#I'm finally back to my gif series

[namtanlovesfilm]

#guess we'll never know jane's age

[becca-e-barnes]

Limerence

Limerence: a state of mind resulting from romantic attraction, characterized by feelings of euphoria, the desire to have one's feelings reciprocated.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Angry/ hate sex, mention of an argument but nothing specific, unprotected sex, creampie, degradation, anal play, double penetration, one spank, vaginal fingering, mention of oral, just a little mirror stuff

Summary: I learned a new word last week and I chose to ignore its negative connotations. It's more fun that way.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!

Minors, do not interact.

Life is cruel sometimes.

He’s standing over there wearing a cream coloured Hawaiian shirt with a blue floral pattern and, in spite of yourself, you very much want to jump on him.

You can’t look at him though.  You’re convinced that if you look at him, everyone will know.  They’ll know he’s kissed just about every inch of your body.  They’ll know that you crave the way he touches you.  They’ll know that bringing him to orgasm often feels more euphoric than your own climax.  And they absolutely can’t know that.

His poker face is better than yours.  The wry smirk on his slim lips when his gaze flits over to you momentarily won’t give the two of you away and just seeing him look at you like that is enough to make you question whether you possess a single ounce of self control.  He’s better at this than you are, no doubt about it.  There’s plenty you can learn from him.

'Are you still being a bitch?' The message flashes up on the watch on your wrist.  Holy fuck, this man is irritating.

You unlock your phone to respond to the message, your thumbs move quickly across the keyboard.  'That depends.  Are you going to admit you were wrong?'  You glance over at him and see that he’s ignoring those he had previously been engaged in conversation with, in favour of responding to you.  The conversation goes on without him and no one is any the wiser that it’s you he’s texting.

'I wasn’t wrong.'

'Then yes, I’m still a bitch.'

'I thought as much.  But so we’re clear; you made your point in that dress.  Even if you are painfully stubborn.'

'I’d rather be stubborn than wrong.'

'That’s cute.'  You watch him slip his phone back into the pocket of his shorts once he sends the message, re-engaging with the conversation that he’d been neglecting for the few short minutes in which he’d focused his attention on you.

You’re certain he knows how frustrating he is. Surely he must know.

You’ve been at an impasse for over a week and in all honesty, neither of you can really remember how the argument started.  Did it even really matter anymore?  It’s not even so much about the disagreement, now it’s about pride and who’s willing to sacrifice theirs first.

That’s the problem with being equally stubborn - neither of you want to be the one to give in.  At this stage though, sex has been off the table much longer than you would have liked.  Nothing makes you desperate quite like a lack of orgasms and while you can do it yourself, you’d be the first to admit that it’s not even nearly the same.

The way you touch your own body is so different to how he does.  Your touch is borderline clinical sometimes.  It’s methodical and calculated because really, you’re only working towards an end goal.  You focus on release more than pleasure and that’s fine.  You achieve what you need to and that’s enough but the way he touches you is so different.  

When he’s taking you apart he takes his time, touching you because he simply needs to.  It’s evident that he gets off on your pleasure just as much as you get off on his.  There’s never any rush, delivering sensations that you don’t have the time or patience to administer when you do it yourself.  Pleasure with him feels luxurious.  It’s hedonistic and intimate; a perfect blend of satisfying and tender.

It’s hard not to miss that: sex so good that it’s both too much and not enough all at once.

'Do you think anyone would notice if I slipped my hand under your dress?'  The next message flashing up on your watch feels like he must have read your mind.

Your eyes dart around the groups of people attending the small get-together, all engrossed in their conversations and sipping their drinks in various little huddles around the bar.

'I can’t imagine they would.  You could probably bend me over this table and fuck me right in front of them and no one would be any the wiser.'

'I’m sure they’d notice but it’s a nice thought all the same.'  You can tell he’s imagining it and now so are you.  You can almost feel his two large hands, one either side of your waist, holding you tight as he plunges his length into you.  ‘Shut up.’ He’d whisper, letting go of your waist with one hand to place the fingers in your mouth, silencing your little over-pleasured sobs.  ‘Unless you want all your friends to watch you cum for me.’

You shouldn’t really want that, should you?  You shouldn’t want an audience.  The truth is, you know people there want him.  They want to see him the way you get to see him and the possessive part of you that you didn’t know you had until now wants to make sure no one else gets that privilege.  

Arguing or not, his cock is yours.

'I’m leaving in 10.  You’re welcome to join me so long as you promise not to run your mouth again.  You’ll like my hotel room.'  It’s nice to see his resolve weakening first because you certainly weren’t up for accepting defeat.

'You should know me better by now.  Running my mouth is what I’m good at.  Send me the address.'  You shoot the text back and realise he’s wearing that same wry smirk as before.  The very same one that’s tugging at the corner of your own lips.

'Give yourself some credit.  I’ve found your mouth has some other great uses.'  He seems proud of himself, following up with the hotel’s address before starting to make his goodbyes to the group.

You take separate taxis and he’s waiting for you in the lobby.  You’re far enough away from the prying eyes that at least you can be seen speaking to each other now.

Neither of you say a whole lot in the short walk up to his room, letting the door click closed behind you before you start to speak.

But right as you set your bag down his lips are on yours, hot and insistent, his body pressing you flush against the door.

“You’re so fucking annoying.”  He groans, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth.  He cups your throat with one hand, holding you in place to begin sucking on the exposed side of your neck.

His mouth begins to trail lower but not before you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back.

“You’re so much worse.”  You use as much of your strength as you can muster to push him back, leading him over to the bed, pressing him down onto it before straddling his lap.

Now it’s your turn, biting at his exposed throat, feeling his needy groans vibrate through his skin.  Undoing the first couple of buttons allows you enough space to nip and suck his collarbones, revelling in the way he melts into this.

He only gives in for a couple of minutes before he needs to feel like he’s back in control, holding your hips and flipping you both over so he’s got you pinned under him.

His hand trails up your thigh, pulling your dress up before two thick fingers sweep across your clothed sex. “You’re wet already.”  He muses, teasing you ever so gently.

“Incredible attention to detail, well done.”  You know you shouldn’t bite the hand and all but he’s a whole lot more fun when he’s angry.

“That mouth is going to get you in trouble some day.”  He’s smug as he withdraws his hand, delivering a gentle slap to your cunt.

It hurts in the most electric way, nerve endings lighting up at the painful stimulus and, in spite of yourself, you want him to do it again.

“Fuck, I didn’t think you’d like that.”  He sounds thrilled, delighted by a moan that you hadn’t even realised had escaped.  “Getting off on the way I slap your wet little cunt.  Do you know how fucked up that is?”  He shifts the thin cotton underwear out of the way, trailing his fingertip from your clit to your fluttering hole before pressing inside to the second knuckle.

“You take me like such a good girl.”  He muses, adding a second finger before pressing as deep as he can.  “It’s a shame you don’t act like one.”

“Maybe if you fucked me right, I’d act like one.”  You’re as quick to bruise his ego as he is to bruise yours.

“Ouch.”  He teases, curling his fingers inside you in the way he knows makes you see stars.  He fucks you perfectly and he knows it.  You act like a good girl when you want to.  You’re even.

“Are you even planning to fuck me?  Or maybe you just want to sit around and enjoy the sound of your own voice.”  It shouldn’t be so much fun to watch his face reflect his discontent but it really is.

“You.”  He begins before pulling your panties off, pushing your skirt up and arranging you on your hands and knees on the bed.  “Might be the most frustrating person I’ve ever met.”

You hear him undo his belt and zipper and a short while later, you feel the blunt head of his erection teasing your slit.

Now you understand why he thought you’d like this room.  The mirror strategically positioned right at the end of the bed lets you see his face, even in this position.

“I fucking better be.”  You tease, pressing your ass backwards, forcing his cock to slide into your eager cunt.  He meets you half way, thrusting the rest of the way into you with a force you only could’ve dreamed of.

“You are. So.  Damn.  Arrogant.”  He punctuates his sentence with equally powerful thrusts, his hand on the small of your back to hold you in place.

“And yet you’re still here, balls deep inside me.  Guess you don’t hate me that much.”  Your pride is short lived, establishing your own rhythm of thrusts that he eagerly meets.  Your fingers cling to the bedsheets, each rut into your body almost knocks the thoughts from your head.

He loses himself just as fast as you do.  You’re both far too pent up for this to last much longer.  Frustration bubbled over into lust and now it’s hit boiling point.

His body is yours to use just as much as yours is his.  

“You take me so well.”  You hear him groan and in the mirror you see him slip his thumb into his mouth before it disappears out of your view, pressing against the tight ring of muscle only he can see from this angle.

Oh.  You don’t often go there.

Your hesitation is short lived, the tip of his thumb presses inside you, slowly stretching out your tightest hole.

It feels amazing.  It’s a different type of fullness and when the initial discomfort subsides, you’re able to let yourself enjoy the sensation.

“I can feel myself inside you.”  He sounds almost broken and it’s delightful.  “Filling up both your pretty little holes.  I can’t last much longer.  Fuck, I’m so close.”

The stretch of his thumb in your ass is the only constant you’ve got with his cock slipping in and out of you.

Your own hand reaches down between your legs, rubbing your clit frantically, desperate to cum in time with him.

“Don’t you dare.”  You groan, watching him in the mirror.  “Don’t cum yet.”

He whines, his face screwed up in pleasure, doing his very best not to spill inside you just yet. At least this is one thing you can agree on.

“F-fuck, hurry up. I’m so close.”  He’s trying to maintain the same pace while holding himself back and you know it can’t be easy.

Your fingers graze your clit just right and before you know it, your moans are getting higher pitched, your holes fluttering around his cock and his thumb, squeezing both involuntarily as your orgasm takes over.  

It’s beyond intense.  There’s so much happening at once and within a few moments of your own climax, you feel your partner achieving his.  He’s pressed as deep inside you as possible, flooding your body with his release, groaning your name loud enough for his neighbours to hear.

---

The following morning with the argument forgotten, everything feels right again.  The Hawaiian shirt he’d worn yesterday evening is draped over your shoulders, unbuttoned, giving him access to worship your breasts.  His cock slips in and out of you beautifully, soft gasps from both of you filling the crisp early morning air.  Your hands are planted on his broad chest and your fingers tease the soft curls of hair on his chest.  It’s hard not to feel like he’s engulfing you, rather than the other way around.  He’s beneath you, he’s inside you and with his shirt draped over you, all you can smell is him.

It’s incredible, as close to perfect as you’re willing to believe exists.  There’s no rush.  There’s nowhere either of you need to be.  One orgasm can bleed into another and you can spend as long as you like enjoying each other’s bodies.  

[zhouxiangs]

Mr. Ming, do you know him? No.

MY STAND-IN (2024) | Episode 5

[sekai-no-reita]

the GazettE PVs 16/∞ : 貴女ノ為ノ此ノ命 (Anata no Tame no Kono Inochi)

[momentomori24]

(Sorry if my mouse thingy is distracting I don't know how to get rid of it)

BUT THIS SCENE

THIS FUCKING SCEENNEEEEEE

Rouge diverting from Shadow's transgression and trying to placate Abe with her intel so that he doesn't get too mad.... Abe admitting that he would've helped Shadow if he just asked.... showing that he accepts him after everything that's happened... Shadow struggling alone with his reopened wounds as he returns to the Ark... those flashes of what could've been but never was... And... and the MUSIIIC. THE MUSIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiicc.... I... I need to lay down for a minute. I need to process this.

[ishikawayukis]

welcome back kang younghyun 💕

[phantom-overdose]

((If anyone ever wants to write with a scruffy, kind of (unintentionally) goofy, sweet but still totally animalistic, former prisoner, werewolf-esque, character (complete with wolf tail) who has read a bunch of self-help books and who is super committed once he falls in love, and who also just so happens to be from a post-grand-fairytales fairytale realm full of magic and chaos and all that good stuff... just, ya know, let me know <3))

[sherrymagic]

waiting to finally watch ChanyaAya acting together on my screen & giffing every second of ViMook like

[reyalvr]

SHE'S MINE | 01

I'M ALL IN, I CAN'T REVERSE IT-

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊  3.2k

author’s note ┊ WOOHOO part one finally out! thank you so much for all the love on the prologue, it made me so motivated to make this as good as possible hehe >.< each chapter title is based off of a lyric in my writing playlist for this series, lmk if you guys would like me to drop it  ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶. happy reading!

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KEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. Knee deep, even. If you asked him what was going through his head thirty seconds ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell you even if he wanted to. Everything that happened next was a blur- from shaking hands with the host to walking back to his dressing room, it felt like he was operating on autopilot. Who wouldn’t be, though? He had just announced to the world that he was officially taken; that he was off the market- hooked. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it were true…

But it wasn’t. 

He had just lied to an audience of a hundred people- not to mention the millions throughout the various streaming platforms the show was being aired on. His nails dug into his palm as he neared his dressing room, the bold, black letters of his name growing larger and larger each step he took. His heart was pounding, and he swore he felt chill down his spine the moment he opened the door. No one could blame him though, not if they knew the inevitable wrath they were about to face. 

You were stood there, eyes narrowed and resting all your weight on your hip. Your arms were crossed, your lips were pursed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, staring at each other as you waited for the other to speak up. Ken swallowed nervously, tapping his foot as he tried formulating an explanation. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was so overstrung, it was just you. Why should he be terrified of your scolding on his recent screw up? 

“Special someone, huh?” You said through your teeth, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. “So special that nobody on your team knew of her prior to your public love confession?” 

Ah. That was why. The way you were able to see right through him scared him sometimes. He never outwardly showed his reactions, though- at least he tried not to. He cleared his throat before finally moving to plop down on the couch, doing his damndest not to show his jitters. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I lied, so what?” He replied, his cocky tone masking the unsureness in his words. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.” 

Strike one. As if you couldn’t have been any more pissed off, that seemed to be the tipping point. You paused before letting out a deep breath, circling around him. He closed his eyes when he knew you were behind him, and he waited for you to berate him; to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He waited, but it never came. He opened one eye, and he relaxed when you moved to sit on the opposite couch. He was spared… for now.

“What, no scolding?” He decided to test, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. 

You only let out a small laugh, and somehow that was worse than any scolding he’d ever received from you. You were oddly calm, like all your anger had just melted away. Leaning forward, you slid an enclosed piece of paper across the table towards him. 

“Can you guess what this is, Ken?” You ask, your eyes finally looking back up to meet his. 

Ken knew not to answer. He was ready to spit out some witty reply, but the look in your eyes told him that this was going to go down another route; one that he definitely didn’t want to aggravate. 

“It’s my resignation letter.” You say nonchalantly, causing him to straighten up once more. “I keep it handy.”

