The only other face in the Cardew's enormous living room that wasn't constantly grinning, was Crassus Snow's own son, Coriolanus, who you'd make eye contact with on occasion, and he'd send a small, knowing smile, and an eye roll back in your direction.

You liked Coriolanus, a lot, actually, you considered him to be your best friend, sometimes you even dabbled with boyfriend. But your classmates couldn't know that, simply down to the type of bond that you shared, and so, after every bout of eye contact, every blush-inducing smile, you'd simply turned your body away, back to Clemensia, or Livia, or Arachne, and waited for the next time you'd catch Coriolanus' eye. Of course, he was almost always staring - he thought you were the only thing in the room worth looking at - even while speaking to his fellow classmates, and so, every time you turned around, you'd repeat the process over again.

"Are you even listening to me?" Arachne would say, voice as booming as ever, and Livia would intervene, calling your name to have you rejoin the conversation.

The party had been terrible to begin with, the opulent nature of the Cardew household having you feeling sick, right from the get-go, and had only gotten worse when you'd all left and gotten into chauffeur-driven cars to be taken to the nightclub. You'd been sweaty just looking at the crowd when you arrived, and saying hello to classmates that you didn't like but had to pretend to for the social status of it all had exhausted you even further.

But the night had ended the same way it always did, with you leading Coriolanus Snow back to your apartment, hands loosely intertwined with eachother.

You and Coriolanus lived in much the same circumstances, both in the same apartment building, where the exterior and most of the homes inside were packed with marble and precious stone, the two of yours being an exception to this.

You'd both come from rich families, of course you had, this was the Capitol after all, but, after being orphaned in the war, you lived alone, in an apartment that seemed to have crumbled more every time you arrived home, with pieces of plaster falling from the ceiling day by day, and new cracks appearing in the walls as often as every hour.

Coriolanus was only slightly better off than you were, what with Tigris and the Grandma'am still living with him.

Ever since the war, you'd been on eachother's side, no matter the circumstance. If either of you had chance to sneak food from the dining hall of the academy, you'd share it between you, and if there ever came a cold winter, Coriolanus would invite you over, and let you share the scarce warm clothes and blankets he and his family owned, topped with a bowl of cabbage soup from Tigris.

You supposed your sleeping together after the very occasional night at Pluribus' nightclub had come naturally, and the sleeping together most every night for the past few months had been only the normal progression. You didn't mind it, but, of course, no one at the academy was ever to find out. It would only spark rumours, which would certainly mean that, soon enough, your classmates would find out about both of your financial positions, which could absolutely not happen.

Your nights together remained simply intimacy in the dark, and you supposed you were both okay with that.

Coryo had his first two fingers interlocked with your last two, and your arms swung between you as you walked ahead of him. Neither of you were particularly drunk, a personal choice rather than an inability, as Livia's parents had paid Pluribus Bell extra for their daughter's party to feature an open bar, which could've been taken full advantage of by the pair of you, considering you'd never have enough money to even get into Pluribus' normally, nevermind buy enough drinks to make you both feel lightheaded.

But the Cardew's were high up in the Capitol, and Livia's entire family was in attendance, which meant that, with them, came the rich and famous, government officials, celebrities. The two of you, not having rich parents to fall back on, couldn't risk getting blackout drunk. It was the kind of thing that was funny if you were affluent enough, but embarrassing and ill-mannered if you weren't.

"You know," Coriolanus gave your arm a particularly hard swing, "I think we're getting pretty good at that."

"Good at what?"

"The whole, pretending we don't really know eachother, thing."

You scoffed and turned your body slightly to face him. "We don't pretend we don't know eachother."

"Well, whatever you'd call it. Pretending we're just acquaintances?" Coriolanus moved his tongue around in his mouth a little, mulling over the words like he'd only been asking himself the question. And then he gave his head a shake. "No, we're definitely pretending that we don't know eachother."

"It was your idea." You shrugged. Your conversations seemed to often be pointed, but it was all in good spirits. You knew that you loved eachother really.

"I'm not saying it wasn't." You laughed at his remark, "I'm saying we're good at it."

"And you're happy to do it?" You raised an eyebrow at him and he shook his head almost too enthusiastically. Maybe the posca was stronger than you'd thought.

"Not particularly, but if it means that this keeps happening, and you keep sharing the food that you steal from the hall, then I could keep going." Your mouth fell open in feigned hurt, and you clamped a hand over your chest.

"You're only sleeping with me for stolen leftovers?"

Coriolanus shook his head and grinned at your joke, looking down at his feet, which were aching with how tight his boots were. "I'm kidding, obviously. Of course I don't like it, but you know what everyone's like."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't hurt to be friends in public." You swung your hands between you for a few seconds while Coriolanus considered your proposal. You were nearing your apartment, and you fumbled in your coat pocket with one hand for your key-card.

"No. No it probably wouldn't." He said finally and you gasped.

"Are you agreeing with me for once?" You'd reached your apartment complex, now, and the LED lights on the archway into the building were almost blinding when paired with the crystal chandeliers that lined the lobby. The pair of you began climbing the marble staircase that brought you to your apartment, which was situated on the second floor. You always found it almost comical, how the Capitol had kept it's glory in apartment buildings but that the people housed within some of them were one missed rent payment away from eviction.

"I always agree with you." Coriolanus laughed, giving your hand a tight squeeze. You pressed your keycard against the lock-pad and, the second the door buzzed open, you'd untangled your hand from Coriolanus' to undo the buckle on your too-high heels which had once belonged to your mother, who's feet were only one size bigger than yours and so you were able to just about get away with wearing her old, but still stylish, shoes.

"Only when we sleep together." You gave him a seductive wink which had him laughing.

"Which seems to be more often than not these past few months." Coriolanus took off his blazer and tossed it over your tattered sofa, which was beautiful in it's glory days, but was now cracked and moulting.

Your face had broken into a cheeky smirk as you approached him, your back still to the door as he faced you. "Are you complaining, Snow?"

In one, swift movement, Coryo had backed you into the door and had one hand on your waist, the other above your head. He cocked an eyebrow at you in a way that had you weak in the knees, "Do I seem like I'm complaining?"

"I'm not sure, pretty boy, you'll have to do better than that." Your smirk was still present, and, without hesitation, Coriolanus' lips were crashing down onto your own, with just as much hunger for you as you were used to.

He moved fast, he always did, and he'd removed your coat from your shoulders and thrown it to the floor without even a second thought, and was now twirling the straps of your dress between his fingers teasingly. Your hands roamed his chest, blindly searching for the buttons of his shirt, and, when you found them, you fumbled with them until you'd undone them all, and then you pulled it from his arms, so that he was in nothing but his father's old black slacks.

Your dress was Livia's - you'd told her you just couldn't decide what to wear, and she'd offered it up - and it was huge and puffy and made you vaguely resemble a cupcake, and so, when Coryo's fingers finally slipped under the straps and began peeling them down your shoulders, you felt an incredible sense of relief to finally be out of the thing.

When you'd stepped out of the dress, Coriolanus almost dropped it on the floor, but you stopped him, "Ah, ah! That's Livia's, I can't get it ruined. Her father would probably skin me to make a new one. Can you put it over the sofa?"

He laughed and obliged, he always did, draping the dress neatly over the arm of the sofa before coming back to kiss you, this time even rougher than before. His lips trailed down your neck, hands roamed your body, fingers familiarising themselves with the black lacy set you'd worn under your dress, the only reason being that you knew Coriolanus would be the one taking it off of you that night.

He pulled back from you for a second, admiring your form, how your waist dipped in and you curved back out at the hips, how perfectly the bra sat on your chest, and, most of all, how you were all for him in that moment, how you seemed to always be all for him. "Oh my God." Was all he seemed to be able to muster.

The underwear had actually been stolen from a boutique near your house, one owned by Coriolanus' own cousin's boss. But you figured he didn't need to know that.

Coryo's head had dropped to your collarbone, and his lips travelled all the way across your chest, occasionally sucking or biting, which had your breath hitching in the back of your throat. "You're taking your time tonight." You observed.

"Mm." He hummed against you and then brought his head up so that his icy blue eyes were staring straight into yours, "Do I still seem like I'm complaining?"

"Oh, shut up, Snow." You giggled and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him back down to kiss you again. Coriolanus seemed satisfied with his teasing of you, because his hands had started to travel south, until his lithe fingers had pushed your underwear to the side and he'd pressed one of them inside of you, earning a mewl of approval and making your back arch away from the door.

Coriolanus chuckled against your lips. "Every time."

"Again," You tried to sound convicted but whined when the tip of his finger brushed against a sensitive spot, "Shut up, Snow."

Your hands reached for his belt and he didn't stop you as you made quick work of unbuckling it and pulling it from his belt loops. As soon as it was on the floor, the button on his pants was undone and they were on the floor, too.

"Eager." Coryo remarked and you moaned as he added a second finger and increased his pace. Normally, by this point, he'd have you on your bed, or at least the sofa, but it seemed he wanted things to be different tonight.

As soon as a third finger found it's way inside of you, you were a moaning, whining mess, and your teeth sunk into Coriolanus' shoulder as you tried to stifle your whimpers. Your knees had started to buckle and you knew your legs would give way any moment now. "Coryo...Coriolanus, I can't...I can't stand up." You were so breathless that even trying to get a sentence out was next to impossible.

Coryo's free hand held you steady by the waist, fingers gripping your back and thumb pressed firmly into your stomach. "You can take it, honey. Know you can."

His words had you melting and you felt yourself nearing the edge as he curled his fingers inside of you. "Coryo, I'm gonna...God, you have to stop-"

"I'm not stopping. Want you to finish on my fingers before I fuck you." He'd never spoken so lewdly to you, ever, and it had you wondering what had gotten into him, at the same time as it had you clenching around him.

"Coryo!" You called out as you felt yourself getting there. "Fuck, Coryo-"

"I know, baby. I know, come on." He looked you right in the eye as he said, "Cum for me."

That was all you needed, you came undone right there, pressed against your apartment door, moaning so loudly you were certain that Tigris and the Grandma'am would hear you, ten floors up. You, once again, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to try to quiet yourself, but it was hardly of any use.

Your legs had given out halfway through your orgasm, and Coriolanus' hand had dug into your waist harder to keep you held up. When you'd finished, he grinned at you, breathless, and scooped you up with minimal effort, only to dump you onto the sofa. His underwear was gone in seconds, and you were still wearing your set, but he was hovering over you, seemingly ready to sink into you and make you feel even better than before.

His lips found your neck again, and he was saying right in your ear, "You did so well, sweetheart. So well."

He was one for praising, and you were one for receiving, so it only made your pupils dilate even further. "Are you ready?"

His eyes were locked onto yours, fingers wrapped around your chin, always so caring, whether he'd just finger-fucked you against a door or not, always making sure you really wanted it. You nodded, "Yes. Ready."

"Okay." He kissed you again, "Let me know if you need to stop, yeah?"

"I will. You know I always do." He'd pushed your underwear aside again, and slipped into you with a slight effort in no time, which really reinforced his, 'sleeping together more often than not', statement, as it had taken at least a few minutes and some words of encouragement the first couple of times.

You gasped and dug your nails into his back, which had Coriolanus' face screwing up slightly. He'd always liked when you dug your nails into him, the pain feeling more pleasurable than anything. "You feel amazing. You always feel amazing." His hands found your breasts, squeezing them through the sheer lace.

"Do you want me to take my underwear off?" You asked through breathy moans. Coryo shook his head quickly and kissed over your bra.

"No." He said, almost authoratively, and thrusted into you harder, faster, as his hand wandered over your body and his eyes raked over you. "Want it on."

You nodded and obeyed, unable to do anything but almost scream his name, with how fast, and rough he was pounding into you. "Coryo, I'm getting close again-"

"You can hold it." He threw his head back in pleasure and a guttural moan left his throat. "I'm nearly there too. Can't hold it, seeing you like this." He gestured to your underwear.

"You like it?" You asked seductively, earning another moan and a nod from Coriolanus. "Got it for you, wore it tonight for you. Knew you'd like it."

"Fuck, who's all this for?" You knew he was close now, could feel him twitching inside of you. You were close too, but you liked the hold you had over him.

"Sorry, I'm not sure what you mean." You teased, still breathless but with a smirk on your face. Coryo shook his head at you, convincingly disapproving, and then his hand was on your throat. Lightly enough that it didn't hurt, but just hard enough that your breathing was slightly laboured and he had more power over you than you had over yourself.

