#My sheets are navy blue

[justletmeon12]

Not me humming the Jaws theme while making the bed, slowly inching the sheet closer to where my cat warily sits

[allhailthe70shousewife]

I'll put my 70s couch up against anybody else's 70s couch any day of the week. And yes, that is a painting of a "Spanish village" behind me and yes it is painted entirely in shades of avocado green, dirty brick and black.

[cannibaliist]

Pink Matter - Sevika x F!Reader (18+)

One shot | Part 2 soon??

Contains: 18+, sickfic, slight modern!au, smut, explicit content!!, NSFW, mentions of alcohol and weed consumption, established relationship, no use of y/n, nicknames of 'baby girl, sweet girl, etc.' mentioned, dom!sevika, strap ons, oral!s e x reader recieving, rough, vaginal s e x

Word Count: 3.6K

a/n: the Sevika brainrot got too much so here we are lol . hope you enjoy !!

cross posted on AO3

title inspired by Pink Matter by Frank Ocean

Sevika likes you even when you're sick. Because there is no other grown woman or man she'd allow to perspire on her sheets and take up all the space on her mattress on an early Saturday morning when she's finally free from work and Silco's nagging. So yeah, she likes you all right. 

You don't usually get sick often, especially with her watching over you to make sure you're warm during Zaun's freezing weather. 

Your sweat-coated skin soaks through the double layer of navy blue sheets on the bed. It turns the blue almost black and Sevika can only think about how her shit – the one pair of sheets she probably owns – is definitely close to fucked up. God, you are so lucky she doesn't want you to die from whatever you contracted after fucking around all night during the misting rain, laughing and dancing high off your mind from the cheap weed Sevika bought off her coworker. That mixed with what the people called “Shimmer Juice”, you were half out of your mind for the night. 

“Baby get the hell inside,” Sevika had told you last night, but all you did was smile at her. That blinding ass smile full of white teeth and crescent shaped eyes that made her heart start thumping a little faster in her chest. Fuck. She really was in love with you. 

So of course, now you were running a fever and swaddled in whatever blankets she could scrounge up around her room. Sevika likes you like this though, fading in and out of consciousness.

Snoring softly and muttering small words while grasping at whatever body part of Sevika you could reach to keep you warm. You get super clingy when you're sick, one of the only times you are completely super sweet and malleable instead of talking back to Sevika like she won't put you in your place the next moment, but your freak ass is into it so she has to calm herself down another way to not give you exactly what you want. Still, she smiles at your petty actions. Helps to know you really want her in every single form.

She decided to run a few errands while your younger form slept, grabbing soup ingredients – Does my love prefer celery or corn? – bottles of water and a thermometer that she's never bothered to keep in her home before. The things my baby makes me do, she thinks as she puts her things into her grocery basket. 

When she gets back and puts the groceries away she expects for her baby to still be sound asleep but instead you seem a bit off. Hair splayed out everywhere with your chest rising and falling heavily. A flush in your cheeks that's still so visible even with the color of your skin, tinted a steady red even in your sleep. 

Sevika wondered if you were having a nightmare, thrashing and moving in your sleep like you do when your dreams get really bad, fighting more than just sickness.

But instead, your whole body is trembling, your hips unconsciously grinding into the sweat-stained sheets. Sevika walks closer, watching you move your body further into the bed, soft little groans escaping your plush lips. She stills as you mutter a soft cry for her. “Sevika…” She holds her breath, slowly approaching the voice. “Sevi, please.”

Sevika smirks to herself, touching a hand to your warmed skin shaking your awake. “Get up, sweet girl.” She had to take your temperature now before giving you any water. You startle with a groan, whining like you always do. Some nonsense about a “-middle of a good dream. ruin everything.”

“Open your mouth for something other than running it baby.” Even though you're slightly annoyed from being woken up from such a nice dream, you do as instructed, mouth wide and hinting for more than just a thermometer. 

Sevika felt a twinge in her pants. Her desire to slide her strap down your awaiting throat was just too tempting. Instead, she cups your jaw, and sticks the thermometer tip under your tongue. You glare and let out a soft whine of disappointment. “Tease,” you mutter. 

Sevika rolls her eyes at the petulant behavior and pulls out the thermometer at the beep. “101.4, Told your crazy ass to sit down last night and now here we are,” she scoffs. “Sit up and drink some water.”

You groan and turn your head away, letting yourself fall back onto the bed. “Don't want to.”

Sevika sighs, sliding her warm fingers over your sweat-soaked hair, small pieces threatening to curl at the nape of your neck. They feel nice as they start to comb at your scalp. “Listen, you've been playing housewife all week, cleaning and cooking all nice for me, let me take care of you now baby girl.” 

You groan again, weak hands gripping the edge of the blanket, trying to pull it off of you. You sigh into the pillow, words all muddied and unclear. “Speak up baby, I'm not straining to hear you.”

You take a deep, labored breath in, and turn her head towards Sevika, cheeks getting all hot. “Said you want to, so take care of me.”

Her eyes narrow at you, “What do you think I'm doing?” 

“No Sevi, I need you to fuck me. Please.” 

Sevika grips your chin, hard, probably could leave a few bruises if she tried hard enough. You twitch under her touch, ultra-sensitive from the fever. “You're outta your mind right now. You need to rest ”

You bring a hand to Sevika’s thigh as she hovers over you, grasping with more strength than you probably needed to have. “I need it, please. I'll be good.”

Just the thought of your body loose and desperate sends a rush straight to the older woman's crotch. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Fuck me, Sevika.” Your voice was exhausted, but eager, wide eyes staring endlessly into her own dark grey ones. 

She watches the quickened rise and fall of your chest as she goes to take off her vest and her pants. Of course she's commando. Of course. The thing you're waiting for is less than 5 steps away, tucked in the nightstand drawer. Sevika is quick to grab the strap-on and fasten it around herself. It's a beautiful deep shade of purple and thick and practically gleaming as she steps closer to you. You scramble out of your sleep shorts and t-shirt to feel her presence even closer.

“Gonna slick me up baby? Get me ready for you?” She asks as she sizes you up. Her eyes are dark, hungry, for you. 

You nod dumbly. So ready to suck her off like you've done times before. 

She drags her metal hand along your lower leg, up your shaking thighs, over your awaiting ass in your underwear, and up to your back. You twitch at the cold of the metal, too much sensation from such a small gesture. Simply Sevika’s touch – gentle strokes across the skin – was overwhelming. 

Sevika gently tugs on your jaw, testing how pliable and easy you promised to be. She was met with no resistance as your mouth opened with ease, “doing so good already baby.” 

Sevika stepped closer, hovering over your face, sliding in her strap until she hit the back of your throat with no resistance. You were too tired for a reflex, too tired to choke. Fuck, she could do anything she wanted to you right now and you wouldn't even flinch. Something dark coiled in Sevika's stomach, if she was a better person she would've ignored your pleas and doped you up with enough medicine to tire you out but she wasn't an entirely good person, and you liked her that way. 

Sevika worked your mouth, it's as if she could feel the warm back of your throat every time she bottomed out. But the small quiver of breath on the straps cockhead was a reminder that you needed to breathe.

Tears welled in your eyes, and Sevika had to fight coming right then and there. She wanted to fill your throat, make you keep her strap warm as you swallowed every last bit of her. The only fight you had was an involuntary gasp for air. Sevika held you there for just a second longer, slowly sliding out of your mouth, warm and wet. As Sevika’s strap head passes your lips, you groan, trying to get Sevika to put herself back where she belongs.

Sevika replaces the emptiness with her fingers, laying them on your tongue instead. “Not now baby girl.”  

Sevika hovers over you, staring at your parted lips, watching your eyes flutter as sweat drips down your brow. She lowered her hips, slowly dragging her strap along your entrance. Sevika’s other hand traveled down to the leaking pussy between your thighs, mouth watering at the wetness. She thumbs your clit slowly as she grasps your ass with her metal hand.

You gasp at the soft friction, pushing your hips up to meet Sevika, breath heavy. “Need you Sevi, please.”

“Keep your hands up. Just like that.” You cross your arms above your head as you ache to touch Sevika back. Your skin is hot and flushed and you feel like you'll explode any second that your girlfriend isn't touching you. 

“Hurry, please.” 

“Patience pretty girl,” Sevika warns. Your whines were cut short by Sevika’s mouth meeting your own. The kiss was rough, more teeth meeting lips and gasps than anything else but it was perfect. Just like her. 

Sevika pulls away and watches her baby's head lift off the pillow to chase her, falling back almost immediately with a huff. You let your hands move from where they lay against the pillow crossed to pull Sevika back down into a kiss. Desperate. 

Pulling away again Sevika pins your wrist to the mattress with a growl. You stare up at her, eyes shining with tears but overfilled with lust and want. Fuck. “You don't listen for shit, girl. Keep your hands where I can see ‘em.”

Sevika kisses along your jaw and neck, soft nips and bites that you wanted to feel more of. Wanted them to bruise. To show everyone who you belonged to. But all you can do is whine and mumble out whispers instead of words.  

“Use your words, baby.”

You choke on your words. “M-more. Please.”

Sevika leans back down, crashing her lips into yours. “You want more?”

You groan into her mouth. “Please, anything.”

Sevika pulls away, spitting into your mouth, hungry and aching. “Swallow. Want you to remember that taste.” You swallow greedily, heart pumping as Sevika kisses down the soft skin of your stomach, inching closer to your cunt. 

She smirks at the sight, you already so desperate for more, as she runs her fingers up and down your warm entrance. You moan at the sudden intrusion, rocking back onto Sevika’s hand as she slips a finger in, all the way to the knuckle, groaning at the heat and the way you're clenched so tight around her. 

“Another please, Sevika.”

One finger quickly becomes three, and you can't even flinch at the rushed invasion, just blabbering and moaning as Sevika's thick fingers slam into your pussy. Your hips rock against Sevika’s hand as you can do nothing but wordlessly whimper and beg for something.

Sevika hits that special spot in quick little pumps, bringing your muted cries to loud gasps. 

“Almost there, baby.” Sevika tells you, her ability to hold herself back from jumping your bones entirely is slowly starting to crumble. 

When she deems you prepped enough, she takes her fingers away and slides them into her mouth making you moan. She licks her fingers like it's nectar as she sucks them into her mouth. 

Finally, Sevika settles between your trembling thighs, the color a hue she's always loved from all the time you spent tanning in the sun with no worries in the world.

A gentle groan passes by your lips as Sevika sucks a mark into the flesh of your legs, nipping along the skin turning it into a pinkish red that will soon blossom into a deep purple. She grazes her teeth along your inner thigh, biting down hard. She trails her fingers up the backs of both your legs, settling on your ass and grabbing at the soft flesh, sending a shiver up your spine. 

You mewled, begging. “Need you please.” You could feel Sevika smile into the mark she made on your thigh, turned on beyond relief at your begging. “Just a little longer baby.”

Giving you a pat on the head, she lowers her awaiting mouth to your weeping cunt, though you're already close even from her thick fingers inside of you. You moaned at the contact, gripping the sheets as Sevika licks you up clean. You resist the overwhelming urge to clutch at her hair as she works you out, but you promised not to move your hands. You'd listen this once, just for her. 

She works her tongue over your swelling clit, swirling her tongue, and moving back down. She ate you like a pro, taking you deeper in her mouth, breathing in the smell of her girl and the tickle of your hairs along her face. Whether you had a bush or shaved for some occasions, she was very appreciative of the effort, regardless of how you presented yourself to her. 

She fucks you with her tongue and only adds in a single finger. Pistoning faster as she works at your clit. It's all too much too soon and she pulls off to lick you up again, fingers still angled over your sweet spot, when she hears a loud cry. You've already cum. Making the sheets stain a darker shade of navy blue. 

“W-what the fuck?” You say more to yourself than anyone else. The fever makes you even more sensitive, even the littlest bit of stimulation making you come, it's insanely embarrassing to your already dwindling ego. 

“Think you can do one more?” the older woman chuckles. You just shake your head nervously, tears peaking at the corner of your eyes. “No more.”  

Sevika's eyes harden, grasping your hips and digging her nails in. The clutch of her metal fingers into the flesh of your hip leaves you reeling – knowing it's gonna bruise later. “If I tell you one more, then it's gonna be one more.” 

He slicks up her glistening strap with whatever lube she had on her dresser already half empty, and positions her above you. She lines herself up, pushing slow yet unyielding into you. You can't help but scream as Sevika pulls out and slams her strap into you, purposely missing your sweet spot just to make you beg for it. 

You try and bite your arm to quiet your whimpers, it was embarrassing wanting her so bad, wanting her dick, her strap, inside you so bad. Sevika reaches up, grabbing your face until they drift to your throat. “You can be loud, baby, let me hear you.”

She fucks you slow and deep, wanting to savor every second you're so pliant underneath her. Your mind is quieted by the fever, now, basically delirious. She uses just enough pressure against your throat to let you breathe, already labored and erratic.

It feels like your whole body is on fire. Only filled with thoughts of Sevika Sevika Sevika. Those words chant themselves over and over in your mind like a mantra. 

Sevika places your legs over her shoulders and enters again with no hesitation, fucking into you even faster. “Touch yourself sweet girl. Wanna see you cum again.”

You whimper. “Sevika, I don’t think-”

Sevika puts a finger over your mouth. “You don't get to tell me no princess, you wanted this, remember?” It was mocking, less a question and more a statement. Of course you remember, it's burned into the back of your mind. 

Your weak hand reaches for your clit to give it at least a little bit of stimulation. But there's no strength left in your body to bring yourself to come again, your grip was nothing more than a soft coaxing. Tears fill your eyes from frustration, from pleasure, a sharp mixture of both. 

With a laugh, Sevika slaps your pathetic hand away and brings her hand to your clit herself. Sevika continues to stroke you, angling her hips to hit even deeper into your tight pussy. It's all too much and all you can do is sob. 