Resignation letter? Was this real? Were you actually going to quit over this? He opened his mouth to speak up but quickly shut it when you maintained your soul-searching gaze. He tried to relax, yet the furrow in his eyebrows seemed to stay as you continued on. 

“I’m going to be very clear on what’s going to happen next, Ken.” You say, resting your arms on your knees. “This will be the last time I help you clear up a mishap. After everything is settled, I’m gone.” 

Gone. His eyes widened slightly, the palms of his hands starting to get clammy. He let out a light, nervous laugh, looking at you as if you had just said something absurd. Which, in his defense, you sort of did. Again, he had no idea why this news was so shocking to him, seeing as you’d only worked under him for a year and a half. Surely he couldn’t have been that terrible, right? He stared at the folded paper in front of him before speaking up.

“What, uh, what do you mean gone?” He asked through a breathy laugh. “Gone like a break or something? I’m happy to give you one-”

“Gone as in I quit.” You cut him off, standing up as you adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. “Like I said, this is the last time I clean up your mess, Ken Sato.” 

You moved to walk away, but he quickly caught your arm. “Woah, hold on a sec,” He stood up, looking down at you with stunned eyes. “Quit? C’mon, [Y/N] I know I screwed up but you can’t just leave me hanging like this-” 

You scoffed at him then, yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Oh I can’t leave you hanging, huh? Tell me, Ken, how many times have I saved your ass in the last eighteen months I’ve been working for you, hm?”

He swallowed dryly as he tried to recall. He was used to having his name on headlines, most especially after his move last year. He couldn’t go five seconds without seeing his ads pop up on his platforms, hell he couldn’t even go five blocks without seeing a billboard with his face on it. Which all brought him back to one thing: not one negative scandal under his name. With you, he was perfect; jack of all trades in the MLB and the internet’s favorite spokesperson. 

Shit. Strike two. 

You only hummed in response once you read over his expression. “Exactly. So the next time you even think about downplaying my job, remember how I was the reason for your recent success.”

Ken was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever left speechless, he always seemed to have a response ready for anything. But now was definitely not one of those times. He watched as you bent down to retrieve that dreaded letter, and you shoved it into his chest before moving to finally walk past him. 

“Our flight leaves tomorrow at five a.m, I'll see you in the lobby at three.” You say, not so much as sparing him a glance as you fixed your bag. 

He managed to let out a quiet ‘okay’, gripping onto your letter tightly as he watched you pack up. Damn Ken, you really did it this time, didn’t you? He thought to himself, wondering how- or rather, if he would be able to make things right with you. For the first time in his career, he was thinking about someone else other than himself. 

“Oh and Ken,” You say, breaking him out of his dazed stance. 

“Hm?” He hummed out, averting his gaze to be level with yours. 

“You had better pray that the next assistant you get is half as good as I am.” You said before closing the door, leaving him alone in his dressing room. All of a sudden it felt… quiet. Too quiet. He sighed, dropping down on the couch once more before closing his eyes and masking his face with his hands.

Strike three. 

THE TENSION IN THE CAR WAS PAINSTAKINGLY PALPABLE. Ken’s leg bounced as the two of you were stuck in airport traffic, the car unmoving for nearly half an hour now. Your occasional sighs and the hum of the car’s engine were the only sounds filling the air. He felt like he was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before thanks to your bombshell of an announcement. In comparison, though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining about bombshells when he himself dropped one twice the size of yours. 

Still, he was restless. You hadn’t uttered a single word to him since landing back in Tokyo, and the unwanted solitude was driving him nuts. He glanced over at you through his shades, noting the way you were impatiently tapping your fingers against the wheel. Obviously you were still pissed at his little stunt, and the articles following the incident didn’t aid in calming your anger. 

He knew it wasn’t smart, but he needed to talk to you. The sea of red lights in front of him remained stagnant, and he didn’t want to spend another minute in this deafening quietude. He gnawed at his bottom lip before finally breaking the silence. 

“Can we talk?” He said, looking over at you. 

“No.” You replied bluntly.

“[Y/N]-” He started, but one glance from you was enough to shut him up. 

“I am doing you a huge favor by helping you solve the mess you created.” You said as you looked back at the road ahead of you, lifting your fingers and circling your thumbs around the wheel. “I could’ve left right then and there, leaving you to deal with this on your own. But I didn’t, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.”

You looked back up at him, and only now did he notice the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your complexion. Something inside him twisted; he couldn’t tell if it was guilt or regret. Guilt, probably, for having to rely on you to correct his mistakes, and regret for even causing this whole debacle in the first place. 

“The least I’m asking from you is your compliance.” You say tiredly, the glint in your eyes doing most of the talking. 

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He managed to get out, leaning back into the passenger seat. 

And just like that, the dreaded silence was back. By some miracle the traffic started to gain some speed, the taillights of the cars ahead of him dispersing onto the road. His head hit the back of the headrest, and he sat through the entire ride back to the Tokyo Dome contemplating his recent choices. 

It was only when you knocked on the window of the passenger side when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He got out, stretching his limbs after being cramped inside the car for so long. He threw on his jacket lazily, not even bothering to zip it up. He went to put on his cap, but then he noticed something odd. 

It was quiet outside the building, the bristle of the trees and the nearby roads the only sound filling his ears. There was something lacking; the neverending shuttering sounds of cameras and eager voices yelling at him to look or to say something. He realized then the lack of paparazzi and reporters outside to greet him, just like they usually did whenever he came back from a trip. His head turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked around. Not a single one in sight.

“‘Something wrong?” You asked as you walked past him to swipe your ID into the security system. 

“It’s just,” He said, still looking around in confusion. He let out an airy laugh as he followed you inside, the expression on his face remaining the same. “There’s no paps or anything.”

At that you laugh, albeit sarcastically, waiting for him to get into the elevator. “You know that might be the first time I’ve ever heard a famous person complain about not being bombarded by ill-intent people.” 

“I’m not complaining, trust me.” He says, putting his hands up halfway in defense. “It’s weird. That’s all.” 

“Well that’s what happens when people think you’re spending time with your special someone after being away for so long.” You say, pulling up a press announcement on your phone. 

For a split second, Kenji had completely forgotten that he had to keep up the fact that he supposedly had a significant other waiting for him at home. He let out an ‘ah’, sliding his hands into his pockets as the elevator went up. Again his heart panged, finally realizing why your eyebags were deeper than they usually were. While he may have had discomfort in his slumber, it didn’t compare to the hours you were up trying to get everything settled here.

You held the door open to your office, letting him in first. Once the lights were on, he was greeted with your infamous whiteboard, different scribbles of colorful ink filling up the space corner to corner. He cringed at the bolded date of the talk show he was on. 

“Your bags will be sent here in the next hour, and valet has your bike ready.” You say, doing the usual routine you did whenever the both of you came back from work trips. He sat down on the sofa, nodding each time you reminded him of something. 

“Now, about the issue,” You walk over to the whiteboard, erasing its contents. “We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” 

He choked on nothing, not surprised by the news but surprised by the continued bluntness of your tone. “I beg your pardon?”

“We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” You repeated, emphasizing the words obnoxiously. 

“Yeah I get that,” He finally replied, a look of uncertainty splashing his features. “But you’re making it sound like all we need to do is shop around.”

“Well unless you can give me a face, let alone a name to your special someone, this is the plan we have.” You retort, resting a hand at your hip as the other points at the board. 

“Why can’t I just be one of those celebrities who keep their relationship private?” He questions genuinely. 

“Oh I’m sorry, who was the one who announced that they were in love on live television?” You remind him, annoyance laced in your words. 

He bites back any sort of sarcastic remark that conjures up in the back of his head. You were right, obviously you were right. But some part of him felt it was… unfair to not have a say in this. Stupid, yes, but it’s how he felt.

“Can I continue or is there anything else you want to unnecessarily add?” You ask, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. 

He only lifted a hand, signaling for you to carry on. You go on to explain that whoever ends up “dating” him will need to have to go through a contract signing, NDA included. You draw up charts on your board, showing him the possible stats of his ratings if he’ll be able to pull this off. 

“Your next playoff season is about to start, I suggest we get all this settled by then.” You scroll on your smartwatch, looking at the calendar. “It gives me two weeks to plan everything out. I need you here tomorrow bright and early so that we can go through a list of potential candidates.”

“Candidates? What is this, speed-dating?” He says, making a face at all the analytical parts of your plan. 

“No, it’s a game called ‘save-my-reputation.’” You answer snarkily, narrowing your eyes slightly at him. 

He takes in a deep breath, starting to get annoyed with your remarks. He knew he had no right to, but to think that you were just dictating away at his choices made him feel like some sort of plaything. 

“I just don’t understand why we even need to find a ‘girlfriend’ in the first place.” He massages the back of his head before crossing his arms. “I mean everyone thinks I’ve successfully hidden my love life up until now, what’s the point of going all out?”

He could see you clench your fingers around the marker, and he knew he was close to reaching your tipping once more. All in the span of twenty-four hours. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke up.

“Ken. You told the world that you were in love.” You say in an eerily calm tone. “You got yourself into this mess, now you have to get yourself out of it. And unless you want to say goodbye to your stardom, this is what you need to do.” 

He opened his mouth to speak up but was cut off by your phone’s ringing. You answered, spewing out a quick and formal ‘thank you’ to whoever was on the other line. You sighed, placing your marker back down on your desk before you walked past him towards the glass door. 

“Your bags are here.” You say, opening the door. “Your bike’s parked outside and everything should be good to go.” 

Your demeanor had changed in a split second, going from PR manager to assistant in the blink of an eye. At times Ken wondered how you were able to juggle everything. It wasn’t the main thing that was on his mind, he had… other, more serious things to worry about. Like the other secret he had kept from you all this time; Ultraman. He shook his head, trying not to focus on his double life on top of the situation he was in. 

Ken knew that your words were a sign to get up and get out, and he did just that. You followed him all the way back down to the lobby of the stadium, handing him his duffel bag and walking him to his bike. Despite your earlier mood, you did your checks on his motorbike that he had grown accustomed to after a while. 

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” You remind him, crossing your arms as he got on his bike. “Please.”

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” He repeats through a huff, slinging his bag into the compartment attached to the back of his motorbike. “Got it.” 

You only hummed in response, turning away to walk back into the stadium. He didn’t know what it was that came over him, but before he knew it he was grabbing your arm softly once more. Your head spun around to look at him, more of your stray hairs spilling out of your updo. At this angle the sunset brought out the shininess of your eyes, the early evening shadows accentuating your features. 

He swallowed before he continued. “You know for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.” 

Instead of another curt response, though, you sighed as you pressed your lips together. He lets go of your arm then, not wanting to invade anymore of your personal space than he already has. He can see you poke your tongue into your cheek, a habit you did when you were in contemplation. 

“Well,” You finally breathe out, your expression relaxing. “If you’re actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.” 

“‘Course.” He says before his face gets obscured by his helmet. He nods towards your direction once more before finally revving the engine. 

Only time will tell what the outcome is, but whatever it is, he hopes he ends up in the one where you don’t loathe his very being. 

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[minisugakoobies]

Cross My Heart | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (afab)

Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, friends to lovers (?), non-idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: pussy drunk mingyu, late night texting, biting/marking, fingering, lots of flirting, lots of teasing, grinding/dry humping, dirty talk, cunnilingus, face sitting, come eating, hand job, mingyu's a messy boy, OC is needy and mingyu loves it, mingyu has maybe the tiniest bit of a praise kink, use of pet names - pretty, mingyu requests death by pussy

Word Count: 5.2k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.

Text Prompt: You: I can’t stand you Mingyu: Then sit on my face

A/N: Hiiiii I'm writing for svt now and I'm starting with Mingyu because he's driving me insane. This is actually the first in a planned series of 13 svt fics based on text prompts. I'm fully in my self-indulgent era, so this is for everyone who, like me, needs some munch 'Gyu right about now 👅

Unbeta'd as usual. If you like this and want more svt fics from me, please let me know! I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

It’s finally here. After months of planning, you and your friends have flown halfway around the world for a week of vacation. The six of you arrived just a few hours ago, and after the long flight, the long wait at the airport for your luggage, and the long drive to the hotel, you’re exhausted. 

Well, mentally you’re worn out, at least. Your body? Is still on your old timezone, where it’s currently tomorrow morning. So it thinks that you need to be awake, even though it’s night where you are. You had stayed awake the entire flight here in order to avoid this very problem. 

Fucking jet lag got you anyway.

Unlike you, Seungcheol and Vernon are having no issue sleeping. The three of you are sharing one room, while Minghao, Wonwoo, and Mingyu are sharing another. You glance over at the two lumps tucked in their beds, snoring away like you would be if your body wasn’t so confused.

Because you’re trying to be a good friend and let them sleep, you’re lying on your bed, scrolling lazily through your various social media apps. You could watch something, but you don’t really have the focus right now. Yet you want something pleasing to look at. Something to mindlessly enjoy while you wait for exhaustion to overwhelm you. 

So, naturally, you turn to your favorite nightly pastime - scrolling through your social media apps, looking for any new posts from Mingyu.

It’s an addiction, borne out of your raging crush on your friend. Well, really, he’s Minghao’s friend, you don’t know him as well as you do the others, but still. You’re friendly enough around each other. Which is because Mingyu is so nice, such a sweet and funny guy who always makes you feel more than welcome whenever he’s around. 

He’s also a blatant flirt. At first, his cocky smiles and playful words made you think he might be interested in more than just being your friend, but it wasn’t long before you realized he’s like that with everyone. So you tamped down the hope that burned in your chest, leaving only a simmering crush to smolder forever.

It’s morning back home, where most of your friends have barely started their days, so your feed is fairly dead. There are a few photos from Wonwoo from the flight, including one of Minghao sleeping with his mouth open that you immediately save to your favorites, a couple from Vernon, and, of course, several from Mingyu. You tap into his page.

Mingyu’s an avid photographer, particularly of beautiful things - breathtaking landscapes, delicious meals, himself. Mostly himself, to be honest. Not that you’re complaining. It’s maybe the most mutually beneficial relationship you’ve ever been in. Mingyu loves to provide pictures of himself. You love to admire them. A win-win all around. 

You tap back to home and refresh your feed. A new post appears, from Mingyu. The jet lag must be getting to him, too, if he’s awake and posting right now. The photo is another selfie, this time of him lying in bed, one arm resting behind his head, showing off a perfectly sculpted bicep. God. Could he be more gorgeous? 

Clicking into his page again, you rub your thumb over the screen to make his photos flip by in an endless parade of hot Mingyus. It’s ridiculous, you muse, watching picture after picture roll by, to think about how much time Mingyu must spend on these photos. Making sure he’s got the perfect lighting to bounce off his muscles just right in those gym selfies. Or figuring out the best angle to show off that sharp jawline of his. Just ridiculous. And yet, every second isn’t spent in vain, considering how the photos drew you in like shiny trinkets to your magpie eye. 