"Who is this for?" Coriolanus asked again, voice harder this time. You weren't sure where this was all coming from, but you certainly enjoyed it. You were cocky at the best of times, and you liked having someone keep you in check.

"You, Coriolanus." He groaned and thrusted into you so hard you were seeing stars. "Fuck, Coryo, it's all for you. I'm always all for you."

"Good girl. That's a good girl, all mine." He gave your throat a light squeeze and then released you, leaving you gasping for air. "Shit. Gonna cum." He dropped his head again, still unrelenting in his pace or roughness. "Are you there?"

"I'm there too." Your moans were strangled, so loud you could hardly even quiet yourself by clamping a hand over your mouth. "God, Coryo!"

You came for the second time, Coryo following right behind you, and you felt his load come out in ropes inside of you, only making your high even higher. Coryo collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily and bodies shaking together. "That was amazing, Coryo." You cooed, hand stroking his white-blonde curls back from his forehead.

"Might've been the best we've had." Coriolanus was so out of breath he could barely form a full sentence. You hummed in response, nodding your head and then letting it fall back against the arm of the sofa.

"So you liked this?" You teased, plucking your bra strap from your skin and then letting it ping back on you. Coryo's face turned a light pink colour and he laughed.

"So what if I did?" He lifted his head, chin resting against your belly, "I liked it, a lot. Think you're beautiful. You know that."

You nodded. "I do."

Coryo shook his head, really laughing now, "There's the arrogance."

"Arrogance? You live in the Capitol, Coryo, there's many more arrogant than me." You hadn't stopped stroking his head, and Coriolanus thought he could've fallen asleep, your voice always calmed him, someone safe, and the added touch and his physical exertion made sleeping sound even more appealing.

"I'm kidding. You are beautiful, you should know that." His voice was soft, quiet, and you were glad that his eyes were closed, because your cheeks felt warm and you were certain you were blushing. "Do you think we should start acting like we know eachother?"

"I'd like that." You admitted. "Should we introduce ourselves? Maybe tell eachother two truths and a lie?"

"You know what I mean." Coryo finally stood from where he'd been laid, between your thighs, and gave you a kiss on the forehead as he bent down to retrieve his discarded clothing. You sat up aswell, fixed out your underwear, and reached for your dress. "I'd like people to know that I know you."

"In this kind of way?" You gestured to both of your nakedness as Coryo pulled his underwear back on. Your cheeky grin was back, the one he loved so much. Your constant teasing made it hard to know whether or not the pair of you were actually in love or just best friends sleeping together, but Coryo didn't mind too much, as long as he had you, he was happy.

"Maybe this can wait until we've passed first base in public. Cant skip straight to fourth, you know?" You'd put your dress back on by now, and Coryo had just finished zipping his trousers and was fussing over his hair. You crossed the room to him, and his hands settled on your waist and he pressed a small, fleeting kiss to the tip of your nose.

"Oh, that would be dastardly." You checked the time on your mothers watch, which you still had encircled around your wrist.

"Pluribus' doesn't close for another two hours, should we go back?"

[strwbrrychnnie]

< about time >

pairing:: bang chan x older male reader genre:: smut // fluff - - minors dni!! word count:: 2.9k summary:: you’re an overworked college student and your best friend, bang chan, is a famous kpop idol. he’s constantly busy and you haven’t seen him in months. he surprises you with a visit late one night, and scenes in the movie you watch sparks a flame you didn’t know existed between you two. warnings:: smut !!! unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), slight d / s dynamic, dirty talk, praise, slight pet play if you squint, swearing, petnames, age dynamic & honorifics, crying notes:: my first work on here :fingers-crossed: not entirely proofread either srry ;; i’ve actually never seen ‘about time,’ but i know vaguely what happens in it- bare with me if i get anything wrong ,,</3 i don’t know how to end stories i’m so sorry

it’s been a long day. you’ve been working on your homework all day- reading textbooks and taking notes, replying to insufferable classmates on discussion posts, studying for an upcoming test. all you want is someone to hold you, and nobody comes to mind.

that is, except for your best friend, chan.

he’s always there when you need him, but he's beyond busy. he’ll pick up every call within a ring or two, but never has time to talk more than five minutes. but he never forgets to text you good night, sleep well, to dream happy thoughts.

you groan, leaning back in your chair. would he come over if you asked? does he even have the time? is he even still in korea? you spiral and spiral until you eventually pick up your phone, deciding to find out for yourself.

he picks up before the first ring, a coarse voice filling your ear. “y/n? you okay? it’s 2am, sweetheart.” your heart aches at the petname.

“i- sorry. i’ve been up working on homework, i didn't mean to wake you up.” you whisper into the phone. chan laughs gently.

“i’ve been up. don't worry about me, it's just good to hear your voice.” a silence falls over you, registering his compliment. “you there?”

“yeah- yeah, sorry. just…” you bite your tongue. “i miss you, chan.” he sighs on the other end of the phone.

“i miss you too. look, how about… i wrap things up here, and come over?” your eyes widen.

“wait, really? can you even do that?” chan laughs again.

“of course i can, y/n. i don't have a schedule tomorrow, so i can do whatever i want tonight. would you like that?” chan teases.

“yes, please. i need you.” you bite your lip at your neediness. chan chuckles, and you hear a rustling on his end of the phone.

“you need me, baby boy? did i hear that right?” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“that’s hyung to you, sir.” you correct.

“you're barely older than me! don't make me call you that.” chan whines.

“yeah, yeah. hurry up over there and come over, okay?” chan huffs playfully.

“okay. give me like thirty minutes, i'll head out right as i finish.” you smile, pursing your lips together at the thought of seeing him again.

“see you soon, channie.”

“see you soon, y/n-ie.”

---

it's almost exactly thirty minutes before you hear a knock at your door. you jump up, running to unlock it, greeted with your best friend dressed in all black.

“hi, channie.” you say softly, playing with the hem of your shirt. chan smiles, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“hi, hyung. i missed you.” chan whispers as you sigh, wrapping your arms around him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. chan chuckles, squeezing you tighter. “you okay?” you shake your head.

“just… long day. needed to be around someone.” chan nods, caressing your back, holding you tight.

“i know, sweetheart. i’m here now, okay?” you bury your face deeper into his neck.

“okay.”

it feels like eternity, standing there in the atrium, hugging chan. but you wouldn't have it any other way. chan breaks the silence, clearing his throat.

“hyung, let's go to your room. you need to get some rest.” you groan, holding chan tighter.

“i'm not tired. i still have work i need to do, i’m so behind and-”

“hey, hey.” chan pulls away, holding your shoulders at an arm’s distance. “don't worry about all that. just get some rest, with me, yeah?” chan cups your face in his hand, caressing your cheek. you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut.

“okay.. fine.” you give up, melting into chan’s touch. chan giggles, moving a hand from your shoulder down to your hand.

“that’s my hyungie.” chan praises, leading you up to your bedroom. 

once you get there, you sit against the headboard of the bed, pulling a blanket over your lower half. “let me help you.” chan offers, sitting beside you and gently pulling the blanket over both of you. “we can watch a movie or something if you want?” chan suggests, snuggling closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder.

“we can watch something, i'm okay with that.” you lay your head against chan's head, closing your eyes and sighing softly. chan moves a hand to your thigh, caressing it softly.

“alright, anything in particular you want to watch?” chan asks, rubbing small circles on your thigh, feeling your breathing slow down. “or should we pick something together?” chan hums, enjoying the warmth of your body against his.

“what was that movie you watched with stay the other day?” you ask. “i was busy when you watched it, so i never got to see it.”

“oh- about time?” chan blushes. “that’s like my favorite movie. i’d so be okay with watching that again.” you smile, reaching for the remote and turning on the tv. you pull up the movie and press play, chan’s thigh against yours, his hand caressing your skin.

the two of you enjoy the movie, cuddling and leaning against each other. about halfway through, a sex scene pops up on the screen, shocking you. you purse your lips, trying to focus on the screen, instead of the hand on your bare thigh. chan continues caressing your skin, seemingly unbothered by the scene on the tv.

“hyung.” chan whispers, moving his hand closer to your inner thigh. “i’ll stop if you tell me to.” you shake your head, eyes falling down to the blankets, covering chan’s hand.

“it’s.. it’s okay.” chan hums, continuing to stroke your thigh, matching the rhythm of the movie's steamy scene. he keeps his gaze on the screen, as you bite your lip and refuse to look up. chan slowly snakes his hand up your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. chan nuzzles his face against your shoulder, as you bite back a whimper.

“hyung...” chan murmurs, turning to you, stopping his hand right above your growing bulge. “do you want me to stop?” his voice trembles, his breath warm against your neck.

you shake your head. “no, i… please keep going.” the movie forgotten, you purse your lips together, turning away from chan from embarrassment.

“good boy.” chan praises, his heart pounding out of his chest. he slides his hand up to your clothed erection, palming it gently through your shorts. chan presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, slipping a hand under your shorts and cupping your length over your underwear. you whimper, squeezing your eyes closed.

“channie…”

“shh, it’s okay, hyung. i’ve got you.” chan reassures, stroking your erection through your underwear. he presses soft kisses down your neck, nibbling gentle marks into your skin. “so fucking hot for me, yeah?” chan teases, increasing the pressure slightly.

“shit…” you bite back a moan, looking down at where chan is touching you.

“i know, baby.” chan coos, feeling you twitch beneath his touch. “i want to make you feel good, okay?” chan whispers, sliding his hand inside your underwear and gripping you gently. “is this okay?” he asks, his own erection straining against his pants.

“yes, yes, please, channie.” you beg, your dick twitching in chan’s hold. you shift the blanket, moving it off your crotch so you can watch him touch you. the cold air is a welcome feeling, as chan’s hand is so warm against you.

“fuck, hyung.” chan gasps, his eyes widening at the sight of your hardened length. he takes a deep breath, leaning down and taking you into his mouth.

“chris! oh, fuck.” you buck up into his mouth at the sudden feeling, his mouth warm and tight around your cock. chan chuckles around you at the use of his real name, as he moves a hand down to play with your balls gently.

chan hums around you, sucking harder, his tongue dancing along your shaft. chan caresses your balls gently, eliciting another whimper from you. “you taste so good.” he lifts off your cock to breathe, then dives back in, swallowing your length fully and bobbing his head rhythmically.

“channie, oh my god.” you bury a hand in his hair, just petting it, not trying to force him to stay down on your cock. you throw your head back, whimpering as chan swallows around you.

“i’m not stopping, hyung.” chan promises, leaning back down, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks you deep. chan releases your balls, gripping your thighs tightly, hard enough to leave marks. “cum in my mouth, hyung.” he begs. chan increases his pace, sucking harder and bobbing quicker, his saliva dripping down your shaft. he takes you fully in his mouth, his nose brushing against your pubic bone. you hold back a loud moan and bite your bottom lip. 

“close, channie. so close.” chan nods, swallowing around you, humming gently. a hot flash runs through your body, your hips bucking involuntarily into chan’s mouth. you come with a loud groan, filling chan’s mouth with your warm seed. you shake through your orgasm, your body going weak and your head falling back against the headboard. you pant, petting chan’s hair as he gently sucks you clean.

“there you go, baby.” chan praises, swallowing your cum and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. he presses a kiss to the side of your cock, humming happily. “are you alright?” chan asks, looking up, concern in his voice. you nod, visibly exhausted, opening your eyes slowly to see a red-faced chan with a crooked smile, his mouth slightly open.

“i- thank you, chan. that was…” chan giggles, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“anytime, hyungie.” chan smiles, his heart racing. he sits closer to you, pulling you into a hug. “how do you feel?” he asks, his erection hard against your hip. you blush, leaning into his hug, shifting so your hip brushes against his bulge. chan whimpers, burying his face into your neck.

“i’m okay… what about you, channie? can i help you?” you whisper, caressing his inner thigh. chan whines, breathing heavily against your neck.

“hyung...” chan stammers, his erection pulsating against your hip. “i want to fuck you.” he confesses, his voice barely audible. “but only if you're okay with that.” he adds, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“oh, god.” you throw your head back in shock. “i want nothing more than that. please?” you plead and chan lets go of you, throwing the blankets off you both, sitting in front of you. he carefully guides you to lay on your back, your head against the pillow. chan giggles, slipping your shorts and underwear off your legs, leaving you alone in your shirt. chan slips off his shirt, revealing his perfectly toned body. you purse your lips together, admiring his body. “you’re so beautiful, chris.” chan blushes, looking away, covering his face with his hands.