Sevika moves her vacant metal hand from your hip to your throat, choking you properly now. Sevika’s pace quickens, folding you in half with your thighs against her sticky chest, thrusting as deep into you as she could. Your eyes began to roll, chest heaving from a sob but no words can escape her lips. 

“Please don't stop, please.”

You barely have time to process what’s happening before Sevika folds you in half again. You love the way the older woman makes you feel when she's caged over you. You're not overly short or tall, but you still feel so small in comparison to Sevika’s more broad-shouldered frame. You feel your body shake as Sevika sheathes herself back inside fully with one single thrust. You barely manage to take it, body tightening around her cock reflexively. It's basically an extension of her at this point. 

She lets her hand slither from around your neck to your boobs, fondling them as she fucks you harder. You scramble against the sheets with sweaty hands and weak fingers, trying to get away from the pistoning dick tearing you apart. Sevika is so big inside of you, he can hardly feel anything else. 

She kisses you and it feels like heaven all over again. 

Feels like you're drowning in pure bliss. She keeps fucking you through it, making you cum over and over again, watching as your body writhes in agony and overstimulation. It almost hurts, so fucking much, but it feels so so good. You love that Sevika isn’t afraid to handle you roughly – isn't afraid to slam her hips forward like she wants to destroy your guts with each thrust – but she isn't afraid to truly make love to you either, all nice and slow. Here, your mind finally has the ability to finally shut off and you can submit yourself fully to the older woman.

When Sevika finally comes it's like you can practically feel the strap swell inside of you. 

Sevika pulls out with a groan, as if it really is her own cock and not a toy. Something about it has your stomach swirling into knots again. 

She licks her lips. “Not done with you yet baby.” 

Sevika grabs you by your waist and flips you over, shoving your face deep into the mattress. 

“Fit around this cock so well baby girl. Bet you're wishing it was real huh?”

You can barely process Sevika’s words, only letting out a jumbled, “only yours Sevi” before your mind is clouded by a thick sheen of tears, sweat, and cum. You can't count how many times you come before you pass out from the fever and from working your body so hard. 

————

When you come to, the first thing you feel is emptiness. The emptiness of your cunt and the bed as Sevika is nowhere to be seen. It triggers something in your chest and he can't help the sob that gets stuck in her throat. You want to call out for her, cry, something, but your throat is wrecked and raw. 

“Sevika?” you push out, voice weak from exertion. 

After a few moments of silence, you hear the floorboards creak near the bedroom door. It's Sevika with a bowl of something in her hand and a bottle of water. She smiles at you, her lopsided smile glistening against the window light and it's all too domestic. 

“You aight Bambi?” The special nickname makes you want to jump her bones all over again. Her voice is soft as if speaking any louder would frighten you. But you're strong, already feeling better from your nap. You just nod, reaching an arm out towards Sevika's approaching figure to motion her to the space on the bed next to you. 

There’s different sheets this time, a creamy grey color and you wonder how long you were out cold so that she was able to replace sheets right under you.  

“I'm right here baby hold on.” He grabs the thermometer from the nightstand, motioning for you to open your mouth again. 

“98.9” she says after the beep. She cracks a wide smile, “fucking miracle my strap is huh?” You can only roll your eyes, “don't get too cocky, Sevi. I was right after all.” 

Sevika wraps you in a hug, breathing in the faint smell of sex, and the smell of your shampoo. “Eat your soup and if you're good I'll let you sleep with it in.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively, grinning larger than life. The little gap between her teeth has your heart melting as you kiss her softly. 

“I love you so much Sevika.” She presses your foreheads together and holds the sides of your face with her hands.

One kiss to your left eyelid, one kiss to your right lid, another to the tip of your nose, and finally another one your lips as she clutches you tighter. “I love you too baby.”