It would be so easy to think of Mingyu as a modern day Narcissus, endlessly snapping selfies, drowning in his own reflection on his phone. But he’s never struck you as conceited. It’s something else - a desire for connection, perhaps. A need for-

A tiny heart floats up your screen and you gasp. Shit. You just liked the post the scroll stopped on - one of his many gym selfies, frame zoomed in on his torso, his hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to show off his rippling abs.

Your eye drifts to the date of the photo. Posted eight months ago. 

Quick as lightning, you hit the screen again, shattering the little heart icon. Your pulse is beating too fast. There’s no need to panic. He couldn’t have seen that. Maybe you’re overreacting, but no one needs to know you’re lurking in his profile in the middle of the night, especially not him. 

A notification drops down over Mingyu’s face. A message.

Mingyu: Someone’s up late. 

Ah, damn. You were too slow. And now he’s in your DMs. 

After taking a moment to shriek quietly into your pillow, you write back. 

You: Can’t sleep

Mingyu: Same. Jet lag’s got me fucked up

Mingyu: You know what always helps when I can’t sleep?

You: What?

Mingyu: Creeping through someone’s old photos

Even though he’s not here looking at you, your neck flames with embarrassment anyway. You could play it cool. If only you knew how to do that. 

You: Shut up

Mingyu: It’s ok, I’m flattered

You: Oh fuck off

Mingyu: No really, I am

Mingyu: I like that you want me so bad

Pressing your mouth firmly into your pillow, you swallow another screech. Here we go. Right into the flirting. You can’t handle this right now.

You: Idk what you’re talking about

You:  It was an accident

Mingyu: Oh you were accidentally admiring me? 

You: How did you even notice? Are you just staring at your phone, waiting for attention?

Mingyu: I mean yeah

You snort. 

You: You’re ridiculous

Mingyu: Maybe. But I’m honest about it

You: I’ll give you that

A few seconds go by, then a minute, then two. Maybe you’re boring him. Maybe he’s found something else to entertain him. Or someone else.

When the next notification comes in, you jolt a little. 

Mingyu: What else will you give me?

And now your heart does a funny jump as you stare at his words. God, what a question. How you wish he were asking for real, and not just being playful, like he always is. 

Would it be too real to reply with the truth? “Whatever you want?”

You: I don’t know

You: What do you want?

Mingyu: What if I say you?

Suddenly you don’t understand words.

You: Why would you say that?

Mingyu: Because it’s my answer

Mingyu: I’m being honest again

You: That’s the jet lag talking

Mingyu: Oh come on

Mingyu: You really don’t know?

You: Know what??

Mingyu: How I feel about you

Is he being serious right now??

You: If this is a joke I don’t get it

Mingyu: Not a joke

Mingyu: Hold on

The notification icon on your app suddenly lights up. One heart. Two. Three four five. You open your notifications and immediately start laughing. Mingyu’s going through your oldest photos and liking them, one by one. 

Mingyu: See? I’m obsessed with you

Seungcheol grunts in his sleep, and you press your arm harder over your mouth, trying to muffle yourself better.

You: You’re so annoying, oh my god

Mingyu: So annoying that you can’t stop looking at my photos at 1 am?

Mingyu: Or flirting with me?

You: Is that what’s happening? Are we flirting?

Mingyu: Ok don’t act like you don’t know

Mingyu: I flirt with you all the time

You: You flirt with EVERYONE all the time

Mingyu: Yeah but I only mean it with you

Like any other time this happens, any time his words make your head spin, you put on the brakes, stopping before you start to believe you might have a chance. 

You: You’re so dumb

Mingyu: Are you really going to pretend you’re not enjoying this?

You: Who said I’m pretending?

Mingyu: Me. I know you’re loving this

Mingyu: Because you want me soooooo bad

You: Shut uppppp

Mingyu: Go on, yell at me

Mingyu: You’re cute when you’re mad

You: No really

You: I can’t stand you

Mingyu: Then sit on my face

Your mouth falls open, an amused huff of air escaping in a befuddled laugh at his unexpected response. 

You: What?

Mingyu: Come shut me up. Sit on my face.

You’re blinking so hard, you can hear your eyelids clapping together.

You: Fuck off. Stop playing. 

Mingyu: Who’s playing? I’m serious

Mingyu: Smother me with those gorgeous thighs of yours. I’ll go out a happy man. 

Your gorgeous thighs? He’s never said anything like that before. What the fuck is happening.

You can’t help but picture it - him lying on his bed, you kneeling over him, fingers tangled in his dark hair as you ride that pouty little mouth of his. It’s not the first time you’ve fantasized about it, but it’s the first time the vision has felt… possible. 

Mingyu: No response? You’re just gonna leave me hanging like this?

You: Don’t tease me

Mingyu: Trust me, there are a million ways I’d love to tease you, but this isn’t one

You lay down again, rolling onto your side, curling in on yourself, like you’re trying to contain all the excitement rushing through your veins, keep it from spilling out and over into the room where your friends are still sleeping.  

You: You’re really serious?

Mingyu: Cross my heart and hope to die

Mingyu: Between your legs

Again you laugh.

You: You’re such an idiot

Mingyu: Does that mean you’re not coming over?

You: Like right now??

Mingyu: Why not? 

Mingyu: Wonwoo and Minghao both slept on the plane. They went out exploring

Mingyu: I’ve got the room to myself

You bite your lip, a little harder than you normally would, the sharp sting confirming that you are not dreaming and this is, in actual fact, happening right now. 

You: I guess if I’m not sleeping anytime soon

In the dim light from your phone, you eye the path to the door. You can easily make it out of the room without waking anyone. Should you so decide. 

You: I could come over

Mingyu: I promise I’ll make it so good for you

Mingyu: Eat that pussy like you deserve. Make you cum on my tongue over and over

You inhale sharply. He’s definitely never talked about your pussy like that before. Reading his words has you positively throbbing.

Mingyu: Please, just let me taste you

What else is there to say to that but -  

You: I’m coming over

It’s a short walk to Mingyu’s room. A rush of anticipation hits you as you raise your hand to knock. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, bringing you face to face with the man whose social media you can’t stop stalking. Mingyu’s shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging alarmingly low on his hips, and if you weren’t already planning on crushing him with your thighs, this insta thirst trap of an outfit would push you right over the edge. 

“That was fast,” he laughs, stepping aside to let you in. “Did you run down the hall?” 

“I thought I told you to shut up,” you shoot back. 

“And I thought I told you to make me,” he smirks, reaching for you at the same time you reach for him, practically mashing his teeth against your lips as he pulls you in for a kiss. Despite what he just said, he’s kissing you, too eager to wait for you to do what he demands. 

It’s rough and messy, all teeth and tongue, both of you doing your fair share to keep the other silent. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say speechless, because Mingyu’s definitely not being quiet, moaning into your mouth, and you’re certainly whining loud enough for the other rooms to hear you.

He presses you back into the door, chest to chest, hip to hip. You tilt your head and he follows, chasing your mouth, as if he’s needing another taste. Your hands roam over his biceps, his shoulders, his neck, covering every inch of warm skin that’s exposed, and he slips his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly tight. Not for one second do your lips part. This is the type of kiss you’ve always read about in your favorite stories - the one that makes your knees weak, makes your head float, makes you forget everything but Mingyu. 

It’s delicious. It’s amazing. It’s every superlative you can think of. But it’s not enough. You want more. Part of you wants to tell him to get on with it, take you to bed, because you’re here to make him eat his words by eating you, but the other part isn’t about to quit kissing him any time soon. 

Thankfully, Mingyu takes care of your dilemma by eliminating the choice. Without warning, he bends his knees and lifts you, big hands secure on your thighs to hold you close to him. Okay, now it’s like one of your stories, the way he lifts you like you’re lighter than air. You’d swoon if you weren’t so busy licking into his lips. All that time in the gym is really paying off

He carries you to his bed, displaying his impressive thigh strength by slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, bringing you into his lap. You loop your arms around his shoulders, desperately seeking his mouth, as if the 0.2 seconds between kisses might kill you, which, honestly, it feels like it might, and you’ve never been in this situation before, making out with the man of your dreams, so for all you know, it will, so why risk it? 

“Stop me if I’m going too fast,” he says between kisses. 

“You can go as fast as you want,” you reply, without even a second’s pause. “Just don’t stop.” 

“Damn, and here I was worried I was coming off too excited,” he grins, face lighting up in delight. Then he kisses your cheek, whispering against your skin at your offended huff. “It’s okay, I like how needy you are for me.”

“Shut up,” you groan, but you know he felt the way you shuddered, so you give up the weak protests and start kissing him again, twisting your fingers in his hair to keep him close. 

Mingyu finally stops laughing when you take his bottom lip between your own, sucking and licking at the plump skin. With a groan, he digs his fingers into your sides, and he starts to guide you back and forth, rolling you over the eye-catching bulge in his sweatpants. It’s a sight that makes you clench, thinking about how much you want to sit on it now, just pull him out and ride, too needy to feel him inside you to even take your clothes off.

But again, you want more. You want what he’d promised earlier.  

He nips his way down your throat until his mouth latches at the base of your neck, sucking and biting, and you whimper, squirming in his hold. “

‘Gyu, please!”

“Please what?” 

He doesn’t lift his head, too absorbed in sinking his vampire-like canines into your soft skin, not sharp enough to pierce, just hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises blooming there tomorrow, little souvenirs of this moment. 

Please everything, you think. You want it all, whatever he’s willing to give, you’ll take. You’re feeling greedy as fuck right now. 

“I want what you promised me.” 

“Hold on,” he intones seriously, right before laving his tongue over a fresh mark. “Let a man at death’s door enjoy his last moments.” 

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid,” you groan, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together. He’s just - just such an idiot, such a stupid sexy idiot and you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.

“Fine,” he says after a few minutes of frantic making out, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, hands circling around your ass, squeezing as he pulls you closer. “Time for my last meal.” 

He kisses away your embarrassingly pleased moan, and then he maneuvers the two of you around so he’s lying on the bed on his back and you’re straddling him. As he watches with rapt attention, you peel off your shirt. Since you’d been dressed for bed, you hadn’t bothered to throw on a bra. Judging from Mingyu’s expression, you made the right call.  

“Pretty,” he breathes out, wide eyes finding yours, and you have to take a beat, have to take a moment to sit and let the reality of the situation wash over you. The two of you are here, together, in this hotel room half a world away from home. Both wanting this. It’s clear to you now just how eager Mingyu’s been since you walked in. He wasn’t lying - he wants you just as much as you want him. 

With this new understanding, you stand up to slide your shorts and panties off in one go, before straddling him again, and lowering yourself for another kiss. Immediately, his arms are around you, gliding down your back, all the way to your bare ass, taking the biggest handfuls he can. 

“You drive me insane. So pretty, so hot.” 

Mingyu’s words kick the simmering heat in your gut into a full blown fire. You moan into his kiss, grinding yourself against him. One of his hands grips your side, helping you chase the friction, while the other slips between your bodies. When his fingers brush your inner thigh, he lets out a strangled groan. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”  

“Your fault,” you gasp, lips fervently pressing against his, licking at the seam of his mouth until he allows you in, so you can roll your tongue over his like you roll your hips. 

“Then allow me to make it up to you,” he grins, long fingers cupping your mound, trapping the heat there in his palm as he rubs it against you. You keen, thighs already twitching. You’re going to lose your mind before you even get to his face. 

You’re not alone in that feeling, as he suddenly reaches for your thighs, urging you to crawl up his body. “Get up here, please,” he begs, flat out begs you, and you slide forward as fast as you can. You need his mouth, right now.

Hovering over him is a little surreal - MIngyu’s big brown eyes are gazing up at you in a perfect replication of your favorite daydream, only it’s so much better than you’d ever imagined, because the expression he wears is one of complete awe, like he’s the one living out his fantasy. Again you feel bold, so you run your fingers through his hair, nails lightly scraping over his scalp. He moans quietly, low in his throat, like he’s trying to hold it in, and your mouth quirks in a half smile as you kneel. 

“Nice knowing you, ‘Gyu.” 

He hums a happy note, lips vibrating lightly just as your cunt reaches them, and you moan quietly. You don’t settle all the way down, because as much as you were playing along with this whole death-by-pussy dream of his, you are slightly worried that you might actually suffocate him, if not because of your weight than because of your dire need, that you might get too lost in the aching desire that’s building inside you, spurred on by the way he’s brushing the lower half of his face and down your folds, just breathing you in, teasing you with his touches but not giving you what you so desperately want. 

“‘Gyu,” you whine, tilting your pelvis forward, to catch his tongue as he traces your inner thigh, leaving a trail of saliva behind. He blows a puff of air across the wetness, sending goosebumps running at the cooling sensation. 

When you try to shift again, he’s quick to wrap his hands up around your hips, holding you still. Not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to let you know - he’s in charge now. 

“Stay still, pretty,” he murmurs, tenderly pressing a kiss into your skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my promise. Cross my heart, remember?” 

With that reminder, he pulls you down further onto his face. His tongue slides into you, nose bumping your clit, and you whimper, hands flailing at your sides, seeking something to cling to, finding nothing but the warm air around you. The pressure on the sensitive bud combining with the wet hot muscle plunging between your slick folds is overwhelming in the best way.

“‘Gyu, oh, that’s so good!”  

Mingyu nods his head vigorously, nudging his nose around, letting his tongue drag up and down your slit. It almost feels like he’s agreeing with you, backed up by the way he grunts brokenly, this deep rumble in his chest that gets strangled halfway through his throat. 

You’re not sure at what point you start thrust your hips. Mingyu helps you find the right pace, big hands guiding you forward and back, forward and back, until you feel the rhythm all the way from your ears to your toes. 

As his mouth slides up to suckle on your clit, his left hand also snakes upwards, cupping your right breast, thumb rolling over your puckered nipple. You shudder, nerves sizzling like power lines, lit up by his every touch.

“‘Gyu…” Mingyu’s mouth pulls another whine from you. You glance down, catching the furrow in his brow, the sweat dripping down his temples. “Oh my god.” 

“Mmmmphf,” Mingyu agrees, or so you assume, unable to understand anything he might be mumbling into you. A particularly sharp suck on your pulsating clit makes your back arch, and Mingyu’s hand falls from your chest, disappearing behind you. 

The sudden rustling of fabric draws your attention. You glance over your shoulder, only to whimper when you catch sight of Mingyu’s hand stroking his erection, band of his sweatpants hastily shoved down, stiff cock so flushed it brings a matching heat to your neck. 