“stoppp… i’m not.. i’m not beautiful.” you pull chan down, his legs kneeling on either side of your torso. you cup chan’s face with one of your hands, the other placed on his chest.

“you’re perfect, in every way. you’re so, so, pretty, christopher.” chan whines, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his face flushed red. “i mean it, baby. you’re so beautiful.” chan groans, pulling himself up.

“okay, okay, i get it, you’re in love with me.” chan teases, kneeling on his shins, slipping out of his shorts and underwear. you tilt your head to the side, admiring chan’s body.

“you’re not wrong. i’ve kinda always been in love with you, chris.” chan stops in his tracks, making eye contact with you.

“i… i love you too, hyung.” chan mumbles, his heart overflowing with emotion. he looks down, pumping his cock twice, his tip wet with precum.

you melt, reaching your hand out to hold chan’s. “so pretty, channie.” chan shakes his head, shy, taking your hand into his.

“hyung…” chan whimpers, his eyes locked on yours. he positions himself between your legs, his tip pressing against your entrance. “are you sure?” he asks, his voice shaking. you nod.

“i’m sure, channie. i’m good, go ahead.” you squeeze chan’s hand. chan takes a deep breath, pushing in slowly, hissing as he feels the tightness of your entrance. he stops, waiting for you to adjust. 

“you okay?” he asks, his face flushed. you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping chan’s hand tightly.

“so- so big, channie.”

“sorry, hyungie.” chan apologizes, pulling out slightly and slowly pushes in again, a little further this time. “i’ll be gentle, i promise.” he whispers, his eyes locked on your face. you purse your lips together, gripping chan’s hand as tight as you can.

“it’s okay- ah,” you whimper. “you can go deeper. i can take it.” chan nods, thrusting slightly deeper, eyes blown wide at the sensation.

“fuck, you’re so tight, hyung.” he groans, starting a gentle pace, rocking back and forth out of you. you throw your head back at the burn, squeezing chan’s hand at every thrust. he squeezes back gently.

“puppy, feels so good.”

you can feel chan twitch inside of you, and he collapses onto your chest. he breathes heavily, holding your hand tight, stalling the movement of his hips.

“call me that again.” you chuckle, slipping your free hand into his hair.

“what..? puppy?” chan whines, burying his face into your shirt. he ruts up into you involuntarily, groaning as he pushes deeper into you.

“you’re driving me crazy, hyung.” his thrusts pick up again, going deeper every time. you softly pull his hair, groaning at the wonderful mix of pleasure and pain.

“just like that, puppy, you’re doing so well.” chan gasps into your shirt, his pace growing frantic. he fucks you harder, his free hand gripping your hip tightly. you moan loudly, eyes blown wide, watching chan fall apart on top of you.

“i’m- fuck, i’ll cum if you keep calling me that.” he bites the fabric of your shirt, his dick twitching inside of you as he ruts deeper into you. you squeeze his hand, pulling his hair so he lifts his head. chan looks up at you with teary eyes, a pout on his lips. you pull him closer, kissing him gently, your tongue running over his bottom lip. chan whimpers into the kiss, his dick throbbing inside of you. he slips his tongue inside your mouth, matching the frantic movement of his hips. he bites gently at your bottom lip, licking into you hungrily.

“good boy,” you whisper between kisses. “just like that, puppy.” you suck on chan’s tongue, squeezing his hand. chan moans into your mouth, his thrusts becoming sloppy. he fucks you harder, feeling his orgasm building up.

“hyung!” chan cries out, holding your waist tightly. he gasps between kisses.

“come on, puppy, you’ve got it.” you praise, kissing his nose. “come for me, pretty boy.”

chan chokes out a sob, arching his back, releasing into you. he kisses you hungrily, riding out his high. “i love you, hyung.” he whimpers, spilling his seed into you, pumping it deeper. you pet his hair gently, letting go of his hand. you cup his face, caressing his cheek, wiping a stray tear off his face.

“you did so well for me, puppy. i love you so much.” chan nuzzles his face into your hand, quietly letting the tears fall. “hey, hey, are you okay..?” you panic, frantically wiping his tears with both hands. chan nods in your hands, taking a deep breath.

“yeah, i’m sorry, just…” chan wipes his own tears away, embarrassed. he buries his face into your chest, murmuring. “just overwhelmed.” his voice cracks. your heart aches.

“i know, baby. i’ve got you.” you hold him closer, petting his hair and kissing his scalp. chan whimpers, holding onto you tightly. he lays on top of you, panting heavily, trying to catch his breath.

“you made me feel so good, hyung. thank you.” he mumbles into your shirt. you chuckle, tilting his head up by his chin to meet your eyes.

“anytime, channie. that was perfect.” you kiss chan’s nose. he giggles, kissing your lips tenderly. he smiles into the kiss, burying his face into your neck.

“thank you, hyung.” he whispers, nuzzling his face against your skin. you squeeze chan in your arms, sighing contentedly.

“i’ll hold you as long as you need, but we need to clean up soon, baby.” you caress his back, skating your fingertips along his muscles. chan shivers, snuggling into your embrace. he nods slightly, then slowly sits up, slipping out of you with a groan.

“we- we should clean up now, i think.” you nod, sitting up, wincing as globs of chan’s cum spill out of you onto the bedsheets. you chuckle, looking down at the blankets. 

“we’re gonna have to do laundry, too.” chan giggles, helping you up to your feet, kissing your shoulder.

“let’s do that tomorrow, yeah? for now…” chan pulls you in for a passionate kiss. “let’s take a shower, okay?” he whispers against your lips. you nod, rubbing your nose against his.

“good idea, pup.” chan blushes, covering his face with his hand.

“stoppp it, hyung.” he whines, turning away and heading towards the bathroom as you follow closely behind, knowing that tonight is nowhere near over.

[igotanidea]

Rom-com, doubts and older brother complex : Dick Grayson x sister!reader

„Hey you, how was the movie?” Dick grinned with the brightest smile upon seeing his sister back from the cinema. Said sister however was far from being happy. “Y/N?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, sure, hi Dickie. It was fine, I guess.”

“Oh no.” he muttered

“What?”

“You got that face.”

“What face?!” involuntarily she glanced at the mirror just to check whether her older brother was serious or just trying to prank her.

“Please tell me you are not psychoanalyzing the movie.”

“Psycho…..? What? Me? Pfff, never.” She scoffed

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m sorry, what is your problem here, Grayson?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. “Honestly I came home hoping for some peace and quiet and I feel so attacked right now.”

“Are you doing this… what was it called….?” Dick scratched his head searching for the right word “watcher insert!”

“IT’S READER INSERT!”

“Well, it was a movie, so definitely watcher insert. And you practically admitted you do.”

“I DID NOT SAY A THING LIKE THAT!”

“You didn’t have to. Like I said, you got that face.” He shrugged, absolutely not convinced and unimpressed by her yelling.

“Ugh! You are insufferable!”

“Part of my charm, you know that. Now come on, come sit here and tell me what got you spinning, huh? As a big brother…..”

“Please, spare me the talk about oldest sibling and all the duties that come with it. I can handle my own shit.” She hesitantly perched on the armrest of the sofa, but Dick was not satisfied with that and grabbed her by the waist pulling next to him.

“Come on, sis, don’t be stubborn” he pinched her stomach getting a slap on the hand in exchange “that hurt.”

“Serves you well!”

“Ok, I’ll stop. Jokes aside. Get out of that head of yours and walk me through it ‘cause I don’t get it. You went to the movie theatre to have some fun ….unlike someone we know….. and came back stuck in thinking and, let me put it simply, melancholic. Not really a normal reaction after a young adult movie. It’s young adult, right?” he frowned

“You got that one right.” She sighed “I … I don’t really know. I mean, this movie was as cliché as possible and only confirm my belief that it’s not for me.”

“How come?”

“You know… nice girl, A-grade student, not knowing the bad side of life changes the surrounding, most likely moves out of the small town.  And in the city, she meets a guy, a well-known trouble-maker and more often than not, a womanizer. Of course, she swears she wants nothing to do with him but after an hour or so, couple of fights and few misunderstanding they end up together, most likely in a X-rated scene. And after another half hour, some family drama or demons from the past emerges, but all ends well and you get those fucking singing birds, shining sun, doves and all that shit. I’m so too old for that. And I think I’m starting to get bored with such films.”

“Are you?” he looked at her carefully, voice turning soft not to startle her.

“Yes.” She made a face at him

“Y/n. You say you hate it, but …”

“Don’t you dare say it!” she jumped on the couch and jabbed his chest “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I won’t. I’ll leave that to you. Come on, say it out loud so we can process that. No one else is here.”

“I’m sorry, since when are you my therapist?”

“Since Bruce provided all his kids with trauma and forgot to equip them with the specialist to fix it. Say it.”

“I wish I have a cliché love story.” She looked down and hid face in hands because of the embarrassment. “But I’m not exactly a material for it.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, grabbing her hands and making him look at her ‘is it because you have four vigilante brothers? That can go well in a movie.” He grinned “I bet Bruce would love a cinematic work of art about himself. Can you imagine the movie “Batman?” Two and a half hours of him brooding on the screen and saving Gotham, all while looking like a sad, tormented cat” he laughed and waved his hands around

“I got this at the manor whenever I want. And when I don’t want as well. So hard pass on that movie, thanks. Jason would love it though. It would give him an opportunity to point out everything wrong with Bruce. And Tim…”

“Nice try, but stop getting off the track. Why do you think you can’t have a love story?”

“Cause I can’t define myself.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dick’s eyes widened in disbelief “you think you need to put a tag on yourself? My lovely, crazy, irrational, foolish sister…”

“Look Dick, I’m a mess, all right? I can do hundred different things, but cannot excel in one. I start so many projects I don’t finish. I am disorganized, got plenty ideas per minute and it’s extremely hard to keep up with me. I'm stubborn, hot-headed and always need to do things my own way. ”

“So?” he shrugged

“What do you mean by so?" Y/N frowned "I don’t have routine, and apparently I’m supposed to. I’m not the best version of myself, I hate motivational quotes and I’m not sophisticated or elegant or even close to it. Shit, I hate dresses and skirts, my make-up is limited to the most basic one and I don't feel like I'm woman enough.”

“Ok, stop right there.” He cut her off “that last one is bullshit and as for the rest, why in the world would you think that eliminates you?”

“I… It just does.”

“Why?” he insisted

“will you stop this interrogation! Let me remind you, you are not a cop anymore!”

“Old habits die hard.” He blew a raspberry.

“Be a brother Dick. Sock me for wasting your time or hug me, just don’t do this….”

“Do you need a hug?” he asked opening his arms

“Yes, please” she mumbled, diving into his arms and hiding face in his shirt, smelling that familar scent. “This feels nice.”

“Told ya! Oldest brother. Now, since we are taking the comforting approach to the problem… all the things you mentioned are those what makes you, you. All right, pumpkin?” he bopped her nose “you could adopt someone else’s lifestyle, but would you feel better then? Doing all those things that does not seem like they are yours?”

“No…” she muttered

“See? You just keep doing your thing, ok? Cause when you do something that makes you happy, even if it seems like you’re a mess, you’re just glowing and that is what makes you special, you know.”

“Example?”

“You were writing, last night, and you had that focus and spark in your eyes. Nothing but you and your ideas, put in words on the sheet. You were just beaming. That was you. You don’t need to put  a tag on yourself, believe me. It's not a competition or anything.“

"Really?" she pulled back and eyed him, raising one eyebrow "'cause you are absolutely not the one who would join The Bachelor, right?"

"That's irrelevant..." as much as he did not like it, her words made him blush a bit. (did she find that application form he hid under the bed?!)

"Let's agree to disagree" she grinned "I'll importune you for explanation on that matter later. And since we're on the subject, what about....?"

“Do you think me the role model on relationship advice?” he smirked, but a bit of sadness crept in “I made a lot of mistakes and speaking from experience, I can tell you just can’t hurry that. Just keep your mind open?”

"Did you just admit defeat in the romance matter, Dickie?" she mocked.

"Romance? Hell no! Just long-term relation..."

"Don't worry, big brother" she his his shoulder playfully "you keep my secret safe, I keep yours. But still, that’s the worst advice I ever got.”

“Maybe…” he tickled her tummy making poor girl squeal “think Damian would have better one?”

“He’s younger than me, sure as hell I’m not gonna ask him!”

“I’m serious, sis. Once you figure out who you are inside, even if it’s a bit complicated and come to terms with it, everything will fall in place.”

“Still the worst advice ever, but thank you for trying, Dickhead.”

“Doing my best for my little princess.”

“Ugh! Stop calling me that name!”