You eat your soup with a hunger you've never had before in your life. You go to sleep very happy that night, stomach full and pussy full as she spoons you as you both fall asleep. 

~~~~

[leclercstars]

save a horse.

dodge mason x reader

Summary: You're annoyed about getting paired with Dodge for a group project. He's quiet, cold, and you find nothing about him appealing (at least, that's what you're telling yourself.) Things start to take a turn when you end up having to work on the project in his bedroom, and suddenly, Dodge becomes the teacher.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+! protected sex, slight daddy kink, dom!dodge, nipple play

author's note: you all asked and you shall receive! god i love dodge mason (and you should too.)

“And you’ll be with Dodge Mason” the professor said when she got to your name on the class list. You thought you would be able to avoid group projects in community college, but apparently not. Dodge didn’t even shoot you a glance when the professor announced you as partners, so things were surely off to a great start.

He always sat in the very back, head low, kept to himself. He never raised his hand to answer a question or chime in on a discussion, and he always hurried out as soon as the professor dismissed class. You had seen him out at parties on occasion, chatting to one or two other guys in the corner. He looked good at parties, blue jeans and a tight t-shirt was a good uniform for him, especially when he added a cowboy hat. But his mysteriousness was unappealing, you found the whole “brooding cowboy” thing to be more cold and standoffish than sexy.

“Dodge! Dodge!” you chased him out of the classroom. You caught up with him and his expression hardly changed when he saw you. “What time should we meet to work on this?”

“8pm tonight sound fine?” he scrawled his address out on a piece of notebook paper and handed it to you.

“Sure! See ya then!” your cheeriness did not impact his mood, and you scoffed as you headed back to your car.

You did not find Dodge Mason appealing at all, but you found yourself standing in front of your mirror at 7:30 p.m. making sure that your outfit looked good. Your skirt was short, your shirt was tight. Why were you doing this? You kept trying to convince yourself you saw nothing in him, but your mind kept flashing back to the way his arms looked in those t-shirts that fit him so right. You threw on a hoodie so you at least seemed a little more casual.

He answered the door as soon as you knocked, and you walked in to quite a few folks in the dining room.

“Sorry, my sister has friends over. We’ll have to work in my room,” Dodge said as he led you down the hallway.

Why was your heart beating faster? You were just going in there to work, and it's only because you can’t go anywhere else.

His room was just as you expected it to be. Gray walls, navy bed sheets, decorated with rodeo trophies and a couple vintage cigarette ads.

“Neat room,” you said, even though it was boring as hell.

“Thanks.” he sat on one edge of the bed and you sat on the other, it felt like there was miles of distance between you- both physically and mentally at this point. Your legs were crossed tight, as you realized maybe wearing a skirt was not the best outfit choice for doing homework on a bed. The two of you got to work, talking about nothing except the work at hand. You were getting so bored, and your mind started to wander. His concentrated face was unfortunately very attractive, as he bit his lip looking down at the paper. His hands were huge, made evident by how small the pencil looked in them. His t-shirt was once again, tight. Hugging every muscle in his arm. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You took off your hoodie, revealing the crop-top you had on.

“Sorry, all this writing and concentrating is making me hot,” you laughed sheepishly.

“No problem.” Dodge replied plainly, although you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes suddenly scanned your body. He wasn’t even trying to hide it, as they lingered on the curve of your hips and the peaks of your tits, visible over the neckline of your shirt. Your face was getting warmer than the sun.

“I need a break, why don’t you tell me about these trophies?” you shot up and stood by his dresser, desperate to form some sort of connection with this man.

“Alright,” he stayed on the bed. He began explaining each one in pretty great detail. If you couldn’t physically get close to him, at least this was helping you get to know him better. There was a big one from when he was kid that had a particularly funny story to go along with it, and you held the shiny gold cup, facing away from the bed. You didn’t notice the way he slowly got up, coming up behind you and sneaking his hands around your waist. Your breath hitched, the smell of his musky cologne apparent as his neck was mere inches from your face. He turned you around to face him, fingertips never leaving the exposed skin between your shirt and skirt.

You stared up at him, eyes dark and low. It wasn’t his usual uninterested stare. No, this was lust, a throbbing, aching lust. God, he was so tall. You nearly had to tilt your head all the way back to even make eye contact. He cupped your face with both hands and pulled you in, kissing you in a way that you had never been kissed before. It was as if his lips were a key and yours were the lock, they fit perfectly together. His tongue found its way down your throat as his hands started to gently roam, tracing every curve and pausing as he found your ass under the skirt. He cupped your ass and squeezed, hard, earning a moan from you into his mouth. You could feel him smile against your lips as he squeezed again, making you press your body into his. Fuck, his abs were so tight and so defined you could feel them through the fabric. You looked up at him again with pleading eyes and he smirked before leaning right next to your ear.

“You wanna learn how to ride?” he whispered. You knew he was cracking a joke but god it felt so serious in that moment.

“Yes daddy.” you groaned back. Woah. He had never asked you to call him that, and you were not the type to just bust that word out usually.

“Fucking christ I need you so bad,” he hoisted you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to the bed. So “daddy” was well received. He flung all the notebooks and paper to the ground with one swipe of his arm. He was holding you up with one arm, giving you a chance to realize how strong he truly was. He tossed you down on the bed, rough but making sure he didn’t hurt you. His shirt came off almost immediately, and you happily helped him undo his belt buckle so you could see more of him. His cock was already throbbing through his boxers, just coaxing you to sit on it. He had already pulled your shirt and skirt off, and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side and taking a moment as you laid there in nothing but a lacy thong.

“Goddamn,” he sighed, grazing his thumbs over your nipples, teasing you and only making you want his cock more. He started applying more pressure, doing gentle circles with his thumbs and pressing his erection between your legs. Your moans were soft as you bucked your hips into him with progressively more force.

“Easy,” he firmly placed his hands on your hips, steadying them and pressing them back down into the mattress. “That’s no way for a good girl like you to behave.”

Suddenly it was Niagara Falls between your thighs.

He kept playing with your nipples, pinching and twisting and flicking, seeing how good it clearly made you feel. He wrapped his hands around your back and flipped you on top of him, quickly pulling down his boxers and exposing his cock, already slick with pre-cum. He reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a condom, looking at you as you straddled him.

“You ready baby?” he nearly cooed. You nodded and started to lift yourself up over him, but he decided to take control. His rough hands were planted firmly on the sides of your supple hips, guiding you onto his length. You were soaking wet, but he was so fucking big you could still only take half at once without flinching. He held you steady, waiting for you to get used to the feeling of him inside you. You both had locked eyes the moment he grabbed your hips, and neither had dared to look away, drinking in, being intoxicated by every emotion that crossed the other’s face. He slowly moved you down until you were fully sitting on his cock, gasping as the last inch pushed into your walls. Your hands were on his chest as you leaned forward, eyes now shut as you felt how close the two of you had become. Two hours ago he would barely say a word to you, now he was literally inside of you. He started rocking you back and forth, controlling your hips and making you feel so fucking good. Your clit rubbed against his abs as you rode, sparks zapping across your body every time he moved you in just the right way.

You were on top, but Dodge was fully in control. You were completely submitting to his touch, letting his hands do all the work. His body was doing all the talking he hadn’t done earlier, as he purposely thrust his abs up, knowing that was getting you closer and closer to the finish. You were starting to lose it, made completely stupid by how good his cock felt inside you.

“Fuck Dodge-daddy, fuck,” you were so so close, you could feel the orgasm starting to bubble up in your stomach.

Right as you were about to climax, Dodge sat up and leaned in.

“Cum for me good girl,” the thickness of his voice was enough to send you over the edge as you cried out, breaking free of his hands and grinding on him.

“Oh fuck me,” his head rolled back and the feeling of your pussy clenching around his dick was enough to finish him off, pulsating against your walls.

You slid yourself off him and collapsed onto his pillows, resting your head in the crook of his arm.

He started playing with your hair and the two of you just laid in silence, basking in the bliss of the sex you just had.

That was certainly one ride you never wanted to get off.

dividers by @.cafekitsune

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 10

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader manage to discuss the direction of their physical relationship between makeouts. reader isn't feeling comfortable at her apartment, so they plan their first trip together.

series masterlist

this fic is 18+ warnings/tags: d/s dynamics but not smutty, softdom!spencer/sub reader, mild pda?, hint at switch!spencer, they talk about sex/how r feels about her first time, making out, r has long hair, almost dry humping if you're standing several miles away, unresolved sexual tension, teasing/flirting. don't like? don't read a/n: yayyyyy hi guys!! no idea when part 11 will be out. I missed them. I love them so bad. they are my favorite ever. they are so special to me 4ever. hope u missed them and ur just as happy to see them happy as I am :")

“Do you like eyelet?” Spencer asks, reaching up to grab a set of sheets you couldn’t. He insists that you let him get everything from the top shelf because it’s been handled less. 

You shrug, distracted by the angle of his jaw and the line of his throat as he retrieves the plastic package. 

It’s Sunday. Three nights in a row spent with him—the longest sleepover streak thus far—and you don’t want to go back to sleeping alone tonight. But you know it’s time. Both of you have things to attend to tomorrow, and you’re not exactly in the habit of getting things done when you’re together. All weekend you’ve lounged in his lap on the couch or tangled yourself in his arms in bed—fully clothed, of course. Spencer had suggested the no-sex rule on Friday, and you’re glad for it. You feel no pressure to be doing more when he’s kissing you or holding you. 

Of course, the concept of having sex again crosses your mind—when you’re washing your face and catch a glimpse of the bruises on your neck in the mirror, or when the tips of Spencer’s fingers trace idly over a span of exposed skin on your lower back as you watch a movie on the couch and you’re struck with desire, or you move just right and feel a tiny lingering twinge of soreness. There was a time when if you had Spencer Reid to yourself for three nights, a Navy SEAL wouldn’t have been able to pull you off of him. Now, when you think about the fact that there will be a second time, you get that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling—but you’re not sure if it’s good or apprehensive. 

Either way, it’d be too much right now. 

You do miss feeling that kind of closeness with him. That intimacy. It can’t be replicated, no matter how many naps you take together. Probably something to do with brain chemicals and hormones. He could explain it all, if you were brave enough to ask. 

So you know it’d be too much… but it’s not that you don’t want it. There is also, of course, the issue of the way he looks. It’s not helping your cognition. It’s not encouraging you to make good choices. 

You’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. You’re supposed to tell him if you like eyelet. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

Spencer gives you an exasperated look and sighs. He’s wearing his glasses today. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy. The navy blue sweater he’s wearing is about the only step between a button down and pajamas for him, and he looks good in casual clothing. You chew your lip. 

He doesn’t notice your ogling. “You’ve said that about everything.”

“I’m really not that passionate about the fabric of my sheets,” you defend, shoulders rising and dropping. 

“Surely you like some of them less and some of them more. Usually you jump at the chance to express an opinion.”

Okay. Uncalled for. 

He’s obviously kidding. You overreact anyway. 

“You suck,” you mumble, brushing past him in search of something suitable for your bed. 

Spencer processes this for a moment and then trails after you down the aisle. 

“I suck?”

“Here, look. Bamboo. That’s good, right?”

Your boyfriend glances at the package you’ve selected, probably holding back a whole host of facts about bamboo farming in China. 

“It’s fine. Why do I suck?”

“Because you implied I’m opinionated.”

“I didn’t imply it. It was an explicit statement.”You groan petulantly and put the sheets back on the shelf with force. Spencer picks them up and follows you deeper into the store. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t,” you huff, turning around to face him once you’re safely sequestered in a new aisle. The store’s not busy—an elderly couple roams for fake fruit and towels, humming vacantly to the Muzak, and a single mom wrangles her kids in a cart. Back here, it’s just the two of you. “Not really.”

“Then what did?” He asks gently, stepping closer. Spencer’s not overly-affectionate in public, but the tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he can see your thoughts, feels intimate. 

You’re helpless when he gets like this, and he probably knows it. It’s an abuse of power and when you can think straight again you’ll have to scold him for it. 

“It doesn’t even matter. You’re just gonna drop me off after this anyway.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes alight with a good puzzle as he quickly strings together the facts in his head. 

“Is that it?”

You frown and hesitate, eyes catching on a loose thread at the hem of his sweater. 

“… No.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset because I’m taking you home.”

You scramble to deny. “That’s not it.”

“I think it is,” he murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. 

You study the waxen floor tiles intently. 

“Well… I mean, would that be weird? You’re gonna miss me too, right?”

You sound unsure—insecure, even. When you look back up at him, his eyes are melted chocolate, even under the fluorescents. He glances down at your mouth briefly and then over your shoulder. 

Pleasekissmepleasekissmepleasekissme.

He doesn’t, but you can tell he really wants to, which is almost as good. 

“Of course, I’m going to miss you. But we’ll see each other soon. Probably tomorrow.”

“Unless you get called out on a case. But it’s not even really that. It’s just—how am I supposed to… I don’t know! We just spent three nights together. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone for a whole week?”

Maybe you’re too attached to him now, because acknowledging the thought which has been lurking all morning opens the floodgates that were holding back a sea of dread, and you feel it in every inch of your body. Five nights alone stretch out before you like an infinite, impassable forest. Friday is an eternity away, and there’s no guarantee he’ll even be here Friday night, if the team gets a case. 

Spencer somehow regards you with both curiosity and innate wisdom, like you’re a new specimen in a familiar field, for a long enough moment that your cheeks begin to warm. 

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’m being weird, it’s fine—”

Just as you go to walk away, he pulls you carefully back in by the wrist, even closer than before. 

“No. You’re sweet,” he murmurs, hand warm even through the knit of your sleeve. Gingerly you look back up at him. 

“But you’re not gonna miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Do not undermine my capacity for yearning. I missed you when you were brushing your teeth this morning.”

“Ooh. So clingy,” you tease, though you’re obviously delighted by the information, and he borderline pouts. 

“Don’t say that. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as he pulls you to his chest, keeping you there with a hand to your back. 

“Okay. Now say you love me.”

For a moment you’re distracted by the proximity, the lowering of his voice as he brings you into his space and your faces are only inches apart. The smell of his body wash coming from both of you. 

“I love you,” you breathe, and it’s not as teasing as you’d meant for it to be as his eyes dart to your lips. 

Even though you’re bossy, is what you don’t say. 

This seems to please him, because finally, he’s tilting his head down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It’s still enough to make you lightheaded. 

“Apology accepted. I love you too,” he murmurs. And then he’s pulling back, trying to walk around you. “Do you wanna stop for coffee on the way back to yours?”

“Wait,” you order, suddenly listless and disoriented in the middle of the aisle. “You’re not gonna…”

Spencer frowns back at you.

“I’m not gonna what?”

“You’re not gonna… say it?”

“… I love you? I did say that.”

“No, there’s—usually when I do stuff you ask me to do, you say—”

Only when the first ray of understanding illuminates his face do you realize you actually shouldn’t have said anything at all. 

“Nevermind. Yeah, let’s just go.”

Spencer catches your arm again as you attempt to walk past him, laughing quietly as he leans down to speak in your ear. 