If you were more limber, you’d reach for him, give him a helping hand, but you can’t stay twisted around for long, not when Mingyu’s tongue makes you refocus on his mouth. It’s too difficult to think about anything else right now but the way he keeps plunging inside you, using the thick muscle to fuck you shallowly. 

You can’t stop mewling like a cat in heat, rutting back and forth over Mingyu’s tongue. Even in your daze, it doesn’t escape your attention that Mingyu’s absolutely pussy drunk at this point, depraved moans buzzing endlessly against your most sensitive spots because he refuses to detach his mouth from you long enough to let them escape. Every muffled note reverberates deep in your core, joins the tense chord that’s building inside you to a crescendo. 

“‘Gyu, please.” 

At the sound of your plea, Mingyu stops stroking himself, bringing his hand around to find your clit, middle finger drawing circles around and around and around. 

When you double over, hands sinking into the plush bedding on either side of Mingyu’s head, he grunts, tipping his head to the side so he can speak. “You okay?” 

“Fuck, Mingyu, ‘m good,” you giggle, suddenly hit by a burst of glee, perhaps due to the lack of oxygen in your head, since all the blood in your body is concentrated in your clit right now. “I’m having an amazing night.” 

Mingyu hums again, sounding very pleased, and you meet his gaze, and suddenly you wish his phone was nearby, so you could snap a photo, because this look - hair mussed and clinging to his forehead, pupils blown, nose to chin coated in your glistening wetness - this is a look worth capturing.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, chest heaving as he catches his breath, and the sincerity in his voice steals your own away. If you had any nerve, you’d confess something right now, something you weren’t planning on telling him tonight or tomorrow or maybe ever. But you keep silent, only breathing a tiny exhale of surprise as he slides out from under you, and nudges you onto your back.

Mingyu folds you in half easily, because you’re giving no resistance, letting him shape you the way he desires, and then his mouth is on you again. Now that he's lying facedown between your legs, he’s able to get some much-desired friction without using his hands, grinding his neglected cock into the bed as he concentrates on you. 

His tongue glides over your throbbing nub again, and then his right hand ghosts over your slit. You whimper a soft “Please,” and that’s all he needs to slide his finger inside. The intrusion has you squirming, urging him silently to go deeper, and to your relief, he obliges. But he also locks his other arm over your legs, holding them so you can’t keep bucking your hips up. 

“I said, stay still,” he mumbles, with no anger or heat behind it, just amusement, laced with a slight tinge of cockiness. He knows he’s frustrating you, judging by the curl of his lips as he plunges his finger in and out slowly, way too slowly, teasing you with what you need most. You try to press your hips down onto his hand, to make him glide faster, but he just leans into you slightly, big arm stopping your movements. 

Your whine is beyond petulant. “Don’t tease me!” 

“Pretty, I promise you, when I tease you, you’ll know.” 

And then he adds his middle finger, curling both, pressing on the most sensitive spot on your inner wall. Over and over, his fingers flutter, massaging until starlight bursts behind your eyelids. 

“It’ll be something like this.” 

He withdraws his hand.

“Gyuuuuuu.”

If he was slightly cocky earlier, he’s fully arrogant now, face breaking into a wide grin while he laughs. “Wow, so whiny. You do want me bad.” 

“I swear to god if you dohhhhHHH-”

You break off in a moan when he lowers his face again, loudly lapping at your wetness. Clever fingers alternate between scissoring and stroking, following the changes in your breathing, and you hope that he’s close to being satiated, because you’re teetering on the edge of your climax, only the slightest bit more stimulation necessary to push you over. 

“Mingyu. Mingyu, I’m gonna cum.” You open your eyes, raising your head enough to look at him, to watch with a dropped jaw as he buries his face in your cunt, his own eyes closed in ecstasy, and oh, that’s it - “Oh god, I’m gonna cum!” 

Your warning cry - though clearly appreciated by Mingyu, who groans in answering refrain, hips humping the bed furiously - is ultimately unnecessary, given how hard your walls suddenly clench around his fingers. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, fingerfucking you through your orgasm as your lower half trembles beneath his heavy arm. He holds you in place as best he can, sweetly kissing your clit, while you wail and writhe, pressing your palm into your mouth to keep your cries from waking the rooms around you. 

Eventually your tremors slow, turning into occasional twitches, before your body finally relaxes. Mingyu continues to lap at you, every pass of his tongue getting lighter and lighter, until he lifts his head. He’s the perfect image of lust, eyes dark and desirous, and you claw at his shoulders, needing him close again. 

“Kiss me.” 

He wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing you over himself more as he rises up to meet you. His cock is hard between you, and you moan, knowing that you did that, that he got this turned on just from eating you out, and extend your fingers to wrap around him.

The unbidden sound he utters when you take his cock and slide it through your soaking folds, coating it in your wetness, is the filthiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Careful, pretty,” he pants, looking down at your hand. Under his close gaze, you circle the head of his cock before rubbing your thumb over and around the slit there. “‘M close.” 

“Wanna make you come, ‘Gyu,” you tell him, and he hisses, hips bucking into your grip. 

“Fuck.” His long fingers cover yours, guiding you into a faster pace. “But I’m gonna make a mess.”

“Do it. Make a mess.” The need to make him completely fall apart takes possession of you, makes you say things you’ve never said to anyone else. “Come all over me.” 

Mingyu whines, chin dropping to his chest. He’s barely blinking as he stares at your entwined hands. 

“Pretty… don’t say that….”

“Please, ‘Gyu.” All shame has fled your body. “I want it.” 

No further encouragement is needed. Mingyu grunts a few times before he’s painting your stomach in so much white, in little drops and big splashes, doing exactly what you told him, eyes rolling back in his head as he does.

When his high abates, he sits back on his heels, gazing at the mess he created, all the sticky sweat and semen that covers your body. A delirious thought comes to you. Is the sight beautiful enough for him to want to take a picture? 

“Wow,” he murmurs after a moment, shaking his head. “You’re even prettier when you’re covered in me.” 

His dead serious expression is enough to break the haze of lust hanging over you. You throw your arm over your face, too flustered to look at him. “‘Gyuuuuu!”

“Changed my mind, I’m calling you ‘whiny' from now on.” The bed shifts as Mingyu rises. He laughs all the way to and from the bathroom, laughs even harder when you glare at him, reaching for the towel he holds. He surprises you by nudging your hand away. “Let me.”  

His touch is so gentle as he wipes away his mess, then your own. When you’re both clean enough, he lays on his side, draping his arm over you. “Think you can sleep now?” 

Oh, you can sleep. You’re feeling satiated in a way you haven’t for a long time, and now that the rush has worn off, you could knock right out. You should probably go back to your room, ride this calm wave right into sleep, not let yourself get too excited at the thought that this vacation might be the best one ever.

Instead, you grin, sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “Yeah. But I don’t want to.” 

“Oh?” Mingyu’s smile mirrors yours. “What do you wanna do instead?” 

“I might have some ideas.” 

He lets you pull him down for a kiss, humming eagerly.

“Tell me what you want, pre-”

A sharp rap on the door startles you both.

“Dude, don’t you dare!” Minghao hisses through the wood. “We’ve been out here forever!” 

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[dilf-docs]

So Is it Your Place Or Mine?

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: summer is over, but your affair with joel isn't (or, you grind on joel's belt buckle while sarah is at soccer practice)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., exhibition kink (sarah is again a victim of this), brat taming (this two are soo into it), degradation kink, praise kink, lwk breeding kink, daddy kink (wow! it's a whole library of alexandria of kinks in here), fingering, dad bod!joel (best joel you mean), angst (oh guys look oh no it's alr starting), dirty talk!!!!! (they're so dirty ew i want it too wait who said that)

word count: 3,701 words

side note: and it became officially a series. hope u all are into this as much as i am because it's my first series ever !!!!! ALSO angst finally makes it way in this mess LET'S GO (i'mcrying i really looked up big texas belt to come up with a mental image in the middle of class, i'm so sorry to whoever sat behind me but idc abt me writing smut while at uni; we die like real men)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

It's been an unspoken rule that, even if you hate sports and the ball stays ten meters away from you, you always come to Sarah's soccer practice, cheering for her from your usual spot at the benches.

Except today, you aren't there. And now Sarah is calling you when she shouldn't, but that she doesn't know.

"I can't. I have stuff to work on stuff"

Bullshit.

Your laptop and the half-written essay sit untouched at the coffee table. The thing being touched in question, is something entirely different.

"Need help?"

His hands grip any free spot of your glistening skin, sucking on the rosy pink until it turns maroon red.

"I'm at my dorm, sorry"

Double bullshit.

Sarah doesn't even know your car is parked next to her dad's truck. She has about four hours to find out.

"I can drop by later then" she suggests.

His hot breath tingles against your neck as his nose caresses the spot. Bad girl, he mouths, like he wasn't the one who told you to pick up, despite his daughter's name on the caller's ID. You try to reach for a kiss, but his digits press on your hair, pulling you back with violence to forbid your lips from touching his. Bad girl, and your arousal drips with more intensity at the remark. Bad girl.

"No!" the answer comes quick, your voice strained, and Sarah jokes that you should take it easy with your classes, instead of suspecting anything else.

"Fine! I won't go if you don't want me to, but if you show up dead by stress, I'll be free of guilt"

He kisses the outline of your jaw with sloppy movements, like he just wants to busy himself while Sarah blabbers about the practice, and you keep trying to make her stop, but she tells you not to worry, that she's on a break right now, and the task to avoid whimpering at his rough kisses across your neck becomes increasingly difficult. A gasp escapes your lips when his teeth sink into your flesh. Mine, not to be said but to be felt. Seen by the rest. A pretty red that tastes like the blood he craves, the hunger akin to violence. Bad girl, and he's biting your lip to stop any other filthy noises from escaping. What if she hears?

"Are you okay?" concern laced on Sarah's tone. Guilt creeps through the cracks of the worn-out paint of his bedroom, one your friend had practically begged him to restore; the joke of it all was that was about his job yet he couldn't fix his own goddamn house. "Y/n, did you hurt yourself?"

I'm treating you well, ain't I, doll? and then he'd grin against the crook of your neck before looking at you, his dark blown-wide pupils gazing at you with a hunger you didn't think it was possible. They'd burn, and the fire didn't scare you: it was the warm your cold body needed. Tell Sarah her daddy ain't hurting her slut of a friend.

"I-I'm fine" you manage to choke out. Good girl.

Joel's lids feel heavy as a crown. But you like 'em rough, don't 'cha, baby?

"Should I worry?"

Joel pulls harder, your scalp burning at the harsh tug. Answer when I ask. You breathe in heavily, and Sarah keeps on asking you if you're okay, threatening to burst through a dorm door she'll find empty.

"N-no" you meekly answer, and he laughs at your demeanor. Under his weight, pinned down on the mattress, there's nowhere to run to.

"Is it okay if I-"

"Sarah I need to hang, okay? My head hurts. Bye" it all comes down in a rush, the words a vomit of excuses. You make sure the call has ended, and so does Joel, that in an act of mercy, has stopped. You both look the screen until the lockscreen is back up again, a picture of you and Sarah. Despite used to having his weight on top of you, your throat feels constricted.

"Do you want to traumatize your daughter, Mr. Miller?"

He's back at his task of kissing, making you moan and writhe at the sensitivity of your kissed and bit skin during the last hour. You hate how he takes his time―edging you; unbearable.

"What I want is you"

The lie comes out effortlessly from his teeth. He wants you, needs you, but does he really want you? His daughter's best friend, the college girl he was going to lecture just last summer―to live life and forget about him, yet couldn't. He lies to himself, saying he didn't because you felt asleep, but feeling a warm body next to him, being your beautiful frame of all people, made it hard.

The way he makes a moaning mess out of you, how he knows every spot of your body no one had been able to please before, how your cunt stretches perfectly around his cock, how you call his name like no one else had done. It belongs to you now, and this is a vice.

It's like he's got a wound, and you're the only balm that can soothe the pain. But the effect is temporary, and after you leave, he always finds himself wanting more.

The doubt on his eyes has your heart beating out of fear.

"Then have me, Mr. Miller" you dare.

When Joel smiles, barely noticeable, something flutters in your stomach.

"Al'ight, impatient one. We have sum hours until Sarah's back. Spread" his hand nudges your thighs apart, and you oblige, making Joel chuckle at your obedience. "Good girl, baby. S'good f'r me"

You let out a gentle moan at the praise, and he smirks at your reaction.

"Feelin' desperate, are we?" he taunts, seeing your pretty lips parted and face flushed, a whine escaping them.

"Shut the fuck up and just kiss me already" you beg, pussy throbbing painfully.

"Damn brat" he hisses, "ain't you such'a needy greedy slut?" his finger hooks on your panties, tugging you closer into him, your body rising to clash against his softer frame that has nothing to do with his rough demeanor. You can feel the bulge that has formed through his pants, making you moan in delight.

"Sorry, daddy. I'll be a good girl" you squirm under his weight, pouting lips and batting eyelashes. "Please, kiss me. Pretty please, daddy"

"Jus' cus you asked well" but he knows it's an excuse to capture your sweet lips until he's tasted all of you. You once heard old men kiss like they want to devour every inch of your mouth, to make space for their tongue like it's going to live in there, and they were right.

He pulls away from the kiss to pull out his shirt, revealing his soft body. Your hands itch, immediatly reaching for it with wandering fingers. He chuckles at the eagerness, but then he catches the subtle adoration in your eyes, and his breath hitches, heart stopping.

"What's wrong?" you look up, and it's gone. Maybe he imagined it.

Joel doesn't know why he feels dissapointed by it.

He tries to push the thoughts back, head diving down between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and messy trails of saliva with his tongue on each one. He gives a special lick to your hardened nipples, making you squirm.

"Gonna bend y'r fuckin' sexy little body on this sheets. Gonna make you cum all'over, until y'r scent is'mpregnated on 'em"

You groan at his words, fingers pulling down the pajama shorts you brought over, revealing your pretty black laced lingerine.

"Fuck, baby. You wore 'em for me?" he's asking, and you'd be crazy if you think the tone reveals devotion. Is Joel even capable of warmth?

He leaves a new trail of kisses, this time, running from your neck to your stomach.

"Gonna make you scream my name 'til that's the only thin' you know how to say" his hot breath tingles over your abdomen. He buries his face in there, the mustache and scruffy graying hair tickling the skin. "Gon' give you such'a load, this flat stomach of yours will be bustin' with my seed"

You whine at his filthy words, mouth agape slightly. He looks at your soaked panties, arousal on clear display now. Joel's cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

He lets out a low growl. "Look at you, such'a slut for me. Drippin' wet like a fuckin' whore and desperate, when I ain't even touch you"

To prove so, Joel teasingly runs his fingers along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your soaking core.

He pulls your underwear down, taking them off.

"M'gonna fuck you real good, baby" his fingers dig on your thighs for support, the burning sensation of his calloused digits on your soft skin delicious. "Gon' take care of what's mine"

Mine.

The words ring loud and clear. The only other noise to be heard is his lips leaving wet sounds against your thighs. Does Joel even realize what he said? Or was it in the heat of the moment?

No, wait. Stop. Why do you care?

He begins to rub circles in your clit, coating his fingers in your dripping arousal, prodding the tense needy hole, making you moan in desperation.

"Please, daddy" your lips cry as you beg for him to do anything to remove the pain in between your legs.

"Please, what?" Joel teases, voice raspy. He keeps prodding your center, his digits in and out in a gentle manner, contrasting his hard hold on your thigh. You squirm and whine at the sensation, but maybe it's the dark on his eyes that's really responsable for making you shrink under his gaze. "Think 'm doin' this for ya'? To please ya'? No, baby" he tuts, "you were a bad girl. Almost got caught"

"If you didn't make me answer" you seethe, a moan almost escaping your lips when his fingers hit that sweet spot of yours. "Maybe if you didn't, she wouldn't-"

Joel removed his fingers from you, and you reduce to a moaning mess, begging for the release you were chasing and now it's lost.

"But you wanted'er to know, didn't ya'?" he unbuckles his belt and fumbles with his worn-out jeans, revealing a barely concealed neediness on his side. "Wanted'er to know where 'er slut of a friend was: at daddy's house, beggin' for his dick like a cockhungry slut"

"I-I want it. Want you dick" you barely choke out, lips parted at the sight of his pulsating dick's silhouette under his brief.

"Then take it, hungry one"

His tip buries deeply into your cunt before you even speak again, sliding inside in one swift motion. You gasp, as he fills you up completely, because despite the way your cunt stretches for him, or the way you have had his dick and need it, his girth never fails to amaze you.

"D-daddy" you moan, walls stretching to accommodate his size. Your sweet arousal drips down your thighs, coating Joel's balls. Fuck, doesn't he love to see you squirming under him. He's never had a woman like you before, wrapped around his finger. You may be a girl, but God, you feel so much better around his dick than anyone else: your cunt tenses around his cock deliciously, his dick twitching when he takes a look at your legs shaking and fucked out state.

"That's it, pretty girl. Beg for'it"

His words go straight to your core as you moan. "Please. Let me take all of you, Joel, please"

You said his name. Fuck. He shouldn't be this aroused, but the way you say it like that's the only thing you know, like it means something more, it makes his dick throb and heart sting. That he, Joel Miller, old bitter man, single dad, could mean more to a young pretty girl like you.

"Fuck" he grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair as he begins to pull out slowly, plunging inside of you with harsh movements. The sound of skin clapping is obscene as he begins to fuck you mercilessly. "Ain't you a noisy lil' thing, huh? You like that, baby? You like it rough?"

Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-yes, daddy. F-fuck, just like that. I like it a l-lot"

"Good girl" he grins satisfied with your respone, his thrusts getting rougher and messier. "Lookin' s'pretty with my dick's inside of you"

Joel changes angles without telling you, brushing your g-spot. A noise so loud and vulgar comes out of your parted lips, and you feel ashamed.

But then he's brushing a strand of hair from your face, with a delicacy you've seen reserved for his daughter only. It feels weird, and you try that it doesn't distract you from your looming orgasm.

"Joel..." you breath out his name.

"Yes?" with everything coming out of his mouth: possesiveness, neediness, pleasure. Like he'd give you the world if you just ask, despite telling himself he wouldn't.

"K-keep going"

Your gaze bores into his eyes with an intensity that almost makes him stop. Because the words are simple, but Joel's been alive enough on this Earth to know it doesn't mean just that.

Keep going. Don't stop. Don't end this. Don't let me go.

"Whatever m'princess asks if she asks 'em nice"

You scream in pleasure as his thrusts become deeper, his balls slapping against your cunt, as your slick begins to run down your thighs. Joel thinks he's going crazy at the way your folds take him, how tight you feel, and the loud noises you make, begging him to fuck you harder, to use you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, writhing under his touch as you begin to see stars.

"You close, aren't ya'?" he laughs, but it's devoid of mockery. A subtle softness hides behind them. Ask nicely, and I shall give. "Gon' cream 'round my dick like a good girl, right?"

His digits dig in the flesh of your hips, guiding himself to fuck you harder, for you to take him better, caging your body under the sheets, pushing you even closer to your orgasm. You mewl loudly, tears in the corner of your eyes at the delicious burn.

If you told yourself a year ago you'd be crying over Joel Miller's dick, of all people, you'd probably laugh. But no college boys had been able to please you, less bring you to tears as you reach your orgasm. This is heaven, and you aren't ready to say goodbye to the paradise you found in summer just yet.

Your core tenses around him, body so close to finishing, hair a mess, eyes brimming with tears, and lips spilling the filthiest sounds ever heard to humankind. It's heaven, and Joel isn't ready to give it up just yet. Your pussy throbs, and as your juices mix as one, you roll your eyes and head back, your high approaching, knot in your stomach tightening faster. Before you can register, your mind goes blank and you're seeing stars.

You come around his cock, coating it in your arousal as Joel admires how you cream his member, tight walls almost pushing him out of you. He groans at your simmering cries, some tears coming out of your eyes.

"What'e fuckin' slut, baby. You sure are somethin' else" he chuckles, his thrusts messier by his own high approaching. "Wait for me, yeah, baby?"

You humm, as he buries deep into you, filling you up completely, as his hips stop their harsh movements when he feels the tension in his abdomen release.

"Fuckin' sweet" he uses a finger to clean some of the slick that's run down your leg. "Good girl"

He licks them off in an obscene display, making sure to never break contact.

"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna become a real bad girl" you taunt.

Then he pulls out of you carefully, doing his best not to spill too much of his load from your cunt. He grabs one of the corners of his sheets, cleaning some of his seed from your thighs. Joel should be careful, but all his foggy mind can muster is you being his in every way he can. Making you his. Mine. Mine. Mine. You plead him not to do that, but he argues laundry day is soon and he likes it better when it smells like you anyway. You confess with a cute light blush in your cheeks that you do the same when he comes over to fuck you in your dorm, sleeping better when the covers smell like him. He shouldn't feel like this: like it could be. But he allows himself to, even for an instant.

"Oh, yeah?" he pants, "what you gon' do?"

Your eyes travel to his jeans and untied buckle he hadn't wasted time taking off, rather just pulling them down.

"I have something in mind..." you wander off, remembering filthy thoughts of your first night together, how you briefly thought about it. "I-" you cut off, blushing furiously.

"Yes?" he holds your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him as his rough fingers press on the skin. "Remember what I told ya', baby? To ask nicely? 'Cause you said you'd be a good girl, so be one and tell daddy what'd ya' want"

You gulp, trying to hold his gaze. You never back down. You never back down. But the intensity of the shinning copper makes that insufferable character of yours to be tamed, boiling against the surface but just scratching, all screams lost. Is like he knows this power over you, acting on it with a benevolence so sick, it has you thinking loving Joel Miller isn't impossible.

You never back down, but being with Joel feels like walking over stones, always thinking about the next step and the ones that were, ghosts of the lingering doubts and afterthoughts behind every step you take. It's like there's a river below them, washing away regret.

But you're still here: water up your knees then and now over your head.

You're barely floating. You'd be willing to drown anyway.

"I want to ride your belt buckle"

There's silence in the other side, until its met with a light chuckle.

"Yeah?" Joel keeps on laughing, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "S'that what that filthy head of yours be thinkin' on?"

"Stop it" you groan, covering your hot face with your palms. You wish you could erase that ugly smirk off his face. "I'm never telling you anything again, ever"

"Now c'mon, baby. I was jus' messin' 'round" his tone adquires a soft edge to it, tender warm hands removing yours from your face. "Don't cover your face, baby. You're too goddam pretty" you blush, and Joel better resist the urge to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. "I didn't mean to make fun of ya'. You know y'can tell me anythin' that's goin' inside that head of yours"

"Then you'll let me?" your pretty eyes look up to him, shinning like the stars of the summer night sky months ago.

He can't deny you anything, and a small crack of fear wounds his impenetrable heart.

"Get'ere you filthy slut"

You eagerly climb onto his lap as he sits against the beds headboard, your thighs pushing against his belly.

"Now" he tries to put in a more comfortable position, his tired joints creaking. He avoids your gaze, coughing over his blush. "You do all the job, baby. I ain't gonna help you, this greedy pussy took all of my energy"

You giggle, moving until your bare pussy clashes against the cold. A shiver runs down your spine, the dried juices moistening again over the metal piece. His hands move to your hips, hands now soft as they hold you, and he seems unsure of it, both of your breaths coming out ragged.

"You said you weren't gonna help" you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. His face feels closer, and you can see lines time has marked across his features. "But thanks, daddy"

His heart takes a dangerous leap.

"'Course, baby" he smiles. "You know I spoil ya' too damn much"

You begin to roll your hips, sliding your pussy over the cold material, your arousal making a wet slick sound that bounces off the walls, a shiver down your back as you feel your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

"Mmm, can't say no to me, can you, baby?" you mock, rocking your hips back and forth. A shaky breath escapes your parted lips, and Joel feels his renovated dick spring hard. You moan, your ass barely touching his now tense member.

"Quit runnin' that mouth of y'rs, baby" his digits dig on your skin, "or I'll bend ya' over again"

"Sorry, daddy" you feel the metal star on the middle digging inside your pussy, the borders of the imprint brushing your leaking cunt in a pleasant way. "I promise to be good"

"Do" he grunts, "you're runnin' out of time, doll"

You close your eyes, movements more quick and erratic, little moans leaving your body as you groan.

"Tell me how this lil' experiment of yours feelin', baby"

"F-feels good, daddy. Fuck" you groan, lifting your hips a bit as you grind yourself down across the material. "So so good, daddy. Thank you, daddy"

"Mmm, that's right. Now be a good girl and come for me. Let me see that pretty face of yours when ya' come over ma' belt"

You let out a shaky breath, juices spilling over his jeans even as you see stars. He chuckles, enamoured at the sight.

"You gonna need help with that?" you point out his boner.

Oh, aren't you a doll? So kind-hearted.

"That's okay" he breathes out, tiredly. He thinks of the next trip to the bathroom, the image of what he'll fuck himself to clear now.

You smile at him, for the first time forgetting this started as a blowing-off-steam-time or transaction.

For a moment, it feels like it could be.

"Jus' seein' you cum all over me so prettily is'nough, baby"

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Good evening to you. I thought about writing you many times but never had the courage to do so 😅 I saw a TikTok Trend some time ago and thought about the Reaction from our beloved task Force 141. How would they react when you "accidentally" sent them the message "He just left our house, you can come now. He'll be gone for some time". Basically pranking them by implying something shady. You can ignore this if it's weird of course. Thank you for your time and amazing writing 🙏😊

I'm so glad you finally got the courage to send in a request because I had so much fun with this one! Many many thanks because I pretty much cackled and giggled the whole time I wrote this. I'm not exaggerating. I adored this prompt. It not only gave me room for a little humor, but it also gave me the opportunity to be a little naughty!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, pranks & shenanigans, suggestive themes, mild sexual content, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, swearing, possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Five minutes.

Five. Minutes.

Five minutes and you're already causing problems.

John isn't surprised. Not in the least. Sometimes, you enjoy being on your worst behavior just because it stirs him into a frenzy.

John is sitting at a stoplight, staring down at his phone screen. A car honks but he ignores it.

He's gone. Come over.

There isn't anyone else. John knows this explicitly. Not because he completely trusts you—which he does—but because he knows your exact location at all times. He knows what you search on your phone and what things you look at on the internet. And because he knows that, he knows you're just trying to take the piss.

Locking his phone screen, John turns on his blinker. A few turns later and he's back home, marching through the door. He's not mad. Far from it. You just need a good lesson—a good spanking. Over his knee with a bare ass. That way he can watch it bounce, watch as you wiggle and squirm, hear you whimper, and watch as your arousal grows with each strike.

Then, and only then, will he keep you under him. Which is what you want anyway.

John walks silently and with purpose, approaching you as you casually lounge on the couch.

"You're home early."

John ignores the jab. "You're on one today, cabbage."

"Whatever do you mean?"

John holds up his phone. "Think I'm going to believe this?"

Your eyes widen but John can see the bluff. "I meant to send that to—"

"To me," interrupts John. “You meant to send it to me.”

"To a friend,” you correct, but John notices the smile you attempt to hide. “I meant to send it to a friend.”

No. You wanted John to come home—to be a bit neurotic, even a little possessive.

"Fine," growls John. "I'll bite."

He places one hand on the top of the back cushion while the other rests above your head. He leans in, lowering his voice.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Show me you mean it."

You tuck your knees in, drawing back your top and removing your lounge pants. When they're gone, you spread wide, revealing your glistening pussy. Your arousal is clear, and John cannot wait to sink inside.

"That's my good girl."

John "Soap" MacTavish

You sent the texts not long after Johnny left for work.

He’s gone. Won’t be home for hours. Come over.

At first, you believed that Johnny would get those texts and immediately turn around, to head home and bust down the door. He did no such thing. He didn’t even respond. Not a peep from him. You spent the rest of the day in limbo, unsure if Johnny received the texts at all.

So, when he does come home, you expect him to say something.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, going in for a kiss.

“How was work?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “Had a briefing. We’ll be heading out for a mission next week.”

“Do you know when exactly?” you ask.

“Tuesday!” he calls back.

Nothing. This man is completely glossing over the fact that you sent those texts to him. When he reappears in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, you nearly swoon at his bare chest and stomach.

“What did you get up to today?” he asks, sauntering over to grasp your hips and pull you close.

“Nothing much,” you reply, and Johnny hums in reply, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You know,” he says after a beat, fishing out his phone from his pocket. “You did send me a few odd texts earlier.” He taps away at the screen at turns it around to show you.

The texts you sent are right there, glowing brightly.

“Oh, those—”

“I checked the cameras.”

“Cameras?” you choke. “What cameras?”

Johnny grins and then he’s tapping away at his phone again. When he shifts the screen around, you see yourself and him in real time. You turn to the corner of the room from where the feed is coming from.

“I never saw anyone come over. But I did see this.”

Tapping again, he changes to an earlier time during the day. It’s a feed of the bedroom, and you’re masturbating. Johnny ups the volume and you hear yourself moan.

“There’s this, too,” he says, switching to the night before when he had you on all fours, ass in the air.

“Johnny!”

He tightens his hand on your hip, keeping you close. Lowering his voice, Johnny grins. “Try again, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You watch from the window as Simon’s car pulls out of the drive. You wait until he turns the corner before unlocking your phone and selecting his name.

He’s just left. Come over.

With a wicked grin, you hit send, knowing that the texts will reach Simon any second. Leaning against the window, you wait, and then smile wider as Simon’s car sharply turns the corner and speeds down the street back to the house.

He’s hardly parked the car before he’s exiting the vehicle, storming toward the house, malicious intent clear with every step. With a triumphant giggle, you rush to the bedroom and flop onto the bed, pretending that you’re up to nothing at all.

You hear the front door slam, then Simon’s thunderous footsteps followed by doors opening and closing. Sprawling out across the bed, you tap away at your phone, acting like you're not bothered at all.

When he appears in the doorway, you deliberately ignore him for five long seconds before you casually turn your head and smile.

"You're home early," you observe.

Simon looms in the doorway. "What the bloody hell was that text about?"

"What text?" you shrug, all innocence.

Simon, deadpan, replies "He's just left. Come over."

"Oh. That was for a friend."

"Which friend?"

"A friend."

Simon slowly walks up to the side of the bed. "You're fucking with me."

"Don't know what you're on about, Simon."

The murderous demeanor you saw earlier melts away, leaving behind a mischievous glint that you know all too well. With a viper-like quickness, Simon grasps your ankle and yanks you to the end of the bed.

"Simon!" you shriek, but he's already flipping you over onto your stomach.

He plants both knees on either side of you, keeping you trapped beneath him, his large hands coming down on your wrists to pin them above your head.

"Was last night not enough?" he asks, voice a gruff whisper. "Or do you need another lesson?"

You lift your head as Simon transfers both wrists beneath one hand. He has his phone, tapping away at the screen.

'What are you doing?"

"Telling Price I'm not coming in."

"But you're scheduled."

Simon locks the phone and then tosses it to the side. "He'll understand." Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice drops to a breathy whisper. "I have a woman to breed."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It's cruel, perhaps. Even mean. But getting Kyle worked up is so goddamn sweet.

He’s protective, sometimes even a bit possessive, and nothing is hotter to you than watching him stake his claim.

Which is why you sent those texts in the first place—a way to make his heartrate spike.

He just left. He'll be gone for hours.

Kyle bursts through the bedroom door, his chest heaving as if he just ran several miles.

“Where are they?” he asks, voice a growl.

Kyle heads for the bathroom. Throwing open the door, he storms inside, but finding nothing, retreats back into the bedroom.

"Where's who?" you ask in mock innocence as Kyle opens the closet, pushing aside clothes as if he’ll find someone hiding there.

Kyle exits the closet, hands on his hips. “I saw the texts.”

“What texts?” You casually retrieve your phone, already knowing what you’ll find there. Opening up the messaging app, you click on Kyle’s name, and laugh.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “I meant to send that to a friend.”

Kyle’s eyes shut, and the sigh he makes is so loud you laugh harder. Clutching his own phone in his hand, Kyle shakes it in his fist.

“You’re having a laugh,” he says.

"No," you giggle. "Just a mistake."

That thin line becomes a smirk. Kyle tosses his phone onto the bed and you immediately know you’re done for.

“I know you, love. Think you’re clever, yeah?”

He saunters forward, and you push up onto your hands, sliding back along the bed.

“Kyle,” you warn.

“Tricking me just to get me home. For what? Think I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I think.

You scoot away, sinking into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Kyle matches your movements until he’s nearly horizontal over you.

“You’re right,” he continues. “I will.” His gaze roams over your body and then returns to your face. “But first, I’m going to train you into never making a silly mistake like that ever again.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[rinskazuu]

tell me that you're still mine ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

synopsis. ꨄ︎ the jjk men realized what they said to you was colossally messed up and tries to apologize

characters. ꨄ︎ fem!reader x gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, and sukuna (separate)

cw. ꨄ︎ angst, hurt/no comfort, swearing, pet names, the jjk men basically begging you to take them back, reader getting on their ass for the disrespect

notes. ꨄ︎ i'm most likely going to make this a series since u guys really liked the reader standing up for herself, and the groveling.

♪ song used. afterglow by taylor swift

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5/finale

end notes. ꨄ︎ u guys went crazy in p1

want to join my taglist? all that's required is for u to let me know in the comments! WARNING: i do post for different fandoms

tags. ꨄ︎ @tanchosanke @shokosbunny @hikaakox @luchiet @meosq @k4romis @totallygyomeiswife @starlightanyaaa @kiyooomii @artist1936 @moncher-ire @deaf-yuri-lover93 @mellsfern @justbelljust @my-anime-garden

reblogs, comments, and likes are all appreciated! <3

jjk masterlist | general masterlist

[chrisisvbun]

three soldiers. 40s!steve rogers & 40s!bucky barnes x chubby!fem reader x origins!logan howlett.

synopsis: steve, bucky and logan, three soldiers that were hanging out in a bar, lay eyes on a beautiful woman that seems to be their type, and instead of fighting for whoever will have you, they solve things like mature men they are: having a foursome.

cw: foursome, triple penetration (jeez gurl) sweet steve, rough bucky and logan, slight bi!logan, mentions of gay sex, anal, unprotected piv, crempie, oral (both m and f), dom!logan, dom!bucky, dom!steve (mentions of sub Steve tho), chubby reader, slight mention of insecurities, fluff, aftercare.

words: 4k (I'm sorry.)

a ten nsfw chapter series masterlist.

Bucky and Steve's drinks were already empty by the time Logan approached to hang out.

The three of them were soldiers, they shared experiences, people they met, women they slept with, and they found out they shared a taste: plump, chubby women. A girl with flesh to grab, grip, bite. Extra flesh was amazing for the three of them, anywhere in the female (or male) body: tummy, hips, thighs, arms, cheeks, breasts, ass, everything was welcome.

And it's just their luck that you walk in. A gorgeous plump woman, with chubby rolls, fat thighs, broad hips, soft skin, and gorgeous cheeks that made your under eyes wrinkle when you smiled.

As you walked in, the three of them follow your body with their eyes, and where they place their eyes betray them in what they are attracted too. Bucky's eyes were staring al your fat, big thighs, and how you squeeze them together. Steve, ashamed of himself for looking at you so bluntly, was looking straight at your breasts, the cut of your dress showing how big and soft they are. And Logan, Logan was enamored with that tummy of yours, those rolls that press and show in your fat body so beautifully, in such a precious way that had him drooling. He wanted it even fatter with his baby there, but that's just the animalistic instinct talking.

So they had a bit of a chat, trying to figure out which of them was going to approach, and finally, they decided that, why not the three of them? If you backed off, the one that had more chemistry with you could try by himself.

"Hi there." Bucky smirked at you, leaning against the counter with Steve by his side and Logan from behind.

"Add what she has to my tab." Logan said, his eyes still looking down at you while he passed his card to the bartender.

"Are you all by yourself here?" Bucky said again.

"Uhm, yeah..." You said, shyly, which made the three men smirk.

"Lookin' too cute to be by yourself." Logan said from behind you, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. You blushed, you eyes glancing at the three men.

"Guys, we are intimidating her." Steve spoke up, and offered you his hand. You grabbed it shyly, and he kissed your knuckles. "I'm Steve Rogers."

"Bucky Barnes." Bucky gave a tiny bow, removing his hat.

"And that's Logan." Steve nodded at the mentioned, who was still enamored with your figure and your hair.

"Hi." He smiled at you, and his grin widened when you smiled back.

"So, doll, you sure you are alone here? No other men?" Bucky asked, crossing his arms.

You smiled. "Just the three of you."

"Three is a lot, isn't it?" Steve said, smirking at you while his eyes moved all over your body.

"it's not that big a number." You said, starting to get the situation.

"Really? Think you can take three?" Logan's voice was almost in your ear, his hand moved to your broad waist, squeezing it and making you gasp.

"M-maybe... I-" You swallowed, your eyes moving between the three of them. "I won't know until I try."

(...)

Logan said that his apartment was a good place, and it definetly was, he said he had the biggest bed, and the biggest mirror that covered the wall next to the bed.

And during the car ride, Logan was driving with Steve next to him, and Bucky already worked up, all over you. His hands gripped your thighs, kissing your cheek, your neck, your chest, while mumbling sweet praises. "So pretty, so soft..."

You gasped when he sat you on his lap, his hands gripping your ass like his hands where made to be there, and making out with you. His tongue was about to get all hungry inside of your mouth, until he had a taste of your sweet lips, automatically melting on your kiss. Your hands grabbed fists of his brunette hair, Bucky's hands moving under your dress to squeeze the flesh of you backside.

"Love birds." Logan called, you removed your lips from his, your lipstick over Bucky's lips and surroundings, and of course, all over your too. "We are here."

Before you could climb off his lap, Bucky lifted you easily in his broad arm, and like that, he removed all the insecurities you had about your weight, because he closed the door with one arm, while the other was under your thighs.

"Comfortable?" Steve smiled sweetly to you, and almost like he could read your mind, he kissed your sweetly while being held by Bucky. "You are beautiful, my God." He smiled between kisses, and allowing himself to move a hand to one of your big breasts. He moaned and pulled away. "Logan, be quick."

"Relax, pretty boys." Logan opened his apartment door, pushing it open to let the three of you in. "Uh-uh-uh." He stopped Bucky. "My turn."

Bucky rolled his eyes and let you stand on the floor. Before you could miss the touch of Steve and Bucky, Logan's hands were all over you from behind, gripping your waist, your breasts, your thighs, your stomach, while grunting on your ear.

"You are not that innocent, aren'tcha?" He said and kissed the shell of your ear, both of you watching Steve and Bucky removed his jackets and belts. "Takin' three men, three soldiers, you are charming, you are beautiful, this isn't your first rodeo, isn't it?"

You giggled a bit, caressing his big arms. "It isn't, but I never had three." You said, blushing. Logan chuckled, kissing your cheek.

"So sweet, I want to binge on you." He groaned and he began to trail open-mouth kisses over your neck, holding your hair behind. "Boys, let's get the princess ready."

(...)

Logan wasn't lying when he described his bedroom, he was totally right.

You were making out with Steve, he laying between your legs and holding your back to have stability. Bucky was already shirtless, Logan was watching Steve and you making out, on his white tank top and smoking a cigar.

"Steve, let the girl breath." Logan puffed out the smoke.

"Yeah, we are supposed to share." Bucky teased, lying between where Logan was sitting and where you were lying with Steve.

Bucky's hand cupped the back of your neck to kiss you, your hand went to his chest while Steve began to kiss your neck.

The differences between the best friends were clear. Steve was sweet and gentle, his bites and kisses were like cuddles in your skin, while Bucky was rough and desperate, his teeth sank on you lips and neck, trying to make you bleed, everything under Logan's gaze.

Steve's sweet hands pulled off the sleeves of your dress, kissing your shoulders and all the new skin exposed. Bucky hooked a finger on Steve's shirt.

"Take this off, man." He said as he pulled him away from your skin to be the one kissing it.

Steve rolled his eyes and removed his shirt. "You are not joining, Logan?" Steve said.

Logan checked him out a second and smirked. "I'm good watching you three for now, pretty boy, don't worry 'bout me." He winked at him, taking another drag of his cigar.

Steve chuckled, a slight blush on his cheeks. He moved to you again, pulling your dress down to leave you in your white bra and lacy blue underwear.

"Wanna get down?" Now, Steve had pulled Bucky's hair, and consequently, Bucky was removed from your skin.

His bright blue eyes moved to you, looking for your agreement. When you nodded eagerly, he smirked, and quickly began to pull down your panties and get between your legs.

You looked down at him, breathing heavily as he began to lick your slit, his warm tongue on your most sensitive part. You moaned, and your hand moved to press him more against you, a sign that allowed him to begin devouring your cunt.

Your whimpers were silenced but a pair of lips, that tasted like smoke and mint. You quickly recognize Logan's cologne, your hand moved to his hair too, kissing him hungrily while moaning against his lips.

Steve, of course, didn't want to be the four-wheel, so he unhooked your bra. His eyes brightened at the sight of your big breasts, and he started to kiss them both, squeezing them in his broad palms. He moaned against your flesh like he had never seen a pair of tits in his life.

You were overstimulated by this point. If you had to choose, Logan was the best kisser: sweet and rough at the same time, he had that cocky smirk that slipped between kisses every time you moaned. Bucky ate your cunt like it was his favorite meal: messy and hungry, his tongue lapped in your clit and when you started to get used to that, we would fuck you with his tongue, his warm muscle in and out of your tight entrance. And Steve, that sweet mother fucker was worshiping your body like you were a goddess, his hands gripped your flesh, not wanting to let you go ever. And even with his sweet nature, he covered your tits with hickeys and bite marks, he sucked your nipples and pinched them violently.

Bucky's tongue was having his wet dream coming true. A wet, fat cunt like yours, with such a sweet taste, such a responsive body with it. His head was squeezed against your thighs just like he wanted, like he had dreamt the second he layed eyes on you.

"Gonna take turns or is your friend gonna eat her out until we get tired?" Logan asked, obviously rhetorically.

"From my point of view, he looks like he is more into the second one." Steve said, his breathing ragged as he looked down at Bucky, his head squeezed in your big thighs. That mother fucker was having his fantasy coming true.

Logan rolled his eyes but his harsh look softened when he found your face: a pleasure pout, puffy red face, lips parted, heavy breath, and your little whimpers.

"Looks like Bucky is getting the first orgasm of the night." Logan teased.

"Fi-first?" You asked, whiny.

"What? You thought you would have only one orgasm with three men?" Logan raised his eyebrows in a chuckle. "Darlin', you are gonna walk out of here dry, if you can walk once we are done with you."

"What Logan means is that we have a lot of stamina on us, we are gonna take great care of you." Steve said, as he kissed your shoulder gently.

You squeaked when you felt the intrusion of Bucky's fingers inside of you, he smirked up at you as he rubbed your clit with his rough thumb, his face glistering with your slick. "C'mon, doll, lemme have the first." He said while kissing your thigh.

The knot in your tummy snapped in the second he pressed the tip of his fingers in your spongy spot, wetting the blankets under you and Bucky's hand.

"That's it, veery good." Logan soothed you, caressing your hair as you came out of your high.

Bucky removed your legs from his shoulders. "I'll take the ass"

"I'll take the front." Steve said quickly.

Logan rolled his eyes, making you giggle. He sighed dramatically. "Guess I'll have your pretty mouth then." He amirked, you giggled a bit again and he pressed a sweet kiss on your lips.

Steve removed his pants and boxers, sitting against the headboard, and helping you sit on top of him, kissing you sweetly.

"I'll be gentle, 'Kay?" He said with those sweet eyes in yours. You smiled and nodded, kissing you again.

He slowly began to sink you on his long cock, until his balls were pressed against your ass. You squeezed his shoulders, as he kissed your face to soothe you. You heard Bucky chuckle.

"If she is having problems with him, imagine what's gonna do with you." He said to Logan.

"W-what?" You said, looking at them from behind your shoulder.

"Logan is... pretty big, yeah." Bucky chuckled.

"And... and Steve is not?" You tried to understand.

"Oh, no, it's just... I'm definitely not bigger than him." He also chuckled. You almost looked scared. "You are gonna do perfect, sugar." Steve kissed your face again, as he began to rock upwards to you, slow and gentle.

All your worries dissappear once his cock began to kiss your sweet spots, briefly as he rocked against you, grunting under his breath.

"So tight, Jesus..." He threw his head back a second, but instantly moved back to kiss you, this time hungrier and deeper.

His hands grabbed your ass to move you up and down on his length, the clapping sound of his skin against yours filling the whole room.

Riding Steve was like a dream, you felt so loved and treasured, and surely you weren't expecting that in this kind of situation. His eyes looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, his hands grabbed you like you were delicate, made of porcelain. He kissed you like you were the woman of his life.

You heard the sound of fabric being removed and turned your head to see Bucky finally removing his pants. And while Steve kissed your neck as you rode him, you gasped at the sight of Bucky's cock. It had the same length as Steve's, which was already long, but it was way fatter, enough to make you doubt if it would fit in your virgin ass.

He spread the lube over his shalft, pumping it a few times before he got behind you.

"Don't you dare to stop." He smacked your ass, kissing the nape of your neck. "Gonna get you ready, and you are gonna keep riding him like a good girl, alright?" You nodded with whiny little sounds. "Very good." He smiled, peppering kisses on your neck as his big finger covered in lube began to sink in your back entrance.

You squealed at the intrusion, but you didn't stop riding Steve. The blonde kissed you, trying to soothe you from the possible pain, but there was not such thing, only raw pleasure.

After you got used to one, Bucky sank another, moving it in a scissors way to stretch you out. He whispered soft praises in your ear, telling you how well you were taking him, how tight and warm you were.

"I need you to relax, doll." He said in your ear, slowly removing his fingers. "Can you take a deep breath for me?" You nodded, inhaling, retaining, and by the second you exhaled, Bucky was already sinking his tip in.

"Oh god!" You moaned, hugging Steve's neck.

Now, you had both friends rocking against you, filling you up, getting you cockdumb with a few thrusts. Steve was hitting your cervix beautifully, while Bucky was using your tight ass, gripping your hips to rock against you harshly.

"Having a good time without me I see." Logan teased, finishing his cigar.

You looked at him, tears filling your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure that you were feeling. He removed his belt and then his tank top. You were drooling, literally, against Steve's neck, between moans, at the sight of his enormous body, that you didn't notice when he pulled off his pants, showing that Bucky and Steve where right.

He was longer than Steve, fatter than Bucky, it had a long, thick vein that started in his happy trail and finished in his tip. You were thanking and blaming God that you didn't have him in your ass or your cunt, because he was definitely gonna rip you open.

He stood in front of you, pressing his tip on your parted lips. You kissed it messily, his tip already covered in your saliva, trying to fit it in your mouth slowly due to the movements of your body. You stayed still, letting Steve jackhammer you while Bucky fucked you from behind, and slowly slid his cock in your mouth, fitting half of it.

"Can't take it?" He mocked you. "Guess I'll have to take your cunt once blondie finishes."

He grunted when your tongue moved around his thickness, pulling your hair to keep your head still, until you began to move it back and forth, gagging as you tried to take more of him

"Fuck sake..." Logan grunted loudly.

"L-language." Steve said between groans.

"Shut up or I'll use your ass as my sex toy." He threatened and laughed when noticed by your reaction that his cock throbbed inside of you at the idea.

Steve rocked against you harder, Bucky hugged your body from behind, both of them trying to get you over the edge.

Your eyes widened when both men hit your spot almost at the same time, making you clench around them as your orgasm snapped, coming all over Steve's cock and dripping into the blankets again.

Weakly, you kept sucking Logan off, your tongue lining that thick vein and giving the tip some kitten licks that made him smile between groans.

A couple of thrusts inside of you and Steve came inside of you, his thick release painting your cunt. Your legs shivered at the warm feeling, and you had to remove Logan's cock from your mouth to take a breath. But his hand moved you to make out with his cock again, showing that he wasn't done with you

Bucky's thrusts began to get irregular and messy, his pace already ruined, and with a shaky moan, he pressed head in your shoulder and his hips against your ass, which was dripping his cum in that very second.

"S-sorry..." He apologized, already sensitive, but the shaky laugh that came out after that showed that he wasn't sorry at all. "I cum a lot." He chuckled, staying inside as you kept sucking off Logan.

You were already exhausted, burnt out, and Logan could see that. He removed your head with a little pop and kissed your cheek.

"Take a breath." He mumbled. "And you two, get off. Gonna show you how it's done." He teased, although there was some truth behind his words.

Bucky removed first, you hissed a bit as clinged to Logan, who helped you lift your hips in order to Steve to roll off. He lied you on the bed, getting between your legs and putting them on his shoulders. He kissed your ankle gently as he slid in.

You moaned weakly, mumbling something like you couldn't take it anymore.

"You sure? Because she seems to be sucking me in." He teased, slowly rocking his hips against you, Steve's cum still dripping from there.

In a second, he gripped your legs and began to fuck himself inside of you, mocking your expressions as you got overwhelmed once again with how he filled you up. You loved riding Steve, it was magical, but missionary with Logan? He hit the right spots with every movement, definetly a winner.

He suddenly stopped, looking behind him to find both young boys with their hands on their cocks, two pairs of eyes on how your tits and rolls bounced.

"You know, boys." He started. "I think there is enough room."

Your eyes darted between Logan and the two friends, slowly understanding the situation. Logan smirked when you clenched around him at the idea. "And someone here seems to like the idea."

You looked at the three men now in front of you, broad and masculine. Steve pressed your left knee in your chest while Bucky did the same with your right one, your abused hole with Logan's dick still inside now in sight.

Slowly, Bucky slid in, you whimpered at the stretch, but still taking it, breathing in and out.

"You look like you are giving birth." Bucky teased, Logan grunted.

"Don't give me ideas."

Steve gently slid half of his length in, with each inch, your moans got louder and louder, you could have come in that second.

Three cocks inside was a lot, too much, of course, but you were taking it so good that it seemed like you did this every single time.

"Such a dirty whore, taking three cocks like a champ." Logan teased, starting to slowly fuck himself inside of you.

Steve did the same, although much slower and gentle. Bucky snapped his hips against you in a quicker pace, watching how his cock disappeared inside of you.

It didn't take long for you to feel that knot in your tummy undoing itself, each thrust a little pull that threatened to snap it.

"I-I..." You babbled, just noticing you were drooling over your chin. "Cum... p-please..." You managed to pronounce.

"Cum, huh?" Bucky smirked, grunting as he kept thrusting.

"Well aren't you pretty?" Logan teased. "She is taking us so well, maybe you deserve to cum." His broad hand moved to knead your breast.

"She does, of course she does." Steve moaned low, and his rough thumb moved to your abused cunt, finding your clit and flicking it in his pad.

"Oh god!" You sobbed, gripping Logan's forearm and the bedsheets.

You threw your head back and simply allowed yourself to let it go. The room was filled with the clapping sound of skins snapping against each other, grunts, groans, growls and moans, whiny airy sounds that sometimes appeared from the men's lips.

Finally, the knot snapped undone and you came, you came a lot, there was a big stain in the bedsheets that was your art piece, and your entrance was dripping a thicker fluid that covered their cocks that, after a few thrusts, began to come, one by one.

Your core and thighs were a mess of slicks, and you, you were a shivering disaster at this point, shaking with overstimulation, your pupils dilated like you were on drugs.

Bucky was the first to cradle you in his arms, holding you against his chest while cuddling your sides.

"Get her clean, I'll change the sheets so we can rest." Logan said once he caught his breath.

Bucky lifted you easily, rocking you as he moved to the bathroom with Steve. The blond caressed your hair and kissed your face while Bucky cleaned you gently, his hands moving over your body with nothing other than affection and care. Once cleaned and dry, Logan put you on some boxers of his and one of his flannels.

"Ready to sleep, beautiful?" He asked, caressing your hair. You smiled lovingly and nodded, making him smile too and he leaned to kiss your nose.

"Here, doll." Bucky handed you a cup of tea. "That throat must hurt." He kissed the top of your head.

"You made me tea?" You asked surprised, your eyes shining at him.

"Of course I did, doll, why so surprised?" He lied in the right side of the bed, with you sitting between Logan's leg and resting your back and head on his chest, his arms around you.

"I didn't expect this, that's all." You said shyly, drinking from your beverage.

"Well, that's the bare minimum, you were so kind letting us do this with you, and you took it great." Steve said softly, kissing your forehead and laying on the other side.

"You three do this often?" You asked curiously.

"Never the three of us, Steve and I have done threesomes, but never with the old machine." Bucky elbowed Logan, who rolled his eyes.

"And it was a great experience, darlin', I must admit." Logan nuzzled against your hair, the two soldiers nodded along.

"Well, I wouldn't mind repeating it other time." You fidgeted with the cup.

"Is that so?" Steve pressed his face in your shoulder, smiling sweetly at you.

Bucky's hand move to caress your thigh. "I wouldn't mind either." He kissed your arm gently.

"Well, everyone seems happy in this situation." Logan sighed. "Guess we will have to share you, because if we do this everytime, we are gonna end up breaking you."

"I'll take the first." Steve said quickly.

"I'll take the second!" Bucky followed alone.

"Don't you think she gets the right to choose, you idiots?" Logan huffed, and you giggled.

"I'll take Logan first." You answered.

"Oh, come on!" Bucky pretended a complain.

"He earned it!" You giggled.

"Yeah, I got the apartment." Logan added along. "And I'm the eldest."

"How old are you?" You asked innocently. The three men got silent.

"You don't wanna know yet, darlin'."

[covetyou]

you all the way down

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: vaguely dub-con (power imbalance, reader was paying a debt), masturbation, oral sex (f and m receiving), face sitting, spanking, cum swallowing, no use of y/n. word count: 4.3k summary: You have a rare moment of privacy, a chance to luxuriate in bringing yourself closer and closer to a peak you've been teasing yourself with for hours.... Until a knock at your door snatches it all away.

A/N: I hit a follower milestone this week - thank you all so much for your follows, comments, reblogs, friendship, sneaky trips into my DMs and asks, and for loving the same silly, absurd, and horny things I do.

see you next week 💛

title from I, Carrion (Icarian) by hozier.

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You didn't often do it like this. You didn't often have the time. Or the privacy.

It was a rare luxury to have the apartment to yourself, and so, for the best part of an hour - maybe more - you'd been slowly and steadily teasing yourself. With no plans and no work, you could take your time, turn the slow drag of your hands all over your body into steady smooth movements that dipped between your legs. Fingers that pinched nipples, scratched at your belly, dragged themselves over your thighs found themselves nestled between your legs dipping down and teasing. Down, and up, and around, and back down again. Sweeping through wet folds and swiping over your clit in gloriously slow strokes. You were making your own skin prickle, your own breath catch in your throat, and it was divine.

How long you teased yourself and made yourself smile and sigh in the confines of your own room, you didn't know exactly. It didn't matter. Your dad was at work and you weren't. You were here, alone, finally pushing one slicked up finger inside yourself and making yourself gasp.

Fuck, did you deserve this. You deserved the soft and the slow way you teased yourself, brought yourself close to the edge and then eased off. You deserved the way you made yourself moan, catching yourself with a laugh when you heard yourself through the blood in your ears.

You deserved to come, right here, nestled in all your soft things, thinking glorious thoughts about hands and bodies surrounding yours, overwhelming you until you came, shuddering, in their grasp.

You deserved to come begging and urging yourself on to the emptiness of your room, your own filthy mouth finding flight and soaring, working with the fingers in your cunt and on your clit to bring yourself to an edge you'd let yourself teeter on, almost making yourself cry as you held back, held off, and kept that fierce explosion at bay.

Until a knock at your door snatched it all away.

Your body registers it before your brain does. The fuse you'd ignited sputters out, your fingers still working over your clit that has suddenly gone shy and numb and unfeeling, making you twitch uncomfortably. Then, your door rattles with a heavy handed knock again, and you sit up with a start.

Fuck this asshole.

Tumbling from tangled sheets, you frantically reach for something to cover you. As you hop through your apartment, one leg in your pants, the other out, another knock hammers at the door.

"Okay! I'm coming!" Only you weren't, because that was ruined now, thanks to this heavy handed asshole and their impeccable timing.

Wiping damp fingers on your pants, you huff out a frustrated breath and try to pin a fake smile onto your face before opening the door. It swings inward, just as the start of another impatient knock begins, and in with it comes a man you should be surprised to see.

Joel Miller breezes past you - barely having to push his way in as you stare at him in stunned silence - to stand in your living room, looking curiously around at the small space.

"Nice place," he says, with a look on his face that says differently. You know it's far from a nice place. There wasn't a single apartment in this building that was a nice place. If this were normal times, the whole block would have been condemned years ago, but here you were, stuck at the end of the world in a shitty apartment that was the only place you had to call home.

As you close the door, you take a quick glance down at what you'd thrown on. The pajama pants have seen better days - everything had seen better days - and the shirt you'd grabbed has more holes in the seams than you care to even check for. It was in your pile of things to fix that you hadn't quite got around to yet and now here it was, hanging off your body like you were wearing lace, not flannel.

"What're you here for?" you ask, trying to hide the holes in your with a not-so-subtle movement of your arms.

"Like to check in on my clients from time to time," he says, finally looking you over and noticing your arms tucked tightly over your chest. "Am I disturbin' somethin'?"

Yes. "No."

"You ain't workin'?"

No shit. "Day off."

"Alright," he says, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

You aren't wearing any panties. "Nothing."

He's crossing the small space to stand right in front of you, and you know from the second his nostrils flair that he knows. He probably knew from the moment he came in, probably somehow even from the other side of the door. You weren't exactly being quiet, or discreet, and if there's one thing you knew it was that Joel Miller knew you just about better than anybody else.

"Bullshit, sweetheart."

If you weren't already so turned on at your own hand, you know you'd be rapidly getting wetter. Just the smell of him in your home is sending your mind, and your pussy, into overdrive. He's never stepped foot in here before, and you know you shouldn't like it. A man like Joel, a man who has clients to come check on, isn't someone you should be happy to have snooping about in your apartment and your business.

But one look at that cocky smirk on his face, and you know you'd be very happy to have him snooping around your business. In fact, by the way your pussy pulses at the sight of him, you think you'd be happy to have him very deep in your business right here pressed up against your front door.

Instead, in a last ditch effort to retain your dignity, you push the frustration back into your voice and step around him, throwing your hands into the air.

"You just come here, pound at the door, and then bust right in here the second I open it! I was - I'm busy, Joel."

"Busy?" Joel scoffs. You can see the thought as it comes to him, sly smile twitching the corners of his mouth as he fakes disinterest. "Then go right on ahead and get back to what you were doin', don't mind me."

You stare him down, heart pounding in your throat. The distance between you is still small. You could be on him in an instant. You think you could use the element of surprise and tackle him to the ground. His coat would come off easy enough, but beneath that who knows what he's wearing. Probably layers. Fucking Boston. Still, you didn't exactly need all of them off, you only needed access to one thing, and when your eyes flick down to the bulge in his jeans you resolutely set your shoulders and turn around.

"Fine."

A button falls from loose threads as your hands fly down the front of your shirt. In no time at all you're flinging it over your shoulder, hitting Joel square in the face where he stands in your bedroom doorway, watching.

He catches it in one hand, fingering one of the holes. "This what you call, busy?"

The pajama pants you'd tied about your waist drop to your feet and in no time at all you're naked again, climbing onto your bed, the pillows and sheets you were nested in welcoming you back in - still warm. "Like you didn't know, asshole."

"I ain't got a sixth fuckin' sense, sweetheart."

You glare at him from across the room and he shrugs, leaning casually on the doorframe as he watches you lie back. If you didn't know better, you'd think he didn't know where to look. One moment he's looking at the scowl on your face, and the next he's looking down at your breasts, the curve of your ass, taking a peek between your legs as you shuffle down your bed. It's all going so fast, you think for once you may just have the upperhand. Joel Miller, you think, is flustered.

He watches you as you stroke down your body, quicker than the slow, teasing pace you'd set with yourself earlier. Your thighs fall open as your hands reach your hips, and your fingers reach down to spread yourself as he watches on.

"This what you were doin'?"

"Yes, now can you shut up."

You shut your eyes and get back to where you left off. You're still wet and slick, your fingers slipping easily back into the grip of your pussy. If you just try to block him out, standing in the doorway staring between your spread legs, you can get right back where you left off. You can find that edge again, even through the oversensitivity. You know you can, and this time, you're going to throw yourself screaming over it.

Curling your fingers, you reach down and twist your torso until you can reach that delicious spot you found earlier. Then, your other hand begins working back over your clit, spit slicked and swiping eagerly over the sensitive nub. Picking up the pace, you try to ignore the twitches in your legs and the way your thighs already want to clamp shut on your own hands.

You ignore it, that is, until Joel chimes in from the doorway.

"You're gonna rub the fuckin' thing clean off if you keep goin' at it like that."

Hitting the bed in frustration, you growl and sit up again, staring wild eyed at him. "If you're such a fucking expert, then why don't you get over here and help me. I am naked, Joel, and my cunt is right here."

Your mouth snaps shut the moment you gesture down to your spread legs. You snap them shut too. By the way he's silently peeling off his coat, you're certain you've fucked up, though you can't say you're too mad about it. With any luck, he'll fuck you to within an inch of your life in a way so satisfying your ruined orgasm will be all but forgotten.

With his coat discarded, he pulls off a sweater and unbuttons his shirt - flannel and significantly less holey than the one you've just thrown at him. Then, he grabs a pillow you'd discarded earlier and sits at the edge of your bed.

"C'mere," he beckons as he lays back, folding the pillow and shoving it behind his head.

You don't move. You're frozen in place as he shifts and gets himself comfortable. You don't know what this is, what he's planning, but you're certain it's something he's never done before. And it's going to happen right here, in your bedroom, the very place you'd spent night after night dreaming of the many wonderful ways he would fuck you.

"You want my help, or not?" he says in frustration, looking over to you where you're rooted in place. You nod stupidly, and follow the beckon of his fingers until you're kneeling by his side.

His rough hands find your thigh and push you until you're sat up on your knees. Then, he's dragging one of your legs over his clothed chest until you're straddling him, trying to keep the wet mess between your legs from soaking through his shirt.

"Up here," he says. "Want that pussy, and I ain't kneeling for it."

And suddenly it all clicks into place and you are mortified. For everything he'd done to you, for how much you knew he loved to look, you'd never once done something like this to him. You felt awkward even riding him, until his flithy words of encouragement and the drag of his cock inside you knocked every thought out of your brain.

Now, he was wanting you to sit on his face, somehow not suffocating him in the process. So, you laugh, shaking as you hold your weight above his chest.

"Look like I'm jokin' to you?" he says in a tone so stern and serious your eyes force their way down to where his face sits perilously close to the apex of your legs.

Which, of course, is a fucking mistake. He's licking his lips and looking up at you - all over every inch of you - eating you alive with his stare.

He pushes and pulls you then, dragging you up his chest until your knees are settled either side of his face. You can feel the gust of his breath against your thighs just before he hauls you forward a little more until his half face is completely covered by your cunt, only his eyes and the bridge of his nose visible now.

"Fuckin' christ. You're a mess down here. You been goin' at it for a while, huh?" he says, and you can feel every word blow against you even as you hover as far as you can above his face.

"Uh-huh," you say, a kiss sucked to your thigh striking stealing all thought from your mind.

"Get real close?" he says, with another kiss, hands kneading at your thighs and ass as they wrap around you and try to tug you closer.

You nod, hoping he can see you as your eyes slip closed with the feeling of him right here, between your legs, in your room.

"Hm. That's a damn shame, sweetheart. Bet you're achin' for it somethin' fierce right now, ain't you?" he asks from between your legs. You look down and you know in that moment the fucked look on your face says more than you ever could when he hums, spreading your thighs apart with his strong fingers.

"Better sit your ass down then," he mumbles into your thigh, pulling you down. "That's it, bring it here. Ain't strainin' my fuckin' neck for it, give it to me."

So you do. You settle down slowly onto his face, listening as he guides you down until you feel the first broad swipe of his tongue up through your folds.

"What'd I say," he says, swallowing the taste of you. "A fuckin' mess."

He kisses around your clit, nudging it with the curved tip of his nose when he finally licks up into you again. And then, he's pulling your flush to his face and feasting.

The noise that leaves you is stupid. Somewhere between a gasp and a moan and a question all at once. His nose is pressed against you, his laughter fanning out across your mound as you try not to squirm and wiggle against him, fearful of crushing his head beneath your weight, or at the very least suffocating him.

His face burrows deeper, his hands holding you firm, squeezing and scraping calloused fingertips against your delicate skin. The scruff on his cheeks feels rough against the places you were so soft with earlier, and you don't care in the slightest.

It works, you think.

Where the soft feel of your own hands felt too much - too familiar - to the parts of you that were now too sensitive to them, the rough, all consuming movements of Joel's mouth on your swollen pussy feels like a welcome relief as he laps at your hole, slick and dripping from your thwarted solo session.

His hands move from anchoring you to his face, locked around your thighs, to pressing against your ass, gripping the globes of them in each of his broad hands.

And then, as if it wasn't all so much already, he begins to stroke up and down your seam, pulling you apart, dipping into your dripping cunt and teasing over your exposed asshole as he laps and suckles away at your clit.

Still, as good as it all is, you can't let go. You can't get back to that place you'd climbed so close to. You feel exposed, sat upright with the frigid October air of your bedroom encasing you. Self-conscious too - all chins and bad angles and slouchy shoulders. And, most of all, you were terrified you were going to hurt him. One wrong twitch or snap shut of your legs and his air supply would be gone, or his neck snapped, and you'd have a dead man in your bed and -

A sharp slap connects with your ass cheek, Joel's strong hands pulling you upwards from his face, cheeks glistening and lips swollen red.

"Lean forward," he says, with a nip to your thigh.

As you go to move, walking forward on your knees, a hand grips your waist, and another slap hits your thigh, rippling your skin where it frames his face.

"Said lean, not fuckin' move off. You're gonna sit right here 'til you come, but you ain't comin' any time soon if you don't fuckin' lean and relax."

A strong hand pushes at your lower back then, making you hinge forward until your elbows collide with the bed. Your ass is in the air, legs spread just wide enough that your bare cunt is tantalizingly close to Joel's mouth, and now you get it. You shift on your knees, soothing the small ache that had built up, and look down at the brown-grey hair between your legs that's sucking hickies into your thighs.

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs as he marks you, delivering swift, gentle smacks to your ass as you groan, planting your cheek firmly against your bed.

You drag a blanket toward you, covering yourself a little and tucking your face into the softness of it. Joel's smacks turn to scrapes of his blunt nails over the backs of your thighs and then, when your brain finally switches off and you fall into that mindless, soft place that has you feeling heavy and floaty all at once, you press your hips forward and drag your bare pussy across Joel's waiting tongue.

Joel's groan of approval blends into your own wanton moans. What was a soft drag of his tongue on your clit quickly turns to the sensitive nub being sucked into his eager mouth, your hips winding and grinding now you can finally relax.

"Fingers. Please. Need your fingers."

It doesn't even sound like you. It's breathier and more pathetic than you think you've ever sounded, but you can't bring yourself to care when suddenly Joel is releasing your clit to slurp on two of his own fingers, before plunging them deep into your empty pussy.

"Yes, yes, yes, like that. Fuck. Joel."

Each orbit of his tongue on your clit sends a new throb directly through your core, clenching down on the digits curling into you, and you're right back to teetering on that edge. You figure you could let yourself fall over it now. It'd be more like collpasing over it in an exhausted heap, but you know it'd be a satisfaction you wouldn't otherwise have got today.

Or you could wait. You could hold yourself back and use his face to tease yourself, to bring yourself back from the brink once, twice, before you take the final running jump right over it.

Your hands have made up your mind for you when you card trembling fingers through his hair and pull him back, forcing his head down into the pillow he'd propped under it not long ago, and stopping your orgasm in its tracks.

One.

Then, when he's licking broad stripes up and down your glistening folds, something takes hold of you and you begin to fuck yourself against his fingers, swiping your pussy against the flat of his tongue as you rock gently back and forth. His tongue, then his nose, grind against your clit with each rock of your hips, and soon your shaking legs can't move yourself any more.

Two.

Whatever running jump you'd hoped for isn't in your hands now. It's not in your control from the moment Joel tucks a third finger into your pussy, so slick and dripping you're certain you'd have no issue taking more if he decided to give them to you. Instead, you're being carried by him, limp and panting in his arms as he throws you mercilessly over the edge, and you let him.

You come with a cry, fists balling in sheets. Your hips rock and cant against his face, twitching uncontrollably as you pulse and gush around his fingers. His tongue is relentless on your clit, circling over and over until you're begging a jumbled garble of words, too weak to lift yourself off of him.

Then, in a last ditch effort, you throw yourself forward, still coming as you finally release yourself off of his face.

It takes your brain a second to reconnect with your body. Even after the aftershocks have subsided, you're still panting and groaning. Or he is. Maybe both of you are.

Both of you are.

Still quivering, you turn to him. His eyes catch yours before you can take in the state of him. They're darker than you've ever seen them, his blown pupils turning his irises almost black. Then, you see the glistening wet on his chin, his plush lips turned plumper, red and swollen from kissing and sucking at you. And, even lower still, you see the movement of his arm, his bicep rocking in a steady movement, his forearm flexing with each jerk of his fist, his cock weeping in his hand.

"Get down here," he growls.

You scramble to turn, limbs clumsy, and flop down against his side, knees tucked awkwardly under you. His free hand grips your ass, kneading and spreading you so he can look at the mess he made of you, while he guides his cock to your mouth with the other.

"C'mon now, ain't gonna take much. That's it. Fuck."

He groans when you swallow him down, almost gagging when you take him too deep too quickly. Your fist curls around the base of him, taking up the space you can't quite reach, and you bob your head, swirling your tongue, unable to keep your moans quiet as you taste him.

No sooner have you started, and he's twitching beneath you, the muscles in his groin flexing to hold back, to hold on.

"Want you to swallow it all," he pants. "Don't want - fuck - you to miss a single drop."

His fingers push back into your tender hole then - the inviting warmth of it obviously too much to resist when it's swaying there right in front of him, and you welcome him back in with a sigh.

"Such a fuckin' mess."

You moan in agreement, sucking his cock deeper into your mouth. You can't see him. You don't need to. You know he's close by the way his balls draw tight and his moans get so desperate, his fingers stilling their slow exploration inside you.

And then, he's spurting into the back of your throat - you bet he has his eyes closed - and you swallow over and over, the salty burst of him barely registering on your tasetbuds as you eagerly swallow everything he has to give.

"Get it all. That's it. Swallow it. Fuck, sweetheart."

You suck and lick until his fingers pull out of you and grip your thigh, too sensitive for you to carry on your gentle licks against his head.

With one last gentle suck, you release him with a pop and flop beside him, smiling dozily to yourself as your hands play against your belly.

Joel lays with you for a moment too, his cock going limp against his belly before he tucks it away and sits up.

"Y'always like this after you fuck yourself?" he asks, and you nod, watching the way he stretches his neck and shoulders. You think you are, anyway. Mostly, you fall straight asleep. It's only on these rare occasions you get to fuck yourself with your fingers and take your time that you ended up smiling and satisfied at a job well done.

"Get up here," he says again a moment later, tugging gently at your limp arm. He could manhandle you - he's done it before, he's plenty strong enough - but he doesn't. Instead he waits patiently until you're on your knees in front of him, almost matching his height where he stands and you kneel.

"What'd'ya say?" he asks, pinching your chin. "Tha..."

"Thank you, Joel," you say, with a roll of your eyes. "But, technically, it's your fault I even needed your help in the first place."

With a quick slap to your ass, he pushes your chin away with his thumb, before dragging your face right back to his. "Alright smartass. C'mere."

Then, he kisses you. Full on the mouth, kisses you.

And, when you slip your tongue against his bottom lip, tasting yourself on the fullness of it, he doesn't object. He meets you in the middle instead, tasting himself on your tongue as you taste yourself on his.

"Always go so fuckin' dopey for kisses," he says with a laugh against your mouth, and you moan an agreement as your head falls back. You're exhausted, right down to the bones, and now the mornings events are catching up with you.

"I do. You don't mind tasting your cum."

Honest too, apparently, and Joel shakes his head.

"S'mine, and I fuckin' put it there. Nice knowin' you taste of me, sweetheart. If it ain't one hole, it oughta be another."

He shrugs his jacket on, and pulls his shoes onto his feet, before he sees himself out. He pats you gently on the ass as he leaves, closing your bedroom door behind himself. You listen out for the front door, and when it slams, you let the fuzzy feeling take hold - your eyes catching sight of his flannel shirt on your dresser right before you're dragged under.

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