“You used to like it.”

“I was 7 years old!!”

“All right, fine, hold the fire” Dick raised his hands in surrender “Gosh, for someone who got so much fire inside, you suffer from too little self-value.”

“Four vigilante brothers can do that to a girl.”

“Y/N? I need you to promise me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“When you get in a relationship you will let me act like big protective brother.”

“You may have to wait a while, but sure, it that’s your dream…”

“How about I play that role in a Nightiwng suit?”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY GRAYSON!”

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption.  a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?” 

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough. 

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says. 

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her. 

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways. 

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet. 

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?” 

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out. 

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face. 

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.” 

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.” 

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?” 

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?” 

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?” 

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?” 

“I’m your only niece.” 

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.” 

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. 

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap. 

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah. 

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough? 

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.  

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe. 

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries. 

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over,  biding your time until your date arrives. 

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad. 

And then there’s Joel. 

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. 

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts. 

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone. 

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you. 

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are. 

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down. 

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender. 

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic. 

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks. 

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears. 

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.” 

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.” 

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons. 

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive. 

But at a cost. 

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced. 

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around. 

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside. 

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling. 

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes. 

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…” 

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.” 

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.” 

“Yeah?” 

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air. 

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind. 

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall. 

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there. 

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you. 

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm. 

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious. 

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter. 

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core. 

“Joel-” 

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic. 

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this. 

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back. 

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you. 

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you. 

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-” 

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard. 

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move. 

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response. 

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth. 

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask. 

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers. 

“I was right about you,” you manage. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating. 

“You’re trouble.” 

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.” 

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.” 

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…” 

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?” 

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel.  “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt. 

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice. 

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.” 

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low. 

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed. 

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him. 

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over. 

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.” 

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust. 

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.” 

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone. 

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible. 

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–” 

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile. 

It hits you like a freight train. 

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw. 

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.  

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before? 

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-” 

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?” 

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises. 

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.” 

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep. 

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly. 

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.” 

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip. 

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?” 

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite. 

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.” 

“This was nice. I had a really good time.” 

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.” 

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.” 

“Okay.”

-

part vi

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[insult-2-injury]

Scream Queen - Part 1/2

Gojo Satoru/FemReader

When it comes to horror films, Gojo considers himself a connoisseur. He knows a good chase when he sees one, and he's had his sights set on you for a long time.

AO3 Link

NSFW, 6.3k wc, porn with plot, dirty talk, fingering, pussy eating, masturbation, mild predator/prey

Part 1

Gojo had picked the horror flick that night. Had insisted it was critically acclaimed. But it was just some campy thing where the heroine was running all too slow down a flickering hallway, her screams serving only to alert the pursuing monster of her exact location. The woman’s hair was as beautifully curled as when she’d arrived, her skirt hiked up to her upper thighs, tank top torn in a way that left little to the imagination. 

“‘Amazing cinematography’ my ass,” you mumbled. You lay sleepily on Gojo’s couch, head in his lap, his fingers carding through your hair.

“You don’t like?” 

“She’s tripped over six times.”

“Yeahhh she’s a little clumsy,” he agreed. “But try and think about it this way: every time she stumbles, her tits go bananas. I mean talk about breaking the fourth wall.”

The woman ran into a room, barricading the door with just a weak press of her shoulder, weeping hysterically. You pointed at the screen, livid. “I can literally see a cameraman standing in the corner! Critically acclaimed? Really?”

“Yeah. Critically acclaimed by my penis.” He frowned. “Did I not say that?”

“No, actually, you failed to mention that, deviant.”

The tug of sleep was beginning to draw your eyes closed, the warmth of his thigh and the drone of shitty TV lulling you into a dreamlike trance. It was a rare occasion that you didn’t like the movies Gojo picked out; in fact this was a first. He actually had a surprising eye for pretty things and a knack for picking out quality flicks you’d never even heard of. But this was… decidedly un-epic.

The sound of wood splintering through indicated the start of yet another chase sequence that you couldn't care less about witnessing.

“Couldn’t be me,” you mumbled, melting further into his lap with a deep sigh, eyes finally closing. “I’m fast as fuck.”

“Yeah?” His voice held more than a touch of amusement. “You’re alright.”

With a cursed technique that granted you a speed on par with the all famous Gojo Satoru, you’d fare more than alright in a horror film.

“You could never catch me.”

The fingers in your hair paused for a good minute before he responded.

“You think?” he said.

Your only response was a sleepy hum.

“Hm.” The fingers continued. “Alright.”

You were too tired to think much of it, honestly, or the fact that you had inadvertently issued a challenge to the most insufferably competitive man you’d ever met. 

As your breathing slowed, his touch switched almost absentmindedly to the shell of your exposed ear, sweeping softly along the curve of it. Back and forth. Goosebumps tracked down your arms and you shivered, pulling your legs so tight to your chest that they knocked into his. You opted to ignore the puff of amusement from above – not like you could help that his couch was so comfortable.

Not to mention his apartment was bafflingly huge compared to your 400 square foot rabbit cage – with one of those open plan living spaces boasting enough area to plant a giant sectional couch right smack in the middle of it. But for how filthy rich he was, the place wasn’t ostentatious at all. It was cozy. Blessedly quiet, too, in comparison, even with the constant murmur of background noise that you were convinced Gojo would drop dead without. 

His apartment had become somewhat of a home base in recent months for you to decompress after tough missions. It hadn’t been easy finding friends since your move to Tokyo. Not that Gojo had started out as anything close to one. You’d hated his guts at first, actually. Still did sometimes - your first meeting ending with you fuming and him grinning down at you like you were the funniest little creature. He had a habit of that, making people feel small, what with his 6 '3 string bean stature and a perma-smirk that did little to fight off the asshole allegations.

You weren’t sure if you could deign to call whatever this was a friendship, either, with the two of you pushing each other’s buttons like it was your sworn duty to do so. But the bickering was a strange sort of constant in your life, and jujutsu sorcerers didn’t get many of those. So you showed up here time and time again for what? Normalcy? Comfort? Something like that. You just took it for what it was, and Gojo was certainly never one to complain about company.

You dozed off to the thought of how surprisingly cushy his thigh was, even if he was built like a string bean.

A sharp pinch on your earlobe jolted you awake. In an instant, you’d snatched the offending wrist and pulled yourself up. “Ow! The hell was that about?!” 

“Whoopsie! Sorry ‘bout that.” Gojo shrunk back from you, his sheepish apology so comically phony he reminded you of a kitten caught testing its boundaries. “Got scared. Hand slipped.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Sheesh. Careful, no second chances with this one.” 

He was being extra annoying tonight, and you said as much. Grumpily, you released your hold of him and he made a real show of it: inspecting for bruises, rubbing at his wrist and shaking his hand out like he’d been in iron shackles. Worst of all, the movie seemed like it was only a little past the halfway point, which means he hadn’t let you sleep through much of it at all. 

“Well.” You clapped your hands together. “you’ve just got to fill me in on what I missed.”

He inhaled.

“Sarcasm.”

His bottom lip stuck out in a pout, his head falling against his shoulder as he regarded you.

“You’re so mean to me.”

With a dramatic huff, you turned and collapsed back into the couch beside him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the heels of your palms. With senses so finely attuned to Gojo’s impulsive tendencies by now, you blindly knocked his hand away with your forearm before he could reach out to aggressively ruffle your hair in retaliation.

Just as smug as he could be, you crossed your arms and smirked. You’d found he often liked to justify inciting violence by lecturing how a good sorcerer was always on their guard. Well, guess what.

“Who’s the strongest now, bitch? That’s twice now I’ve blocked your ass.”

You caught the tail end of his quiet, mournful suffering – “could’ve seriously been injured…” 

“You have a weak constitution.”

He pointed at himself, looking around the room as if to say ‘me?!’  You nodded solemnly.

“Uh oh, I smell jealousyyy,” he sang, fingers drumming a scattered beat on the leather behind your head.

“Yeah? What of?”

He raised his chin with a dazzling smile. “My dainty, effeminate wrists, of course!”

Despite your best attempt, you snorted a laugh. Damn if he didn’t look pleased as punch about it, too.

“Strongest,” you scoffed. “You can’t even stand up from the couch without groaning. Let’s get you home, grandpa…reduced to bone dust if someone tightened your watch band a little too hard–”

You let out an angry squeal when the fingers behind you finally seized the chance to reach up and tousle your hair– not in the cute little gesture of affection kind of way. More in the pure violence for violence sake kind of way. You threw your arms over your head, forehead tucking into your folded knees, shouting over his witchy cackle.

“Strongest guy at the bingo table more like! Stop. Stop!” You smacked at his accosting hand blindly but it was like swatting at a relentless swarm of bees. “THAT’S ENOUGH.”

With one final ruffle, he let you go. You threw him your fiercest scowl.

“I hate you.”

His fiendish laughter trailed into the low, drawn out sound of your name, hummed with a purring appreciation that had your stomach flipping oddly, twisting in knots. You froze. Dear lord, when had you gravitated so close to him? If you tipped your head back, you’d be lying on the crook of his elbow. 

Quickly, you averted your gaze and got to work on your hair, smoothing down the devastation he had wreaked upon it. But strangely, his touch never quite left you, knuckles stroking gently at the base of your neck in an unfamiliar act of intimacy. You waited for him to launch an attack again, but he didn’t. Just quietly kneaded his fingers into your spine. The whole thing left you feeling a little stranded by what seemed like an unnerving insinuation of closeness, gaining an invisible weight to it the longer it went uncontested by you.

You blinked and spouted the first lie you could conjure up.

“You make for a terrible pillow, by the way.”

He made a throaty noise of disappointment, studying you a moment longer before turning his attention back to the movie, touch abandoning your neck. “Come into my home…” 

“And I’ll walk right back out of it if you’re not careful.”

“Ooh, consider me scared!”

“You should be scared.”

“Don’t I know it.” His long form slouched impossibly further down into his seat, his fingers lacing over his chest before he barked out one startlingly loud laugh, as if he’d just remembered you’d said the funniest thing. “Careful,” he said, a self-satisfied grin beginning to creep across his lips. “You would hate careful.”

You frowned. “What–”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he waved you off. “You can do whatever you want.”

Your jaw clenched at the pet name. But still it took a moment for your brain to kick back into gear. It was just… the way he’d said it that gave you pause, like he knew something you didn’t.

“Shit movie,” was all you could think to say.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’, sitting there still with a far-too-pleased grin.

Hit with a sudden bout of nerves, you turned to the coffee table, which was littered with a variety of sweet snacks he’d fished out of his cupboard. Stomach already full and strongly protesting to anything more, you panic-swiped two kit kats and jammed them into your mouth, taking the opportunity to scooch yourself away from him.

For a guy whose cursed technique allowed him to control space, Gojo was awfully oblivious to the concept of it. He was a taker; give him room to spread and he would take it unapologetically. It was no different now, his long form stretching immediately into your space again. His knee chased yours almost mindlessly, leg knocking into yours, bouncing there with a fervor.

“Stop.”

He looked at you with a raised brow. “Heh?”

“You’re encroaching.” 

His gaze flicked down, noticing the personal space violation for the first time, blinking, making a small hum of decision. He leaned in close, murmuring into your ear. “Well here’s an idea, yeah?” He grabbed your knee with an outstretched palm. “Go on and walk right out of here, then.”

You could only pray the movie was loud enough that he didn’t hear your breath catch. God, his hands were huge, his long, spidery grip bleeding warmth across your lower thigh and knee.

The feel of Gojo’s breath swept across your cheek as he observed your reactions closely. And you couldn’t help but gulp as a different, more alarming heat burned its way slowly up your thigh like a lit wick.

A thumb brushed featherlight across your bare skin, the pads of his fingers beginning to crawl gently inward to tickle the sensitive skin at the inside of your knee. You quickly jerked your leg away.

“Here’s an idea,” you sputtered, fumbling to find anything clever to say and failing miserably, “stop… being the way that you are.”

“Uh. Alright.” Gojo scratched his head, pulling back to give you the space you thought you wanted. “Don’t know what you want me to do about that, really. Sheesh. What’s a guy to do? Not like I can stop being hot or a genius or whatever. You want me to just ‘say goodbye’ to my baby blues?” He cupped his palm over his mouth in hushed confidentiality. “My giant horse cock?”

You made a horrible retching sound.

He shrugged away your disgust. “Just sayin’, you’ve gotta see it to believe it.”

“Cut it out.”