“I am not calling you good girl in the small decorative statues aisle.”

“What if we go back to the bedding aisle?” You ask, through the warmth of your own cheeks. 

It’s sort of a joke. 

“Remember what I said about appropriate context?”

“All those sheets, and duvet covers, and stuff. It’s basically the same.”

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to tear your eyes from a little robot statue and look at him. Eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed, warmed only by a hint of humor. A barely detectable curve of the mouth. 

Oops. With all your blind-button pushing, you might’ve accidentally tapped the one responsible for all the marks on your neck—the one that makes him tick in a way which usually ends with you underneath him. 

And then, for the first time, you actually watch as he pushes it down—activates some sort of self-cooling system. Probably he understands that whether you meant to be provocative or not, this interaction isn’t headed in a salacious direction. Even if you weren’t in public, the rule is holding fast. 

His hand slides from your arm to intertwine with your fingers. 

“What are you doing next week?”

You blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. 

“Uh… I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“From home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He chews his lip thoughtfully. 

“I… still have a few days of annual leave that I need to use. I don’t know if this is… this might be too much, and you can say no. But Rossi has a place in Shenandoah. It’s a cabin—it’s, it’s really nice, I’ve seen pictures. He used to use it for hunting, I guess now he rents it out in the summer and fall but it’s empty during the off-season and he’s always offering it to the team. It’s only like, an hour away. An hour and nine minutes actually, if you take the 66 Express outside the Beltway from Arlington. I looked it up, um… semi-recently. I’m sure he’d let us use it, if you wanted to come burn four days of leave with me. No pressure. Of any kind. I could also, just, y’know, stay home, and we could still spend time together that way. We could finish Deep Space Nine. Or watch something else. Or watch nothing. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Your heart rate has been increasing steadily since he started his impromptu speech—you’re glad he seems nervous inviting you. You’re a little nervous accepting. A trip together is definitely a new step. But getting the hell out of dodge with him for a few days sounds wonderful. 

“I’d love to go,” you say earnestly. 

Spencer’s face goes blank for a second, and then his eyebrows raise, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. 

“Oh. Oh! Great! Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to Rossi about it tomorrow.”

He remains highly chipper as he hands his card over to the cashier for your new overpriced bamboo sheets. 

The promise of getting Spencer to yourself for four consecutive days and nights is the only way you’re able to fall asleep to a cold bed that night. 

It’s harder, at home now—you’re self-conscious of every and any noise. Music, cooking, talking on the phone. 

It doesn’t make sense, because you know you can’t hear your neighbors, so they shouldn’t be able to hear you, and Jerry’s a creep, who might’ve made the whole thing up just to get under your skin—but it’s all you can think about, when you’re there. 

Monday evening, Spencer comes to visit, as promised. You undo all the locks and open the door just enough for him to slip through. 

He kisses you hello as you close the door and sets his things down at the table while you relock. 

“No Jerry today?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”

“Good,” Spencer says only once you turn, a distinct chill to his tone and a mostly unfamiliar frigidity to his eyes. It’s not directed at you, but it’s unnerving nonetheless, so you draw closer and wrap your arms around his waist—hoping to melt him back into your Spencer. 

He reciprocates, speaks softer now that he has you in his arms, and immediately you feel better. 

“Rossi said yes to us staying at the cabin and Emily said I can take the time off. Did you still wanna go?”

You’re pre-occupied with your face buried in his shirt, so you just nod, basking in the scent of his shower products once more. They’ve gone from simply comforting to intoxicating. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks quietly, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingers barely glance off your neck and you almost shiver. Want begins to pool deep and warm in your stomach as you lift your head and he looks down at you, so fondly. 

Want which you can’t afford to feel if you’re not willing to act on it. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe. Fuck. He’s too close. He’s too hot. You pull away and move to the kitchen. “Um, dinner. What do you want? We could make something. Or order something. I don’t have much, honestly.”

“I’ll be happy with anything. You sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t want to have sex!”

The words simply explode out of you, like a bat out of hell as you whip around. Just barely you manage not to clap a hand over your mouth in mortification. 

You stand, back to the fridge, watching Spencer nervously for his reaction. 

His brow knits. His lips part and close again several times. 

You’re wondering what the fastest and most convenient method of not being alive anymore would be when he finally answers. 

“… Okay. I wasn’t trying to initiate anything, did I—did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know that while I’m still, like, figuring things out—like, with my neighbor and everything—it’s just a lot, so… so I know this past weekend we agreed to not do anything and I think it would be best to… keep not doing anything. Just for now. I shouldn’t have said it like that—I didn’t actually… mean to say it. I was gonna, um, find a way to bring it up more delicately.”

You clear your throat and look down to study the patterned tile, cheeks burning. 

By way of several nervous glances up at him and back down, you watch Spencer silently come to lean against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. We’re not ever going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, out of curiosity… is this just because of your neighbor? Or because you maybe don’t feel ready yet?”

He’s asking gently, because he wants to know, and you know there’s no wrong answer. It’s still nerve-racking.  

“Um… like, a combination of the two, I guess. Mostly… the neighbor. I think. But I’m telling you this because…” and here comes the worst part. “I need you… to… hold me accountable.”

“For what?” He asks plainly, but you know what he sounds like when perfectly suppressing a smile. The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your face as you close your eyes and forge ahead in the name of open and honest communication—something the two of you are trying to work on.

“If I… come on to you… you have to turn me down.”

This is not getting any less embarrassing. 

“Should I anticipate you coming onto me?”

“Probably,” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes and bringing your hands to your cheeks, hoping maybe they’ll cool you down and poor circulation will work in your favor for once. “I know myself. You know me. I like… asking you for things. But for the rest of the week, if I do… you know, want something from you—you have to tell me no.”

Spencer nods slowly. “What if you genuinely change your mind?”

“I won’t. I might think I have, I might even tell you I have, but don’t believe me, okay? I don’t think straight when I’m turned on, and if we do anything, I’ll like it until fucking Jerry is pounding my door down the next day, and I just can’t deal with that.”

Spencer’s face goes completely void of expression to the point that if it weren’t for context clues you’d have no idea he’s probably imagining pistol-whipping the guy. 

“Has he knocked on your door?” 

Testosterone. 

“No. Back to my point. I’m trusting you to keep me in check so I don’t do anything I’ll… I’ll end up regretting. Not that I regret the other night!” You scramble just as Spencer’s brow begins to furrow. “I don’t. I just regret that my gross neighbor had to get involved. And I don’t want that to happen again. So… is that… is that okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” Spencer says gently, without hesitation as he pushes off the counter. “Can I ask a follow-up question?”

You nod and regard the space between you, unsure if you want to eliminate it or keep using it like a buffer. By not coming to you, he’s giving you the choice. 

“You said this was mostly because of your neighbor. But you didn’t sound sure. It’s fine if you aren’t feeling ready yet. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t really know,” you admit, after a brief pause. “I feel like… as long as I know he’s on the other side of the wall I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my head around how I actually feel. It’s also confusing because, like I was saying, I… just because I feel like I want something in the moment, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually ready for it, you know? I don’t even know if… I don’t even know what being ready again really means or would look like.”

“You did the other night.”

“Yeah, but that was different. Because now I’m gonna think I know what I’m getting myself into, but that’s not necessarily true.”

Another pause in which you chew your lip and look away. 

“I don’t want you to overthink it, honey. I think being ready just means you’re comfortable, and you’re with someone who’s going to keep you safe, and nobody’s pressuring you, and you’re not, you know—pressuring yourself. Wanting it is actually really important, too. But what I’m hearing right now is that even if you might want it, you’re not in a place that feels safe. And that makes sense to me. So we’re just not gonna do anything until that changes, okay?”

Eyes still cast downward, your lips twist into a sardonic little smile. 

“I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.”

He laughs with a single breath. 

“I really hope your therapist doesn’t speak to you like I do. The ethics there would be highly questionable.”

The joke refreshes your courage and you look back up at him, smile still edged with humor but mostly unspoken gratitude. 

The half-smile on Spencer’s face, however, is fading steadily as he studies you in flickering passes. Like there’s something still on his mind. You were hoping for a subtle invitation back into his arms, but the space between you remains—infused now with a tension as it becomes increasingly obvious. 

“Also… this trip we’re going on. I feel like I should say this—I don’t know if it was even on your mind, but… I don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex just because of the timing. Me inviting you on a last-minute trip to an isolated cabin—it’s not a master plan to get you to sleep with me again, I promise. I really just wanted us to be alone. Not—not that��kind of alone—I mean, we’ll be alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was just thinking about how nice it was for us to get those three nights together, you know, and the whole weekend too, and with my job, that’s not always going to happen, so it just seemed like a good opportunity—”

“Spencer,” you laugh, letting the tension snap like a rubber band as you go to him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, delighted to be the one doing the interrupting and not the flustered rambling, for a change. “I know you don’t have an ulterior motive. As for what kind of alone we’re going to be… we’ll figure that out, okay? Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel pressured by you. I never have. If anything, I’m the one who pressures you for sex.”

You’ve got him smiling once more, as his hands find your waist and his gaze flips from your mouth to your eyes and back again. It goes very subtly mischievous in a way you don’t quite trust, but he’s dipping his head to kiss you, and something tells you it’s going to be a good one, so when your nose bumps against his, and you can feel his breath on your lips, you’re not at all prepared for him to speak. 

“Begging is not the same as pressuring, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly you don’t even have time to be properly affronted. The offended gasp gets stuck in your throat, and melts into a tiny huff as it turns out the kiss is a very good one. You can’t think hard enough to be offended. Not even when he chuckles against you. 

“That’s not fair,” you mumble when he allows you a second to breathe. He hums, satisfying himself with kisses to your cheek and playing along. 

“What’s not fair?” 

“You… I was supposed to have the upper hand in that situation! You were the nervous one for once!”

Another hum, buzzing against your lips this time. 

“You have to learn how to take the upper hand, angel. I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a big part of my job.”

Admittedly it’s hard to think when he talks like this, but you try. 

“So… you manipulate me? That’s not very romantic.”

He laughs quietly again. 

“No. I do not manipulate you.”

“You’re just a control freak,” you tease. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, immediately, still soft-spoken as he pulls back to carefully search your eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You search hands and knees for a crumb of outrage, for a hint of any of that strong feminist theory you’ve instilled into your brain over so many years. 

There’s nothing to be found. 

“No,” you admit, dejectedly, hanging your head as much as he’ll allow. “Should it?”

“Only if you don’t like it. When I take the upper hand like that, I’m really just… posing a yes or no question. So far, you lean towards saying yes. You let me win. But you don’t have to.”

“What happens if I… if I don’t let you win?”

He angles his head, coaxing you to look in his eyes once more. A hand comes up to swipe a dot of mascara from under your brow. He’s looking at you so serenely, like none of this is at all complicated. 

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You laugh nervously. 

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if… I want you to keep making the rules? For forever?”

He kisses you again, insistently enough you have to tilt your head back. When he answers, it’s low, a promise, and pressed right against your waiting mouth. 

“Then I will.”

You loose a tremulous breath from your parted lips and you know he can feel it. He can feel how you’re clinging to his shirt, pressing yourself closer, how your skin has warmed and your breaths have hastened, he can probably taste how much you want him, how you’re already thinking about giving it all up for him—

And maybe that’s why he laughs dryly into your mouth before pulling away. 

Because he’s a good boyfriend. 

Spencer knits his brow and clears his throat as his hand slides down your arm, eyes narrowed like he’s wondering how things escalated so quickly. You certainly are. 

Suddenly he’s back to the nerd you met in a coffee shop all those months ago, and you like him like this, too. “So… dinner?” 

“Mhm. Yeah. We should… we should definitely eat. What do you wanna eat?”

You don’t miss the quick once over he gives you. Or the way his throat bobs once he tears his eyes away. 

“Um… how does Indian sound?”

You swear you don’t know how it happened. 

Everything was going fine—there was food on the coffee table, a show on the TV. Spencer made tea. It was wholesome. 

And then, somewhere between setting the plastic takeout bag down and actually opening it, you ended up like this. Kneeling next to him on the couch, one hand braced on his thigh, the other tangled in his hair as you kiss slow. Like this could actually be leading somewhere. 

“We should stop,” he reminds you, even as his hand traverses up your leg. You lean further into him—he has to tip his head back to meet your lips. 

“We’re kissing. It’s nothing.”

“You were—” kiss. “Just telling me—” kiss. “That you don’t want this right now.”

Deep kiss. The grip he has on your hip does not agree with his words. 

“This is just kissing. Kissing isn’t sex.”

Even as you’re saying it, you’re throwing your leg over his lap, landing in a straddle. 

“No,” he groans as if pained, throwing his head onto the back of the couch and depriving you of his mouth. “Baby. You have to get off. We can’t do this.”

“My bathroom—we could—it doesn’t share a wall with his apartment, we could go in there and turn on the shower and we could be really quiet—”

Suddenly there’s a hand over your mouth. It’s not yours. 

“Please stop before I say yes.”

You pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“You should. You should say yes. It’s a good idea, I know he wouldn’t be able to hear us over the shower—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you asked me to turn you down not even an hour ago, no matter what you say, and I said I would.” He takes a shuddering deep breath. “And… I’m going to. I’m saying no.”

“No,” you whine, head falling to his shoulder, because you know he’ll keep his promise. He cups the back of your head—a kind, sympathetic gesture, which does nothing to alleviate the heat of your blood or the ache between your legs. You pout into his neck. “This is terrible. I might not survive.”

“I think you will.”

“Maybe if I enter a coma.”

He laughs and strokes your thigh. 

“There are worse things than sexual frustration.”

“Not right now. This is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“I’m so sorry. You poor thing.”

You pull back to face him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Oh my god. Don’t act like it’s not bothering you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know that’s not true. You know how I can tell?”

The slightest adjustment of your hips draws attention to exactly what you mean. Spencer goes completely deadpan. 

“Stop,” he orders in monotone, and you laugh even you allow yourself to be tossed back onto the couch because you’ve successfully flustered him again. He puts a throw pillow over his lap and leans forward, hiding his blush beneath perfect hands with a tortured groan. “You’re terrible.”

The couch attempts to suck you in as you wriggle back from a lying position, propping yourself up on your elbows and grinning at him. 

“I did it,” you gloat. 

He angles his head toward you, revealing half a pretty face, still dusted red but now with all the markings of inquisition. 

“You did what?”

“I took the upper hand.”

Those dark eyes narrow and before you can think to retract your legs he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling them over his pillow and leaving you flat on your back once more. Again you giggle. 

“You took nothing,” he asserts, but you’re not bothered—still smiling as you accept your new position and toss your arms above your head casually. 

“Somebody’s a sore loser.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your curry.”

“Sorry, I’m full. From, you know, the taste of victory.”

He exhales a dry chuckle, leaning forward to finally retrieve the containers of food. 

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me a nerd.”

The rest of the evening remains PG. Conversation flows and trickles comfortably over dinner on the couch, and afterwards, he suggests a documentary. From the outside, it might not look like much—but to you, with your head on his chest as the TV casts its flickering, ghostly light over the room, with the beating of his heart against your ear and his breath against the top of your head, it’s everything. Six months ago you didn’t know what it was to exist so comfortably around another person like this. Now, though he feels familiar and safe, you don’t take it for granted. The novelty of something so simple is not lost on you, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world as your eyes begin to flutter. You’re lucky to have someone you feel completely safe with. 

Spencer murmurs your name like a question.  It buzzes against your ear. You hum in response. 

His thumb fans lines over your shoulder blade. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Mhm.”

“The other night… we didn’t really get a chance to—to debrief, afterwards. Which is fine, you were tired, it was late. But then the next morning I had to go, and everything with your neighbor happened, and we talked about that a little bit, but… but earlier, it sounded like maybe you… I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t feeling good about how it happened?”

“Spencer, I told you I don’t regret it,” you remind him, pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye. His hand slides down your back. 

“I know… I just wanted to give you another chance to talk about it. In case anything was on your mind.” He frets over your hair, an invisible speck on your skin. Like he’s nervous. “And I want to make sure you’re feeling okay about how it went. I know what happened the next day was an unfortunate addendum, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as you give me permission, I will have him arrested. But I don’t want that to overshadow your experience.”

“It’s… not,” you breathe, fiddling with a button on Spencer’s shirt. 

“So how did you feel about it? Barring anything external?”

“Good.”

Spencer strokes your jaw with a knuckle, gently admonishing. 

“Don’t just say that. Think about it.”

“I have,” you assure him immediately, cheeks warming as you realize just how swiftly you’d replied. 

What a lovely button. Mother-of-pearl. The shirt is a pale lilac. It looks good on him. One of your favorites, actually. 

Spencer lets you pick at it. He would probably let you pull the button off, tear every stitch on the shirt with a seam-ripper if it helped to soothe your nerves. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go into explicit detail. I know it still feels weird to talk about. But it’s something we do have to talk about.”

“I know. And I would bring it up if something didn’t feel right. But it… was…” you chew your lip as you think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound too mushy-gushy. “Overwhelmingly… a very positive experience.”

“You sound like Yelp review,” Spencer says through a smile. You attempt to smother the continual heat of your embarrassment against his shirt. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, more intimately than anyone ever has before. And you’re still shy about acknowledging that fact. 

“Shut up. Say something nice back.”

With a typically gentle hand, he pushes hair away from your ear. 

“I…” he begins meaningfully, taking a moment to sweep your hair over your back. “Feel incredibly grateful that you trusted me to take care of you. I know that’s big for you, and I know it can be a really scary thing. Mostly I’m happy you’re happy. And that I didn’t mess up irredeemably.”

“What would you have messed up?” You laugh, retreating from your shelter against his chest to knit your brow. 

He makes a face in the half-dark like he shouldn’t have said it. 

“Uh… that… veers into explicit detail… and possibly too much honesty.”

You laugh again and adjust to frame his sheepish smile between your hands. 

“I see. You have to keep your mystique in tact.”

“I really don’t think it’s that much of a mystery.”

“Well, I’ll spare your ego.”

“Wow, thanks. For the first time in your life.”

You go in for a chaste, smiley kiss, which stays sweet and kind even as it melts into something stickier. 

It comes to a turning point and Spencer inhales deeply, gently angling his head away and shifting to check his watch. You collapse on his chest, catching your breath. 

“I should go.”

“No. I feel like you’re going away to war.”

“I’m going to Court House. Where I live.”

“What if I never see you again?”

“It’s twenty minutes away. So you could always just drive.”

You frown. 

“I hope you get trench foot.”

“You know seventy seven thousand soldiers died from trench foot in World War Two?”

“Obviously I did not know that.”

“Well, next time you should just say you want me to die. Up.”

He pats the back of your thigh and you push off of him, only after considering trying to hold him hostage for a split second. 

You hover by the couch like a ghost, watching with increasing anxiety as he gathers together the empty containers from your meal and throws them in the kitchen garbage before collecting his things. 

There is one thing—one potentially difficult thing you haven’t mentioned to him that seems to be a direct consequence of finally sleeping together. 

You’re clingy. 

Clingier than you’ve ever been. It didn’t seem possible to want to be around him more than you already had, but now when he’s gone you feel his absence like a vacuous hole by your side. Without his warmth, you’re always a little colder. A little less comfortable. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re starting to get separation anxiety, so you won’t put it into so many words—but you think, as he turns, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a knowing look, that he understands. 

At the same time, you begin to close the space, meeting gently in the middle, toe to toe. You keep your hands behind your back, afraid that otherwise you’ll try and glom onto him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull. 

“There are some things I’d like to get done this week so I don’t have to worry about them during our trip. So I might not see you for a day or two.”

Dutifully you nod, though you’re slightly crushed. 

“That’s okay. We’re grownups.”

“I don’t know,” he tuts. “I’m worried I’m gonna start writing my name with your last on all my notebooks.”

That stupid, stupid charm. 

“Mm��� I’m kinda out of your league,” you grin. 

Spencer’s smile wanes slowly, but his eyes remain soft and aglow as they explore your face as reverently as his hands would. When he speaks, it’s in an honest, borderline whisper. “I’m acutely aware.”

Slowly his head dips, and your eyes flutter shut. A sweet, lingering kiss lands on your cheek. Then he’s pulling back. 

“That’s it?” You can’t help but ask, peering up at him and barely concealing a frown. 

He smiles that lovely smile, but by this point you’re attuned enough to his facial expressions to recognize the subtle heat playing just beneath the surface of those golden-oak eyes. 

“What? Did I give you the impression that I put out?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

That teasing edge becomes ever so slightly sharper as he regards you, head tilting. 

“Mhm. And the last time you said that—was it before or after you mounted me?”

You shoo him away pretty quickly after that—partly for discipline, and partly because the sooner he’s gone, the sooner you’ll go to sleep, and the sooner it will be tomorrow. 

And this trip can’t come soon enough, because you’re pretty sure you know exactly what kind of alone you’d like to be with Spencer Reid.

[slytherinshua]

YOU, ME, AND BULBASAUR

genre. fluff. warnings. neck kisses. gunwook is extremely cute and i'm extremely delusional and in love with him. mention that reader wears makeup and dresses. pairing. gunwook x fem!reader. wc. 700. request. no. a/n. i saw gunwook like indirectly kiss taerae's neck and it made me think of just how much of a neck kisser he would be 😭 and if you know me you know i'm a neck girl and that just made me so delusional like i'm feral rn it's not okay??? also can we talk abt how fucking cute gunwook's rosy cheeks are LIKE HES THE CUTEST EVER IM GONNA CRY.

“why are you getting all pretty? you going somewhere?” the tired husky voice of your boyfriend makes a smile start to form on your lips. gunwook had been sleeping peacefully until 2 minutes ago, hugging your pillow to his chest, still tangled under the sheets. you wished you could’ve stayed in bed with him, but you had a meeting early in the morning.

“just a work meeting. wish i could’ve slept in with you, wook.” you glanced up at him apologetically through the mirror, frowning at his sleepy pout and messy hair.

“not fair…”

“i know, baby. but i’ll be back in 2 hours and then we can cuddle.” you assured him, finishing the last touches on your makeup and hair. you turned around to face gunwook properly, ruffling his bed head as you stood up.

“can’t you just stay?” gunwook asked, following you to your closet like a lost puppy.

“it’s an important meeting…” you tried your best to stay firm and not let your boyfriend have so much affect over you. but it was hard, especially when he started planting small kisses on your neck as you sifted through your hangers to find a dress. you felt a small nip land to the dip in your shoulder and neck and you gasped.

“gunwook!” you hadn’t realized he was this clingy this morning. he didn’t stop despite your reaction, pressing a softer kiss over the spot he had nibbled. you willed yourself to not get too focused on his lips on your skin, to instead figure out what you were going to wear to your meeting. but he made it so hard to even remember why you were trying to get up in the first place.

“wouldn’t you rather just stay here? with me? and bulbasaur?” he pleaded, pressing a kiss to your neck between each word. you smiled at the mention of his bulbasaur plush that you had gotten for his birthday— he slept with it every night, opting to cuddle it when you couldn’t sleep with him.

you gripped the side of a navy blue dress, hanging on your last thread, gunwook seconds away from snapping it. was the meeting more important than your clingy boyfriend? did you actually want to spend the morning in a room with a bunch of grumpy middle-aged men when you could be cuddling with your boyfriend?

“you’re lucky you’re cute in the morning…” you sighed, dropping your hand from the dress, and your boyfriend knew he had won. you could feel his victorious smile against your neck as he pressed one last kiss behind your ear. and then he started steering you towards the bed until you both fell onto the soft mattress, him laying on top of you. he nuzzled his face in your chest and closed his eyes, completely content now that he was sure he had you for the entire morning.

you looked at his sleepy face, dark hair falling over his eyes, cheeks dotted with rosy stains, cherry lips formed into the most beautiful smile. you brushed his bangs away from his face, feeling his warm skin underneath the palm of your hand. god, he took your breath away even when he wasn’t doing anything.

“since you made me miss my morning meeting, at least give me a kiss.” you nudged his chin with your hand, and he opened one eye to look up at you. he didn’t waste time after hearing your request, quickly picking himself up to hover over you and press his soft lips to yours. he sighed, finally being able to taste your lip gloss that he had watched you apply minutes ago. he had been tempted to steal a kiss from you then as well, but he was considerate enough to not ruin your makeup until he was sure you were his for the morning.

gunwook’s lips always felt like pure bliss against yours. the weight of his body on top of you was like a weighted blanket, and you were determined to not move from the position for at least another hour. gunwook was right, you would always much rather spend the morning with him… and bulbasaur. 

↳ zerobaseone taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @okshu,, @chewryy,, @haecien,, @sobun1est,,

@emmylksblog,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @sxmmerberries,,

@talking-saxy

[mariasont]

not sure if you’re planning to write this, but smut with spencer & bimbo!receptionist!reader would probably fix my problems 😔 i feel like spencer would be praising her nonstop, while also being condescending & i fucking live for that‼️

Undo You - S.R

a/n: i love ur mind anon 😚 i hope this lives up to what you want 🫶🏼🫶🏼✨ thank you for requesting xoxo

anyway i kinda think this is bad bc i didn’t proofread but whatever ill prob go back and edit laters!

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: bimbo reader and spencer doing the nasty

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fingering, degrading? (not really), spencer being slightly condescending, p in v, unprotected sex (BE BETTER!), creampie (STOP I HATE IT TOO BUT WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO CALL IT?!?!?! TWINKIE?!?!)

wc: 1.3k

Mustering the courage to ask you out was a feat in itself but getting you into his bed was a whole other ballgame. But here you were, fingers roaming through his hair and tracing the contours of his back. You were perfect, and you were in his bed.

The wasn't the first, nor would it be the last if he had anything to do with it. It's hard to fathom his good luck--to have you, breathtaking in every sense, under him, your fingertips gently grazing his waist band as you inch towards his cock.

Your makeup was almost artfully messy, with mascara delicately pooled beneath your lashes, rendering you devastatingly tempting. You had glittering eyeshadow on, and it was getting everywhere. Spencer felt the urge to undo you--to disrupt the pristine image you presented to the world, to make you uniquely his. Selfish? Without a doubt. But that didn't diminish the idea. 

Your hands, with their perfect manicure, were now wrapped around his cock, tugging and pulling as if your palms were sculpted precisely for this purpose. 

You were saying something, your lips a mesmerizing motion as he grasped the sheets beside you, each fistful a concerted effort to remain control.

"What, angel?" He was trying to be patient with you.

You talked a lot in general, but in bed, it only seemed to amplify. This was not a bad thing, not in his eyes, no, it was almost too much of a good thing. Each time your mouth opened and closed with another airy comment he found himself that much closer to spilling his load all over you.

"Your face is really red," you breathed out, nostrils flaring slightly, your eyes averted, engrossed in the sight of his length enclosed between your hands.

He stifled a laugh, resisting the urge to shove his cock into that pretty mouth of yours.

"Well, you see," Spencer starts, pausing as your hand presses to the tip of his length, "when someone is excited...or aroused, blood flow increases to the f-face, causing...vasodilation. It's... it's a sympathetic nervous system response."

"Oh, like when you get all red after running?" You tilt your head in that curious way of yours, your actions uninterrupted as words flowed from you.

"Yes, exactly like that."

He grabbed your hand, pulling you off of him and pressing that same hand to the mattress below him.

"And just like my face gets red, your pupils dilate when you're excited," Spencer explains, his hand poised just above your collarbone, sketching paths on your skin, "It's due to the release of norepinephrine, which is part of your body's fight of flight response."

Your lips were parted, pressing your body into him like you couldn't help yourself, hips squirming under his.

"So, what's the verdict, sweet girl?" Spencer asks, watching your gaze met his, lips parting as he dragged a hand over your clothed heat. "What's your body telling you? Fight of flight?"

You kissed him, gasping into his mouth as he pushed a finger into you. You were drenched. "Is submit an option?"

"That's my girl," he said, feeling his cock tighten even more, as if that were possible, almost moaning at the sight of your dimple being drawn out.

You whined, arching your back against the navy-blue sheets as your hands locked around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. He could smell everything about you from here—your coconut shampoo, your vanilla perfume, your lavender lotion. He wanted to inhale it, to inhale you.

He didn't even bother with your skirt, simply pulling your panties out from under it and lining himself up with your entrance. He watched, enthralled, as your chest rose and fell, holding your breath as you braced for his cock. You were so good for him, too good for him.

One hand clasped against your hip as the other guided his length into you, hissing as you tightened around him. It was a feeling that could never get old, like he was being reborn, like the world was ending and you and him were the only two people left. He would be fine with that.

Your face twisted up in pleasure as you began to rock against him, not giving yourself that chance to adjust. You did this often and it caused him to push down on your hips, stopping your movements. He could come if you kept doing that. He would.

"Patience," he hissed, but you were never one that was good with following orders.

You moved again, tits bouncing up and down your chest as you did. He stifled a groan, meeting your movements with thrusts of his own.

He imagined this is what Buddhists meant when they referred to finding the garden of Nirvana. This was it for him. The ultimate state of liberation and profound peace.

You were a blubbering mess, fingertips clawing down his back, surely to leave marks, but he couldn’t care less.

“Look at you,” he cooed, rutting his cock in and out of you. “You’re awfully quiet. Got something on your mind, baby?”

“N-No,” you stammered, legs wrapping around his waist as your arms went around his neck, clinging to him like a koala, your moans now pressed up against his ear.

“I figured as much.”

Your tits were flush against his chest, his breath stalling as he reached in the limited space between you, thumb circling your clit. Your whines intensified, just as his thrusts did.

“Spencer, please, yes, oh fuck—,” you paused, a gasp releasing from your lips as he felt you unravel on his cock, your wet cunt clenching around him in a way that made his legs shake.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that.” His movements were more desperate now, sloppily slamming into you without mercy. “You’re so fucking good, baby.”

He barely recognized your lips against his ear. “Will you come inside me please?”

That was all it took, those simple words, brushing against his skin and rushing all the way down to his cock. His thrusts slowing as he pumped himself inside you, the sound completely obscene, but it just made him enjoy it that much more.

You were limp against the bed, and Spencer was quick to follow, face finding the crook of his neck as he tried his best not to crush you with his weight.

He could feel your pulse against his lips, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses into your honey induced skin as he waited for you to return back to planet Earth.

He was well aware of the drill, pressing one last kiss to your sweaty forehead before prying himself out of your hands and making a beeline for the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and a glass of water before coming back to the bed, nearly fainting at your tired smile shining at him, at him.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

“I really love when you call me that,” you said, almost dreamily as you pushed your tousled hair into the pillow.

He laughed, placing the water on the table and moving your legs so he was between them.

“Gorgeous,” he repeated as he dabbed the towel to your sex, cleaning the mess he made on you. “Do I not call you that enough? Because I can certainly make it a more regular occurrence.”

“Well, I mean, it couldn’t hurt,” you said, giggling as you flinched away from the pressure on your clit.

He pushed your leg down, preventing you from squirming. “Let me clean you up.”

You pouted, and he had the sudden urge to bite your bottom lip. You gave him a salute, giggling before you could even get the words out. “Aye, aye captain.”

He tossed the towel to the side, climbing up your legs as he kissed you, soft and slow, murmuring into your lips, “come here, smart ass.”

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

[everythingspokenfor]

Panty thief

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI

Bakugou wouldn't be home for a few hours, his side of the bed is cold against your fingers, you wish he would stay in bed with you, but alas, duty calls.

You laze around, it was your day off, and you wished to spend it with him, perhaps you'll spend the day with reminders of him.

First was the navy blue underwear, he discarded it last night, moments before you both got frisky. You know that underwear holds more than his sweat, his musk and messy white stains of his precum. The degeneracy making your cunt wet, his smell making your clit throb.

You don't bother pulling out any toys, his musk enough for you to cum. You debate for a minute, wondering whether you want to sniff the garment or perhaps wear it. The latter option is chosen, as the thought of rubbing his dried up precum stain on your bare cunt getting you excited.

You quickly discard your clothes, almost tripping over as you put on the underwear, it's lose around you, threatening to slip off. You press against the crotch, the fabric pressing against you, the fabric that cradled his balls pressing against your weeping slit.

You lay down on your stomach, nippled hardening when touched by cold sheets, your fingers tease your clit, hand almost blurring over your crotch. This was going to be a quick session, something else the twitching of your clit.

Bakugou's shift was cut short, allowed to return back home earlier than expected.

He arrived at the front door, gently unlocking it and taking off his hero suit. He assumed you were asleep, considering you didn't come to greet him.

The door to the bedroom was left ajar, breathless whimpers echoing around, his lips pulled into a smirk, he knew he left you all bothered this morning, sparing you a quick kiss before leaving out the door.

He peeks into the room, the sight that greets him is you laying in bed , in his underwear, furiously rubbing away at your clit. He knows you are trying to get off fast, quick relief.

His dick hardens at your desperation, you pull his pillow before shoving your face in it, inhaling leftover smell of him.

You are about to cum, Bakugou knows tell-tale signs of your orgasm, both your palms pressed against your cunt, thighs clamped shut as you hump your hands. It's so amateurish something that drives Bakugou insane, he palms his cock, willing himself to not cum untouched at your display.

"hng- hng god", you cum, barely coherent, the orgasm you just forced out of yourself knocking the wind out of you.

You roll over before slightly rubbing at your sore clit. The ache of squeezing your thighs together settling in, leaving your legs weak.

"Done beatin' her."

Bakugou's voice startles you, screaming you pull covers over yourself.

"Ever heard of knocking, asshole." You blurted, embarrassment adorning your features as you thing about how much he saw.

"It's my house, my wife and", He stands right next to the bed, before pulling from under the covers, "my fuckin' underwear."

The smirk evident on his face, fucker was smug about catching you red-handed.

He pulling the underwear off, throwing it across the room.

Laying you down, he placed both hands on your knees, locking eyes with you silently asking for permission. The gesture making your cunt drool, you spread your legs open, inviting him in.

"ya' did a number on 'er, poor thing is all red 'nd swollen." He gently massaged, you clit, fingers absent-mindedly rubbing your pussy.

"Stop teasing, Suki." You groaned.

"Think I'll go easy on ya', lil' panty thief."

[alm0ndm1lk1]

Stay Quiet

BSF! Caitlyn Kiramman x f! reader

Warning: NSFW!

Author Note: This is my first public Fic, so with that being said I did not proofread lol.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

For centuries, your family has worked for the Kiramman household. Primarily your family has served as the Kiramman guards and that is how you and Caitlyn became close since both of your families were intertwined. Cassandra and Tobias have opened their mansion to you, and you are welcome to visit. 

Today was supposed to be any other day when you come by to visit and bring her parents a gift from your travels and most importantly catch up with Caitlyn. But here you are laid out on the huge queen-sized bed mouth filled with a piece of fabric while the navy blue-haired woman's face is buried between your legs. Although the piece of cloth being your panties she discarded into your mouth in hopes of quieting you did nothing to drown out the cries of ecstasy that have been falling from your swollen lips. 

Caitlyn clicks her tongue, “It's quite a shame... I thought stuffing your mouth with your cute panties would silence you, I can still hear you.” She stops what she is doing to travel up your body where she grips your hips massaging your plush skin. “I wonder if anyone can hear the lewd noises that are coming out of that pretty mouth; oh what would they think.” She whispers in your ear. You look at Caitlyn with need- no.. desperation as you are bucking your hips into the air with tears falling down your eyes. Caitlyn dips her hand near your lips removing your damped panties that are now ruined with your saliva. “You promise you will stay quiet dove?” She asks as she caresses your lips moving her thumb to your bottom lip slowly forcing your mouth to suck on her thumb; “Y-yes I will Caitlyn I’ll stay quiet I promise.” You manage to get out with her thumb in your mouth. Caitlyn chuckles darkly looking down at you while you are slowly losing yourself in this steamy feeling. She travels back down and spreads your limbs to where she sets her pussy on top of yours slowly pressing herself to tease you as your chest starts to heave up and down quickly. 

“Oh my goddd C-Caitlyn oh fuck.” You silently cry into her sheets. “Stop messing with me- please fuck me Caitlyn please please-“ you pathetically beg her completely forgetting the rules she set for you, as Caitlyn grinds her pussy on top of your aching clit softly groaning she moves her slender fingers around your neck not squeezing too hard but in hopes of shushing you. But it was far too late, all you care about is reaching your orgasm that was slowly catching up to you. The atmosphere, your best friend on top of you using your body and moving it on her like you are her toy for her to use. You loved every second of this.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

[pedrospatch]

baby, i’m yours

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed. 

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can���t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ. 

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

[xxsabitoxx]

Competition | 15k Special

Sanemi x Giyu x AFAB Reader

Warnings: MxMxF threesome, pussy eating, raw fucking, 69-ing, 69-ing while fucking, come eating, creampies, squirting, the usual

A/N: Alright here's the first 15k 3sum special! Up next is Sato/Sugu~

Word Count: 2.8k

You weren’t sure how you ended up in the position you were in now, but you were fairly certain it wasn’t your fault. Though, the two men you were pressed between would likely beg to differ.  Drinks with the two men turned into talking, which turned into flirting, which also turned into bitching with one another before finally you were dragged back to Sanemi’s home. Something about settling “who's better” once and for all. “Oh fuck…” Your head fell back against a muscular shoulder as the man situated between your thighs brought you your third orgasm. 

“Giyu… please e-ease up!” you gasped, hips bucking upwards and into his face rather than away from it. He didn’t answer of course, mouth far too preoccupied with lapping at your cunt. “Don’t stop, Tomioka. I want her to be nice and sloppy when I impale her on my dick.” You gasped, nails digging roughly into the muscular thighs that caged you. It was a dead lock position, you couldn’t get away from either man if you wanted to… not that you would want to in the first place. 

Your back was pressed snuggly to Sanemi’s front, his arms wrapped around you just under your armpits, toying with your breasts every so often but he was too enthralled watching Giyu eat you out. Sanemi’s legs caged you in, pressing to your hips tightly while Giyu had your legs thrown over his shoulders. He had been settled between your legs for who knows how long now, nipping, sucking, and licking your cunt until you couldn’t see straight.

“Sanemi please, do something to me.” You whined, nearly delirious from the pleasure Giyu was providing you. The white haired man, who had been so damn cocky, was leaving you hanging because of how much he enjoyed seeing Giyu eat your pussy like it was his last meal. “Do something to you? Huh, Tomioka mustn't be doing a good job if you’re still thinking about me.” He drawled proudly, calloused fingers rising to roll your perked nipples between them.

You yelped, hips bucking into Giyu’s face as he continued to lap up every drip of arousal that you offered. It only took a second for his hands to find your abdomen, pushing you down and forcing you back into submission without saying a single word. “Fuck almighty…” Sanemi sneered, watching as Giyu’s nails dug into your thighs to keep you still. “...I bet I could fuck you stupid right now, sweetheart, and he’d still have his head buried down there… pussy drunk bastard.” 

Sanemi couldn’t deny the way his cock was twitching, pressed snuggly to the warmth of your back and getting some friction each time your hips bucked upwards. Still, it wasn’t enough, especially when Giyu was slurping and grunting so loudly he was making him believe your pussy was a five course meal. Nothing seemed to deter the ravenette between your thighs, not even Sanemi’s typical smart ass remarks. “Giyu.. fuck you’re gonna make me cum again…” 

He only grunted, blue eyes flickering up to meet yours. The look on your face was enough to have Giyu rutting his hips into the mattress, trying to alleviate some of the pressure that was throbbing dully between his thighs. Giyu’s eyes met Sanemi’s next, a look of fucked-out bliss passing over his navy irises, as if taunting Sanemi. The other man didn’t really appreciate that, the spike in his annoyance manifesting physically as he kneaded your breasts. 

You cried out, the added stimulation throwing you over the edge for a fourth time as your thighs quivered. You could feel it now, how wet the sheets were just below where your ass pressed into them. Drool mixed with arousal created quite the unfortunate mess, though none of you really seemed to mind it. “Alright, fucking ease up you prick.” Sanemi scolded Giyu as tears began to leak out of your eyes, far too gone to actually say it for yourself. Giyu finally gave in, parting from your cunt with a shiny mouth and chin. 

Giyu pushed up, surveying the damage to the sheets as Sanemi manoeuvred himself out from behind you. “Don’t even think about it.” Sanemi practically growled as Giyu moved to crawl over you, eyes meeting in a heated stare as if he couldn’t believe Sanemi thought he could order him around. “I just made her cum four times, Shinazugawa. I don’t think you have any room to talk.” Sanemi huffed out an unamused laugh, grabbing a fistful of Giyu’s hair before roughly yanking. 

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking too like that, Tomioka?” You watched them, holding yourself up on your elbows as both men stared at each other. Their faces were inches apart, despite the position he was in, Giyu still looked pretty defiant. “I’m talking to you, Shinazugawa. Once you make her cum four times, you can try and act like we’re equals.” He spat, not backing down as Sanemi gripped his hair a little tighter. Instead of saying something in return, Sanemi smashed his lips to Giyu’s. You gasped, watching as Sanemi’s tongue pushed past Giyu’s lips. 

Before Giyu even got a chance to properly respond, Sanemi was pulling away. “She tastes fucking sweet and you were hogging her.” Giyu only smirked, one that faded quickly when Sanemi pushed him away. “It’s your turn to sit and fucking watch.” Giyu couldn’t fight that, moving to the other side of the bed to give Sanemi plenty of space for whatever it is he wanted to do. He stood at the side of the mattress, smiling gently at you. “Do you think you could get on your hands and knees in front of me, honey?” The nickname made you squirm, nodding to do as he asked. 

You crawled across the mattress, turning yourself to face Giyu as you got on your hands and knees. Sanemi smirked, uttering a soft “good girl” as he lined himself up with your entrance. “Tomioka made a fucking mess of you, I can go right in.” You whined out a yes, not interested in anymore foreplay when your cunt was practically throbbing with the need to be filled. You had prepared yourself for him to be rough, instead, he pressed into you slowly. 

You moaned as the dull head of his cock impaled itself in your cunt, pushing further until you enveloped it completely. He stayed still, panting softly as your walls suctioned and spasmed around the little bit of him that was inside. Giyu had to admit that Sanemi had far more self control than him, he wouldn’t have been able to hold himself back if the roles were reversed. Sanemi gave you another second before pushing more of himself in, watching you pull at the sheets until they were taut under your grasp. “Good, you’re doing so good.” 

It didn’t hurt, Giyu had truly made a mess of you, it was too wet between your thighs to hurt. There was, however, the familiar stretch, an achy feeling as Sanemi pushed more of himself inside of you. “Oh…” you whined, unable to stop your hips from jerking away from him. “Don’t try to run from me, sweetheart.” He cooed, pulling you back to him with one swift motion. It pulled the air from your lungs, pleasure ebbing through your veins as he pushed himself inside. 

Inch by inch, Sanemi could feel everything, the way your cunt clenched tightly around him before trying to push him back out, if you weren’t suffocating him so tightly, he would have chuckled. “Fuck… yeah you wouldn’t have lasted five seconds inside of her, Tomioka.” He wanted to sound cocky but his voice came out strained, forehead creasing as he bottomed out. “You sure about that, Shinazugawa? You look like you’re seconds away from blowing your load.”

Sanemi tilted his head just a bit, eyes roaming over the way Giyu was gripping his cock tightly. He would have made a remark about the way Giyu’s precum was already leaking over his fist if you didn’t clench around him.All he could muster was a quiet groan of “fuck off” as he tried to calm his breathing and not make a fool of himself by coming too fast. You, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to wait as you started to try and fuck yourself on him.

 It took a fraction of a second for Sanemi’s hands to find your hips, gripping them so tightly to keep you from moving that it genuinely hurt. “Oh fuck…” you hissed, relishing in the pain as your walls squeezed him tightly. “S-shit sorry I did-ha-didn’t mean to.” he let go almost immediately, shaky hands rubbing the skin he had hurt tenderly. You relaxed, head pressing into the mattress lazily as a shiver passed over you. “Mmm s’alright.” you slurred softly, any ounce of resistance or burn was gone, all that was left was throbbing need. 

“I need you to move, Nemi.” You couldn’t get his whole name out, settling for the cuter nickname instead. A low gasp left him, the self restraint he had was wearing dangerously thin. “You sure?” he choked out, hips already drawing back slightly before rocking back into you. You nodded, moaning out a quiet “please” as he took the initiative and started rutting into you, head falling back as he relished in the drag of his cock through your velvety walls. Giyu watched, lips parted as his fist started moving up and down his length in time with Sanemi’s thrusts. 

You didn’t have the strength to keep your head up, letting it fall forward, dangling a bit as you looked down your own body to see Sanemi’s hips meeting your own. His thrusts were deep and fast, making your breast jiggle each time your bodies made contact. “Tomioka, quit fucking your fist and make yourself useful.” That caught your attention, head lifting slightly to look at the man sitting by the headboard. “Useful?” he gasped out, squeezing his length tightly as you moaned.

“Yeah, useful.” Sanemi held his gaze, eyes flickering down to your cunt and back up at Giyu, hips stuttering as he nodded his head a bit. Giyu seemed to catch on, letting himself go to crawl forward. “You want me to…?” He questioned softly, face heating up as slick squelches started to sound each time Sanemi’s hips met your ass. “Don’t make me–ha–spell it out for you.” Giyu could see his lip tremble as he bottomed out again, hips rolling into you slowly now. 

Giyu pulled his attention away from the other man, eyes meeting yours with a lazy grin. “Do you think you have the strength to hold yourself up for a second, baby?” You whined at the name, walls squeezing around Sanemi’s cock. “Oh? She liked that, Tomioka.” Sanemi’s hands held your hips a little tighter, supporting you more as you forced your head upwards “Go ahead.” you smiled at Giyu, butterflies whirling around your stomach as he moved to lay beneath you. You shivered as he bent down, kissing you quickly before eyeing Sanemi. 

You sunk your teeth into your cheek, Sanemi had sheathed himself completely inside of you, watching as Giyu got himself comfortable under your body. Giyu’s breath fanned across your abdomen, earning a shiver as he pushed himself a little more. You knew he was there when his hair tickled your inner thighs. If it weren’t for Sanemi being buried deep inside of you, your thighs would have tried to close. “Fuck… Sanemi start moving.” Giyu breathed out, shocking Sanemi a bit by using his first name. He listened regardless. 

The quick thrusts of Sanemi’s hips grounded you in reality, head turning downward. Giyus cock was inches from your face, tip flushed pink with precum oozing from it. “Ah fuck…” You let your arms relax a bit, weight shifting to lay on Giyu as his hands found your waist. You took the chance, lowering your head to lick along his shaft. Giyu’s mind went blank the moment he felt your tongue, stuttering just a bit as you wrapped your puffy lips around his irritated tip. 

He started placing open mouth kisses along your cunt, brain melting with each pass of your tongue over his slit. Sanemi’s pace had faltered, eyes watching eagerly as you started to go down on Giyu, all the while he was maybe a little too aware of Giyu’s head below him. Giyu’s tongue managed to continue lavishing your clit even as Sanemi held your hips, rutting into you at a new brutal pace. You felt your eyes crossing, squeezing them shut as you moaned around Giyu’s cock

Drool was seeping down your chin, covering his shaft and public bone with your shiny saliva. You lowered your head further, trying to ignore the build up in your gut as you took over half of his length in your mouth. Giyu’s moan vibrated against your cunt, earning a shrill whine from you as your walls clamped down around Sanemi’s cock. He cursed loudly, hips stuttering in their pace because you made it impossible to move for a moment. 

“Gonna fucking cum, aren’t you?” Sanemi’s words were directed at both of you, even though he knew both of your mouths were too preoccupied to even respond. You swallowed around Giyu, earning a strangled cry against your cunt as you felt him start twitching. Reaching forward, you gently cupped his balls, warm and heavy in your hands. For a moment, Giyu swore tears were burning his eyes as the pleasure he felt only intensified. Your mouth was suffocatingly warm, the silky-soft touch of your tongue was almost too much for him. 

And then you went and cupped his balls, massaging them gingerly until his hips were bucking up into you. The sound of your gag was enough to make Sanemi curse, hands gripping you tightly as he pounded into you with such force that your thighs and ass recoiled harshly. Everything was too much, not only for you but for Giyu and Sanemi as well. It took a fraction of a second for Giyu to lose it, cum spilling down your throat in hot, sticky ropes. You flinched, throat relaxing to keep yourself from gagging again as you worked him through his orgasm. 

 The sounds he was making continued to vibrate you. Your own orgasm built up until the dam finally broke, a strangled cry leaving your lips as your head tossed back, letting go of Giyu’s cock in the process. Both men were covered in your release, sticky and wet from the gush of fluid that left you. You cried out, tears streaking your cheeks as Sanemi’s hips thrusted into you, chasing his own release. You couldn’t breath as Giyu’s hands reached under you, pushing on your abdomen, feeling the way Sanemi’s cock dragged in and out of your slippery cunt. 

That was enough for Sanemi, his head falling forward as a silent cry left his lips. Your arms had long since given out, head now resting on Giyu’s thigh as Sanemi pumped you full of his own release. The room was quiet now, full of ragged breathing as you tried to lift yourself enough for Giyu to get out from under you. “Fuck almighty.” Sanemi choked at the sight of Giyu’s ruined appearance. The man was covered in your release, hair and all. You turned your head the best you could to see him, face turning molten hot as you realized what you had done to him. 

“Oh fuck Giyu I’m so sorry…” you tried to move but Sanemi’s hands kept you in place. He wasn’t ready to let you move yet, not even as he was softening instead of you. “Don’t be sorry.” Giyu’s face was bright red, lips swollen from everything he had done to you. “… I kinda like it.” That revelation had all of you looking away from one another. “If that’s the case… I want to try it out for myself.” Sanemi stated boldly, eyes still trailing over Giyu before switching to look at you. 

“You think you could last another round, sweetheart? I wanna try out Tomioka’s position.” All you could do was give a feeble nod, that same throbbing desire building in your gut as you felt Sanemi hardening within you again. He pulled out, creamy release following him. “You really made a mess.” it was an off hand comment as he eyes the shiny ring around his base. “Like you don’t fucking like it sloppy, Shinazugawa.” Giyu snorted, trying his best to not let you know his legs were feeling weak after everything you just did. 

“Woah wait…” you started, sitting on your knees to look back over your shoulder at the two of them. “Don’t I need to tell you who was better? Isn’t that why we ended up here in the first place?” You just wanted to tease them, watching as both men shared a glance. “We’ll worry about that another day, for now just let us fuck you.” Sanemi groaned, moving onto the mattress and nearly collapsing. “Nah…” You chuckled “I think it’s safe to say I am the better one.” Considering both men were feeling like their legs were made of jelly, you were likely right. 

[hier--soir]

night breeze

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: joel comes home to find you sleeping in his bed, wearing his clothes. warnings/tags: established relationship, consensual somnophilia, oral [f receiving], joel loves when you wear his clothes, premature ejaculation, reader wears joel's clothes; body type is not described explicitly but his boxers are described as "snug" on her thighs. word count: 1.8k masterlist follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is envisioned as a part of the ALP universe [set between 7 and 8] but it can be read as a stand alone.

The air is calm at dusk.

Soft and sweet against your skin, the smell of salt in your nostrils.

The sky is a kaleidoscope of purples and pinks and blues, and a slick orange sun drips and wanes until its belly kisses the ocean. Lower, lower, until the sky spins navy and the water pitches black. You float in that black darkness, unbothered by the heavy swells that rise and roll beneath you. The water is rocky and rough, though the waves never seem to break. Too far from the shore, they simply build and build, with no end in sight.  

And the water should be icy, cold enough to chill you to the bone and set you shivering, but you just feel hot. A searing, stuffy heat that clings even as you float over the rolling masses, letting them lap at your neck and face. Humid and dry, you want nothing more than for the water to suck you in deeper. Down, down, until your body is covered, and your hair is a floating halo, and you are finally cool.  

Yet as time passes, you find that it is not the water that is warm, but you. That stifling sticky sun that sank beneath the horizon now burns at the centre of you, red hot and raging, ready to rise again already.

You try to smother it, to tamp it down. Tangle your legs on the water’s surface and hold your breath, but it burns still. A scorching scratch at the inside of your skin, your skull, your chest cavity. And something crawls its way up through your chest now. Something loose-limbed and drowsy, working its way past your stomach, your lungs, your throat, your—

A ragged moan wakes you.   

Your fingers twitch and tighten, gripping soft sheets. Eyes roll behind lids as you drift slowly into consciousness. The air in his bedroom is cold, but in the haze of your sleep-addled brain you can’t quite pinpoint why you’re so warm. Face down on a pillow, you blink lazily and start to piece together what���s happening.

Your shirt—Joel’s shirt—clings to your skin. Sweat beads along the skin of your back, soaking into the thin fabric. The waistband of his boxers is forgiving, resting against the soft flesh beneath your belly button, though the hem of each leg is snug around your thighs. Oh, your thighs…. something sturdy holds them apart.

Two solid weights pressing against the inside of your legs, spreading them wide across the bed. A third weight against the small of your back… a hand. Fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt, bunching the material at the base of your spine, keeping your stomach flush to the bed. Another moan startles you, sharpens your mind a little. Your tongue feels heavy, mind a slow blur as you realise that the sound came from your own mouth. And as that understanding sinks in, you finally feel it.

Something hot and wet, lapping at the dark fabric shielding your cunt. And you’re wet. Fucking hell, you’re so wet it’s near uncomfortable. The sopping material clings to your folds, a persistent tongue pressing it in deeper, soaking the material in your slick juices as they drip from you. You gasp, trying fruitlessly to turn your head and see over your shoulder in the darkness.

“S’me,” he says then, and his voice is a pained, haggard thing. Rough and wanton with desire, with need, muffled from how his face is buried between your thighs. “S’just me… fuck, m’sorry.”   

“Joel,” you rasp, breathless as his tongue glances over your clit through his boxers. He groans and then the thick point of his nose is pressing between your cheeks, nudging at your covered asshole. The pressure there sharpens your senses to a point, and sends a surprised moan peeling from your throat.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just let me…” Joel inhales deeply, cursing under his breath when you lazily rut your sex back against his face.

“Jesus Christ,” you whimper. When you move your face, something damp tickles your cheek. Saliva, pooling out the side of your open mouth and leaving a small damp circle on his pillow. Embarrassment warms your face, but the sound of Joel moaning against your cunt is a welcome distraction.

Muscular shoulders keep your thighs wide open, and he mouths shamelessly at the material, licking and kissing everywhere he can reach, and it suddenly makes sense why you feel like you’re on the edge already. The boxers must be ruined; slick and spit mix together to soak the entirety of the fabric until it clings to your swollen skin.

“H-how… fuck, Joel, how long have you—”

“Don’t know,” he mumbles. “Twenty minutes? Fuck, I don’t—”

Lewd sucking noises fill the room and the muscles in your abdomen go rigid, mouth hanging wide open as his fingers curl around the gusset of the boxers, dragging them to the side. You moan and squirm against the bed as he dips his tongue between your folds, gliding it through the sloppy messy of you. His sounds match yours; hot exhales billowing against your exposed skin and sending goosebumps sprouting across the backs of your thighs.  

Joel pulls back for a minute. Keeps the material pulled to the side, allowing the cool night air to dance across the scorching skin between your legs while he watches you drip for him.

“Got home late,” he apologises, and you twitch as his breath hits your centre. He’s still so close. “Jimmy needed help with somethin’ and I—fuck, it doesn’t matter, but you were so perfect. My good girl, all tucked up in my bed, wearin’ my fuckin’ clothes, just waitin’ for me.”

“Tried to stay awake.” You hum softly, trying to inch yourself back against his face. But Joel just tuts, and you feel a sharp sting as he nips at the skin of your thigh. You pout against his pillow, body going lax and pliant once more. “Wanted to fall asleep with you.”

“I know,” he soothes, licking over where his teeth marks mar your flesh. His lips dance higher and higher until his tongue flicks into your hole. He swears low, resting his forehead against the soft plush of your ass. “But this? Comin’ home to this… fuckin’ luckiest man in the world, I tell ya.”

It's slow and steady when he lets his mouth fall upon you again. Soft little licks around your lips, tracing the dips and folds of your labia, mapping out every inch of you before his tongue dares graze against your clit. And when he does finally make contact, you jolt and whimper, already acutely aware of that familiar tingle in your spine.

Unable to reach him, your fingers tangle uselessly in his sheets, entirely at his mercy as he devours you from behind. Thick thumbs spread you open for his eyes to see, keeping you apart as he licks broad strokes up the entirety of your cunt before lathing languid open-mouthed kisses against it. Hot and wet and needy, his moans vibrate through you, letting you know he loves this just as much as you. Maybe even more.

Your clit pulses against his tongue, alive with a throbbing heartbeat of its own. And with every swipe and glide and circle you feel that heat swirl stiffer in your belly, the wave building and building. You can feel the way your hole, painfully empty, clenches over and over around nothing but air, winking at him and begging for more.

The slippery sounds of your arousal fill the room once more and soon enough you’re keening his name beneath your breath, spurring him on as you imagine the way it must shine on his beard, his lips, even in the darkness.

“Please,” you mewl, drooling against his pillow still, vaguely aware of your saliva gliding down your neck, thick and viscous. “Joel, fuck me, I want it, want you—”

“I will,” he swears, but you can feel how rapt he is by this. How every facet of his attention is trained on keeping his mouth on your pussy, his tongue rubbing firm circles around your clit just how you like. He gasps and pants against you, nodding a little, groaning when his nose glides through your folds and your scent coats his nostrils. “I will, I will, I just need you like this a little longer. I will. Promise.”

His grip is tender against the crease of your thighs, fingers digging in right where your leg meets the flesh of your ass as he eats at you. And you can tell by the way his noises deepen, turning guttural and depraved, that he won’t be making good on that promise tonight. Know it from the way his face ruts forward into your core every few seconds that he must be grinding his leaking cock against the mattress, feverish and desperate for relief. And the mere thought of it, of him hot and hard, straining inside his pants, has the muscles in your legs going taut.

Joel murmurs your name, so soft under his breath. His long tongue dips inside of you and then strokes up to flick against your clit, and finally you dissolve under his mouth.

The orgasm flows through you much like the waves in your dream. Joel coaxes it out from deep in your stomach until you’re a wet trembling mess beneath him; nothing but a rolling mass of waves for the sticky sun to sink into. Warm and wet, the high laps at your body from every angle until the edges of your mind are fuzzy, molten heat drooling from your cunt and onto his grateful tongue as he groans.

He doesn’t let up those soft swirls of his tongue until your hips are twitching away and you’re whining his name, and begging him to come up here. And so he crawls up your body, movements slow and sleepy as he drops heavily against your back. Thick thighs bracket your own, and that scruffy chin sits against the slope of your shoulder as he presses a kiss and a drowsy mumble of hey baby behind your ear.

“That was nice.” You smile when he takes your earlobe between his teeth. Curious, you work a hand between your back and his chest, fingers trailing down until you reach the damp spot at the front of his trousers. He exhales roughly, hips jerking backward, sensitive. “Fuck, did you come?”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his smile sheepish and shy against your skin. You laugh, heart swelling and eyes falling shut as you let him tip you onto your side and pull you back against his chest. A broad palm snakes over your hip, fingers dancing beneath the band of the boxers to rest against your skin, and he squeezes the flesh there greedily. “Gonna fuck you in the mornin’,” he vows.

You hum, already half asleep again despite how chilled your skin turns as your sweat cools. “Gonna wake me up with your cock inside me, hm?”  

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, his grip on you tightening. “Yeah, baby. I will.”

“Is that a promise?”

“S’a promise.”

thank you for reading x

[princessbrunette]

smoking pot with jj..all smiley and dopey and oh so obviously done for..giving him THE eyes..getting pushed back into his sheets that are so obviously a man’s..navy blue..he smells like boy and he talks like boy and he’s just so masculine..fuck him dirty style give him the swivel 360

you get me so bad because i love that jj is just such a GUY yk…. hes such a DUDE….. got the blue bed sheets and the heavy hands and he can’t help himself from looking at your tits in your cute lil tank top whilst you’re smoking and laying on the moves because he’s just a GUY!!!!!!!

being soooo giggly n girly with him, twirling your hair n getting all shy when he kisses you, saying stuff like “you really like me?” all giddy, and he’s just dumbfounded in that confident but dorky jj way :(

“uh well yeah. i mean look at you. you’re like… incredibly outta my league but like that’s fine. i’ll definitely treat you right n’stuff.” and his mouth is all red n swollen from kissing and you just <333333 sooooo smitten !!!!!!!!

dry humping on the bed before you get down to it and he’s swearing and sighing against your mouth saying stuff like “you knew what you were doin’ when you were looking at me like that right? the whole doe eyes thing? dude it’s like my weakness. you’re perfect.” !!!

[spockandawe]

Oh my gosh. This project consumed me, and for a hot minute there I wasn't sure it would work out. But I really wanted to try making a PICTURE with straw marquetry, and hm. For that I need an image with strongly blocked, highly recognizable shapes, and for preference, I'd rather not try to navigate the lumpy, holey complexities of the human face. Oh hi, transformers--

Oh man. I knew I was underestimating the difficulty of this project from the start, that's just how it goes. But the difficulty truly started with... the sketch. From the start, I wanted that perfect staring red eye, that was my one non-negotiable point. I wanted navy blue straw and a staring red eye. At first, I had dreams of a dynamic pose! However. Sketching at 21 inches tall is a whole different thing than sketching at 8 inches tall. My sketchbook's height is the width of this silly, silly thing. I thought to note what straw grain direction I wanted for the different elements too, which was a good call. The fingers were... ambitious, but hopefully unobtrusive if I messed them up.

After that, I was NOT working on a hard wood/mdf substrate and peeling of unwanted straw. I've seen the pros do that, but always cut too fast for me to understand what they're doing. So i was working somewhat similar to wood marquetry, gluing straw to paper and then cutting through the paper backing. But since it's harder to place my inlays from behind and i can't sand straw flat, here, each cutout was placed on a backing of the same blue paper to help blend my seams. I was supposed to start with the most background elements of the image and work my way forward, and immediately hecked that up. But it was working!!

It was a few good hard days of work, ahahaha. And it was really a learning process! Things like keeping my knife handle tilted towards my waste seemed pointless... Until it made my inlays noticeably easier to fit. And when I messed up the back to front order, I figured out how to cut from a combo of my overlay sheet and freehand to blend everything right! And techniques like carefully pricking the outline of a difficult shape (circles. CIRCLES.) and then cutting, that was game-changing. I stayed up way, way too late last night, but I finished!

That's an image from today, after I scrubbed him down and trimmed up all my edges. After that. I glued him to a foam back and installed him in a frame! You can see in all the photos here that the color effect is so, so dependent on lighting and angle, but the eye pops the way I hoped and the effect is everything I wanted. The frame is black but has a nice subtle metallic highlight on the corners and the narrow aspect ratio suits him so well, I'm SO delighted with how this turned out. It's the most difficult project I've done so far, and I don't know if I can handle doing this OFTEN, but I definitely want to do it again!!

[rewiringtoheal]

My Darling, You Enchant Me

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: a little teasing and a lot of pleasing.

Words: 1,453

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-on, soft smut

A/N: The first few paragraphs are from a scrapped piece but I flushed it out and made it for Natasha. Thank you for the support. You guys are awesome.

You are mesmerized by the goddess astride you. The stunning flush that painted her once creamy white skin is breathtaking. Those green eyes you adore are set ablaze as they look upon you begging for release. 

Your eyes trail down her body appreciating the long crimson hair cascading down Natasha’s left shoulder. And the soft full breasts swaying with the motion of her hips as she rides your fingers. 

Your mind is lost in a haze. All you see is her. All you feel is her. The tensing of her thighs, the rolling of her hips, and the feeling of being inside of her is enchanting. 

The walls of her core welcome you like an old friend. They stretch around your fingers with familiarity. Your hand strains as a cramp runs through your wrist but you double your efforts wanting to please her. 

“So good, baby. Don’t fucking stop.” Natasha whimpers. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love” You husk. 

You feel small hands digging into your shoulders, nails tear into your flesh, leaving crescent marks in their wake. Your free hand flutters down the smooth warm skin of her back landing on her hip trying to help stabilize her as she loses herself in you.

The rhythm you’ve had thus far is becoming erratic as Natasha starts to mindlessly hump your hand as she chases her release. Indecipherable words leave her kiss swollen mouth. You know she’s close; with practiced ease you curl your fingers into the sweet spongy spot inside of her. Your thumb slides through slick folds to stimulate her clit. It is the catalyst that pushes her over the edge.

“Fuck, Detka. So good.” Natasha cries out.

She is a sight to behold as she reaches her climax. A sheen of sweat coats her taut body, strands of her red hair are stuck to her forehead, and her eyebrows are furrowed. Full pink lips drop open with a whimper as she basks in her pleasure. 

Small trembles work their way through her body as she slumps into you. She burrows her nose into your neck and the warmth of her breath sends shivers down your spine. You kiss the side of her head, lingering there for a little while, relishing in this closeness. 

You eventually withdraw your fingers from Natasha with reluctance.  She nips at your neck in displeasure causing you to chuckle. 

“Darling, as much as I would like too. I can’t stay inside of you forever.” Fondness coats your voice as you clean your slick covered hand in the navy blue sheets of your shared bed. 

“I know but I like feeling full.” Natasha mumbles into you. 

“Oh baby, I know you do. If you want I can fill you up properly? We won’t even need any lube with how wet you still are.” 

She withdraws from your neck, with a playful smirk, and green eyes filled with mischief. “Detka, the wetness our lower halves are drowning in is as much your fault as it is mine.” That perfect eyebrow of hers lifts sassily. “Don’t even pretend you aren’t going absolutely feral at the thought of fucking me with your strap.”

 Your hands creep up Natasha’s sides, landing just below her ribs, shooting her a cocky smirk of your own. “My little spy thinks she’s so funny, doesn’t she? Mhmm. Something definitely needs to be done about all of that sass…” 

Natasha anticipates your next move but it’s too late. She's caught in your clutches. You roll her over onto her back with a burst of adrenaline and you start tickling her in earnest. The most adorable squeak leaves the redhead before transforming into giggles.

You’re smiling so hard from the sounds of her happiness. It’s a privilege to know that you are the only one who gets to experience this side of her. The playful, loving and goofy woman that most people wouldn’t believe is hidden underneath the black widow persona. Is the same woman you get to love. What a wonderful life you lead.

“Baby, please stop tickling me.” Natasha manages to get out in between giggles.

Your heart fills with undeniable affection as you look upon her. The small smile she so rarely gets to wear outside of your home is present and you adore seeing her look so content. She’s covered in sweat, sticky with your shared arousal, and yet she looks at peace. You couldn’t help but match her energy. 

Your hands slow down, tickling transforms into a gentle caress, the mood between you shifting into something more tender. “Alright, my darling. No more tickling… I think it’s time I finally fill you up. Don’t you?”

Natasha hums in agreement. Her small hands push you towards the nightstand, urgent, you know how much she loves watching you prepare. 

You wink at her cheekily, before reaching towards your nightstands drawer and grabbing your well loved leather harness. Her gaze burns into you as you clamber off the bed to buckle yourself in. 

You reach back into the nightstand drawer, grabbing Natasha’s favorite toy, and shove it through the o-ring. The thick piece of silicone stands erect between your powerful thighs. 

Natasha’s hands are on you within seconds. She’s pulling you as close to her as she can get. Grasping onto your lower back and hips like her life depends on it as you settle between her legs. 

“Don’t worry, my love. I’m gonna take good care of you.” You murmur, allowing yourself to be drawn in. You push forward slightly just enough to grind against Natasha’s clit for a minute or so; making sure that the toy is coated in her slick.

She squirms beneath you; hips rutting against you in desperate need. “Detka, please. I need you inside.” 

You can’t deny her when she asks so sweetly and in truth you want to be inside of her as much as she does. You cradle Natasha in your arms, resting your forehead against hers, loving the intimacy. Her shaky inhale caresses your lips as you slowly push the tip in.

You push forward, at a leisure pace, until you are fully buried inside of her. Nails dig into your hips encouraging you to move. Your initial thrusts are mindful, wanting Natasha to adjust to your thickness, before you set a familiar pace. 

A slow sensual grind of pelvises, as you clutch to one another. You glide your nose along Natasha’s savoring her warmth. Stopping to draw her into a deep kiss; it’s all tongue, teeth and incoordination. 

You trail kisses down her jawline, pausing to suck an irresistible  earlobe into your mouth, nipping at the soft piece of flesh. A low moan echoes from beside you. You travel down her neck, leaving a wet path of saliva and love bites in your wake.

Natasha’s thighs tighten around your hips; begging you to go faster. 

“Oh god, fuck baby filling me so good.” Natasha keened.

You grunt in agreement. The toy is rubbing against your clit in the most delicious way every time she rocks against you. 

“Shit, babe. You feel so fucking good.” You nuzzle your nose into the crook of her neck. “Taking me so well. No one can make you feel as full as I can.” You anchor your hands on Natasha’s thighs, setting a faster pace, incoherent mumbling spews from supple lips.

“So full. Fuck, Jesus christ” Natasha mewls.

The two of you are rutting against each other like wild animals as you both chase your release. You know it won’t take long for either of you to cum with the franticness of your movements. 

Every thrust into Natasha is met with resistance as her walls tighten around your strap and her thighs start to shake. 

“Come with me, baby” one of your hands trails through dripping wet red curls to rub circles around Natasha’s clit. 

She tenses up with a shout of your name, fingers dig into your shoulder blades, holding on for dear life.  As shockwaves of pleasure ripple through her body. 

You cry out, as your own orgasm overtakes you. The neglected pressure in your loins finally being taken care of.

The adrenaline seeps out of you and the only thing you’re left with is bone deep exhaustion as you collapse onto Natasha.

The two of you curl around each other, breathing heavy, but satisfied.

“Damn, we really need to shower at some point but I don’t know if I will be able to stand anytime soon.” Natasha pants.

“Fuck, I know we are so sticky but I don’t want to get up.” You whine.

She hums in agreement. Neither of you try to move. You just stay there snuggled together and joined in the most intimate way. 

[riordanness]

bed chem — [p.jackson]

pairing: percy jackson x reader

wordcount: 1.4K

warnings: the morning after, alcohol, discussions about sex/loss of virginity. no smut.

Sun shines through the blinds, my bed as comfortable, warm, and cozy as ever… until I roll over, only to see him.

The one person I’d always promised myself I wouldn't spend a night with.

Percy Jackson.

I sit up abruptly with a gasp, staring down in horrified realisation at my enemy. The enemy who is currently asleep beside me.

Percy's head is tilted to the side, his messy dark hair falling in his face, mouth open slightly, drooling onto the pillow. The covers were half on him, clearly pushed down from sleep. His tanned torso is on display, and I force my eyes away.

Oh gods, I think. He's naked. I'm naked.

Percy begins stirring, mumbling in his sleep before his eyes flutter open, those seagreen ones that make girls (not me) swoon. He looks up at me, blinking a few times as he processes the situation.

"Morning," is the first thing out of his mouth, his voice rough.

I'm still staring at him, open-mouthed.

He smirks as he realises I’m staring at his chest, and props himself up on his forearms.

"See something you like?" he teases, his eyes glittering mischievously.

I blink, forcing myself out of my horrified stupor. "What the hell is going on?" I manage, my voice slightly shaky.

He chuckles sleepily, sitting up a bit more and running a hand through his messy hair. He looks just as dishevelled as I feel.

"Well," he drawls, his grin widening, a stupid twinkle in his eyes. "Looks like we had a bit of fun last night, huh?"

I groan, pulling my knees to my chest and burying my face in them, making sure to hold the sheets tight to my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his smirk drops into a small smile. He reaches out and rubs my back gently, his touch surprisingly tender. For Percy.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmurs. "We don't have to talk about it right now, if you don't want to."

"I don't ever want to talk to you again," I say immediately, my voice muffled by the navy blue sheets, which makes me realise we’re in his cabin, not mine. Which makes this situation even worse.

He lets out a soft sigh, his hand still rubbing circles on my upper back, which feels awful on my bare skin, and I want to shrink away, but I don’t.

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" he asks quietly. "Look, I know we have our... issues, but we clearly spent the night together for a reason."

"Yeah, alcohol."

He can't help but chuckle a bit at that. "Alright, fair enough, alcohol was involved."

He moves his hand from my back to lightly tug at the sheets, trying to see my face. "But that doesn't explain why it was me in your bed, and not someone else."

"Well, I'm putting that on you," I say hatefully. "Because I wouldn't be in bed with you willingly."

Percy's smile fades a bit at my harsh words, his expression turning serious.

"Hey," he says firmly. "That's not fair, and you know it." He runs a hand through his messy hair again, sighing heavily. "I don't like you, y'know. I never have. But I wouldn't... I wouldn't have done that without your consent."

I slowly lift my head. "You promise?"

He nods, his sea-green eyes locking with mine.

"I promise," he says sincerely. "You might think I'm a jerk, but I'd never take advantage of someone like that. Especially not you."

"Well, it was a mistake." I have a bitter taste in my mouth, and part of me wants to cry.

Percy's expression fades at the tone in my voice, his eyes turning more serious again.

"Hey," he says softly, his thumb rubbing gently against my knee. "Don't say that. It wasn't a mistake. We both had a good time, didn't we?"

"Don't count on it."

His sea green eyes tighten. "So that's it, huh?" he asks quietly. "You're just going to brush last night off as a drunken mistake and go back to hating my guts?"

"Yep," I say roughly.

He frowns again, his hand tightening slightly around your knee.

"That doesn't seem very fair," he says bitterly. "When it was clearly consensual."

I sigh, lean back against the headboard. Pull the sheets as tightly around me as I can. "You don't get it."

He looks at me more closely, studying my face.

"Then make me understand," he says, his voice softer now. "What do I not get?"

I sigh, look down.

"Talk to me," he prompts gently, his hand moving up to lightly touch my chin, trying to get me to look at him.

"It's not for you to know," I snap. I’m lying. He should know. Out of anyone, he deserves to know it the most.

"Why are you being like this?" he asks, his voice low. "We clearly shared something last night, and now you're shutting me out completely."

"We didn't share anything!" I don't think I meant to yell.

He looks at me in bewilderment, clearly taken aback by my outburst.

"We definitely did something," he retorts, his own voice rising slightly. "And I thought we actually—" he stops himself, realising he was about to say too much.

“What?”

He looks away, his jaw clenching slightly.

"Nevermind," he mutters, his hand falling from my knee. "Forget I said anything."

I close my eyes, let out a breath. “Percy?”

He glances back at me, his expression a mix of hurt and irritation.

"What?" he snaps, his eyes defiant.

I close my eyes tighter. "I'm about to tell you something and you can never ever tell anyone else in the world. I hate you and I'd never tell you if it wasn't for last night, understand?"

"I understand," he says quietly. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."

I relax slightly, but I still have my eyes shut. "I gave you my virginity last night."

His eyes go wide in shock, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form a response. He seems stunned, completely speechless for a change.

Finally he finds his voice, his words a hoarse whisper.

"You... I was your first?"

“Yeah.” My eyes open.

His expression softens, the previous anger and pain melting away as he processes my words.

He swallows hard, his hand reaching out to tentatively touch my arm. "Why didn't you tell me? After I said—“ he falters, clearing his throat. "After what we did... why didn't you say something?"

"Probably because we were drunk," I say.

He cringes at the mention of alcohol, shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah, I guess that's fair," he mutters. "But still... you should've said, I would've never..."

He looks at me sheepishly, his hand still resting on my arm. "I know we have our differences, but I wouldn't have done that if I'd known. I'm not that much of a jerk, y'know."

I glance at him in surprise. "What?"

He sighs, running his free hand through his messy hair again.

"I mean, last night was... well, it was fun. In the moment..." He shrugs awkwardly. "But if I'd known that I was your first... I would've, I dunno, I would have slowed down. Made it... special. For you."

I blink, stunned in silence. All I can do is stare at him. "You would'e done that? For me?"

He looks at me almost tenderly, his eyes roaming my face.

"Yeah, I would have," he says quietly. "I know we hate each other, but... this was your first time. It should've been special. Not something you regret waking up to."

I look away, feeling weird all over. I don't know what I think anymore.

He lifts my chin gently with his fingers, making me look back at him. But the motion doesn’t make me want to jerk away.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft. "Look at me. Please."

And for some reason, I do.

He runs his thumb gently over my bottom lip, a small smile playing on his own.

"I mean what I said," he says sincerely. "Last night—it was amazing, don't get me wrong. But if I'd known... I would've been more gentle. Treated you better."

“I hardly remember it,” I admit softly.

"I wish you did," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "It was... incredible. I'm not exaggerating when I say you look beautiful when you—" He cuts himself off, his face reddening as he realises what he was about to say.

I feel myself flush too, and I look away again.

"You're not exactly making this easy for me, y'know," he mutters. "You're not supposed to be...cute. You're supposed to be a pain in my ass."

“I am a pain in your ass,” I retort, but it’s almost a joke.

He laughs, and the sound is gentle, soft. “Maybe,” he almost whispers, “but maybe something has changed now.”

And he was right. Maybe something had.