It was like you’d told him there was strawberry cake on the ceiling the way his eyes lit up, rolled back in his skull, jaw dropping as he threw his head back in fake ecstasy. And you just knew what he was about to do.

Your fist pulled back to prepare what should’ve been a non-punch to his infinity. 

“Stop or I will punch all the way through you.”

In an outrageously high-pitched, shrill voice, Gojo moaned.

“Make me, daddy–!”

The words were cut short by a choked grunt as he allowed your fist to connect to the soft of his stomach. Hard. His head lolled backward, a long, appreciative groan slipping from between an open-mouthed grin. The slender column of his throat bobbed as the raunchy noise dissolved into giggles. And you might as well have been struck in the gut yourself with how violently you yanked yourself back from him.

Because Gojo Satoru was beautiful like this. In that stupid, unfair way that made you want to run your tongue up and down his neck just once to see if he was made of real flesh and blood. You shook the thought from your head.

“You’re so weird.”

“You think so?” he asked, voice just a touch raspy.

‘Yeah. I do.”

His eyes rolled coyly to the side to meet yours.

“Brat.”

“Pervert.”

Gojo lifted his head lazily, perfect tufts of snow white falling across his forehead, a dangerous grin stretching slow and wide across his face. “Babe, you have no idea.”

Your face heated, nerves shooting off like a flurry of butterfly wings in your chest. You wanted to hiss at him. What was he playing at anyway? He’d flirt with the likes of a potted fern, but still.

It wasn’t something you could afford to think too hard on. This was just who he was: an irredeemable flirt, someone who couldn’t help but poke around the edges of boundaries just to test the strength of the fenceline. A guy like him wasn’t interested in the long term, anyway, and probably wouldn’t last with someone who didn’t want to sit around and stroke his vanity all day. 

Besides, it was nobody’s business but your own whether you occasionally thought about how it might slap his thighs when he walked.

To your growing horror, you found yourself unable to tear your wide eyes away from his; gaping far too long to chalk it up to a mental hiccup. And he was eating it right up if his stupidly smug smirk was anything to go by. 

You fell back into your earlier TV watching position, but instead of settling your head in his lap like before, you curled yourself beside him, the crown of your head pressing against his outer thigh. Safer that way, better to avoid his gaze. Mortification burned bright and unbearable in your chest. 

“Stop staring. And stop calling me babe.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” you said sharply.

“Because,” Gojo considered, nodding, seeming to roll the word out on his tongue. He laughed, insincere. “Because! You’re so right.”

You remained stubbornly silent. The pad of his thumb dropped to smooth over the deepening scrunch of your brows and you barely allowed it to stay. It was just a thing with Gojo; his hands always had to be fiddling with something, touching something. And you were usually the closest thing.

That was all.

“Ya know, you get all twitchy when you’re nervous,” his voice purred from above. “You nervous?”

Having little hope that he missed the small shudder that tracked your spine, you craned your neck to shoot him a warning look. But the sight that greeted you had you forgetting how to breathe.

Gojo was studying you with a shocking intensity, the glowing Six Eyes flicking between yours like he was carefully mapping you out. The ghost of a fascinated, greedy sort of grin curled at one corner of his mouth, seeming only to deepen at the sight of your unease. You dropped your head back into the couch, squeezing your eyes shut to will away the stone of want that had lodged itself firmly at the base of your throat. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Never been able to stop you before,” you snipped.

Gojo hummed, undeterred. 

So sly that you hardly registered what he was doing until his shadow was looming over you, he repositioned himself, one leg sliding onto the couch so he could turn sideways to fully lean over your balled up form. With a quick move and a scooch forward, you found your head propped on his lap again.

A large palm cut off your furious protests, sliding to cup gently beneath your jaw, two fingers grazing over your clattering pulse. A calloused thumb slid across the seam of your downturned lips.

“Do you like feeling helpless?” he asked softly.

You stilled as a drop of startling heat slithered between your legs. His hand drifted down the column of your throat to follow the contraction of your nervous swallow, like he’d predicted it, like he was fine-tuning an instrument. Shit, you felt so small tucked into his lap like this.

You averted your eyes back to the movie.

“Serial killer question,” you said, wretchedly anxious with him peering down, every tiny response of yours seeming to be dissected and filed away for something sinister.

You pretended to be invested in whatever Oscar-worthy, nonsensical bullshit was happening on screen, the woman now captured in the monster's clutches. That is, until you were thrown headfirst into a crippling silence.

“Hey! I was watching that.”

The remote landed with a loud clatter on the coffee table. “Sorry, baby. Can’t have you holding out on me.”

And then suddenly, the real horror was right here in the dead quiet. The only light source was a soft overhead. With a burst of anger drawn up from a slowly drying well, you rolled onto your back, glowering up at him.

“Can I fucking help you?!”

“Mhmm.”

Your teeth clenched. “What are you even talking about, helpless?”

Gojo propped back on one hand and pretended to think about it. “Ah, you knowww. Scream queen style or whatever. When the cards are down and you’re all played out.” His eyes flicked down your form to where your hands twisted nervously into the bottom of your t-shirt. Then back up, voice dropping pensively. “So fast you’ve probably never felt it, though… being chased down like that, backed into a corner. Never been challenged the way you deserve, I bet. You like the thought of someone who can keep up with you?”

If the body was a chest of drawers, yours overturned all at once. Someone who could keep up with you… Challenge you. Like… him? Your jaw clenched. A desire you didn’t even know you had settled with a pulsing heat in your lower belly.

“So, what I’m hearing, and correct me if I’m wrong.” You stopped, centered yourself with a deep breath. “What I’m hearing is you asking whether I’d get off on being chased?!?

“Get off on it?” Gojo’s jaw dropped, acting as if the idea had only just occurred to him. “Wow. Uh. Dirty girl. Well. Sure I mean, yeah. If you want.”

Your nails scraped across the leather of the couch, trying to distract yourself from how ridiculously enticing the idea was. Because it shouldn’t be at all. Nope. Not to a well-adjusted person. What made it exponentially worse was that the longer you went without storming out of his apartment, the more Gojo looked at you like the cat about to eat the canary. And damn it all, you didn’t hate it.

No. You hated that you didn’t hate it.

“If I want?” you grit out. “First of all, there’s something wrong with you if you get your rocks off on the idea of hunting women. Elmer Fudd over here. Get a grip.”

He smirked. “Be nice, kitty cat.”

Using your elbows, you shoved yourself up, whirling around to sit on your heels so you could better set him on fire with your eyes. 

“Why should I?!” you spat his earlier words back in his face.

Gojo went still, his slightly widened eyes flitting across your red-faced indignation. His gaze dropped to your lips as he chewed on his own for the span of a few breaths. Finally, he clucked his tongue. Whistled softly.

“Well, shit,” Gojo said. “Would ya look at that.”

Without an ounce of shame, his hand slid down the front of his pants.

“Wha–”

 “Sorryyy,” he sung. “Mind of his own, it’s the darndest thing!”

You gawked at him in disbelief as he casually adjusted himself.

“Really, man?!”

“Oh relaaax. Ever seen one before? Wanna take a peek?”

You tried to clear the image of those long fingers wrapping his cock, bringing himself to completion for you with that same groan he’d demonstrated for you earlier.  The thought had you too hot in your skin. 

“I’ll kill you. They’ll never stop finding your body.”

“Oh, keep going, I’m almost there!” he groaned theatrically before he shot you a cheeky, lopsided grin. “Gotta give it to you, babe, you really know how to get a guy goin’. I’m half hard and we haven’t even started.” His head cocked just a degree further and suddenly the playful grin he sported gained a sharp, predatory edge, voice dropping in low warning. “Keep looking at me like that. All angry. Sweetens the deal at the end of this thing. Makes it allll worth the wait.”

You swallowed, throat like sandpaper. “Deal?”

“When I catch you.”

You should walk out. You should walk right back out, like you said you would.

Unfortunately, your silence spoke volumes. Frustrated on several different levels, your hands flew up to cover your eyes, fingers pressing into the lids until you saw spots. But nothing could distract from the hyper awareness of the ache between your thighs.

“What do you want?” you asked, voice sounding small.

A long-fingered hand encircled each of your wrists, prying your hands away from your face. He held them hostage, pinning them to your upper thighs so you couldn’t retreat as he leaned in. Your heart stopped when his cheek brushed past yours.

“What I want is the whole thing. Listen. I love it when you play dumb with me. Seriously I do,” Gojo murmured into your ear. “But I think we’ve been sitting on the same page here for quite some time now, yeah? All the fighting, dancin’ around the tension and whatnot. I mean it’s sexy as hell, don’t get me wrong, but we both know it’s just extra bullshit.”

Your entire being was up in flames, face so hot you wondered if he could feel the heat emanating off your cheeks, his own pressed so tightly to yours he could probably feel your jaw work out a response.

“Make your point.”

He laughed, dipped his head, the tip of his nose nuzzling down the slope of your neck. The tiny, experimental flutter of warmth against your skin made you twitch, but the sudden hot drag of his tongue had you violently shuddering, searching for purchase until suddenly you were the one holding onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders. You could practically hear his arrogant smile as he breathed you in long and slow, the following sigh one of genuine contentment.

Gojo leaned back to have a look at you, disgustingly pleased with himself.

“Sure thing. I’ll make my point,” he said. Your arms felt strangely bereft when he moved out of your space, falling limply at your sides. Casual as could be, Gojo settled back into the couch, one ankle perched over his thigh, fingers clasping together like the two of you were discussing weather patterns. “Here’s the thing. I wanna find you, chase you, and fuck you in that order. Think you’d like somethin’ like that? Being pinned down with my cock in you?”

His eyes dropped to the motion of the unsubtle squeeze of your thighs, a razor sharp smile spreading slow across his lips.

“Yeah,” he purred. “Always thought you might.”

“You don’t know shit.”

His eyes flicked back to yours.

“I know that pussy has to be nice and wet by now.” Another spasm of want rocketed between your legs. God, he was so arrogant. “No shame in it, sweetheart. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop the whole thing.”

A palm settled on your knee, thumb stroking in a gesture of mock comfort. His voice was soft. “Orrr you could just admit you’re making a mess of your panties right now hearing me talk like this.”

It was like your strings were cut all at once, your chin tipping to your chest as you lost whatever self-preservation instinct you had left. “Shit,” you whispered.

A finger hooked into the bend of one of your knees, tugging invitingly. His hum was a soft, rolling lull.

“Come here and sit on me.”

You may have been cracking, folding beneath the weight of your desire, but nothing could have dulled the precision of the homicidal glare you leveled him with. 

“Think you have it in you to shut up for like six seconds?”

Gojo laughed. “Damn, my girl gets mean when she’s frustrated, huh?” At your lack of response, his smile dwindled and he seemed to truly consider you, taking in your stiff form. His gaze fell unabashedly between your legs again, tongue running along his teeth in deliberation. “You want me to eat you out a little? Loosen you up?”

Your jaw clenched as the mental image tore across your mind: hooded blue eyes looking up from between your legs, warm tongue put to work lapping at your cunt – he always did like to stay busy. Shit, why could you conjure up that image so well? 

Because Gojo had looked at you like that before, hadn’t he? Like he wanted to take you apart, piece you back together. You’d just been too blind to see it.

He continued, his other hand reaching out now so both were hooked behind your knees. “Yeah… Yeah. That’s what you need. About time, too, huh. Makes my dick so hard just thinking about it. C’mere.”

“I don’t–”

In a single movement, you were pulled off balance, falling flat on your back. He cut off your yelp of outrage, seized your ankles, spun and dragged you to the edge of the couch, your thighs now bracketing his. You squirmed, head spinning as you panted up at him with searching eyes. It wasn’t a comfortable position you’d been suddenly squeezed into, your head bent awkwardly against the back of the couch, trapped in a slouched position by the oppressive energy coming from the man standing between your spread legs.

Gojo loomed above. His fingers twitched at his sides, drawing your attention there and then directly over to the glaring evidence of his arousal pressing against the front of his pants. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Feels like I really don’t even have to check,” he breathed, hungry gaze trailing across your body like he couldn’t decide what to focus on. “Just know you’re soaking. It’s crazy.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said again, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Last chance.

“I– you’re… F-fuck you.” His grin was deadly, eyes sparkling in dark victory. It was unsettling, how much you wanted to fall headfirst into that blue.

Gojo Satoru collapsed on his knees like he was about to start muttering prayers. He tugged you closer, the weight of his head falling against your inner thigh with a satisfied hum. Laying there so he could simply observe the slight quiver in your legs as he slowly drew his oversized palms up and down any bare skin available to him.

“Fuck. Look at you,” he murmured, breath sweeping across the damp crotch of your sleep shorts like he was talking right into your clothed pussy. 

At the sound of your tiny, pathetic squeak, his shoulders shuddered violently. He slid forward, fingers hooking into the hem of your shorts, teasing there. His eyes raised with a hooded intensity, holding yours for a few heated seconds. Terribly slow, he let his jaw drop, tongue unveiling itself, and leaned forward to press it firm and flat against the thin fabrics covering your entrance, letting the heat bleed from his mouth. A groan choked out of your throat, coming out more as a grating wheeze, the noise met with a gleaming, wicked satisfaction.

“So the…” you swallowed thickly, voice so ragged it was almost completely foreign. “The thing with eating pussy is you have to remove my-”

There was a sharp, reprimanding smack on your thigh. “Don’t start.”

You half expected him to rip your shorts right off; you wouldn’t have been opposed. But Gojo instead rolled the hem down little by little, so torturously slow your fingers ached with how hard they dug into the couch with anticipation. He nipped, sucked bruises into the skin as it was exposed, gently guiding you to lift your hips so he could pull your bottoms the rest of the way.

His eyes danced in wonder across the arousal that you could feel being squeezed from you just by his appraisal. “Shit,” he exhaled, his warm breath brushing gently across your soaking cunt. You gasped, legs automatically attempting to clamp together. To get away. When was the last time you’d been this vulnerable to anyone? 

“No, no. Nope. None of that,” he reprimanded, pushing your knees into your chest, spreading your legs more lewdly for his perusal. “Lemme see what I did to you.”

“I– I c-can’t.” You averted your gaze. It was all too much: the sight of Gojo Satoru kneeling between your legs, looking as if he’d let the world burn just to get a taste of you. He breathed across you again, his mouth so damn close that you wanted to start tearing at his hair.

“Shit,” he said again. “Pussy got hot hearing me talk about how hard I’m gonna fuck it later.”

You couldn’t help but let out a muffled cry when two fingers stroked down your slit, pressing against the entrance to your pussy, swirling there. He coated the tips of his fingers thoroughly in your wetness, raising them to the light just to slowly scissor them apart. Watch your own fluid stretch thin between them before going back for more, just lightly teasing. Your face felt impossibly hot, chest rising and falling in short gasps, chasing the stroke of his fingers, needing something to clench around, the slow spread of your slick too ridiculously loud in the quiet room.

“You always this wet for me, baby?”

“I d-didn’t think your head could get any bigger.”

Gojo hummed in amusement, giving no warning before he began to slowly ease two fingers inside you. A string of expletives punctuated the air as your cunt throbbed and clamped down in relief, accepting him greedily.

“Look at that,” he said, hooking the long digits inside you and pulling another whimpered curse from your lips. He took his time dragging them out, pushing them back in with an obscene squelch. “You’re a sweet girl letting me finger fuck you like this. Shit, look at your pussy suckin’ on my fingers. So fucking hot… my girl letting me do this to her.”

“You–You’re- I d-” You attempted to mouth off, snap back that you didn’t belong to him, but a targeted curl of his fingers cut you off at the pass. 

“I know,” he crooned. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

A thumb pressed into your clit and your back arched as bolts of pleasure shot up your spine, hips rolling with the pump of his fingers, chasing more. You needed more. You couldn’t even breathe you needed it so badly.

Gojo bit the inside of your thigh, moaning obscenely and latching harder when you yelped in pain and smacked him hard in the head. 

“Ow. What the– what the fuck,” you gasped, although you hadn’t really disliked it at all. He soothed the sting away with little licks.

“Sorry,” he said insincerely, voice in shreds now, strained with an odd concentration. “Wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve whacked off to the thought of this right here. But now look at you spreading your pretty legs for me. Still tryin’ to act like you’re not starved for my cock after all this time. Making me wait like that. Dripping your cum all over my couch. Makes me fucking crazy. Filthy girl. You’re my filthy girl, aren’t you? Ffuck,” he hissed. 

It took you too long in your blissed out state to realize his shoulders were rocking slightly, and not just from the push and pull of his fingers inside you. “And my sweet girl’s gonna let me hunt her down, isn’t she? Spit on her tits, slap her, fuck her from behind.”

You couldn’t see it, but there was no doubt now that Gojo was masturbating himself in tandem. Thrusting his hips, not fast enough to relieve himself, just to appease the torment. God, he was vulgar, he was disgusting. He was sexy. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

With a wet schlick, his fingers pulled out of you. And you could only assume from the way both his gaze and hand fell down to his lap that he was spreading your cum along his cock. Fingers wrapping himself, Gojo choked on something between a salacious moan and a manic laugh. His eyes slid up to yours dangerously.

A quick flash of pink was all you got before he was leaning forward and sliding his tongue through your drenched folds. Finally, you let loose the keening cry that had been stuck in your chest. Your spine felt close to snapping with how hard it pulled taut, your fingers leaping from their death grip into the couch cushion to embed deep in his soft hair, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

A long, appreciative groan came from deep in his chest and he sighed, relaxed further into his task. One hand fisted around his cock, the other wrapped round one of your thighs to draw you closer, hand splaying across your lower belly to better hold you down. The rough pad of his thumb found your clit, dragging tight circles. 

With long strokes of his tongue, he lapped at the wetness collecting at your entrance. You wanted him to go higher, needed his mouth elsewhere, for that wet heat to replace the thumb steadily masturbating you. You dipped your hips to guide him there but he didn’t relent, tongue fucking into your cunt with the same aching slowness. It was like this wasn’t even for you.

“Gojo,” you said weakly. He just hummed, the vibration sending arcs of pleasure up your spine. God you were so close already. You just needed… “G-Gojo.”

Still he didn’t speed up, acted like he hadn’t even heard you. And it pissed you right off. He wanted the whole thing, didn’t he? He’d said that before. Gojo Satoru wanted you. Badly. He was good, but so were you. Gojo was a man who took. Had taken his entire life. He didn’t want someone who sat around and stroked his vanity. No. He wanted someone who took, too. He wanted you.

A rising anger loosened your tongue.

“Gojo, you f-fucking prick,” you spat. “Take your hand off your fucking cock and do this the right way.”

Deliberately, his tongue pulled from you, thumb still working you at an infuriatingly slow pace. A lazy, dangerous grin began to crawl across his lips, still wet with your juices.

“Careful,” he warned.

“I hate careful.”

Something dazed crossed his face then, like you’d struck him square across the face. He shuddered, his eyes darkening, glimmering suddenly with an almost terrifying devotion.

And then both his hands were on you.

Arms wrapped under your thighs, palms splaying to lock your hips down completely. A blessed heat enveloped your clit with a gentle suction, tongue fluttering where you had so desperately needed it.

“Ffffff” was all you could manage, your back arching, unable to even watch him like you wanted to as your body contorted with the pleasure shooting to a quick crescendo. 

“Shitshitshitshit,” you cried, fingers yanking at his hair, uncaring whether it hurt him, shoving his face impossibly further into your pussy. A vulgar, encouraging groan left him and with one final suck and a flicker of his tongue, you were sailing into oblivion. You clawed at him, a string of filthy curses stuck in your throat as you spasmed against him. It was long, debilitating, and drawn out by warm, slow slides of his tongue against you as he continued to lap up what you spilled, murmuring soft praises.

Your spine laid flat against the couch again as you collapsed with satisfaction, the pleasure still buzzing like a livewire across your skin. You twitched with sensitivity when his thumbs spread you apart, observing the final, tiny convulsions of your pussy.

“I– you’re amazing,” he groaned, like he was imagining himself deep inside you. “God, baby I… I wanna ruin you. My fucking cock is…” His forehead fell between your thighs for a second, like he was gathering himself. “I’m so fucking hard.”

Gojo leaned back on his heels as you sat up, assisting as you pulled your pants back up. He helped you up on shaky legs, until the two of you stood looking at each other, him unmoving, just eyeing you silently with a dark intensity. 

Gently, you pulled his face down to yours, placing a short, gentle kiss to his lips.

You pulled back. 

“I really do hope you’re as fast as they say you are.”

And you disappeared.

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 7

Eminem x FemReader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Y/N Comforts Marshall at the studio.

Tags : Fluff, Comfort

It was late and, by the time you got home, your friends were back from their date night. 

There you are ! Talia said as you walked through the door. I was about to call the police !!!

Why the hell would you call the cops ? you asked. 

Because it’s 3 AM, you were nowhere to be seen and you weren’t picking up the phone ?!  she replied in a serious tone. 

You apologized when you realized you had put your phone on silent when you were watching the movie at Marshall’s. 

Where were you anyway ? She quizzed you. 

With Marshall, you said. We watched a movie. 

Told you she was probably with him, Jamal said calmly. 

Well he didn’t pick up the phone either ! she said in an annoyed voice. 

She looked at you and a grin formed on her face. 

So… Movie night, huh ? She asked. 

Yeah, you said. Why ? 

You’re wearing his clothes, she pointed out. 

Jamal let out a laugh and you blushed in embarrassment. 

I spilled soda on mine, you replied calmly. 

Of course, Jamal said with a smirk. 

First, he gives you his necklace, then you come home wearing his stuff, she continued with a smile. 

Wait, he gave you a necklace ? Jamal asked, amused. 

Yes. His sobriety pendant, Talia explain. 

It’s a good luck charm, you pointed out. 

They hummed and smiled at you, their arms crossed. 

I knew you liked him, Jamal said with a smirk. 

Of course I like him, you said. As a friend. 

Friends don’t wear their friend’s clothes, he replied. 

Come on. I wear Talia’s clothes all the time. And she wears mine. 

And friends usually don’t give each other diamond-encrusted good luck charms, either, he continued. 

He likes you, Talia said. 

He is nice, you said as you rolled your eyes. That’s it. He wanted to wish me luck on my recovery and he didn’t want me to stay in soaking wet clothes. 

They kept on smiling. 

You had a good time, your best friend pointed out. 

I did. 

You’re smiling, Jamal continued. 

I am, you confirmed. You guys are being awfully descriptive. Is this going somewhere or can I finally go to bed ?

We haven't seen you with a smile this big since… a long time ago, he said softly. 

I smile all the time, you said. 

Not like this, Talia said. You are glowing. 

Maybe it’s the face wash I used, you shrugged in annoyance, trying not to let on. 

She got closer to you and inspected your face. Her face changed into a triumphant smile when she inhaled. 

You showered there. 

How do you even… ? you asked. 

You would never pick a bodywash with this smell. I know you too well, she said with a grin. 

Well, as I said, I spilled soda. 

Riiiight, Jamal said. Quit lying and spill the tea instead, girl. We have all night. 

You groaned. They were your best friends, but they were also the most nosey, insufferable people you knew, especially in this moment. Still, you knew better than to kiss and tell. 

Goodnight, you said firmly as you moved towards the stairs. 

Sweet dreams, Jamal said with a giggle. 

You sighed when you got back to your room and laid on the bed. It was indeed late and you were exhausted. You were about to drift off to sleep when Talia opened the door. 

What are you doing ? you asked. 

I’m here for the tea, she chuckled before closing the door and laying next to you on the bed. 

Taliaaaaaaa, you groaned. 

Please, please, please. You’re my bestie. Besties tell each other everything, right ? 

Are we back in middle-school ? You asked. 

YES. I just want to know about your night, she pleaded. Did you have a good time ? 

I did, you said with a smile. 

Em’s a great guy, she said. I knew you’d get along. 

Marshall is pretty cool, you nodded. 

Right. “Marshall”. So, what did you do ? she asked with a smile. 

We watched a movie, you said earnestly. Us. 

A horror movie !!! she shrieked. Did he reassure you ?

Who said I needed reassurance ? you asked cockily. 

Please, you’re the world’s biggest scaredy-cat, she giggled. 

He did reassure me, you said softly. But there’s nothing between us. We’re friends.

Why did you shower at his place, then ? She asked. And please, don’t say you spilled soda. Unless you spilled a whole jug, you wouldn’t need to shower. Especially if it’s just a movie night.

You sighed. She was your best friend in the world and you didn’t want to lie to her. On the other hand, you didn’t feel like telling the whole truth either. She saw you looking uneasy. 

You can tell me, she said. I promise I won’t tell Jamal. 

Fine, you sighed. 

You spilled a few details, leaving a part of the story aside. You figured she didn’t need to know about the other night. You basically just told her that you kissed and he went down on you before you took a shower and went for a drive.

That sounds like a date, she mused. 

Only, it wasn’t, you said firmly. We agreed that it’d be better if we stayed friends. We just got caught up in the moment. It’s not a big deal, though. 

Just friends ? She asked in disbelief. 

Yeah. I don’t think he likes me like that anyway, you said. 

Mmmh. I disagree but ok, she said. How do you feel ? 

Fine, you said. I mean, he’s really cool, I like hanging out with him. Friends is good. 

Whatever keeps you smiling like this, she said. I missed seeing you like that, you know ? 

Without warning, she engulfed you into a hug. She was the most affectionate person you knew. 

Thank you for everything, you whispered. 

Anytime, honey, she whispered back. Well, if you want to thank me… there is something you can do… 

What ? 

Spill the tea about Em. Is he good ? she asked cockily. 

Talia !!! 

Come on, it’s no big deal, she chuckled. Better than Simon ? 

So much better, you said with a wink. 

She squealed and clapped and, even though you were initially tired, you ended up talking until morning, like two middle-schoolers during a sleepover. 

The next day, you went to the studio after you were done with uni. It was just Marshall, Jamal, Royce and Porter. They were discussing a track. You quickly hugged everyone and sat on the couch. You hadn’t slept and you were tired. You let out an involuntary yawn.

Are you alright ? Porter asked. 

Yeah, you said. Sorry, I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept. 

Got some action last night ? Royce joked. 

You heard a shrieking noise coming from Jamal, who was trying to fake a cough to hide it. You shot him a death glare. 

Yeah. Talia was in my room all night, you said with a mean smile. Had to give the poor woman something. 

You’re such a bitch, Jamal said with a laugh. 

Marshall looked at you with an amused smile and shook his head. He silently mouthed a “Thank you” and winked. You hoped Jamal hadn’t made any comment or grilled him with questions. Eventually, the guys stopped working and Marshall came to sit beside you while Porter, Royce and Jamal went to get something to drink. 

I have something for you, he said with a smile. 

You do ? you asked. 

Yes. I made you a playlist, he explained. Your very own beginner’s guide to hip-hop. I selected some tracks for you to listen to. There's 2Pac, LL Cool J, Beastie Boys, Wu Tang… That’ll be a good start. 

Thank you ! When did you have time to put that together ? You asked. 

You’re not the only one who had a sleepless night, he chuckled. Spent hours trying to clean the damn couch. 

You chortled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He looked at you with a smirk. 

Anyway, by the time I was done, it was either an hour of sleep or working on your playlist. And I do better on no sleep than one hour, he chuckled. So there you go ! 

He handed you a small USB device. 

You know people use Spotify and Apple Music these days, right ? You joked. 

The only reason it’s not a CD is because I’m pretty sure you don’t have a player, he replied with a smirk. 

It’s true, I don’t, you chuckled. 

It’s a shame, he said as he shook his head. You’ll never know how great it was, when you had something physical to hold on to, with music. 

I’m not twelve, Marshall, you said with a laugh. I had a few CDs in my day. But yeah, that was short-lived. 

What was the first CD you bought ? he asked. 

You don’t want to know. 

Come on, he said. I won’t judge. 

Britney Spears, In the Zone, you said. 

Ok, I’m judging a little, he admitted with a grin. 

You chuckled and grabbed your laptop, inserting the device, saving the tracks in your playlist. 

Do you want me to make you a playlist in return ? You joked. 

I don’t trust your music taste, he grinned. But you know what ? Sure. Though I should tell you hip-hop isn’t the only thing I listen to. So make it interesting, ok ?

You nodded and placed the usb key in your bag. You pressed play on your computer and listened to the first song which was Keep Ya Head Up, by 2Pac. As the first notes played, Marshall immediately took your computer. 

Nope, nope, nope, he said as he shook his head. 

What’s wrong ? You asked, visibly confused. 

I’m not having you listen to great music on shitty computer speakers, he explained. 

He got up and picked a set of Beats headphones. 

I could have used my headphones, you chuckled. 

Those flimsy things ? Yeah, don’t bother, he grinned. 

Snob, you said as you rolled his eyes. 

You connected the Beats set to your computer and placed them on your head. 

That’s better, you admitted. The sound is great !!! 

I know, right ? He replied. You can keep those, by the way. 

The others came back and resumed their conversation with Marshall, who threw glances at you as if to watch your reaction to the playlist. You smiled and closed your eyes to focus on the music. Before you knew it, you drifted off to sleep. 

When you woke up, the room was dark and silent. You were laying on the couch, Marshall’s jacket placed on you. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you weren’t exactly surprised. You were exhausted. Your eyes scoured the room, searching for the others but they were nowhere to be seen. You got up and went to the lobby, where you found Marshall playing one of the arcade games. 

Hey sleepyhead, he said without looking at you, absorbed by the game. 

Hey, you said as you rubbed your eyes and tried to get used to the sudden light. 

After losing his game and grunting, he turned to you. He seemed exhausted and you figured that he wasn’t any better at dealing with the lack of sleep than you were. 

What time is it ? You asked. 

About 11PM, he replied.

Where are the others ? 

They went home a while ago. I told Jamal not to wake you up, he explained. I figured you needed the sleep. 

Thanks. Were you waiting for me to wake up ? you asked. 

Yeah, he said. 

You didn’t have to, you said as you shook your head. You look tired. 

It’s fine, he assured you. I just finished working anyway. 

This late ? 

Yeah, he mumbled. 

He groaned and stretched his back. 

Is something wrong ? You asked. 

Yeah. No. I don’t know, he sighed. 

Want to talk about it ? You offered. 

He stared at you for a few seconds and shrugged. 

Paul called me a few hours ago. We’re having a few issues with sample clearing, he said. 

What’s that ? 

When you want to sample someone’s work you need to get permission, he explained. Basically, you have to ask the copyright’s owners. 

Ok, you said as you took in the information. So ? What’s the issue ? 

So, anyway, there was this song we recorded a while ago and I felt pretty good about it. Loved everything about it, really. Some of the guys even said it’s one of my best. 

Yes ? You asked, not really getting it. 

Well the copyright’s owners - not even the artist, but their heirs - don’t want me to use it, he said in an annoyed tone. 

They don’t like what you did ? 

Nooo, better than that, he said with a sarcastic laugh. They say they like it, but they don’t want me to use it. Because I’m Eminem. 

You looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate. 

They like it but they don’t like… you ? you said. 

Exactly. Apparently, they think I’m too homophobic and misogynistic, he groaned. Like… what the fuck ?! 

What ? 

You know what’s fucking frustrating ?! he continued. The track is clean. Like, actually clean. Barely any swear words. No slurs. No killing anyone. No violence or shit. But because some people portrayed me as homophobic three lifetimes ago, they don’t want me to use the work. 

That’s unfair, you said. 

You think ?! 

He groaned and punched the nearest wall. It was the first time you saw him angry. In the past months, you’d seen a lot of his emotions, but never anger. This sudden burst of rage startled you. You stared at him, unable to say anything. After a few seconds, he seemed to notice it and his face softened a bit. 

Sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to scare you, he said softly. I’m just… fucking frustrated. 

It’s ok, you replied. I can tell the track means a lot to you. 

It does, he said, but it’s not just that, you know ? It’s the way some people think about me. I usually don’t care, because I figure that, if they don’t like my music, all they have to do is not play it. I’m not offended by that. Not everyone will like me and that’s ok. But this… it’s worse because it’s preventing me from making music. You know what I’m saying ? I wanted that shit on the album.

You hummed and gently rubbed his shoulder. He gently leaned into your touch. 

There’s no way you can persuade them to change their mind ? You asked. 

Don’t think so, he said. I mean, if it were me, and I thought someone homophobic, racist or whatever wanted to use my work, I’d probably say no too, you know ? But…

But you’re not like that, so that’s even more frustrating, you continued. 

...Yeah. 

He sighed. You could see some genuine disappointment in his face. 

As I said, I usually don’t care about this type of rumors or public perception or whatever you want to call it. But music… that’s the most important thing to me, you know ? That’s all I want to do, all I care about. Music. 

You nodded and gently wrapped your arms around him. He returned the embrace. 

Thanks, he whispered. Sorry for being grumpy. 

I wish I could do something, you said. 

This is good, he said softly. 

He rested his chin on the top of your head. You mindlessly ran your hands in his back, in an attempt to soothe and comfort him. 

I like that, he said in a sleepy voice. 

You know what I think you’d like even more ? you asked as you smiled against his chest. 

You’re not going to start teasing me, are you ? he asked with a small groan. 

No, you idiot, you giggled. I was thinking about sleep. 

I would like that, he said. 

I’ll get my things and call a cab. 

No need for a cab. I’ll take you home, he said. 

Ok, you whispered. 

You both grabbed your things and he took you home. 

Thanks for taking me home, you said. And allowing me to rest at the studio. 

Thanks for comforting me, he replied with a smile. 

Anytime, you said softly. 

Sorry you had to see me all grumpy… 

It’s ok, you said. You have the right to be sad, hurt and whatever, you know ? 

He shrugged and nodded quietly. 

For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing. And I’m sure that, if these people met you for even 10 minutes, they’d be honored to have you sample their stuff, you added before planting a kiss on his cheek. 

You think ? 

Of course, you said with a smile. You’re the kindest and funniest person I’ve met. 

Sexiest, too, right ? He asked with a smirk. 

I used to find you attractive, you said with a smile. But then you showed me those awful pictures of you in the 90s. Now I can’t unsee it. 

He let out a laugh and rolled his eyes. 

I’m glad we’re friends, he said with a smile. You know… I don’t have a lot of people who comfort me the way you do. 

Me too, you said softly. I’ll always be there if you need comfort, you know ? 

You hugged him one last time and he planted a kiss on the top of your head. As soon as you entered the house, you grabbed your phone and checked your messages. Your heart pounded in your chest when you saw a very familiar name on the screen.

[larrylimericks]

23Mar23

We’re feeling some internal friction At silver screen Louis’ depiction; All the world is a stage But it’s hard to engage When plot lines combine fact and fiction.

I get really rambly below the fold. Proceed with caution if you’re over the discourse already.

I debated seeing All of Those Voices in theaters. I didn’t see either of Harry’s films in theaters — Harries are too much of a wildcard, and I refused to sit through hours of squeals and gasps and reactions, not to the movie but to “omg! Harry’s going down on someone! omg, Harry’s bum!” So I was already tentative about seeing Louis’ film in a shared space, outside the protective silos of tumblr. But I bought a ticket, because I want to support him and because I was genuinely curious what story would be told. Then we got the trailer and I hesitated again, not wanting to watch a propaganda film. But, I’ve lived through all the other Bullshit moments, so I figured I could live through Bullshit on the big screen.

My theater crowd was great — pretty neutral aside from an amusing row of politely excitable Larries I was in secret solidarity with. And I pretty much loved the film. Well, 92% of it. I look forward to watching it again when it streams. I mean, it was an hour and a half of content featuring this fascinating creature we’re all obsessed with. I didn’t want to blink. I hung on his every word (when I could understand them). How cool to get, essentially, a long-form interview, where he’s not promoting an album and we’re not getting the same sound bytes. Louis is wonderfully open and vulnerable, and the story of his life (heh) is inherently compelling. The cinematography is beautiful. The behind-the-scenes are delightful and delicious. I can’t wait for the AOTV gif sets once we have it in high-def.

But it has some plot holes as wide and deep as the ones in Don’t Worry Darling.

First, there’s the confusing (to the uninformed) absence of a love interest. Louis is asexual, as far as the film goes. There’s not even a ghost of Eleanor, with whom he’s cumulatively spent a decade and who is supposed to have inspired so many great love songs and with whom he is supposed to have survived a pandemic. Props to E for living her best life now: going to see Scream on AOTV opening day, enjoying full custody of the pups, publicly supporting her assumed partner — sorry you got Kiki Layned from the film, but I’m guessing you weren’t even written into the script. (It’s not like the film was conveniently re-edited in the months since their break-up. Her stunt tapering was intentional.)

Then there’s the glaring absence of a baby mama (thank god; that family would have been even more insufferable). We’re cruising along for 45 minutes or so and then, wham, Dad!Louis enters the chat with a fully formed 6-year-old child. The kid just magically appears with no backstory — just like in real life ... twice (the first time with the pregnancy announcement and the second time with the revival of Dad!Louis after several years of dormancy, right in time for documentary filming. Just like Harry stunted with his co-star during filming and production, Louis stunted with his.)

The kid is cute, and faultless in this. The scenes are objectively sweet (as they were designed to be). But Louis, who normally keeps things very close to the vest, is all of a sudden an emotional spigot you can’t turn off when it comes to these scenes. It seems quite out of character. Which brings back to mind that this Louis *is* a character. The Freddie scenes just didn’t seem to have a point in the plot other than: Louis is a dad. And that role isn’t integral to the film’s story.

He’s incredibly emotional with Freddie, but the movie doesn’t tell us why. The storytelling gets lazy here. The lad/dad plot seems wedged in. The movie would be perfectly complete without it. I felt like it could have been integrated a few different ways: Louis experienced tragedy after tragedy after tragedy — loses 1D, loses his mum, loses his sister ... and then impending fatherhood either becomes another trial he must reluctantly face (in the surprise pregnancy narrative) or it helps him navigate the grief of losing his sole parent, his closest confidante. OR, Louis, not wanting to be like the absentee father he had, shows up for his own oopsie baby despite the unexpected circumstances. But there’s no exposition or rising action. No footage or photos from the first few years of the kid’s life that we haven’t already seen. Just an immaculate conception.

I think the most compelling narratives of the film are these:

Louis’ overcoming adversity after adversity after adversity. Holy hell. I lived through 1D ending, through the devastating news about Jay (god, I remember the shock and sadness of that day — it was incomprehensible), through the heartbreaking news about Fizzy, and then when you think Louis is gonna get his moment of victory with his first solo world tour, coronavirus pulls the rug out. (That sequence was well done: where we keep seeing the dates get closer and closer to March 2020, and we all know the villain that’s coming, but it’s still such a blow.) I lived through all that in real time, but seeing it in such a concentrated sequence really highlights the shit he’s been dealt, and hearing him open up about so much of it ... that’s the character development relevant to the film’s denouement. And getting to see Louis get what he deserves, finally, and hearing him acknowledge that he deserves it, was a lovely ending.

Louis’ journey to find his footing and his confidence as a solo artist after unfathomable success as part of a group. But, in a sort of plot twist, he’s not really solo, is he? The film gives a lovely introduction to his band now — and in their own words, reveals that they’re not just a backing band, they’re a *band* band. Louis has let them in. He’s forged a new brotherhood. *That*, for me, was the heartwarming story. I loved those scenes, loved seeing Louis in his element, which is in a collective, where he is both king and jester at the same time. (Or perhaps Oli’s the jester. Thank fuck for him, man. Oli is the standout. The breakthrough performance. The comic relief. I want a spinoff series.) It’s easy to miss 1D and glorify those short years and think nothing will ever top it, but Charlie’s storytelling of the LT Band is remarkable. We’re left looking forward, not back.

I know Louis’ dedication to his fans and his fans’ dedication to him is a huge focus, but I don’t really enjoy watching commentaries on fandoms I’m a part of. I’m living it. I don’t need outsider context. And in a fandom as fractured as Louis’ (and 1D’s) there’s not a universal experience. The film depicts dedication as sleeping on streets for rail, hopping from country to country and draining bank accounts — because that’s the kind of “superfandom” that gets easily turned into a marketable freak show. Show me the documentary on the fans who organize the light projects, who run the fashion accounts, who curate livestream sources on show nights, who have turned giffing into an art and science, who help promote Louis in the absence of a competent marketing team, etc., etc. I also thought the interview with the American(?) girls talking about LATAM shows was shortsighted. And showing the rainbow factions but not addressing them? What a missed opportunity to talk about songs like Only the Brave becoming a queer anthem. Straight artists can have gay fans, you know.

But the film doesn’t make the kid relevant to any of those storylines. He could have been worked into the first, but wasn’t. It was like a standalone narrative, with footage from a narrow set of days. I was at both those L.A. shows. The energy was so different from night 1 to 2. And in retrospect it’s clear Louis was performing the first night so Charlie could get the right shots. More like a choreographed play than a rock concert. It makes sense now why the Clarks weren’t in the VIP box with Freddie — couldn’t have them cluttering the frame or distracting the actors. Just, everything about the Freddie scenes is heavy-handed. Make a sign for your dad! Draw his logo in the sand! Fly a kite at sunset! He’s the spitting image of Louis! (Len does all the heavy lifting.) And all the maneuvering it had to take to get all those shots from the L.A. show?! In the VIP box from behind (and from the front, and when he just happens to be mouthing along to Two Of Us), side stage watching Louis end the show, on-stage watching Louis approach Freddie after the show, on-stage catching the moment Louis gives the lad a shout-out ... Charlie had a shot list. But sure, nothing was set up, it was totally organic.

I’m still unsettled by how heavily Charlie laid it on at the first premiere press conference — *he* was the one to bring up the kid, and was weirdly emphatic that nothing was staged, nothing was forced. It had the same energy of the “It’s. Not. Real” thrown baby doll moment, only it’s Charlie insisting that It. Is. Real. Thou dost protest too much, me thinks.

And of course, the lack of interaction between Louis and Harry remains, as ever, the biggest tell. We get poignant post-1D Nouis and Lilo moments in the film, but no Larry. We’re spoon-fed these Very Emotional Moments between father and son (“love you,” “Darling,” mouth kisses), when the real story, the real emotion, the real connection is in just a few seconds of furtive glances between Harry and Louis in the backstage footage of the last 1D performance. Christ, the way Harry’s eyes bore into Louis — chin tilted down, eyes glancing up from beneath a furrowed brow, lips tight, disguising his attentiveness with a hair flip ... they mastered so many forms of silent communication. The quiet call and response, the depths of love and care and concern and protection contained in micro-expressions. Fuck, give me 90 minutes of that. Just a silent film of Louis and Harry looking at each other.

Anyway. Sorry this sounds so grumpy. I did really love most of the movie. But I haven’t made sense of why this film was made. I don’t know its purpose. Maybe the introspection forced by the pandemic lockdown is to credit for this glut of music docs (“docs”) lately. Maybe nine minutes frees him up for nine more months or nine more years. I dunno. He obviously wanted this story told in this way.

Seeing a movie requires the willing suspension of disbelief. You have to ignore critical thinking in order to enjoy the story you’re being told. You tune out your knowledge that everything is fake for the sake of being entertained. We know that Superman can’t actually fly, but we still buy tickets to the cinema. But, a documentary shouldn’t require us to employ this semi-conscious perceiving mode. Yet here we are. I’m just not sure how much more or how much longer we can suspend our disbelief to enjoy fandom.

[metallicaislife]

Pushed to Confess

Requested by: Anon

Genre: 18+ Smut, minors dni

Word Count: 1,360

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), m x f pairing

I was sitting on the couch at the  Metallimansion. I don’t even know why I pay rent for my apartment anymore. I'm here every day when the guys are around, let’s be real even when they aren’t home I’m here. They joke that I’m the silent 5th member. 

I was kind of a package deal when Kirk joined the band. He and I have been best friends since the dawn of time. Though I know I feel there is something more bubbling beneath the surface but are both too shy or scared to make a move on the off chance the other doesn’t feel the same. 

Kirk had his hand behind my back tickling it softly as we were all in a big discussion about a new album released by one of our favorite bands. 

Lars looked over as I made a comment and saw Kirk tickling my back. 

“Oh my god will you two just kiss already!” He shouted. My eyes widened and Kirk’s hand stilled. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped, Lars rolled his eyes. 

“Oh please, stop with the ‘will they, won’t they’ act. Kirk likes you and you like him and the rest of us are suffering because Kirk whines about how much he wants you and you are always making eyes at him so please for the sake of everyone will you two just get it on already!” Lars continued shouting. I was mortified and needed to get out of here. I stood up and stormed out. 

“Dude not the way to go about it.” I heard Cliff chastise Lars. 

I went straight home. That’s right, this is why I pay rent so I can run and hide. As soon as I got into my apartment I pressed my back against the door. Tears entered my eyes. I mean I’m relieved in a sense to know Kirk feels the same way, but I’m mortified Lars chose to yell it out rudely as he did. And maybe Kirk and I were insufferable to the rest of them as we tiptoed around the idea of being more. Either way, Lars was lucky he didn’t catch my fist in his throat. 

I changed into some cozy clothes and curled up on the couch putting on my favorite movie. 

I was beginning to doze off when there was a knock at the door. I got up and answered it. Kirk stood in front of me. 

“Hey.” I said, feeling awkward in front of him for the first time in my life. 

“Hey, can I come in?” He asked. 

“Oh yeah, sorry, of course you can.” I stumbled over my words and opened the door wider and he came in. I closed the door and turned to him. 

“I’m sorry you had to find out that way. I should’ve just told you myself.” Kirk said, his eyes held a sincerity that warmed my heart. 

“So what Lars said was true?” I asked and he nodded. I smiled softly. 

“Good because I like you too, as more than a friend.” My grin widened. Kirk smiled and put his hand out to me. I placed my hand in his and he brought me closer to him placing a hand on my waist as the other cupped my face. I wrapped my arms around his middle. Our lips met in a life changing kiss. The electricity between us was off the charts. He pulled away. 

“Why the hell have I not kissed you sooner.” He said. 

“I don’t know but we can find ways to make up for it.” I grinned mischievously. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked with a dangerous glint in his eye. 

“If you catch me you can do whatever you want to me.” I whispered seductively. A spark lit in his eyes. I pushed off of him and began running for my bedroom. He wasn’t far behind, and honestly that was the point. As I entered my room his arm wrapped around my waist. He spun me around and captured my lips with his. He backed me up until my knees hit my bed. He pulled back and started to help me undress as I did the same with him. Our hands explored each other as we kissed sloppily. He pushed me down onto the bed and let me scoot back so he could hover over me pinning me to the bed. 

He left sloppy kisses on my neck as covered every inch of me with his lips. He made his way down and kissed everywhere but where I wanted. His big brown eyes looked up meeting mine. 

“May I?” He asked, hovering over my pussy. 

“Yes.” I replied. 

Kirk leaned down and kissed my pussy. He licked and sucked at it. My fingers gripped his hair tightly. 

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmured, the vibrations sending tingles throughout my body. He slipped a finger in me pulling it in and out. He added a second and I squirmed. 

“Feels s’good.” I moaned. He hummed against me, and I came screaming his name. Sorry, not sorry neighbors.

Before I could process what was happening, Kirk flipped me over. He grabbed a pillow. 

“On your knees for a second, pretty girl.” He said. I did as he said and he laid the pillow in front of me. “Lay back down.” The pillow was situated so I could lay flat with my ass in the air. “Good girl.” He praised me. “If you’re gonna scream again scream against the bed okay? Don’t wanna bother the neighbors, do you?” He said as he rubbed his hands over my ass.

“No, don’t wanna do that.” I mumbled, my mind still a little hazy from my first orgasm. Kirk spread my legs and I felt him enter me. He groaned as I moaned. He continued rubbing my ass. 

“Tell me when I can move, pretty girl.” He said. I gave it a few moments as I stretched around him. 

“Please move, I need you to fuck me.” I said. He leaned forward placing a kiss on the middle of my back. Then he pulled his hips back before pushing back in. I moaned loudly then turned my head burying my face in the sheets. His pace wasn’t overly fast, but the power of it as he repeatedly rammed into my g-spot had me seeing stars as I screamed. Kirk smacked my ass. 

“Such a good girl, taking me so well. My good girl.” He said, as he groaned. 

I couldn’t last much longer, it was all so good and overwhelming at the same time. 

I screamed again as I came squirting on Kirk, the bed muffling my scream. Kirk continued, tears streaming down my cheeks. I could feel his cock beginning to twitch. He pulled out and came all over my ass and back. He laid next to me. The only sound in the room was our heavy breathing. After a while Kirk got up and came back with a washcloth. He wiped me off. 

“Come on, pretty girl, let’s get you in the bath.” He said, helping me up. He filled the tub and helped me in. 

“Join me?” I asked. 

“Let me change your sheets first. I’ll be right back, okay?” He looked at me so tenderly. 

“Okay.” I said and melted into the warm water. 

He was true to his word and came back. He got in the bath behind me and pulled me into his embrace.

“So what are we?” I asked softly. 

“Well we skipped the first date, but I think we can still go back and do that. You know, out of order.”

“Like our friendship.” I chirped, causing him to laugh. 

“Yeah, you declared yourself my best friend and invited yourself over before introducing yourself or asking for my name.” He smiled as he recalled the memory. 

We took turns tenderly washing the other. We got out and went straight to bed snuggled up into one another. 

I may be angry at Lars for his execution of it, but I’m grateful he said something pushing me and Kirk to finally cross the boundary into love.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa