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oreo-creampie · 1 month ago

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“𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤”

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫! - Ghostface gangbang (with one Michael Myers mask)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: celebrity!reader, guards! Toji, Sukuna, Choso, Satoru, Suguru and Kento, reader has healing abilities, knife kink/light cutting, no blood since reader heals, light bondage with chains, ghost face with one Michael Myers mask gangbang, you have tits for this, titty fucking, face/pussy slapping, pain kink, praise/degradation, pain kink, fingering/anal fingering, ass eating, face fucking/cock sucking, handjob, pussy slapping, toys, double/triple penetration, anal, hair pulling, spitting, spitting water in your mouth, cum swallowing, creampie, choking

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 14 minutes - 4k (of mostly nasty smut)

Oreo: this has reminded me why gangbangs are my favorite

Your phone lights up with a text, your Mom sent you a link. Opening it brings you to a page with a bright bold red header where it proclaims ‘Single for 1 year?! She can’t seem to get a date and goes to dinner alone!’

You scroll to see the attached picture of you surrounded with by your guards. “Oh! There is a trashy tabloid going around talking about my dating life. Apparently I was alone last night cause all six of you don’t count!”

Toji shrugs a large shoulder, “Who cares if it looks like you’re single, they don't need to know the truth.” The end of his blunt casts a red glow on Toji’s handsome face.

You sigh and click on the appearing text bubble, “My Mom is caring otherwise she wouldn’t have sent me to link to it. Along with; I won’t judge your choices, though I am worried about you not pursuing a relationship. Are they just not for you or did something happen?” A large warm body presses you against the cold glass railing of the balcony. Warm large hands squeeze your hips.

You look up into Sukuna’s face, your head resting against his chest. “What are you gonna tell her?” Toji nudges Sukuna’s arm to get him to take the fat blunt.

Looking out at the city below. “I’m sure as hell not saying that I’m fucking all of the personal guards they hired for me and that y’all cock-block any dating opportunities that come my way.”

He grabs your hair yanking your back holding the blunt to your lips. He sneers, “We do plenty of sharing between each other. Who else could you need.” Sukuna pulls the blunt away, and you blow a large puffs of smoke into the night’s sky.

Toji adds on, “‘Side we all cuddle you, take you out on dates, we switch out who sleeps in the bed with you. You had six different valentines.” He leans against the glass railing. Tugging on your robe’s ribbon causing it to fall open.

Satoru announces, “Oo someone tweeted what if she is fucking one of the guards. She close, but it isn’t just one, you’re too much of a cock hungry whore for only one.” Leaning up against the glass on the other side of you Satoru joins Toji in fondling your soft breasts. Swirling his soft thumb over your nipple, getting it hard.

You’ve been waiting all day to be sandwiched in between your guards. With one pressing their hard cock into your lower back while two play with your tits. You slowly inhale the harsh smoke from the blunt that Sukuna holds to your lips.

Suguru looks at Satoru’s phone then lightly hits Satoru’s shoulder.“You should unlike it they’re gonna think it’s you, that choice is up to her, if she decides to make it.” Taking the short blunt from Sukuna to puff on.

Satoru rolls his eyes before removing his like, “Ok ok.” Sukuna roughly smacks your ass and steps away for Satoru to sweep you off your feet.

You think about it aloud, “If they got a screenshot of that then my actions with all you are going to be heavily analyzed.” Spreading your fingers out on his chest, looking up at him as he carries you to the sex room. “Especially with you, going out the two of us is gonna be seen differently, tea channels are gonna have a field day.”

Satoru smiles, “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy seeing some of the shipping content out there.” A few of your fans had created some fanart of your guards and you. Which you saved to your phone.

He points out, “This will only give them a little fuel for their ships.” He kisses the top of your head and you’re wondering if you should play into it a little.

You admit, “Is is a bit fun to see. And who could blame me, especially with how unprofessional three of you were from the start, my pussy didn’t stand a chance.”

You dig your painted nails into Satoru’s chest, leaving bright pink lines. “It’s mostly your fault, you were the first one.”

Satoru teases you, “The way you were practicing drooling over me after I unbuttoned my shirt a little too cool off had me wanting to put your pretty mouth to use and I’ll do it again.” You bite his chest, his hold doesn’t waver but his pace does as he moans.

Sukuna walks past and pushes the door open, “Let’s go ahead n’ tie her up with some chains.” When Satoru carries you throug.

Kento and Choso have a ghost face mask on. Are they all going to be wearing one? Your pussy hopes they do.

Satoru drops you on the bed, straightening you out on your back, folding your legs by your side. Kneeling at the edge of the bed to kiss your wet cunt. Gliding his tongue in, you slip your hands into his soft white hair.

Suguru walks up, mask on and with the Michael Myers one in hand. Which Satoru pulls away to grab when Suguru nudges him with it. “Happy early Halloween, it’s close enough right? I figured why not do something a little seasonal.” He climbs onto the bed and yanks you into the middle by your hair.

Kento gets on the bed next to you, his hard cock swinging, you love how he’s so heavy he hangs. His voice is soothing, “What do you think about this?”

You gently grab Kento’s thick cock swirling your thumb on his cockhead. “I wanna be gangfucked till the sun rises or I pass out.” You kiss the freckle close to his pre-cum dripping slit you adore.

Satoru praises, “‘Course you do beautiful, we are gonna fuck your pretty ass stupid.” Satoru straddles your neck and part of your face. When you look down all you see are his balls.

He squeezes your fat, soft tits together with his cock in between. “Pour some lube on her tits for me Choso.” His balls are so close to your face. Lifting your head up to lick and suck on Satoru’s nuts.

Choso joins you on the bed whilst reminding you. “You’re safe word is melons remember to say yellow if you need us to slow down, and red for a break.” He grabs your hand, pouring lube into your palm. Then guiding your hand to his cock for you to stroke.

You hold your other hand out for some lube to jerk Kento off. Choso then squirts a generous amount onto your breasts. It slowly drips until Satoru smears it with slow strokes of his cock.

Satoru groans, “I want to cover her in cum, her beautiful face, soft tits, squishy thighs and her gorgeous cunt.” Slowly fucking your beautiful soft breasts. Whilst enjoying your warm mouth on his soft balls.

Jerking Choso and Kento off, swirling your hand slowly along their cocks. Swiping your thumb over their heads and keeping your pace steady.

Sukuna groans, “I’m fuckin her beautiful, sofa ass into a gapping mess. Seeing her in that skin tight gown all night, I know y’all know what I’m talking about.” Two different hands spread your legs apart, one rougher than the other. “Makin’ her ass look like a delicious peach.”

Arching your hips down from the sudden intense vibrations from toy on your clit. Laying your head back on the bed with a loud moan. Another hand presses on your stomach keeping you still.

Your thighs tremble, and your cunt quivers when you feel a wet tongue swirl around your tight asshole. “Nnnn! Plug your cum inside my ass when you’re done.” Moaning as he quickly pushing his tongue in to you. Both of your holes clench as you feel two small, smooth warm metal balls of Sukuna’s tongue piercing.

Satoru ruts his hips faster, gliding his long cock between your soft fat breasts. Squishing them together with his large hands, his groans are loud and breathy.

You love hearing all of them groan, moan, and whines as they enjoy themselves. If they weren't there you could masturbate listening recording to the sounds they make when they cum.

Whining, “It’s too much!” The pressure is intense, you’re unable to pull your hips away they follow your clit with the toy.

You can hear the jiggle of chains as the bed dips with someone’s weight.

“But I just started, how could it be too much already?” The condescension dripping from Suguru’s tone has your cheeks burning. “Besides isn't this what you wanted?” Suguru slowly swirls the toy increasing the pressure till it borders on painful.

Toji says, “Go ahead n’ tie the chains around her tits and neck.” Satoru smothers you with his balls by sitting on your face. Wrapping your breasts by coiling the chains around them once. Then moving back wrap it around your throat. He tugs on both ends squeezing your neck and tits.

Kento grabs your wrists, using your hand to get themselves off. Kento’s guides your hand slower, as he massages your breasts. His gentle touch is always a wonderful contrast to how rough the other’s get.

“I can't believe I'm getting off on this, I've become a dirty old pervert for your beautiful tits and soft pussy.” It made Kento’s cock rock hard seeing the chain wrapping around your tits, squishing the plump fat, whilst restricting some blood flow. You had corrupted him.

Choso groans, “Your hand feels so soft on my cock.” Grabbing your fist to keep it still so he can fuck your hand. Gently rubbing your hard nipple with his thumb,

Satoru pulls the chains again strangling your cry and pulling your body taunt. Your hands pause as you try to focus on not squeezing Choso and Kento.

“Don’t yank on her too hard, the chains are already harsh.” Kento drags a finger along the chain wrapped around your breast, feeling the soft fat spilling over.

Satoru eases up, but keeps the chain tight around your throat. Smacking his long, pale cock on your face whilst you suffocate. Rubbing his cock head along your lips, his pre-cum tastes so sweet. Opening your mouth, Satoru glides his cock in quickly.

Choso grabs the chain from Satoru’s hand, “Deep breaths.” He waits for you to catch your breath. Peeling up his mask to softly kiss you, sliding his tongue past your lips when you moan.

Satoru groans stroking his cock next next to your face. “The camera is recording what a whore you are. We are going to show you tomorrow, have you ride a dildo, and play with your asshole while you watch it. How does that sound?”

Choso lifts his head, holding his cock near your face. “Can you deep throat my fat cock with your pretty mouth?” You kiss his cockhead before softly licking up the mess up pre-cum. Then taking him deep into your mouth with a loud groan. Fondling his large balls with one hand.

Satoru jerk his fist faster watching you suck Choso off. “You’re such a good lil’ cock sucker. Are you getting off having Choso’s fat cock in your mouth while Sukuna eats your ass.” You groan to respond, closing your watery eyes.

You switch in between licking and sucking on one cock to pay attention to the other. Resting your tired hand on the bed, before giving up on moving your head too. As Choso and Satoru turn your head from side to side, taking turns fucking your mouth.

Kento slides your hand off his cock to rub himself against your plump, soft breast. “I’ll give you a massage after being a good girl for us tonight.” Nudging your fat with his fat cock head, smearing pre-cum on you.

Kento guides your hand back to his cock. “Before we take the chains off I want to take a picture of you laying here looking sexy covered and dripping cum. I can’t get enough of seeing you looking fucked out.” It’s one of the main reasons he got hooked on joining in on the planned gangbangs Satoru would get the other’s in on.

Two thick fingers into your dripping wet cunt with a soft squelch. “Look at this, she’s already soaking wet, you’re a depraved whore say it.” Toji’s deep voice is unmistakable. Your soaking wet pussy quivering around his thick fingers as the pressure and pleasure build in tandem.

Satoru nudges your cheek, smearing some pre-cum on it. Choso glides his cock out with a loud pop. “I’m a depraved whore, I love being a dirty slut please use me to help you cum.” Turning your head taking Satoru’s cock. He smacks your lips then sets a quick and merciless pace, gagging you with his long, veiny dick.

Suguru rubs your clit a little faster, easing up on the intense pressure. Working with Toji to get you off while Sukuna enjoys himself with your ass. Holding out three fingers prompting Choso to grab the near by bottle of lube to pour some onto them.

Your ass stretches for three thick probing fingers that can reach deeper than his tongue can. Scissoring his fingers apart rough, pumping them quickly, making your body slightly bounce.

You’re getting off on how six muscular masked men are entertaining themselves with your ass, cunt, clit, tits, hands and mouth. You’re hoping they trap a mixture of their cum inside you with a plug.

Toji points out, “I think she’s gonna cum n’ so fucking quickly. I don't think she should cum yet. No reason why other than fuck her.” Suguru lifts the vibrator off your clit as Toji glides his fingers out.

Sukuna keeps playing with your ass, it’s enough that you can taste that sweet peaking orasgamic high of cumming.

Sukuna mocks you, “You’re a dirty slut, look at that! The bitch kind of came anyway.” some creamy cum drip from your small quivering hole he sneers, “Looks like you only ruined it for her.” He pinches your sensitive clit making your hips jerk back. Stuffing some of your slick into your ass with each pump of is thick fingers.

Toji states, “She deserve it for being a filthy whore.” Someone smacks your cunt, once, twice, you stop counting after the fourth. Trembling you have to fight the urge to twist your hips away as your cunt stings.

Choso croons, “Are they being mean to your pretty cunt?” He leans down “She was good and took all those hits we should let her cum.” Satoru pulls his Michael Myers mask up to spit on your face.

Suguru holds the pulsing toy to your stinging, throbbing clit. The sweet pleasure easing some of the stinging pain. You focus on each quick circling motion of the toy eager to cum.

You’re begging them, “I wanna cum! Please lemme cum! I wanna make a mess!” Whining as the three thick fingers in your ass glide out.

A pulsing thin toy nudges your wet hole, which easily gives for the toy. It’s size getting thicker the more you take. Till you reach a thick knot that won’t slide in easily. Causing him to have to use a little more force.

Arching your hips, your eyes sting with tears as your ass throbs from taking the thick knot. “I hope that fuckin’ hurt dumb lil slut, I wanna see and hear you crying! Your ass looks so hot taking all of it. I wonder,” he tugs on the toy’s short stumpy handle. The knot isn’t budging, tugging on your ass, too thick to slip out like his fingers did.

Your thighs are burning as they tremble. A large hand on your stomach keeps you from moving too much. They are all working in together to keep you from getting away.” Choso straddles your neck fills your mouth with his cock. Abandoning the chain leash as he grabs your hair and fucks your throat.

You can’t tell who wraps your hand around their thick cock but you don’t care. You too drunk off the overstimulation to focus on moving your hand. So they jerk them off, swirling your fist, swiping your thumb over their cock head. They’re so warm and heavy in your palm, you want them inside any of your wet holes.

Your moans creating pleasurable vibrations that make him messily rut his hips. “Nnnn when she moans goddamm, I wanna cum in her mouth.” He fucks your moan faster, gagging you when he gives you all of his cock. Choso is so much thicker than Satoru, making it harder to deep throat him.

Satoru suggests, “Let’s play a game she has to guess whose fucking her from the back. Then she can cum.” Choso glides his cock out, Kento let’s your hand go, Suguru lifts the toy off your clit causing you to whine.

Choso carefully gets you on all fours, then orders you, “Keep your eyes forward you can suck Kento and I’s cocks but don't cheat by peaking.” He moves over for Kento to kneel beside him. Just having their large cocks in your face shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does. You feel like such a dirty, cock hungry slut.

Holding both cocks, moaning as you give Kento attention. Closing your eyes and enjoying feeling his thick cock slide along your tongue. His head nudging your throat, going deeper till you’ve taken every inch.

You hold your head still letting Kento enjoy the wet, tight warmth of your throat. As it squeezes him, your body softly jerking as you gag.

Kento moans, “Nnnn fuck me that feels so gooood when you take me just like that. You’re so beautiful, nnn,” bobbing your head, quickly taking Kento’s fat cock. “wrapping you pretty lips, hhhhn sucking me off like you need my cum.” Gliding him out with a loud pop and kissing beneath Kento’s cockhead.

A cockhead too fat to be Satoru’s lines up with your cunt. Your thoughts linger in between Toji and Suguru when you don’t feel Sukuna’s piercing beneath the large cock head.

Kento slowly rocks his hips, slowly fucking your wet mouth. Causing spit to drip down your chin which smears onto his balls when they brush against.

A cold knife drags along your cheek, causing you to tense up then squirm. The cut heals seconds after he creates it. One, two three and fuck! You’re so full of someone’s thick, veiny cock.

You’re sandwich in between Kento, Choso and one of your guards. The thought of that is getting you. toy for them to fuck until their balls are empty.

Clenching the fat cock whilst listening for a single groan or any vocal indication of who is fucking you. As they slide the knife across the bottom of your back.

If they would groan once you would know if it’s Toji or Suguru. You focus on the way their fucking you to try and decide between the two. It’s hard to focus for too long, whoever it is hitting your soaking wet pussy in a perfect, eye rolling, toe curling and pussy clenching angle.

He grabs the short handle of the toy vibrating in your ass. The thick knot slides in and out of you a little easier after your asshole got used to it.

Slowly glide the blade along your thigh and stuffing the toy in deep, the vibrations pulsing stronger than before. He made it intense, you swear you can feel it in your cunt.

Smacking your cheek with a large hand, the strike is to quick for you to get a good judge off whose hand it is.

Kento’s pace is getting sloppy, as he ruts into your mouth a little faster. His broad shoulder curling in as he trembles. His tight tensing up as he bites his bottom lip. Thick warm cum spurts into your mouth, he tastes so sweet, it’s so thick and creamy on your tongue.

Stuffing his cum into your throat with a messy thrust then gliding his cock out. “Thank you darling, l needed that.” Choso moves over as Kento leans down, grabbing your throat. His thick fingers pressing the chains into your neck as he lifts you up to kiss your forehead.

You can’t glance behind you in time before Choso stops you from breaking the rule. As Kento gets off the bed slowly pulling off the mask, and taking a seat to watch.

You whine, “Not fair, moan once! Say anything!” You bounce back, pressing your ass and thighs flush against him. The thighs pressing against your’s are thick, with muscles too hard to be Suguru. He is incredibly well built, but Toji’s muscles are something else.

The muscles of his arms, thighs and abs had a harsh rigidness the other didn’t. His body feels like a greek statue that’s has life breathed into it. With a waist that feels too damn slutty.

You whine, “Toji!” He grabs a handful of your ass and the roughness of his hand lets you know you’re right. Your body roughly rocks forward with his next harsh thrusts.

Toji groans, his deep voice sounds so damn good when he’s getting off. It’s a smooth, deep sound that is the cherry on top.

You’re squirting on Toji’s far veiny cock. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The toy vibrating in her ass fuck I can feel it. Fuck it’s like her pussy is a vibrating toy clenching me. So fuckin’ wet!” He pumps the in your ass in time with thrusts, his strength keeps the toy’s knot from catching.

His fat cock twitches slightly, and the pulse in his veins feels like he’s throbbing inside you. “Nnnn I want someone to fuck his cum into me. Please lemme cum on your thick cock too.”

Sukuna declares in confusion, “Was that cheating?!”

Satoru defense your case, “We only said she couldn’t look back, using her body to feel up Toji isn’t against the rules. Meaning our chain bound slut gets to cum on our cocks tonight.”

“You’re going to bully her anyway.” You glance over at Suguru, a blunt between his lips, and his dark hair pulled back. With a few locks of his bangs framing his handsome face.

He winks, snuffs out the blunt and pulls his mask on. “Let’s switch.” Toji slowly glides his cock out smacking your cum dripping cunt with the flat of the knife.

Toji groans, “Her slutty lil’ cunt looks so good dripping my cum.” He dips his head down and glides his tongue in. “What a messy pussy squirting on me like that.” He stretches your hole apart to see how his white cum looks against the pink insides of your pussy. Before walking off, the blunt that Suguru ashed out on his mind. Passing the knife to Sukuna.

Choso grabs the chain leash and says, “Wrists behind your back.” He carefully binds your wrists, making your bsck softly arch, pushing your bound breasts forward.

Sukuna roughly yanks the toy out of your ass. Replacing it with a different one, the wildly vibrating model made after his cock. He orders, “Sit up, let Choso get underneath you so he can use your pretty cunt to get himself off whilst I double stuff your ass.”

Sukuna smacks your ass, grabbing the long chain between your neck and shoulders. Yanking you upright before you can move for yourself.

Choso leans back on his heals, thighs spread apart letting his heavy cock hang in between. “I want her to myself when y'all are done.” He gets off the bed and takes the blunt Toji passes.

You ask Choso, “What are you planning for me handsome?”Watching him jerk his cock slowly. His cock with it’s far head, upward curve and two puffy veins is pussy watering. Especially when he slides his hand down and his heavy, long cock start to droop. He’s perfect cock is so heavy, long, and thick.

You’re folding at the sight Choso with his ghost face mask on, his broad muscular chest, hard abs, and thick, pale tattooed arm. Choso looks good manspreading, his thighs are perfect to ride.

Sukuna stuffed ass with his fat cock makes it nearly impossible to listen to Choso explain, “You want some ghostface roleplay, how can I tell your pretty self no? I'm going to chase you around then pin you down and fuck you at knife point for a happy early Halloween.”

You look up at Sukuna’s masked face when he loudly moans, “You’re right, fuck n’ I thought she was like a toy before hand. But this, her vibrating double stuffed ass clenching my cock is gonna make me cum too quickly.”

Suguru climbs into the bed laying down and holding his cock up. “Let me feel our slutty mama’s pretty whore pussy on my fat cock. Sukuna holds a knife to your throa, taking the moment to himself to roughly fuck your ass.

Suguru strokes his cock, watching as the tears slip down your cheeks. Your pussy is dripping Toji’s cum as Sukuna pounds your ass. “She looks so hot when she’s helpless.”

Sukuna grunts, “It’s not enough, I wanna break her, fuck her ass till she can't move..” Sukuna digs the knife’s tip into your throat, blood slowly trickles down before he eases up.

Satoru chimes, “Tell me whose cum taste better, Kento’s or mine!” Whilst joining Sukuna, Suguru and you on the bed.

Kento passes Satoru a water bottle, his cock already half hard. “Since you like spitting so much you can spit some water into her mouth first.“

Sukuna encourages, “Fuckin cry you stupid sexy lil brat!” He slides the knife across your throat, over your shoulder and down your side. He drags the knife in a swirl over your cheek, your healing keeping up with as fast as he can cut. The stinging like the cut is fleeting, reigniting when he smacks your cheek with the large knife.

Sukuna drops the knife to folds your legs by your sides. Stopping with his cock balls deep and the toy still vibrating inside you. He makes you take Suguru’s thick cock in your sore sensitive cunt quickly.

The combination of their cocks and the toy stretching the skin between both holes taunt. They aren't moving and you’re already on the verge of overtimulation. Suguru slides his soft hand up your stomach towards your breasts.

You look down at Suguru, you can't get over how hot they look in their mask. “I want all six of you to stage a break in and then use me wearing these mask for the festive Halloween season is over.”

Suguru croons, “You’re such a dirty slut for us. You want it even rougher and nastier don't you?” You’re squirming on Sukuna’s and Suguru’s fat cocks. Rubbing Sukuna’s cock piercing inside your ass.

Suguru strokes your clit with his thumb. You’re still so sensitive from squirting on Toji’s cock. Both holes quiver clenching Suguru and Sukuna large cocks.

Sukuna lets both of your legs go, grabbing the near by knife. Gliding it along the harsh chains leaving imprints on your soft breast. Dragging it up the supple curve, Sukuna presses the tip into your sensitive nipple making you squirm.

Satoru drinks some water, squishes both cheeks with one large hand then spits water into your open mouth. The second you swallow it and open your mouth for more Sukuna yanks your head back.

“Hurry and pour it in her mouth.” His rough thrusts are slowly picking up pace. He can't wait any longer, your soft wet ass is clenching his cock begging him to fuck you.

Sukuna’s cock is wonderfully punishing. Stretching and slamming into you with toe curling, body quivering strength. You love how Sukuna fucks you like a toy.

Satoru pours water into your mouth, some of it trickles down your chin and neck as you do your best chug. Whilst Sukuna drags the sharp blade along your soft nipple. You choke and before you can regain your breath Sukuna is shoving over Suguru and Satoru is stuffing his cock in your open mouth.

Spit drips down your chin as he roughly fucks your throat. Gagging you and crooning “Aw she’s crying how fuckin’ hot, look up at me.” You do your best to look up at Satoru’s white mask, his bright blue eyes not covered by black fabric.

You get glimpses of a feral, hungry and playful looking in his piercing blue eyes. You would beg for him to keep fucking you till his balls can't make anymore cum if it wasn't for his cock in your mouth.

It feels so good to have three handsome masked men roughly fucking you. You’re their cum and cock hungry slut. It’s the only thought going through you head.

The wooden frame of the bed groan in protest as they roughly fuck their hard, throbbing cocks into you. Suguru’s fondles your sore breasts, squeezing your side gently. Whilst mercilessly fucking up your sensitive squelching pussy.

You’re quickly losing the ability to think. Why should you anyway when all you need to be is their cock drunk whore.

Suguru brings up, “Let’s place bets on long she can last before the six of us are too much for her. After Choso we can pass her down the line until her slutty ass n’ cunt can’t handle anymore cock n’ cum.”

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imaginedisish · 2 months ago

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Heroes (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I think I used David Bowie's "Heroes" for another fic when I first started writing on this blog. Oh well. We're using it again bc it inspired this fic. This is a combo request fic: Co-teachers/Logan having a nightmare/smut. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan are assigned by Charles to co-teach a class to learn how to work as a team. You expect Logan to be cold, distant, short. What you don't expect is the way you find yourself needing him, and him needing you.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, soft!Logan, cocky!Logan (always), softdom!Logan vibes, implied age gap (Logan is obvi older), frenemies to lovers, feelings, some violence (Logan accidentally hurts the reader while having a nightmare), reader has regenerative powers, fluff, hurt to comfort (literally), reader has family trauma, afab!/f!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it!

Word Count: 5,267 kinda wanna do a part 2 this was cute

“I work better alone Charles. You know that.”

You and Logan Howlett never did see eye to eye.

“Yes, Logan. Which is why I’m giving you this challenge.”

He was always cold.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Always distant.

“Hence why it is an excellent idea, Logan.”

But you never thought he’d be this resistant to teaching a class with you.

“I’m fine with it,” you say, your eyes flitting between Logan and Charles. “It doesn’t faze me at all.”

Logan’s leather jacket crinkles and he puts his hands on his hips. He furrows his brows. “You’re fine with this?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t see why not.” Your eyes find Logan’s, but you can’t make out the expression on his face. Can’t tell if it’s dislike, pure hatred, or something else altogether.

“This can’t happen,” Logan insists, tearing his eyes away from yours and turning towards the Professor. His words sting and you’re not quite sure why—not sure why you should care about this at all.

“It is too late,” Charles’s voice booms. “I have already decided. You will co-teach a history class for...” Charles trails off, choosing his words carefully. “Younger students.”

You smile, but Logan rolls his eyes, his brows still furrowed. “How young?” You say in unison, although in starkly different tones. You whip your head to face Logan and find that his eyes are already on you.

“Ages six to seven,” Charles explains. “This will be a smaller class, given how rare it is for children of that age to show their abilities, and the course will be incredibly simple.” He rolls away from behind the desk and approaches you and Logan in the center of the room. “I have faith that the two of you can handle this.”

Logan exhales deeply but doesn’t say a word. “We can,” you answer, your stare breaking away from Logan and turning to the Professor instead. “I look forward to teaching the class,” you pause, “with Logan.”

Something in Logan’s glare softens. His frown slowly disappears, melting away. His jaw relaxes, and his shoulders go slack. “Fine.” He’s curt, but something about the resolve in his voice gives you an ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe this will go well.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is, in fact, not going well at all.

Agreeing on the curriculum was not a problem. Logan, having experienced most of U.S. History, believes in telling history as it happened. No rose-colored glasses. No murky half-truths or prettily wrapped white lies. No weird Christopher Columbus-themed arts and crafts. Having seen multiple wars and experiencing the power of government exploitation firsthand—not surprisingly—has made Logan progressive.

So, you had designed an age-appropriate, honest, curriculum. You were shocked at how well you and Logan worked together. You shared quiet hours in the library, passing scribblings and notes back and forth while pouring over books. You actually felt quite confident.

That is, until the very first class.

You and Logan had only just introduced yourselves—written your names on the board.

“We are going to have a fun, educational year,” you finish, smiling widely. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young girl in the center of the room raises her hand. You nod towards her, and she smiles sheepishly. “Are you two married?”

You’re taken back, your brows furrowing. “Oh, um—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off, his arms crossing tightly against his chest. His shortness hurts more than you’re willing to admit. “Absolutely not.”

The little girl’s eyes widen. “But then why do you look at her like that?”

“Excuse me?” Logan asks, his voice a little too harsh. “Like what, kid?”

“Logan,” you whisper, turning to face him. “She’s six. Let it go,” you chide. “Professor Logan and I are friends and co-teachers. That’s all.” You turn back to the little girl, who nods, but she doesn’t look convinced.

The rest of the class goes relatively well. It’s very introductory—teaching the children how mutant history and human history are intertwined. You and Logan are able to simplify things for the children so that they can understand. And, as the class goes on, Logan seems more comfortable with the children.

The period is almost over when a little boy raises his hand, and Logan calls on him. “My older brother told me people like us are scary,” he says shyly. His eyes are sad—too tired for a six-year-old. “He told me that we shouldn’t exist.”

Your stomach drops, tears burning behind your sinuses. You think back to your own family, back to the trauma of being disowned for something you couldn’t control. You’re too heartbroken to tackle the question. Logan’s eyes flicker between you and the little boy.

“Your brother is wrong,” Logan answers, crossing the room to stand next to you. He brings a hand to your lower back. It’s the ghost of a touch, but it’s a lifeline. “You’re special,” Logan says, and you know he’s talking to you, too. “You all are. Don’t listen to what they say. You’re more important than you’ll ever know. More extraordinary than they can understand.”

The bell rings, and the children stand, collecting their belongings. “See you all tomorrow,” Logan shouts over the shuffling and ruckus in the hallway. The children file out the door, jumping and cheering as if nothing happened.

“They’re so resilient,” you say, shaking your head and watching them leave. You look over to Logan—his face close to yours, his palm still pressed against your back.

“So are you,” he whispers, smiling softly, rubbing up and down your back. “You did great.”

“Yes, she did. And you did too, Logan,” Charles says, suddenly in the doorway to the classroom. “I forgot to drop off the roll call this morning,” Charles explains, holding out a sheet of paper. You cross the room to meet him, taking the sheet into your hands. “It has the list of names of the children in your class, as well as their abilities.” Charles backs into the hallway. “Excellent work, you two. You make a better team than you realize.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you say. Logan mumbles a soft Thanks, and heads towards the door once Charles is gone.

He scratches his head, almost nervously. “Got another class to teach,” he husks. “Meet up later to go over tomorrow’s lesson plan?”

You nod your head. “Sounds good.” Logan smiles and walks through the doorway and down the hall.

You look at the roll call, and your eyes widen. Your heart beats out of your chest. You find the name of the little girl who had asked if you and Logan were married.

Claire Teller—Precognition, Clairvoyance, shows signs of potential telekinesis.

The paper falls from your hands and drifts slowly to the floor. You look down, your lips parted in shock. Did she see you and Logan—

“You alright, sugar?” Rogue’s voice snaps you back to reality. You look up, and she’s standing in the door.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the week goes smoothly. You and Logan meet each night to discuss the lesson plan for the following day. The classes go well. Claire always seems a bit distracted, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, but she does just fine in class.

In fact, you’d say this was going better than well. You and Logan, despite his hesitation in the beginning, were growing closer every day.

It’s written in secret, stolen moments—hands accidentally brushing, glances across the room. But you can feel it, the way your lives are being sewn together. You find ways to spend time alone outside of class—ordering dinner and grading together, practicing in the Danger Room as partners and not opponents. You had become something of a team.

Tonight, you’re alone with Logan, sitting on the floor of his room, grading the small quiz you had given the children on the branches of government. Logan had picked the background music—60s and 70s rock.

You hum along to Evil Woman by Electric Light Orchestra as you write “100%” at the top of a student’s quiz.

“Pretty voice,” Logan rasps, looking up from his last quiz. Before you can react, before you can even process what he says, he’s moving on. “You almost done?”

“Just finished.” You write another “100%” and look up at Logan. He’s on his side, resting his head in his hand, balancing on his elbow. He smirks and stands up, striding over to you. He reaches his hand out, and you tilt your head, confused. You take his hand all the same, and he pulls you up.

Logan’s hands find your waist, and he sways you from side to side. You giggle, shakily bringing your arms up and around his neck. Your heart thunders in your chest as you dance with him.

“Didn’t take you for a dancer,” you murmur. Evil Woman fades out and Heroes by David Bowie starts up.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Logan husks. He pulls you in tighter, his chest pressed to yours.

“Yeah?” You ask, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. Your eyes flutter closed. “Like what?”

He’s suddenly silent, and you can feel the tension thicken in the room. “When Charles came to us about the class…” He trails off, searching for the right words to say. “I was nervous,” he admits.

You lift your head from his neck. “Why?” You question, smiling softly.

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “Because I—” But then there’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Charles on the other side. Logan huffs, his eyes closing defeatedly as he loosens his hold on your waist and walks over to the door.

“There has been an emergency,” Charles says the second the door is open. “I need you to go on a mission immediately. This is a dire situation.”

Logan looks across the room to you. “Okay,” he says, his eyes still trained on yours.

Charles nods and heads down the hallway. “Meet me downstairs. Hank is readying the jet now.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you confess, fighting the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. You can’t quite place where the feeling is coming from—why you’re suddenly so nervous about Logan leaving. A month ago, this sort of thing would’ve felt routine, normal. There’s always a crisis somewhere.

Logan swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’ll come back,” he promises. “And we can talk then.” He strides over to you, wrapping you in his arms, and pulling you into his chest. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

“Logan?” Charles calls from downstairs. “We need to leave at once!”

Logan squeezes you tightly before letting go. He works his jaw, his teeth gritting as he backs out of the room and down the hallway. Your heart drops as you listen to his footsteps echoing against the stairs. By the time you muster up the courage to follow him, it’s too late. The door to the mansion slams just as you make it to the bottom of the steps.

You can still hear Heroes faintly playing from Logan’s room.

And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads) And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall) And the shame, was on the other side Oh we can beat them, forever and ever Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

You sit on the bottom step, your head falling into your hands.

“Oh, sugar,” Rogue whispers as she walks into the foyer. She settles next to you. “I didn’t know you and Logan…” She trails off, shaking her head. “He’ll come back. He always does.” She hangs her arm around your shoulder, tugging you into her chest.

You hope she’s right.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Logan is still gone. You’re forced to teach the class alone. As you’re starting roll call, a young boy raises his hand.

“Yes, Jimmy?” You call, arching your brows.

“Where’s Professor Logan?” He asks curiously, tilting his head to the side.

You swallow harshly, inhaling deeply. “He has something to take care of,” you explain. “It’ll just be me teaching today. Is that alright with you?” You try to sound light, jovial, plastering a fake smile across your face. The kids buy it, giggling and nodding. Jimmy smiles widely and nods, too.

But Claire—the little girl who can seemingly see into the future, stares at you sympathetically. It sends a chill down your spine. It’s like she knows how you’re feeling—can see it in her mind’s eye. You shake the feeling off, proceeding with the lesson. The material is distracting enough—the U.S. voting system, carefully explained so that the children can understand.

The rest of the class goes off without a hitch, and the bell finally rings. The session felt longer than usual without Logan, and certainly harder to get through, but not impossible. The class picks up their belongings and files out. You grab your papers, readying to leave, assuming that everyone is gone.

“He’s going to come back,” a small, familiar voice whispers. You look up from your materials, and there’s Claire, standing in front of the desk. Her deep, brown eyes twitch back and forth. She closes them tightly and smiles. “You don’t have to worry,” she assures. “He’s safe. He’ll always come back to you.” She pauses. “All I see is happiness.” The veins in her temples grow thicker, and you can tell she’s working too hard to look to the future.

“Claire,” you say, your hand grabbing her shoulder. “Don’t hurt yourself, my love. You don’t have to do that for me. I’m okay.”

Her eyes fly open, and she smiles widely, as if nothing happened. She steps away from the desk, your hand falling from her shoulder. “Didn’t hurt at all!” She calls as she skips out the door. “See you Monday!”

You shake your head.��Resilient, you think to yourself. So goddamn resilient.

The rest of the evening is slow. You try to keep yourself busy—grading papers, listening to music, going for a run, training in the Danger Room. But all you can think about is Logan.

After dinner, you get ready for bed, changing into a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. You sit alone in your room, on your bed, reminding yourself of what Claire had told you this afternoon.

He’s going to come back. You don’t have to worry. He’s safe.

You lay back on your pillows, bringing the covers up to your chin and closing your eyes. You repeat her words over and over again in your head as you fall asleep. He’s safe. He’s safe. He’s safe.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake up a few hours later, your bedside lamp still on. Your alarm clock reads 1:45 AM. You groan, rolling over and shutting your eyes tightly, trying to force yourself back to sleep. But it’s no use—you’re awake, thinking of Logan already.

You push yourself to sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, and pressing your feet into the cold wood floors below. You walk to your door, twist the knob, and head out into the hallway. A lap around the mansion might make you tired—might relax you.

You walk down the hallway slowly, noticing instantly that Logan’s door is closed. You can’t help but pick up your pace, striding towards Logan’s room.

You stand in front of his door, your hand on the knob, ready to twist and push. You stop yourself, wondering if this is crossing a line, tearing down a carefully constructed boundary. But all you want is to see him breathing, lying on his bed. You need to know he’s in there—safe.

You knock once, but there’s no answer. You swallow nervously, twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

Your heart stops. There he is. He’s home. He’s safe. He’s breathing. You let out a sigh of relief, smiling softly as you start to close the door.

But then his head snaps to the side, and he grunts. “Logan?” You call, opening the door slightly. He doesn’t answer. He grunts again. You quickly notice the way his fists white-knuckle his sheets.

You step inside his room, closing the door behind you. “Lo,” you whisper into the darkness. He tosses and turns, his head whipping from side to side. He must be having a nightmare, You think to yourself, your heart breaking in two, watching pain wrack his body, his mind.

You meet his side, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him softly. “Logan,” you say, your voice louder, stronger this time. “You need to wake up.” But he doesn’t. He groans, his brows furrowed, sweat beading his forehead.

“Come on,” you plead, climbing into the bed, and straddling him. You hold him down by his shoulders, stopping him from writhing. Now that you’re closer, you can see the tears streaming down his cheeks, can see the agony etched into the lines of his face. “Logan!” You yell. “You gotta wake—”

His eyes fly open, and you feel cold metal pierce your leg. Your jaw drops as pain stings sharply in your thigh. “Oh fuck,” Logan curses, sitting up and retracting his claws. Tears brim in the corners of your eyes as the pain worsens. “Shit!” He cries out, grabbing at your thigh, blood spilling into his fingers.

You close your eyes as your powers take hold. Your skin slowly stitches up, putting yourself together again. You groan, and Logan wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into the side of your head, pressing soft, gentle kisses there. “I love you, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

What did he just say?

“W-what?” You ask, the pain fading away as those three words echo in your mind.

Logan’s breathing only quickens as he realizes what he said. “A-are you okay?” He asks, ignoring your question.

You nod. “It’s already gone,” you whisper, nodding to your thigh. “But what did you just—”

“I love you,” he interrupts, saying it again. You pull back a bit to look at him. You can see the seriousness in his eyes, the adoration, the honesty. “I love you.”

You bite your lip, your eyes widening as you process what this means. Logan loves you. It’s everything you ever wanted. Everything you could have asked for. It just makes sense.

“I love you too,” you confess, choking on your words. “I was so worried. I didn’t know when you’d come back, or if you’d come back at all. I saw your door closed, and I just had to see you. I needed to know that you were okay, that you came home.”

He presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closing. “Before I left,” he pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I was going to tell you why I didn’t want to work together.” His eyes open again. “I was scared to get close to you,” he explains. “I knew I wanted you the second I saw you. Knew I had to have you. I’ve never felt that way before. You opened something inside me that I thought I didn’t have. Turns out it was just locked, waiting around for you.”

“Logan,” you breathe, his lips just inches from yours. “I wanted you too. Wanted you this whole time.” You need him to kiss you—to take you right here and now. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you admit, giggling softly.

He shakes his head, smirking. “I liked you too much,” he rasps. “Didn’t know what to do about it. You were driving me crazy, sweetheart.” You can feel his erection straining in his boxers, and you can’t help but grind down on him, your core rocking against his cock. “Fuck,” he groans, gripping your hips. “Slow down, pretty girl. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod emphatically. “Already healed,” you assure him. “Just need you, Lo.”

“Need you too, sweetheart,” Logan groans, rolling your hips against his, tugging you down his length. “Can feel you soaking through those panties already,” he grunts. And he’s right. The heat pooling between your legs is uncontrollable.

You groan as your clit drags across his erection. “F-fuck,” you stutter, his fingers digging into your hips. You bring your hands to the waistband of his boxers, tugging at them. But before you can get anywhere, Logan is flipping you onto your back and crawling down your body.

“Next time, sweetheart,” he coos, hiking your shirt up and smirking when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He palms your breasts, tweaking your nipples before sliding down further. “Wanna take care of you this first time.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his words. You can see the hunger in his eyes as he kisses down your stomach, going past the hem of your panties, stopping at your clit. He takes a deep breath. “Can smell that pretty pussy. Know she needs me, darlin’.”

He hooks his fingers into your waistband, and tugs the thin lace down your legs, revealing your aching cunt to him. He settles between your thighs, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

“L-Lo,” you choke. “Please.”

He smiles against you, breathing you in again. “Please what, princess?” He asks, looking up at you under hooded eyes. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you beg. “Need you. Always gonna need you.”

His smile meets his eyes as he licks a long stripe through your folds, his tongue pushing through your entrance, tasting you, savoring you. He hums against you, the vibration of his voice rocking your core. “Tastes so good,” he mumbles, licking another long stripe. “Perfect pussy. Knew you’d be this sweet.”

You watch as he laps at you, drinking you in. Logan’s tongue finds your clit, drawing tight circles into the bud. “F-feels so good,” you stutter.

“I know, beautiful” He soothes, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh, drawing closer to your heat. “You look so pretty when you let me eat you out,” he praises, his fingers prodding your entrance. “You want more?” He teases, slipping just past your slit and quickly pulling out.

“Yes,” you whimper, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Need your fingers, Lo. Please.”

He wastes no time—suddenly thrusting inside you, his long, thick fingers splitting you in two. Your walls flutter around him, sucking him in, taking him deeper. “So tight,” he coos, pulling out and sliding back in. “So fucking wet.”

Logan wraps his lips around your clit, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks, hard. He releases, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your walls clench around his fingers at the sensation. “Fuck,” Logan curses, smirking against you. “You like that?” He teases. “Like when I’m rough with you?” His tongue flits out, lapping flat strokes across your clit.

You moan a soft Yes in affirmation, your back arching off the mattress. You’re already close, ready to let go. But Logan isn’t letting up, his fingers slamming into you, taking your clit back into his mouth and sucking harder, rougher this time. He swirls soothing circles into the bud, pushing you to the edge.

“Logan,” you whine, your hips squirming as he drags his tongue harder against your heat. “I’m so close.”

Your muscles contract and release around his fingers as he hits that sweet spot inside you, pump after pump. “I know, pretty girl,” He soothes, his free hand wrapping around your hip and holding you down to the mattress. “Look at you,” he praises between harsh sucks. “So beautiful like this.” His tongue circles your overstimulated clit. “Already fucked out, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you mutter, your hips squirming helplessly against his grip. It’s all too much, his hushed whispers, his praises, the way his tongue flits against you, his deep thrusts dragging along your walls. “Logan, I’m gonna…”

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coaches, his tongue still lapping at you ravenously. He’s starving, unwilling to stop. He needs more. “Should keep you in my bed so I can taste you whenever I want.” He grunts against you. “Want you to come on my fingers, darlin’. Wanna taste it. Let go.”

It’s all blazing, white-hot heat, raging through your body, searing your skin. Your eyes stay trained on Logan as he works you through your orgasm—ravaging you, lapping up every last drop of your release. His fingers pump in and out, slowly, before he pulls out completely. But his face stays buried against your cunt, his tongue pushing through your folds.

“Logan,” you whine, lacing your fingers through his hair. “Need you up here.”

He looks up from your heat and licks one more long stripe before climbing up your body. He tugs his boxers down his legs, his eyes not leaving yours. His cock springs free, bumping against his stomach.

Logan settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand wraps around the base of his cock. You instinctually spread your legs, as if it’s second nature, as if you’ve been here before. “Such a good girl,” Logan praises, sliding his tip through your folds. “All spread open for me.” His cock nudges against your clit and slides back down. “You need me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you choke. “More than you can—”

And then he’s plunging inside you, bottoming out with just one thrust. “Fuck!” You cry out. He stays inside, unmoving, letting you adjust to the size of him.

He presses his forehead to yours. “You okay?” He asks. His cock throbs, pushing against your walls, searching for more. His hand slips between your bodies and finds your clit.

“Y-yes,” You stutter, sighing in relief as his fingertips draw gentle strokes into the bud. “S-so big.”

“I know,” Logan soothes, sliding out only to shove himself back in, down to the hit. Your back arches off the mattress, your chest coming flush with his. “Gonna work you open.” His voice is gentle, calm. “I’ve got you. Relax for me, sweetheart.”

Logan pulls out and thrusts in again, his lips swallowing your moans with a kiss. His fingers swirl around your clit as pleasure pulses through your every nerve ending. “Feels so good,” you murmur as he picks up his pace, his hips rolling against yours.

He grunts. “So perfect,” he praises. “Fucking made for me.” He pumps in and out of you harder, faster now, letting himself go. He pinches your clit, rolling the bud under his fingertips. “Never gonna want anyone but you, you know that?” He twitches inside you, and your walls flutter around him.

You curse under your breath. “Yes,” you cry out. “Only gonna want you, Lo. Only you.”

“Doing so good for me,” he husks between hard thrusts. “Taking me so well.” His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit rapidly, adding more pressure. His lips find yours again, biting, kissing you bruisingly, fitting against you like a puzzle piece.

Your chests heave together, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing against the walls of the room. “You’re so perfect,” he whispers, his lips suddenly at the shell of your ear. He bites down on your pulse point, his tongue flitting out to lick the pain away. “So fucking beautiful.”

Your walls contract around him, squeezing him as he sinks deeper inside you, hitting exactly where you need him most. You’re so close, ready to come undone. “Fuck, Logan,” you whine as he pounds into you. “I’m gonna—”

“Me too, pretty girl,” he rasps, twitching inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he plunges deeper. He lifts his head from the crook of your neck and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Don’t wanna stop. Don’t wanna…” He trails off, his cock throbbing inside you again. You know he can’t hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist. “Don’t stop,” you beg. “Stay inside.”

He groans, his forehead pressing to yours. “You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? That what you’re asking for?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, his fingers pinching your clit and stroking relentlessly. “Please,” you choke, begging, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Wanna make you mine.”

“Already yours,” you whisper, your muscles contracting around his length again, your legs trembling as stars flood your vision. Logan moans your name, and you can feel him spilling inside you. You come together, your orgasm crashing into you, more intense, more powerful than the last.

“Love you so much,” he whispers as he finishes, painting your walls.

“Love you too, Lo,” you say back, your heart beating out of your chest as you come down from your high.

His fingers drag against your clit, swiping gently before running up your body, slipping under your back, and pulling you into his chest. His hips are still, his cock unmoving inside you. He finally pulls out, and rolls off you, taking you with him. He tugs you into his chest, holding you tightly.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. “Need anything?”

“J-just you,” you stammer. His fingertips trace patterns along your back, soothing and gentle.

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and moving to sit up. But you stop him, wrapping your arms around his torso and holding him down. He smirks, letting you pull him back. “I’m just gonna grab a towel, yeah? Wanna take care of you. I’ll come right back.”

You nod, letting him go. He slips out of the bed, strides over to his bathroom, and grabs a towel from inside without turning a light on. Within ten seconds he’s back in bed, just like he said he would be.

Logan brings the towel between your legs and wipes you clean. His touch is gentle, soothing, careful not to be too rough. Once he’s done, he throws the towel to the floor and reaches over to his nightstand. When he turns back to you, he has a glass of water in his hand. He extends the glass out, bringing it to your lips. The water feels cool as it slides down your throat. You drain the glass, and Logan smiles as he pulls it from your lips.

He places the cup back down on the nightstand and pulls you into his arms again. You bury your head into the center of his chest, listening carefully to his heartbeat. It’s even, steady, constant. Just like him.

“Never felt like this before,” he whispers into the silent darkness of the room.

“Like what?” You mumble, your voice muffled against his chest.

You can hear the smile in his voice as the words leave his lips. “Happy. Safe.”

Tears—happy tears—free themselves from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks.

“Can’t let go of you,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t wanna go back to before.”

“You don’t have to, Lo,” you pant. “I’m yours. Always.” And you know you mean it. You know it’s true. It’s already been decided, already played out. Already etched into the future.

Are you two married? Claire had asked.

He’ll always come back to you. All I see is happiness, She had promised.

And she was right.

“I love you,” Logan husks.

“I love you, too.”

tags: @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @Ifdybadgirlsdiw @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

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✎ LOVE ENTRIES — an anthology | gojo satoru

a series of episodes of your life with the strongest sorcerer throughout the past and present

genre: canon compliant (2006-2018), mostly fluff, suggestive content, hurt/comfort

more: moodboard | extra scenarios 💌 | reader’s CT | ko-fi

p.s. got an idea for the next entry? drop it in my askbox!

☆⌒.*･ entry year : 2006—2009

entry # attraction ➴ to think it started with your crush on his best friend...

entry # rivals... in love? ➴ gojo is in shambles—so suguru might have a crush on you too?

entry # say no! ೀ valentine's special ➴ valentine's is around the corner and word has it that you're going on a date with geto...? no way! gojo is going to make sure that you're saying no! ever wonder how gojo finally gets you to become his? be prepared for a confession of a lifetime!

entry # stupid liar ➴ no way. impossible. you couldn't possibly be jealous of gravure idol gojo likes so much now... or could you?

entry # unconcealable ➴ your boyfriend may not show it, but the six eyes are his burden to bear. you know it firsthand when he falls into your arms for the first time

entry # love wins all (soon!) ➴ haibara's death. geto's defection. nanami's leaving. when everything goes wrong in your third year, the last thing you would expect is your boyfriend breaking up with you. but to gojo, this is a moment of truth—and through this, you'll realize why he chooses to stay with you for good

⭑ — ☁️ side stories

rivals... in love? — extended cut!

hot, hot summer!

☆⌒.*･ entry year : 2010—2017

entry # finally mine 18+ (soon!) ➴ gojo says he’ll make you droll when you have your first time together. you are determined to seduce him to turn the tables!

entry # stay with me (soon!) ➴ comes the biggest conflict in your relationship when you realize that you might be pregnant. this event, for better or worse, will change the trajectory of your relationship forever

entry # wife her up (soon!) ➴ it's a canon event that animals and babies aren't particularly fond of the strongest sorcerer… but you, you’re always going to be his no matter what

entry # insatiable 18+ ➴ your boyfriend is hot and wild, and he has one problem: he always finds you too pretty to resist

entry # forever ➴ the three times he asked you to marry him

entry # newlyweds 18+ ➴ you and your new husband make out in the most inappropriate place possible

entry # kyoto: the onsen incident 18+ ➴ it's your first trip as a married couple and you should be excited—until a shameless woman makes a move on your husband!

entry # to my beloved ➴ bad days don't mean the end of the world, and your husband is making sure you know that

entry # my wife, all mine ೀ valentine's special ➴ years pass, but one thing that's constant is how annoyingly your husband is in love with you. with the new school year comes a fresh batch of first years, and gojo is determined to make you look at his way—he's way better than those youngsters, and he's going to show you just that!

entry # wedding anniversary 18+ ➴ seven years of dating, two years of wedded bliss, and gojo is having his greatest existential crisis yet... all because this year, you apparently have forgotten the most important day of your lives

entry # daddy-to-be ➴ in which you're worried about how he'd react to you carrying his baby

entry # sweet felicity ➴ what do you get the man who already has everything for his birthday?

entry # protect ➴ the word “protect” now means so much more to him

⭑ — ☁️ side stories

05.56 P.M — how gojo gets arrested by the police

07.55 A.M — gojo cheated on you last night

12.34 A.M — blindfold play 18+

12.55 P.M — first ultrasound

04.18 A.M — six weeks pregnant with gojo’s baby

08.45 P.M — cockwarming 18+

11.07 P.M — what if you get a divorce?

03.12 A.M — ungodly hour cravings

07.30 P.M — gojo vs your pregnancy hormones

before the dawn — finding out about geto's ultimate betrayal hits you hard

08.25 P.M — at the end of this pregnancy journey, you fall in love with your husband once again

baby pics — photo album of baby satoru

⭑ — extras 💌 pregnancy diaries ❀

☆⌒.*･ entry year : 2018—present

special entry # through megumi’s eyes (soon!) ➴ megumi’s life ends and starts when the strongest sorcerer takes him in. see your love story through his eyes, his hidden feelings, and extended scenes of several love entries!

entry # baby ➴ a domestic life with your husband and baby

entry # heaven's fury ➴ sometimes you forget that your husband has burdens as the strongest sorcerer alive. when he goes back home from a bad day and you're the first person he comes contact to, you're made aware of it once again

entry # wife ➴ in which the new batch of first years are unaware that their eccentric teacher’s wife is the pretty woman roaming the school grounds

entry # sick days ➴ who holds the fort when you fall sick? of course, it's your lovesick husband and baby!

entry # mission: baby steps! ➴ the three times gojo tried to make his baby love him (and how he miserably fails)

entry # the babysitters club ➴ in which yuji, megumi and nobara are tasked with the most important mission ever by their teacher—watching over his baby son!

entry # throughout heaven and earth ➴ a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

entry # baby to the rescue ➴ in which gojo recruits your baby son to “save” you from a credit card salesman

entry # beach day 18+ ➴ in which the three of you (you, your husband and baby) spend the weekend on the beach!

entry # treasure ➴ the strongest sorcerer meets his match in his petulant son, who inherits his six eyes and is having trouble with them

entry # curiosity 18+ ➴ when gojo is found out by his own son during your nighttime activities

entry # all of me ➴ you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

⭑ — ☁️ side stories

09.45 P.M — how scared he is to lose you

11.10 P.M — meeting the newborn for the first time

06.27 A.M — gojo with his baby in the morning

06.20 P.M — baby doesn’t let gojo kiss you

11.52 A.M — gojo will show baby who is here first

10.00 A.M — gojo trying to get his baby say his first word

02.33 P.M — baby going to the aquarium for the first time

07.02 A.M — morning with you and his toddler son

08.12 A.M — why your son isn’t in your wedding

#chu's masterlist #𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #cutest header by: @/gojosattoru <3

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cxrrodedcoffin · 1 month ago

Text

✟ 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 ✟

Kinktober fic 2: Charlie Mayhew ✟ Blasphemy + Church Sex

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!charlie, priest!charlie (duh), aspiring nun!reader, tattooed!reader, religious themes (obvi), catholicism, extremely blasphemous activities, mentions of mental health facilities and sobriety, mild religious trauma mention, baptism, submersion in holy water, semi-public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, sex in water + in a church, fem + afab reader, breath play, hickeys, nipple play, cream pie, mentions of scars, use of “father” as an honorific in both a professional context and sexual context.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

When you first visited the church to inquire about taking your vows as a nun, you weren’t sure what to expect. It had been so long since the last time you’d set foot in a church, but the moment you crossed that holy threshold a childhood full of memories came rushing back to you.

The church was not a place you ever thought you’d consider your home again once you reached adolescence, but now, after a decade of poor decisions and enough casual sex to put an end to global inceldom if you so wished, you found yourself back in a house of worship for the first time since childhood.

A six month-long stint in an in-patient psychiatric treatment center had been the catalyst, your first extended period of time being both sober and celibate since your teen years forcing you to face some hard truths about the way you’d been living your life.

You decided to see if there was any ounce of the faith you blindly held as a child still left somewhere deep in your subconscious, seeking out the nearest convent you could only a few weeks after your discharge from the facility.

Each step you took down the arched corridor to the church administrator’s office brought back flashes of the past, both bitter and sweet, the kaleidoscope of colors fanning in from the stained glass windows drawing a familiar sense of melancholy you had half-expected to reappear.

One thing you certainly were not expecting out of this visit was to meet one Father Charlie Mayhew. The curve of his jaw was the first thing you caught a glimpse of as he stepped out of the administrator’s office, the striking momentary glimpse of his side profile nearly knocking the wind out of you.

You squeaked out a faint “Sorry!” as you took a step back, your eyes locking with his. His cheeks creased in a charming smile, the black fabric of his clerical shirt pulling taut over his muscular forearm as he held the office door open for you. Your mind finally registered the flash of his white tab collar at his neck, prompting you to straighten up as a sign of respect.

“Thank you, Father-”

“Mayhew.” He finished, giving you a gentle nod as you returned the smile and slipped past him through the door frame. It was a small encounter, mere seconds of interaction, and yet you couldn’t shake the image of his smile from your mind for the rest of the day.

That was six months ago, and in the time since, every interaction you’d had with him had only worsened your attraction to him. He was equal parts charismatic and enigmatic, sharing fascinating details of his hobbies and interests and how they brought him closer to God, yet remaining at an arm’s length, keeping parts of himself closed off from you as well as the rest of the clergy.

Today was the day you were to begin your official commitment to your religious journey, ready to begin the years-long journey to take your vows. There was one final requirement you had to complete, needing to amend the oversight your parents had made in never getting around to having you baptized as a child.

You’d spent the majority of the day working on your studies, doing everything you could to distract yourself from the nerves growing in your tummy over your baptism ceremony. You weren’t nervous about the ceremony itself, it was a private ritual to be held before only God, you, and the priest performing it at an hour late enough that most of the convent would be fast asleep. The only problem was that the priest performing your baptism was none other than the man you’d become desperate for, Father Mayhew.

You had completed your post-dinner stroll around the campus, the sun set well below the horizon as the moon rose high in the sky. It was almost time, and when you returned to your dormitory, you stripped from your robes and hopped into a cold shower the moment the door shut behind you. Cleanliness was next to Godliness afterall, and the heat in your cheeks caused by your wandering mind needed to be quelled before facing the man at the center of your wildest fantasies.

When you had finally calmed yourself to a manageable level you stepped out of the shower, quickly wicking the water droplets off of your skin before pulling the flowy cotton nightgown over your bare body. You didn’t bother with undergarments, knowing they’d be just another layer of soaking wet fabric you’d have to peel from your shivering body in likely less than an hour.

You made your way down the hallway of the dormitory, your simple black ballet flats clicking gently against the sleek tile floor. After what felt like forever, you finally arrived at the connecting door of the chappel, pausing momentarily to gather your nerves one last time. The large wooden door creaked as you slowly pushed it open, moonlight shining through the tall stained glass portraits lining the walls of the hall. The flicker of candlelight pulled your eye to the baptismal font, flames dancing in the reflection of the pool.

Charlie stood tall, his hands folded behind his back as you slowly closed the space between you, stopping when there remained only a foot of space.

“Good evening, Father.” You greeted, barely above a whisper. He returned the greeting and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on your damp hair. You realized it was the first time he’d seen it completely uncovered since that first day you met six months ago, and you had to fight the urge to attempt to cover yourself. You were supposed to be in as natural of a state as possible in order to properly cover yourself in God’s protection, that was why you agreed to a full immersion baptism in the first place. There was no need to hide yourself from him tonight.

“Let’s begin.” He extended his hand to you, giving a reassuring smile as he guided you to the edge of the basin, taking each step into the lukewarm water. When you reached the center of the small pool, you observed the way the water level barely reached his knee but was fully up to your upper thigh, making your height difference glaringly obvious. You shivered, not only from the slight temperature of the holy water around you, but also the intimidation that his stature brought as he looked down at you.

“Cross your arms over your chest, please.” He instructed, taking a step closer to you so his torso was mere millimeters from being flush with yours, his right arm wrapping around your waist to cradle your lower back just above your tailbone.

“I’m going to do a short reading, then guide you to fall back into the water. You’ll only be under for a second, and I’ll pull you back out.” His voice was low, dulcet tones pairing beautifully with the atmosphere the dim lighting of the room created and you felt that familiar sin rising between your thighs, unable to remove your gaze from his immaculately sculpted facial features. You nodded in understanding, holding your arms across your heaving chest, hoping they disguised the evidence of your rapid heart rate and increasingly labored breaths.

“The Lord will cleanse the baptized from their impurities and idols, and give them a new heart and spirit. Through faith in Christ's death, God makes the baptized one with himself. May our sister lead a life worthy of her vocation, and preserve the unity of the Spirit.” He chanted, executing the sign of the cross before his free hand wrapped behind your shoulder to cradle you, exchanging a slight nod before you shut your eyes and allowed your body to fall back, holy water engulfing every inch of you for only a moment.

His strong arms lifted you out back out of the water, helping you find your footing on shaky knees, all the while your eyes remained shut. You hadn’t anticipated how sheer your shroud would become once it had taken on water, the lightweight linen clinging to every curve and contour of your body. Your whole frame shivered, painfully aware of the fact that your nipples were glaringly pert against the soaked fabric.

“You can open your eyes.” His hands remained around your waist, squeezing slightly with the lighthearted words as he waited for your response to finally being cleansed and fully protected.

Charlie couldn’t deny that his natural desires were running rampant at the sight of you, all wet and shivering on trembling legs like a fawn who’d slipped through the ice of a frozen lake, barely making it back to shore. Your nightgown was exceedingly translucent as it clung to your most intimate parts, the dark outline of your tattoos being what shocked him the most despite the allure of your breasts.

He hadn’t anticipated a girl with a face as angelic as yours could possibly be hiding markings such as these beneath the long sleeves he’d only ever seen you in. But then again, he doubted you’d ever anticipate the deep scars that adorned his back either. You weren’t the girl who had chosen to get those tattoos anymore, but he wondered if the girl you were now still had such a strong penchant for pain.

When you finally opened your eyes, ready to face the embarrassment of your exposed chest, you were surprised to find Father Mathew’s gaze not fixated on your breast, but rather your arms. You were so used to your tattoos, they barely even registered in your mind when you saw your reflection in the mirror each morning, so you had completely overlooked the fact that no one in the parish knew about them.

“I-I was a very different person when I got them.” You stumbled over your words, feeling a strong sense of insecurity about the way you’d dishonored your body in the eyes of the church.

“I find them to be an exquisite decoration of the temple that is your body, you know I don’t believe in the enforcement of many of the strict rules of the old church. You don’t have to justify yourself to me.” His right hand left your hip, finding your arm and lifting it to his mouth, plush lips placing firm kisses over the prominent vein at the base of your wrist before making his way further up, following the trail of your tattoos.

You mewled like a frightened kitten, so incredibly touch starved after a year of celibacy that you thought you might cum just from the heat of his mouth against your sensitive skin. As he pushed the sopping wet fabric of the bell sleeve further up your arm, your eyes fluttered shut, knees going weak again. You couldn’t believe he was touching you this way, even just chaste kisses along your limbs forcing the heat in your core to reach a boiling point. You couldn’t do this.

“Father, stop.” You tried to be as stern as possible but it came out as nothing more than a halfhearted sigh of defeat, your eyes pulled into a desperate plead. You wanted more, needed him so deep inside you that he might fill the God-shaped hole in your heart, but you were preparing to take a vow. That was the whole point of this, the very reason you were here with him in the first place.

“Now that you’ve been baptized, you are cleansed of your past sins and will be forgiven for those you commit going forward. We are and always will be sinners.” The look in his eyes was nothing but carnal, all reservations you held melting away with his insight.

“Fuck it.” You replied, a bit of the old you peeking through for a split second. Hearing that filthy word leave your cherubic lips set something off in him, causing him to drop your wrist and use his strong grip to pull you by your waist until you were completely flush with him, his mouth quickly finding yours in a kiss so forceful you wondered if your lip would bruise.

His hands were everywhere, squeezing and groping at your tender flesh through the fabric, almost fighting with the garment as it clung to your skin. You quickly grabbed for the hem still floating against your thighs in the water, peeling it as high up as you could before being forced to break away from him to pull it over your head. The sheer weight of the soaked gown was almost too much for you to lift, your arms shaking as you attempted to move it over your head.

Charlie took the bunched fabric from you, lifting it the rest of the way so you were finally free, completely nude in front of his still fully dressed state. You felt more vulnerable than ever before, so exposed in such a holy place, all the while he still held all of his modesty beneath his sleek black clerical shirt and slacks, barely saturated by the low water level.

“Good lord, you’re straight out of a renaissance painting.” He eyed you up and down, admiring every detail of your trembling body before his eyes settled on your breasts. His mouth began to water, the need to have his mouth on you again overwhelming his every thought. He closed the space between you once more, pushing you until your back hit the side of the pool.

“Up.” He mumbled against your neck, slender fingers gripping into the flesh of your hips as you jumped, his firm hold guiding your ass up onto the ledge, your feet dangling in the water. He pushed your thighs apart and pulled you to the very edge, just teetering on the slick tile. He took a step back, ripping the tab collar from his neck and starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. You instinctively began to close your legs, his eyes boring into you like a beam of sunlight.

“Keep them open.” His tone was more stern, hand reaching out to push your knee to its previous position.

“You hold heaven’s gate between your thighs, angel. Give me a chance to take it all in.” His voice was like smoked honey, smooth and intoxicating simultaneously, his nimble fingers expertly undoing the last of the buttons on his shirt before peeling it off of his toned arms. He made quick work of undoing his slacks, pushing them along with his underwear down his thighs, his hard cock slapping against his lower stomach before bobbing teasingly between his muscular thigh.

You had to fight your jaw from dropping at the sight, his cock just as mesmerizing as the rest of him, all flushed pink and dripping, his shaft taking a slight curve to the right, prominent vein running down the entire length of the left side, and the blushed tip glistening with precum. He nearly laughed at the look on your face, pushing the sound down in his throat to prevent any misinterpretation of his amusement.

He was enamored by you, this anomaly of a woman, equal parts innocent and sinful, all wrapped up in a package he couldn’t resist any longer. He sank to his knees, creating a wave in the water around him as he crawled those last few steps to you, still barely submerged up to his waist.

He placed an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, sucking hungrily on the plush skin in a trail leading straight to your pussy, blushed purple and red bruises blooming in his wake.

When he reached your cunt, he took a deep breath and exhaled a slow stream of air over your labia, observing the way your breath hitched and your stomach muscles tightened, reactive like a born again virgin.

He gave no warning, practically diving into your folds, tongue lapping hungrily at the nectar dripping from your entrance, like Samson drinking from the rock basin after nearly dying of thirst.

His large hands held your thighs apart with a determination you’d never felt, the pads of his manicured fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. Your hands moved to his perfectly quaffed hair, undoing the gelled style with the run of your dainty fingers through it, finding the tresses at the nape of his neck and pushing his face closer still to your cunt.

He was relentless, alternating in broad strokes and pointed flicks against your clit until your thighs shook, teetering dangerously close to both the edge of the pool and your first outsourced orgasm in over a year.

He replaced his right hand with his shoulder against your thigh to keep you spread wide open, his index and middle fingers broaching your entrance only to be quickly wrapped in your tight warmth, your neglected walls clinging to any stimulation they could get. One, two, three curls of his fingers against the velvety soft patch inside of you had you riding his face without inhibition, your cries of pleasure dulled only by your own hand clamped over your open mouth.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had cum that quickly, his actions drawing an unceremoniously fast reaction from you and you almost felt betrayed by your own body, unable to control your own sober actions for the first time in God knows how long.

“Need to feel your perfect cunt around my cock.” He panted through labored breaths as he finally pulled away from your overly sensitive clit, the bottom half of his face glistening just the same as your cunt.

He rose to his feet, taking you by the hips again and helping you back into the water, a chill running up your spine at the change in temperature. Your feet had barely touched the tile at the bottom before he was hauling you to the steps, gently pushing down on your shoulder to sit on the middle step.

“I want to see your angelic face while I ruin you.” He took your ankles in his grip, forcing your legs up to your chest as he knelt on the step below yours, aligning the head of his shaft with your weeping entrance. He brought his right hand up to the side of your face, thumb brushing along your jawline before dipping lower, his fingers wrapping firmly around your throat as he entered you fully with a single thrust. You gasped, the corners of your mouth pulling into a devilish smile at the sudden show of control, reveling in the feeling of his thick cock stretching your tight walls.

The holy water around you splashed with every rock of your connected hips, surrounding the place you were intertwined most intimately. Charlie dipped his head down to your chest, taking advantage of the way your back arched away from the edge of the step to take your pert nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first until it devolved into hungry grazes of teeth and flicks of his expertly trained tongue. His grip on your throat tightened, his forearm pressing down on your other breast as he braced himself against the tile with his free hand.

You threw your head back, crying out in soft whimpers as he moaned against your breast, the upward angle of his thrusts causing the head of his cock to repeatedly hit the soft, sensitive spot deep inside of you, bringing you hurtling toward another orgasm.

“Come on, angel, show God how good this carnal sin feels.” He pulled away from your nipple just long enough to groan out the most blasphemous sentence you’d ever heard in your life, and you almost screamed from how hard he thrust up into you, swearing he had hit your cervix.

“Please, Father!” You moaned, pawing at his back, feeling the raised skin of his scars against your gentle fingertips. You made a mental note to inquire about them after, too lost in the feeling of him drawing you closer and closer to your orgasm to ask questions in the moment.

He rose back up from your chest, an animalistic open-mouth smirk on his face as he squeezed the sides of your neck tighter still, the lack of blood flow to your brain giving you a high you hadn’t quite experienced before. His eyes burned into yours, locked in a gaze you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to break as he gave a few more brutal thrusts into your aching cunt, finally reaching that euphoria you’d been craving from the moment you met him.

“Oh, God!” You cried out, watching the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as you clamped down around him, forcing him to slow his pace inside of you. His hips began to falter, your cunt milking him relentlessly until the coil snapped, spilling his warm load deep inside of you. Watching the way the vein in his temple strained as he groaned above you gave you the same sense of satisfaction, knowing you could bring him to such a vulnerable state before the God you both served.

When you’d both caught your breath he pulled out of you, milky white cum swirling into the water. You’d almost feel ashamed if it weren’t for the afterglow you resided in, head still spinning from the deliciously pleasurable acts you’d just participated in.

“I have to drain the pool and refill it for tomorrow’s morning Mass, and you need to be back in your dorm before Mother Superior wakes up.” He stated matter-of-factly as he took your hand and helped you out of the pool, still shivering in the cold night air.

“Can we do this again?” You questioned meekly, apprehension setting in as you felt him pulling away from you.

“I’ll come by the dorms tomorrow during your lunch hour.” He squeezed your hand, giving a final reassuring smile as he handed you your now partially dried gown, nodding toward the door before you exchanged goodnights. You spent the rest of your night laying in your bed, slipping in and out of sleep, too distracted by your anticipation for what was to come to ever slip into a proper slumber.

—

tagging my maywhores <3 (i just came up with that what do we think??): @xxbimbobunnyxx @babygorewhore

please comment or message me if you’d like to be tagged in my charlie mayhew fics going forward!!

#father charlie mayhew #dividers by cxrrodedcoffin #charlie mayhew #grotesquerie #nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #charlie mayhew smut #father charlie x reader #father charlie smut #father charlie mayhew smut #mine #my writing #my dividers #1k

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tinyluvs · 1 year ago

Note

imagine dating spencer and you come to visit or something and make him so distracted that he literally can’t info dump on something and the rest of the team is just shocked

yes yes, a hundred times yes 🤭 thank you so much!

catching a glimpse of yourself in the elevator mirror was the last thing you needed right now. you were covered in paint, your dungarees showing up every coloured streak and hand print against the light denim. you're sure there's paint in your hair but you don't have time to dwell on it, you're late

you'd got stressed, painting your boyfriends apartment on your own, lost track of time and then didn't have the time to change before running out of the apartment, just about managing to remember to grab yours and spencer's lunch on the way

"i'm so sorry i'm late," you sigh and frown as you rush through the bullpen to the collection of desks you're oh so familiar with, "please excuse the state of me,"

spencer turns at the sound of your voice, "hi sweetheart," he hums, looking up at you just as you dip to kiss him quickly before pushing the bag of food onto his lap

"hey," you smile softly at your boyfriend before turning to his colleagues, "hey guys, how are we all?" you ask, getting a mixed bunch of replies back

"how's painting?" derek laughs, looking at your appearance and the state of your clothes

you slide onto spencer's desk, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged, "standing six feet up a ladder trying to hold a tray of paint and a brush is hard, i've nearly fallen off twice," you huff,

spencer hands you the sandwich he knows is yours and then seemingly looks at you properly for the first time since you've been there, "hey," he says, almost breathlessly

"hello?" you question, head tilting slightly, "you've already said hi," you say, looking at emily and jj who just snicker and shrug their shoulders but spencer doesn't reply, "oh before i forget!"

your boyfriend watches you carefully as you produce a piece of paper from the tiny pocket on the front of your dungarees, flapping it around to unfold it, your other hand busy clutching your food

"the living room is next, i need to know how much paint to buy," you explain, handing the paper to him, "the cans are one litre or five litres, i can't figure it out"

truth be told you hadn't bothered to try and work it out, knowing spencer would be able to reel off the answer like it's nothing, naturally, he knew the exact measurements of every wall in his house

the boy stares up at you blankly, big brown eyes soft and sparkly. your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your eyebrows raising slightly, "spence?" you nudge him with your knee

he jumps ever so slightly, his head shaking a bit, "hmm?" he asks before only just registering you've handed him something, his eyes scan over it, "oh!" he blushes, turning his chair to face his desk

"what colour are you doing the living room?" jj asks while she stabs at her salad like it's offending her. you'd consulted the girls with all of the decorating developments.

"a light brown i think, we have so much to hang on the walls," you pause to swallow, "so something neutral," you finish with a slight nod

a door opening to your side grabs your attention, aaron coming out of his office with his lunch. he comes down into the bullpen, sitting on the edge of emily's desk, "the paint fighting back?" he asks you, slight smile creeping over his face

you roll your eyes at him, playfully, while the other laugh at your expense, "very funny but i don't see any of you offering to help"

penelope scoffs, "actually, i did" and she was right, however her idea of getting wine drunk and decorating had been quickly shut down by spencer, the only input he's actually offered up in the whole process

giggling, you turn back to your boyfriend who's been far too quiet, "boy wonder?" you say gently, pushing your fingers through his hair, "got an answer for me?"

usually he would have an answer within seconds, his minutes of silence making you frown, he turns to you with the same frown painted across his face, "i don't know," he says

people around you gasp, loudly too, "what do you mean, you don't know?" emily almost chokes on her lunch, sitting forward to gawp at the boy

"i do not know how much paint we need" he confirms

derek scrambles, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "say it again, i need record of this moment" he pleads while garcia smacks him

"well there's a first," david says, wandering over after hearing spencer say i don't know for possibly the first time, ever

your boy stares at the paper in his hand and then up at you, confused, "i have to go and work it out, excuse me" he says, rushed, as he stands and takes off towards circle table room

after a moment of shocked silence you turn to the team who are all staring directly at you, "i'll go check on him, i wonder what's wrong?" you say to no one in particular as you hop off of the desk

"i think i know," jj sing songs and the others hum in agreement as you hop up the stairs and along the walkway into the room.

when you get into the room spencer is stood in front of the biggest whiteboard you've possibly ever seen, marker in hand though the board is still empty of his handwriting

"spence? angel?" you say quietly, staring at his back as he starts to write the measurements of the walls in his living room, "everything alright?"

he hums, not turning to look at you as he continues to work through the problem, "yeah, fine, just can't think properly when you're around," he admits, "not when you look like that," he turns slightly to look at you

"oh, do you want me to leave?" you're sad, its obvious in your voice. nervously you start fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt

your boyfriend gasps, "no, no, honey that's not what i meant!" he says, holding his arm out. you slide into the space, head resting on his shoulder, "you're so beautiful and i love you so much, so so much, my brain just switches off when you’re around"

"really?" you giggle, looking up at him. he hums and nods his head, a light blush rushes up his neck before taking over his cheeks, "i love you too,"

he's taller than you, forcing you onto your tip toes to kiss him, not caring when someone, emily, whoops from the bullpen. gentle hands squeeze at your waist, while you hold his face with one hand, the other resting on his shoulder

"three litres," spencer mumbles against your mouth, you pull away with a sight hum, forgetting what you'd asked of him, "you need three but it's cheaper to just buy five and have left over, now come back" he huffs, his arm wrapping tighter around you to pull you back in for another kiss

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid drabbles #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ my spencer works

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gudfornuthin · 3 months ago

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All I’ve Ever Wanted

Season 4!Five Hargreeves x fem!reader

! Spoilers ahead !

Summary: six years of travelling to different timelines, and Five isn’t sure how much longer he can go on for. Until he stumbles upon a greenhouse, full of strawberries. And you.

Word count: 4212

A/N: so season 4 was a… thing that happened. This story is basically my own idea of how things should’ve gone in ep 5. Instead of the weird Lila/Five situation, it’s just Five, and his chance of living a normal life with someone new. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is appreciated :)

Number Five was never one to back down from a challenge. Having been through a series of different apocalyptic events, transporting to a timeline where he spent 40 years alone, and dealing with a misfit group consisting of his exhausting siblings, Five was up for anything. But the current situation he was dealing with? For the first time in his life, he was at breaking point.

After another wasted day spending hour after hour searching for any clues or information on how to get back to the correct timeline, Five returns to the subway, entering one of the compartments and slumping down in the first chair he sees. He rubs his eyes and lets out a visceral sigh, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a small pack of dried fruits. He rips it open and devours every last piece. He can’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He was becoming more desperate, rummaging through trash cans and foraging in bushes, hoping anything he picks isn’t poisonous.

The compartment jolts and begins to move, making its way to the next timeline. Five wipes his hands on his already dirty pants, standing up and walking slowly to the door. He wonders whether his apocalypse counterpart will be waiting for him this time.

After several minutes, and Five almost falling over from his lack of sleep, he finally arrives, the doors opening. He steps out, immediately making his way up the stairs. No time to waste. He cautiously pokes his head out, looking around for any signs of, well, himself. Before he can move out more, something wizzes past his head. A bullet. He ducks, as more shots are fired directly at him.

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” Five mumbles, as he finally takes notices of the other him in the distance.

He sticks up his middle finger, and no soon after closes his fists, blinking as quick as he possibly could.

The Five with a gun disappears along with the destroyed world around him. Five drops his arms to his sides, turning around and admiring the new environment. Luscious, greenery surrounds him, with an array of different flowers sprouting from the ground beneath him. A small pond with fish glimmers in the sunshine, lily pads floating on top. He continues turning, finding himself standing next to a tall greenhouse. The glass was slightly foggy, making it difficult to see what’s inside. Five leans in closer, squinting as if that would help. He can barely make out what appears to be pots of fruit and vegetables, some fully sprouted and others not yet ripe. His stomach rumbles, the feeling of hunger consuming him.

A rustle sounds from behind him. He turns quickly, coming face to face with a pair of shears. Five jumps back slightly. He then spots the person wielding said ‘weapon’. A young woman, probably early twenties, wearing a light yellow dress and a pair of brown sandals. Five can’t help but admire her beauty, if it wasn’t for the fact she had a face like fury and didn’t seem afraid of cutting him in half.

“Can I help you?” Her words are kind, but her harsh tone says otherwise.

Five can’t exactly tell this young woman the truth. Showing up randomly in her back yard, covered in grime, gawking at her crops through the window. He raises his hands up in the air, trying to convey that he meant no harm.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his throat sore having not spoken to anyone in quite some time. “I don’t really know how I got here.” That’s not exactly true. “I’ve been travelling for a few days now.” Try six years. “And I could really do with a hot shower and something to eat.”

The woman doesn’t say anything, just staring, with the shears still held out in front of her.

Five puts his arms down, shrugging in defeat. “I’ll just go. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He looks down. “Or step all over your rose garden.” He gingerly moves away from the destroyed flowers.

He turns and begins to walk away, hoping to find an exit as quick as possible. Blinking in front of this woman probably wouldn’t help his cause. A warm hand grabs hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop and look back. She has the shears loosely hanging by her side, as her eyes pierce into Five’s. She seems hesitant, words forming in her mind. At last, she speaks again.

“You’re telling the truth?”

Five nods incessantly, feeling like a child.

“And if I let you in and make you something to eat, you won’t try and kill me?”

Five holds back a laugh, knowing she’s being deadly serious. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The woman waits a beat, then huffs. “Come on, I was just about to start dinner.”

She moves past Five, walking into three greenhouse. He takes this as a sign to follow after her.

***

The young woman allows Five to use her shower, and he’s thankful for the change of clothes she provides for him too. The home is small and cosy, playing into the stereotypical cottage core of living. The lighting is soft, and the smell of pumpkin seems to waft through into every room. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, it’s something that makes Five feel on edge. He isn’t used to the domestic life, away from the terror and destruction, trying to save the world over and over. He knows he can’t stay here long, but he won’t miss the opportunity of a proper cooked meal.

After putting on the change of clothes, Five makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen, a small buffet waiting for him. He finds it hard not to drool, the potatoes and fresh pie, along with the fruit and vegetables he’d spotted earlier. It looks incredible. He takes a seat, as the woman places down a final plate of tomatoes, sitting down opposite Five.

They dish out the food, filling their plates as high as they can, especially Five. He tries not to look like a slob in front of the pretty girl, but finds it hard not to drop some things down his top. She doesn’t seem to notice, or pretends not to.

The woman takes a sip of her drink, clearing her throat. “So,” her soft voice makes Five look up from his plate. “Do you have a name or is that one of the many mysteries of the man shovelling food down his throat like he hasn’t eaten in several years?”

The woman isn’t afraid of being upfront. Five admires that. Although, it’s not surprising considering he’s a complete stranger she’s trusted in her home. He puts down his knife and fork, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“No, I have a name. It’s Fi-,” he catches himself, unsure if his ‘name’ would just create more confusion, and unwanted questions. “Jerome. Just, Jerome.”

The woman squints her eyes, but doesn’t push further, seeming to move past his stumble. “Okay. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Jerome.”

Five shrugs, not knowing what else to say.

“My names Y/N.”

Five nods. “Okay. We’re closer already.”

“Don’t push it,” Y/N says, a small smile gracing her face. Five can’t help but pull the same expression.

***

After a hearty dinner, and some obvious awkward silences, Five insists on helping Y/N do the washing up. The sun was beginning to set, and Five knows he’ll have to leave soon, but something stops him from doing so. He doesn’t want to admit it, but this was the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time. The fear or worry of something bad happening wasn’t there, and as he stands close to the woman he had barely met 2 hours ago, he realises what he’d been missing in his 60 something years. A place to live, with a person who makes him feel safe.

“Jerome,” the voice breaks through his thoughts, as Five almost forgets the name he’d given to this woman. “I feel like we’ve skirted around the topic enough. Is there any reason you were in the state you were in, taking refuge behind my greenhouse?”

Five places down the plate he was cleaning, turning to face her fully. Her expression is calm, and her voice shows no sign of interrogation. It’s a first for Five, as he’s become accustomed to people prodding him for information only for their own benefit. No one’s ever shown true interest in him.

He shrugs. “It’s been a tough couple of years. More than that I guess.” Fives eyes glaze over. “I haven’t seen my family in a long time, and I don’t know if I ever will. And if I do, I’m terrified of the state that I’ll find them in.”

Y/N stops what she’s doing, also turning to look at Five, a look of worry taking over her face. He knows he’s said more than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. He’s not good at sharing his feelings, and when he does, he’s scared of what will happen once the flood gates are opened. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to close them.

“What d’you mean? Are they in some kind of trouble?” She asks, a slight shake in her voice. “Are you in trouble?”

Five shakes his head, not wanting to stress out this poor woman who’s been nothing but doting to him. “No! No, I just,” he sighs, knowing he’s really put his foot in it. “I just care about them, a lot. Too much. And I don’t even want to think about not seeing them again.”

A soft hand brushes against Five’s cheek, as he glances at Y/N wiping a tear away from his face. He didn’t even realise he’d started crying. He sniffles, moving away and rubbing at his eyes, fearing how red they may look. He sucks in a deep breath, calming his beating heart. Whether it’s from talking about his family, or the touch from the woman next to him, he isn’t sure. But he fears he’s overstayed his welcome.

Five moves away from the kitchen counter. “I guess I should probably go. Don’t wanna miss my train.” Although he knows they’ll always be one there waiting for him.

He heads for the door, remembering to go upstairs and collect his dirty clothes before he leaves. Footsteps are heard from behind him.

“Uh,” Five swivels back around, as Y/N hesitates over her words. “This may seem kinda forward, and a dangerous move on my part, but, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing you were out there in the middle of the night, traveling by yourself.”

Five holds his breath, not wanting to jump the gun, but already anticipating the next sentence out of her mouth.

“I have extra pillows, and blankets.” Y/N shrugs. “It’s not the most comfortable couch but I’d say it’s more comfortable than the chairs on the train.”

Neither of them speak for a while. Five ponders her offer over and over, wondering if this is something he wants to decline. He needs to get back to his family. He needs to get back to help them. But so far, every option has been a bust. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on for. It could be the apocalypse all over again. Stuck for 40 years, traveling none stop, unsure if he’ll ever see his loved ones again. Could a good nights sleep really be such a bad thing?

He thinks the risk is worth it. “As long as it’s not too much trouble for you.”

***

That one good nights sleep turned into three months, staying at Y/N’s home, crashing on her couch. It didn’t stop Five from going out, back to the subway, trying to find the possible solution to his six year problem. But the more time he spent with the woman, the less time he wanted to spend away from her. They grew closer, making meals together, gardening together, watching silly romcoms together. While Y/N taught Five how to bake, Five taught her how to fight. A young woman living by herself? It didn’t hurt knowing some basic defence skills.

Five didn’t want to admit it, but his family hadn’t crossed his mind as often as it usually did before he met Y/N. He’d become soft, wanting to be around her all the time, not wanting to visit the subway as often as he should be. He’s lucky enough to call her a friend. He hopes she calls him that too.

***

It’s late, and Y/N is sat on the couch, crocheting a few pairs of gloves and a long overdue jumper. People used to make fun of her for it, calling her an old lady, but she finds it soothing. And making your own clothes is a big bonus too. Five, or Jerome as she knew him, had been out most of the day. She never questioned what he was up to, only that he returned safe, ready for whatever she’d cooked up for him during the day. She wasn’t completely naive in thinking ‘Jerome’ has involved himself in shady business. But unless he plans on telling her, then she won’t bother pushing him on the matter.

A bang echos from the back of the house, specifically inside the geeenhouse. It makes Y/N jump up from her seated position, quickly rushing out to the source of the noise. It can only be one person, or that’s what she hopes. Either way, she grabs for her shears before entering the warm glass room.

“Jerome?” She whispers, watching her step, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the windows.

A muffled groaning reaches her ears, as Y/N blindly moves her hands over the walls, trying to find the light switch. She finally does, and flicks it on. A sharp gasp comes out of her mouth, as the brightness finally reveals her new friend curled in a ball on the floor, rolling in pain.

“Shit.”

She quickly makes her way over to him, delicately wrapping her arms around his waist and slowly helping him off the floor. He stumbles, knocking into a few pots, almost making them fall off the table.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, the word slurring under his breath.

“Don’t apologise,” she says, making sure he’s steady on his feet. “Let’s just get you inside and onto the couch.”

They make their way through into the living room, Five dropping haphazardly onto the soft cushions, while Y/N finally gets a proper look at him. His clothes are ripped, the once pristine suit (one she bought for him as a gift) now in tatters. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and he’s clutching to his side like his life depends on it. She reaches for his arm, prying it away to reveal an array of bullet wounds, still bleeding.

“You should see the other guy,” Five jokes, tilting his head back and trying to forget about the burning pain running across his body. Funnily enough, if Y/N saw the other guy, he’d look exactly like him, considering this all happened due to an unfortunate run in with apocalypse Five.

Y/N stares at him with wide eyes. “Really? Look, I don’t bother asking where you go or what you’re up to when you leave this house, but I think now’s the time you tell me the truth.”

Five moves his head back down, looking her in the eyes. She’s terrified. And he hates that. He breathes in deep, taking her hand in his.

“If you can help me patch this shit up,” he briefly motions to his wounds, “then I’ll tell you who I really am.”

So that’s what they do. Y/N retrieves the first aid kit from her bathroom, while Five opens up about his life before he met her, and how he’s not from this timeline. He isn’t sure if she’s believing what he says, as she remains quiet the entire time, only occasionally looking up at him and quickly returning to removing the bullets lodged in his side. But she listens. And allows him to pour his heart out to her.

“The past six years were torture. Somehow worse than the forty I spent in the apocalypse.” Five turns his head and stares at the woman next to him, as she finishes up her work. “But these last few months with you. I could finally be normal. I could live a life most guys would kill to have. And I’m so sorry I lied to you this long.”

They fall into silence, the pair somehow closer together than they were a few minutes ago. Both emotionally, and physically. Y/N moves her hand and takes his, squeezing tightly. Five’s heartbeat picks up speed, only now noticing their close proximity.

“So your real name is ‘Five’?” He nods at her words. She nods back. “Hmm. It suits you a lot better than Jerome.”

They both laugh half heartedly, as they stare deeply into each other’s eyes. She moves her hand up to his hair, moving it out of his face, trying to calm it down slightly.

She carries on talking. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through.” Five rolls his eyes. She doesn’t even know the half of it. “But if I can be the person to keep you grounded, for however long you’re here for, then I’m happy to do just that.”

Five smiles, glancing quickly at her lips.

She does the same. “And I hope you’re here for a long time.”

They both lean in, softly pressing their lips against each other’s. Five cups her face, deepening the kiss as Y/N rests her arms atop his shoulders. They move in sync, careful not to cause any more damage to Five’s wounds, as she somehow moves closer, one of her legs wrapping itself around his waist.

They don’t stop, clothes discarded, bodies intertwined, as their growing tension is finally broken. Five isn’t sure if he’ll ever get back to his timeline, but for now, he’s happy to call this place home.

***

Another four months, and still no sign of a way back. Although, Five can’t deny he hasn’t been trying as hard as usual. The peace and tranquillity has consumed him whole, falling into a proper routine with the woman he…

Is it love? Could he truly fall for someone like this? Someone who isn’t involved in the shit show he’s grown accustomed to? Someone who wants that quiet life, watering flowers and baking pies, with him? Maybe it’s what he needs.

Five stands in the greenhouse, picking some fresh strawberries, and trying a few to see if they were ripe. He’s already found the perfect recipe to use them in. Something he knows she’ll love.

As if reading his thoughts, a pair of arms slip around his waist. Y/N rests her chin on his shoulder, peaking over to see the basket full of fresh fruit. She picks one up, moving away and popping it in her mouth. Five turns and looks at her, smiling wide.

“They taste perfect,” she says.

Five takes her wrists, pulling her towards him and kissing her lightly. “So do you.”

She laughs, holding him close and breathing him in. “The cheesy lines don’t work on me, bub.”

“I think they do.” He mumbles, bringing her in for another kiss, sliding his hands up and down her back.

They stay like this for a while, holding each other in the warm glass room. The sun starts to set, as Five looks out and realises what time it is.

“Damn.”

She looks at him, confusion on her face. “What’s up?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, I just need to do a double check of the subway before dinner.”

Y/N tries not to show her anxiousness, but some of it seeps through. After Five explained to her what the subway is and why he goes there every day, she’s terrified at the thought of him leaving and never coming back. But she knows he wouldn’t do that to her. Not without saying goodbye.

She steps back. “Right. Promise you’ll be safe?”

He kisses her on the cheek. “I promise.”

***

Five spends some time looking around the platform in the subway, checking the lights, checking the maps, even poking his head into the tunnels to see if anything has changed. But nothing. It all remains the same. No sign of his past life waiting for him. Was that such a bad thing?

Holding a small flashlight, he shines it up and down, left and right, hoping his eyes will catch something new. A sudden pop from above startles him, the grip he had on the flashlight loosening. It falls and rolls onto the tracks. Five looks up, noticing one of the bulbs now flickering. He huffs, moving to the edge of the platform and jumping down. He retrieves the flashlight, hitting it a few times to try and get it to work again. It comes to life, flashing in front of him. That’s when he spots something.

“That’s new.”

Five walks over, grabbing the mystery object and holding it up. It’s a plain notepad. He flips it open, scanning over the messy handwriting inside. His messy handwriting. He can’t help but let out a tiny gasp, as he figures out what it all means.

“This is it.” Tears form in his eyes. “This is my way back home.”

He’s shocked. He’s elated. He’s emotionally drained. This is his chance to rejoin his timeline. To see his family after so long. To fix the mess they’ve created. But all he can think about in this moment is Y/N. How the hell is he supposed to break the news to her?

***

After another hour spent pondering this new found information, Five slowly makes his way back home. His home. Where the life he’d built was waiting for him.

He enters the house and walks into the kitchen, where Y/N stands by the stove, boiling something sweet and caramelly. Five just stares at her; humming a random tune, wiping her messy hands on the apron he bought for her when her old one accidentally caught fire. That was the most stress he’d felt since coming here. And if that was the only stress he had to deal with, he’d take it every single day.

She finally turns and spots him, smiling wide. “Oh hey! I was worried for a sec, you were taking longer than expected.”

She moves closer to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He holds her, not wanting to let go. Y/N can tell something isn’t right.

She leans back. “You okay?”

Five doesn’t reply, only holding the notepad out for her to take. She does so, flipping through the pages just like he did, her expression perplexed.

“I don’t understand-”

“It’s the way back to my timeline.”

She looks up at him, mouth slightly open, as her words fall short. Five can swear he hears her heartbeat speed up, as her breathing becomes erratic. Five isn’t sure what to do, waiting for an explosion of emotions to rain down on him. But nothing comes. Neither of them do or say anything.

Five chooses to break the silence. “I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I don’t think I could live the way I used to live. Not after living this life with you.”

Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a sob. “You have to go.”

Five furrows his brow, hoping he heard her wrong. He tilts her head up to stare into her eyes, seeing the tears forming.

“No,” he whispers. “You’ve become the most important thing in my life. The thought of never seeing you again, I can’t do that.”

A tear falls down her cheek, as Five reaches out to wipe it away.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay in this little bubble we’ve created,” she replies, finding it hard to keep her voice steady. “But your family, your timeline, all those people? They need you more than I do. And I know deep down, you can’t bear the thought of letting them die, knowing you could’ve helped.”

Five wants to ask her to come with him. Become apart of his family. He knows she’d get on with them all. And they’d all love her, possibly more than they love him. But he knows it’s cruel to ask her to leave her life behind. The house, the garden, the home that she’s worked so hard on. And the thought of throwing her into the thick of it all. Putting her at danger? No chance.

He pulls her into his embrace, kissing her hard. They hold each other tight, their lips bruising as neither of them can stop the tears from falling.

Y/N is the first to pull away. “If you ever get the chance to come back to this timeline, you know where to find me.”

Five smiles, not wanting to let her go. He kisses her once more. “In the greenhouse, tasting just as sweet as the strawberries.”

#the umbrella academy #number five #five hargreeves x reader #x reader #five hargreeves #tua s4 #tua s4 spoilers

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haute-lifestyle-com · 28 days ago

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THE MANHATTAN PROJECT, a riveting, original suspense thriller, by Janet Walker was awarded Best U.S. Screenplay! Awesome! #janetwalker #hautelifestylecom #theentertainmentzonecom #thesixsidesoftruth #thehuntfortruth #thewednesdaykiller #theassassinsoffifthavenue #Awesome #project13thelastday #moviestowatch #screenwriting 😎🥳

#janet walker #haute-lifestyle.com #the-entertainment-zone.com #the wednesday killer #the assassins of fifth avenue #the manhattan project #awesome #The Six Sides of Truth #Project 13 The Last Day #entertainment #screenplay #director #movies to watch #films #film making

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scorpieuns · 2 months ago

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I’M YOURS | JAKE SIM

pairing: ex!jake x afab!reader, friend! sunghoon x afab!reader

summary: despite your best friend and sunghoon’s attempts to get to you move on from your ex-boyfriend, you just simply cannot get over jake—and he can’t either.

word count: 6.1k

genre: friends to undefined. exes to ambiguous. college setting.

warnings (18+): smut (absolute filth.) fluff (if you use a microscope lmfao). alcohol. mentions of breakups. (slightly) possesive jake. kissing. grinding. nipple play (f. recieving). fingering (f. recieving.). unprotected sex. slightly rough sex. doggie. slight hair pulling. multiple orgasms. both reader and jake are stubborn as hell. (let me know if there’s anything missing!)

A/N: inspired by the request posts from @rivaillescum and @teddursa — I got wayyy to carried away lol but first long fic post!

“What about him?” Aeri yells over the music, your eyes following her pointed finger towards a man leaning against the wall with his eyes glued to the phone in his hand.

“Park Wonbin from art history?” You turn to the girl with an eyebrow raised, “Park Wonbin, who’s had a girlfriend since last fall?”

Aeri's shoulders sink, “I should’ve known someone who looked like that wasn’t single.” You laugh at her bummed out expression, sipping the drink in your hands as you subtly dance to the music playing.

“Now him?” She nods towards the direction of another man, expressively dancing in the large crowd, “I cannot have a one night stand with a wannabe tiktoker Ae.”

“Why are you so difficult?” She groans, resting her head against the wall.

“Just give up already.”

“I can’t,” she whines, “I brought you out tonight so you could have fun, and get over Jake.”

You almost choke on your drink, “What? It's been like…two weeks since we broke up.”

“Exactly.” She retorts. “That’s why I shouldn't catch you staring at his contact all the damn time.” Your mouth falls open, “That was just one time!”

Aeri raises her eyebrows and you fall silent, already foreseeing your defeat in this little argument.

“Look,” Aeri says, her voice softening, “what matters is that this time you’re really done with him.” Her words were gentle, but the weight of them hit you harder than you expected. Aeri meant well, but the truth was embarrassing.

It had been two weeks since you broke up with Jake—for the third time in four months. Yes, third.

And no, you didn’t know why you kept going back either. Maybe dating a frat boy who happened to be a soccer star wasn’t your brightest idea.

Looking back, it seemed like you'd signed up for trouble with a side of emotional whiplash and good sex.

At first, Jake had been amazing.

Sophomore year started like a rom-com: he treated you like royalty, planned cute dates, stayed up all night with you in the library (even though he wasn’t the one with exams), and Jake just couldn’t get enough of you. The first six months were straight out of your dreams.

Your friends were gagging at how cute you were, even painting your face with his team colours to cheer him on with your friends from the bleachers like the supportive girlfriend you were—waiting for him to sweep you off your feet with a kiss whenever he won a game.

Then, everything changed after the final soccer game for the College Cup. Jake’s hero moment brought home the trophy, and suddenly, soccer was his whole life. You were still proud of him, of course, but things quickly started to feel…off.

Calls became shorter, dates were postponed, and before you knew it, you were practically his motivational speaker, squeezed in between practice sessions and interviews.

By the end, it felt like you were on his schedule, like a convenience more than a priority. He only called when he needed something—and that was obviously whenever he was horny and wanted to fuck what ever stress he had out of him.

You finally confronted him about it, hoping he’d realize that he was treating you like a fuck buddy more than his girlfriend—but instead, Jake argued, claiming he was too “busy” for “all that other dating stuff.”

That was your tipping point.

So, you broke up. And just when you thought you were free and ready to move on, summer ends and Jake reappears like some kind of relationship boomerang.

He apologized, said all the right things, told you how much he missed you—and boom. Hours later, you’re back in his bed, wondering how it all happened.

The cycle was maddening. Each time he’d win you over with apologies and promises, things would feel perfect again, and then…well, you knew how it went.

“This time, it’s really over,” you declare over the pounding music, convincing yourself more than anyone else.

The last breakup was the worst yet. You argued for hours, screaming about relationships and priorities, and it finally hit you: Jake didn’t really deserve your time.

So why was it so hard to let him go?

You brushed away the ache in your heart as your argument came to mind, downing what was left of your drink to somehow dull the pain and take solace in the alcohol settling into your system.

“You just need a rebound.” Aeri says over the music, “I promise you, a good one night stand might just give you a fresh start and get you out of Jake's chokehold.”

“So is that why you dragged me to a party being hosted by his frat house?” You inquired with amusement. “Oh come on! Not every guy here belongs to the frat.”

You mull over her ‘rebound’ statement, eyes surveying the crowd as your nails made dents into the empty can. “Speaking of...” Aeri trails off and you follow the direction of her gaze to another one of your university's well known juniors and soccer players, Park Sunghoon.

Your eyes landed on his, staring at you from across the room with a gaze that made your cheeks warm. Sunghoon was one of the other popular boys in the year. He was sweet, funny, playful and damn that smile— you understood why girls fell at his feet.

You and Sunghoon had a few interactions before. You volunteered as a first aid for their soccer games on a few occasions, and he consistently took the chance to talk to you whenever you were present or needed his supposedly real injuries examined.

“He's been watching you for quite a while now.” She adds, playfully bumping her shoulder against yours. You divert your attention from him and look back at your best friend who was sporting a cheeky grin.

“The goalkeeper, Ae? That’s such a low blow.”

The girl besides you shrugs, moving her body to the beat of the music, “So…? He clearly likes you and I’m one hundred percent sure he’d treat you better than he ever did.”

You’re about to open your mouth to say something when she cuts you off. “Oh! I think I have to go to the…bathroom! I’ll see you later (Y/N).” She says, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek before rushing away from your side.

Your eyebrows meet in confusion as she dashes away from you, mouth agape at her sudden and abrupt departure—even running the opposite way.

But before your mind can conjure up any reasons, you hear your name being called in the loud crowd, turning to see Sunghoon making his way to you.

Oh. I see what you did there Aeri.

"Hey, angel," Sunghoon’s voice is low, with that unmistakable charm as he saunters up to you, eyes locked on yours.

"Sunghoon," you breathe, smiling as he closes the distance, his arms opening for you. His gaze flickers over your face, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Knew I’d recognize that pretty face anywhere," he murmurs as his arms slip around your waist, pulling you close.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into him—his scent wrapping around you, the firm warmth of his hands pressing against your lower back. It’s like everything around you fades except the feel of his body, the way your heart picks up in rhythm with his.

“How’ve you been?” you ask softly, voice catching just a bit as he pulls away, though his hands stay where they are, fingers resting casually on your hips.

“Any ‘injuries’ since I’ve been gone?” You tease, and the sound of his laugh sends a thrill through you.

“You noticed, huh?” Sunghoon’s voice drops a notch lower, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles just above your hip.

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. "How many times were you going to fake a knee injury in one game?”

“As many times as it took to get you close.” His hand lifts, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your skin just enough to make you bite your lip.

“It’s kinda hard to keep my eyes on you when I'm supposed to be, y’know…playing.” His lips curl into a slow smirk, eyes burning into yours.

“Well,” you whisper, feeling the heat rise between you, “you’ve got me all to yourself now.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops to your lips, making your pulse race. The air thickens, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah?” His voice is pure temptation, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Do I get to kiss you too?”

You don’t even have to think about it. You nod, lips parting slightly, eyes dipping to his mouth. His smirk deepens as he closes the distance, and your breath catches, waiting for the touch you've been craving.

Sunghoon wasted no time kissing you, softly crashing his lips against yours in a way that made you hum in content.

You could taste the remnants of his drink as he kissed you slowly and softly, meticulously exploring your mouth with his tongue as his hands stayed glued to your hips, rubbing your sides through the silk fabric of your minidress.

Your hand drifted to his, guiding it down to cup your ass which made him groan into your mouth. Sunghoon broke away from the kiss, softly biting your bottom lip as he pulled away with a smirk.

He leans closer to the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Do you want to take this upstairs?” The feeling of his hand caressing your ass makes you sigh, already feeling the fabric of your underwear sticking to you.

But before you could even respond, your eyes landed on someone who had suddenly materialised across the room, heart dropping to your stomach and your breath catching in your throat.

Jake.

His clenched jaw made you conclude that his eyes were seemingly already on you for what must’ve been like a while now, searing holes through you and Sunghoon from afar.

Your ears grew warm, gently pushing the tall man off you with a strained exhale. “Is everything alright? Did I do anything wrong?” Sunghoon asked as he scanned you worryingly.

“Of course not!” You immediately protest, “I just…” you trailed off as your eyes darted to the man who was still staring at you before they landed back on Sunghoon’s concerned ones.

“I don’t think I’m feeling well.”

It wasn’t a lie. You felt like you were gonna throw up with all the bile that was rising in your throat.

Why did he have to appear right now?

You could feel yourself slowly sobering up as you glanced at Jake once again, warm brown eyes staring you down in a way that made your breathing stutter.

“I think I need to go to the bathroom.” You mutter as you look away, swallowing the unwelcomed lump in your throat.

“Oh…the line to the bathroom looks pretty bad right now, you could use ours upstairs?”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Sure!” He nods with a smile, “do you want me to go with you?”

You shake your head, “It's okay, I’ll…I’ll be back” You smile weakly, pressing a quick kiss on Sunghoon’s lips before you slip away from his hold.

You couldn’t even bother to reply to his distant “call me if you need me” as you travelled through the sea of bodies, trying to find your way to stairs as your heart hammered out of your chest.

Shit.

Nothing could’ve prepared you to actually see Jake, even if you half-heartedly expected it. The frat house was so large, you had concluded that you probably wouldn’t have to see him.

Some part of you—regrettably and painfully so, already concluded that he was probably somewhere, rutting into some girl that threw herself at him, celebrating the freedom of being single or something.

You stormed up the stairs, making a beeline for the bathroom, relieved to find that it was empty as Sunghoon had mentioned, and as soon as the door closed behind you, you let out a weary sigh, muttering a curse under your breath.

Now you were mad at yourself. Why did you push Sunghoon away?

You could’ve let the junior lead you upstairs all while Sunghoon watched, knowing he knew exactly what you’d be up to–but you pushed him off. You could already imagine Jake’s joy when you walked away, leaving Sunghoon alone in the crowd.

Well done (Y/N).

Well-fucking-done. You thought to yourself as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, but your little self berating session was interrupted by the suddenly louder and crispier sound of music emitting into the bathroom, eyes travelling to the opened door.

When Jake comes into view, you roll your eyes and sigh inwardly. “What the hell do you want, Jake?” Is all you say, instantly plagued by irritation.

It was hard to admit, but he did look good tonight. All traces of his once blonde tinged hair were drowned out by the colour of jet black and it suited him so well.

He was dressed in a black dress shirt, chain around his neck and pair of loose fitting jeans that hung around his hips—a simple outfit that still looked undeniably great on him.

“I just came to check on you,” he shoves his hands in his back pockets as he nods his head to the door, “you didn’t look so well out there.”

“I’m fine.” You say, turning away, “can you get fuck out now?”

“Woah, just hang on a sec,” Jake sighs, “I haven’t seen you in ages, princess.”

Princess.

“I’m not your princess anymore Jake,” you deadpanned. “We broke up, remember? For good this time.” You added, emphasising the finality of it.

You wanted to make it clear that there was no going back, that this time Jake couldn't make you cave or entice you to return.

You were ready for something–someone– new, and you were pretty sure he was still waiting for you downstairs.

This was the perfect time to leave before you’d probably do anything you’d regret, especially when you noticed Jake’s lingering gaze on your minidress.

You cleared your throat, rolling your eyes as you tried to slip past Jake, but he blocked your way, his hand grabbing your wrist. His grip wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to halt you. “So, you’re really going back to him?” His words were sharp, a hint of desperation creeping in.

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “That’s none of your business.” Yanking your hand free, you spun on your heel, making for the door without so much as a second glance.

“(Y/N), baby, wait.” He followed closely, reaching out again, but you dodged him with a huff, crossing your arms tighter around yourself.

“Jake, seriously, just leave me alone.”

“Baby—” He finally managed to catch your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You groaned, throwing your head back with exaggerated frustration. “What now, Jake?”

He tried to meet your eyes, but you refused, stubbornly staring at anything that wasn’t his face. His hand cupped your chin, gently turning your face to his. “Can we please talk? Please?” Jake’s voice was soft, almost pleading, and that stupid thumb of his traced along your jaw, sending a wave of heat through you that you definitely did not want to feel right now.

“Fine. Whatever,” you muttered, not quite looking at him but letting him lead you into his room.

As the door closed behind you, muffling the noise of the party downstairs, your gaze drifted around the room, filled with memories you weren’t ready to be reminded of yet.

But Jake didn’t give you the chance to settle into those thoughts. “Sunghoon?” he asked, his voice dripping with disbelief as he turned to you. His expression darkened instantly. “Seriously? Sunghoon?”

You snorted, shrugging carelessly. “Yeah, so what? He’s hot.”

Jake’s jaw clenched so hard you could practically hear his teeth grinding together. “So, what—you’re actually gonna sleep with him?” He sounded like he couldn’t decide if he was hurt or furious.

You folded your arms, lifting your chin defiantly. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me?” He stepped closer, and this time, you didn’t flinch. You wanted him to be mad. You liked him like this, all riled up and focused on you.

“You’re gonna fuck the one guy you told me not to worry about? The guy who’s been after you since the day we got together? My friend and my teammate?”

His eyes narrowed at you and you shrugged again, feigning indifference even though your heart was beating way too fast. “We’re not together anymore, Jake. I can sleep with whoever I want.”

Jake’s eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite read—anger, hurt, jealousy, all rolled into one.

“Wow. You really don’t care, do you?” His voice had gone quiet now, the kind of quiet that made you feel something twist in your stomach.

You opened your mouth to snap back, but the words didn’t come out as easily as you wanted them to. “I don’t…I mean, I told you, I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t get to—

“I don’t get to?” He cut you off, his laugh bitter as he ran his hand through his hair, pacing in front of you. “You’ve really moved on, huh? That easy?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. This wasn’t how you wanted this to go. But before you could say anything, he stepped closer again, backing you up until your legs hit the bed.

“You still feel something, (Y/N),” he said, his voice low, and the way his eyes bore into yours made it impossible to deny, even if you wanted to. “You’re still mine. You know it.”

Your heart was racing now, his closeness making it hard to breathe. But you weren’t about to let him win that easily. “I’m not yours, Jake. Not anymore.” Your voice wavered, just slightly, but you held your ground.

His hand reached out, fingertips brushing your arm, the touch so light it made your skin tingle. “Say it again,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Tell me you don’t care.”

You swallowed, hating how your resolve was crumbling under his touch. “I—I don’t care,” you repeated, but the words sounded less convincing now, and you both knew it.

“I’m done with you, Jake.” Your voice came out sharper, laced with defiance, but the flicker of doubt behind it didn’t go unnoticed by your ex boyfriend.

“Are you sure?” Jake’s words were smooth, almost teasing, as he leaned in closer, fingers drifting over to the slope of your neck. He saw the way your eyes betrayed you, flickering to his lips for a brief second, and his smirk grew. “Because you don’t look over me.”

You rolled your eyes, even though your pulse quickened. “Has anyone ever told you how insufferable you are?” The bitterness in your laugh didn’t mask the heat that rose to your cheeks.

“Maybe. But it doesn’t make it any less true,” he said, his voice infuriatingly smug. “I saw you staring at me out there, (Y/N). You couldn’t keep your eyes off me, even with him standing right there.”

“You’re delusional,” you shot back, but the words didn’t have the bite you wanted them to. There was an edge of frustration—at him, at yourself—that you couldn’t shake. “I wasn’t staring at you.”

Jake chuckled softly, stepping in just enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. “Sure, baby. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You are such an asshole,” you hissed, trying to inject some venom into the words, but it came out more exasperated than you intended.

Jake tilted his head, his gaze softening in that maddening way, like he knew exactly how to unravel you. “Come on (Y/N), don’t be like that. You know you miss me.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach, the warmth creeping into your chest. “I don’t miss anything about you.”

“Really?” he whispered, his hand finding its way to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his touch sent sparks through your skin. “Because I miss you. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the traitorous warmth spreading through your veins.

His eyes—those stupid, beautiful brown eyes—were staring right into yours, and you hated that they still had that effect on you. But you weren’t about to give in. Not this time.

“I bet you have,” you muttered, rolling your eyes, though the sarcasm lacked its usual punch. “Probably because you miss having someone at your beck and call.”

Jake’s smirk faltered, but his gaze didn’t waver. “That’s not it, and you know it.” His voice was lower now, more intimate, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “I miss you.”

Your chest tightened and you hated how easily he got to you, how your demeanor crumbled the second he looked at you like that.

“I’ve moved on,” you said, but your voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

“Have you?” He breathed, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of his bated breath against your lips, “because right now, you don’t look like someone who’s moved on.”

You should’ve pushed him away, told him off like you promised Aeri you would. But instead, a warm feeling fluttered in the pit of your stomach as his lips hovered just out of reach.

Jake’s fingers traced the line of your jaw, then down the side of your neck, sending electric shivers through your body as he leaned in even closer. The air between you was thick with tension, your breath shaky as you struggled to maintain control, slowly failing your resistance to give in to the desire that threatened to pull you under.

Jake’s lips brushed against yours before crashing against them in a heated, desperate kiss, his hand falling waist with tightening grip as if he was afraid to let go.

You kissed him back fiercely, your hands gripping his shirt as if to anchor yourself to the moment, all the anger, frustration, and unresolved feelings pouring into the kiss.

His soft plump lips moved unrelenting and hungrily against yours, his hands moving to cup your cheeks, fingers resting on your jaw as he deepened the kiss.

You tried to stay balanced as so many feelings crashed over you in equal measures, desperately leaning up into the kiss as you tried to match his fervour.

Oh, how you missed it.

His lips, his touch.

It all felt like a drug, a drug you disappointingly couldn't get enough of.

You fell into the bed softly, letting Jake hover over you without breaking the kisses, “I missed you.” he whispers, before kissing you again.

For a split second, you pulled back, breathless, your chest rising and falling as you looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re still an asshole,” you muttered, though there was no bite left in your voice now.

Jake’s lips curved into a smirk as he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one slower, softer. “Yeah, but you’re still kissing me,” he whispered against your lips.

Jake’s lips continued to moved against yours and you could barely breathe from the tightness in your chest, tangling your fingers into his soft hair as you drew him closer.

He pulled away and you barely had a second to think before his lips were on your neck, head falling to the side as soft sloppy kisses were pressed onto your skin, eliciting a soft moan from you.

You could feel Jake smirk against your neck, sucking marks into your skin that you were sure he wanted to show.

Your eyes flutter shut as his hands slowly ease down your body, his touch firmer than last time, lips lingering on the slope of your neck and fingers sliding under your dress.

Jake’s warm palm slid up the inside of your thighs and a wave of anticipation and desire coursed through you, a sound escaping your throat only to be muffled by his lips.

He pulled away and latched his lips to your collarbone, sucking and littering the skin with hues of purple as his fingers traced along your underwear making you arch your back reflectively.

"I’ve missed this." Jake whispers, hooking his finger around the waistband of your underwear, pressing a trail of sloppy kisses down the valley of your breasts as he slowly pulls your underwear off.

A shaky sigh fell past your lips at the feeling of the cool air hitting your cunt, and you couldn’t help but cry at the feeling of Jake’s fingers running up your glistening folds.

“Well…I…haven’t.” You breathe out stubbornly as his other hand pushes your straps over your arms, fingers brushing the cup of your dress away and running over your naked breasts.

The feeling of his cold rings grazing over your nipples makes you clench around nothing, half lidded eyes staring back at his lustful ones.

“Hmm. Really?” He asks, looking down between your legs, raising his eyebrow as he looked up.

“That was probably…” You begin, slowly losing your train of thought at the feeling of his hand caressing your breasts. “Shit—that was probably Sunghoon” You only manage to say in between swallowed moans.

“Come again?”

Your cheeky smile was quickly wiped off, as his fingers traced up and down your folds, biting your lip with a whine as he circled your wet entrance.

A soft breathy moan leaves your lips, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as his fingers slid into you with ease, leaning into his touch. “Jake, shit—” Your voice cuts off, mouth falling agape as he slowly drags his fingers in and out of you.

“That’s what I thought.”

Prick.

Jake’s plump lips latch onto your erect nipple, tongue swirling and sucking on the sensitive bud and your head falls back into the pillow biting your lip as your hands weave into Jake’s soft hair.

Jake groaned around your sensitive bud, making your whole body twitch at the vibration. His tongue moved to your other one, giving it the same treatment and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding against him, needing more.

His tongue and fingers were doing wonders on you, trying to silence the sounds falling from your lips. You resisted your moans by biting your lip to avoid giving him that satisfaction—which he obviously hated.

Jake could still tell that you were falling apart, ruining the fabric of his shirt and grinding into his fingers breathlessly, but that wasn't enough, he wanted to hear you.

“So we’re playing it that way, huh?” He pulled away, chest heaving against yours as you grabbed his arm, fingers continuing to pump into you, throwing head back with a breathy, almost silent moan before looking back at him.

“What way?” You rasped, feigning innocence, watching your ex-boyfriend chuckle to himself.

“Okay.”

And before you could get lost in the feeling of his fingers any longer, he slips out of your cunt, whining at the loss of his touch.

You were barely given time to protest or process anything before he swiftly flipped you over, face meeting the soft pillows that adorned his bed with a surprised gasp.

You could feel your heart thrum against your chest, face growing warm at the compromising position Jake just put you in.

You turned around, glancing at Jake's lips wrapped around his fingers, sucking your arousal clean off with a delighted hum.

He eyes darted over to yours, and you tore your eyes away, that dull ache returning to your thighs from the sight.

“M’gonna fuck you so good,” Jake's eyes trailed over your backside, “you’ll scream my name.” He groaned, kneading the soft flesh of your ass as your breath stuttered.

Jake quickly got rid of his clothes and you hated the way your heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

“Are you sure about that?” You challenge, almost yelping when he suddenly grabs your hips flush to his own.

He leaned over to you, brushing your hair away from your face as he pressed a soft kiss on the side of your temple.

“You and that damn attitude.” Jake clicked his tongue as he ran his cock along your folds, soft whimpers leaving your lips as he slowly pushed himself into you.

Jake watched as he eased himself in, moaning at the way your warmth and wetness sucked him in like a vacuum.

The stretch felt so good, so undeniably good and you hated the way your walls instantly fluttered around him, soft pathetic sounds falling out of your lips as he began to move, grabbing the sheets beneath with your swallowed cries.

You clamp your hand over your mouth and Jake glares, shaking his head with an affronted expression as he grabs that wrist, pinning it behind your back as he continues to work himself in and out of you.

“Shit.” You gasp, letting a few whimpers slip past your lips, cheek flushed against the soft pillows, a few moans escaping your throat at the feeling of him brushing over you in a way that made your vision cloudy before closing your mouth.

"You're taking me soooo well, baby.” Jake’s brows drew together with a moan, snapping his hips to yours as you clenched around him.

"Fuck, you missed this didn't you?" He hissed, watching you writhe in pleasure.

You were a mess beneath him, tears pricking your eyes at the way he relentlessly pounded into you.

You let out a loud gasp when Jake reached under to play with your clit, pressing his finger into it, "Jake." You whispered with a whimper, fisting the sheets, still stubbornly refusing to make any sound—which Jake only took as a challenge.

Your heart couldn't help but swell with guilt when Sunghoon came to mind, still awaiting your return.

Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe after a few minutes had passed, he went over to check on you, only to hear your moans emitting from the crevices of Jake's door before walking away.

Jake really did have a chokehold on you.

The man pulled out with a curse, and you cried at the sudden loss. You were about to turn around to protest when Jake gripped the base of his cock, lining up with your puffy entrance again.

With no warning, Jake plunged his dick into your tight heat, the sound of skin slapping against each other and a scream leaving your lips as the man fucked you relentlessly.

“That's it, princess, let me hear those beautiful moans.”

“Oh, fuck.” You moaned, gasping and writhing, arching your back and pushing yourself against his cock, begging for more.

“You're so fucking good around me- fucking made for me.” Jake groans, low moans tumbling from his lips.

"You're mine aren't you?"

Of course, you wanted to scream no—you wanted to deny his claim, but his name spilled out of your lips, again and again, begging him not to stop.

"Say you're mine." He hissed, pounding his cock into you. Your heart raced, and you were certain that he could feel it as the pleasure continuously washed over you.

"Say it."

“Jake oh my—” you’re cut off by your own moan the moment he hit your sweet spot, your face hot as you let out lewd sounds into the pillows with no control of your own, throat strained already.

"Fuck—Yes! I'm yours." You screamed, tears spilling out of your eyes as he worked his hand around your clit.

“I’m yours.” You moaned, clawing at the sheets. He continued to rub his finger over your swollen bud, his other hand reaching over to gently grab a fistful of your hair bringing you flush to his chest.

You could feel your legs begin to tremble as profound pleasure coursed through you, hands flailing around to grip on his shoulder as you continuously surged forward from Jake’s thrusts.

“That’s right, baby.” He rasped, almost bordering whimpers as he continued to pump in you, thick velvety walls hugging him so tightly, slipping in and out of you with such ease.

Your whimpers and screams echoed through the room, legs threatening to give out from just how good he felt, dizzying and intense pleasure washing over you everytime he thrusted into you.

You were too fucked out to be self conscious about your loud moans, or concerned that maybe people could somehow hear Jake fucking your brains out over the loud music.

If you weren’t so clouded and already fucked out, you would’ve guessed that Jake probably loved how loud you were.

It felt like he was telling the whole house that you were still his no matter what—especially Park Sunghoon.

Jake would notice the goalkeeper staring at you from across the field, cozying up to you as if he wasn’t just a few metres away from you— the nerve.

Like what the fuck happened to bro code?

“Do you think he can make you feel this way baby?” he asks and your mouth falls agape, brain foggy. You shook your head with a whimper.

You were so out of focus, his dick so good and stupefying that you couldn't even speak.

Jake revelled in the moans of his name tumbling past your lips. The thought of another guy’s name leaving those pretty lips drove him crazy, you were his, he had no idea what was going in Sunghoon’s mind to think that he could actually be with you.

He could feel you tightening around him and he knew you were close, thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release.

"Say my name." He hissed, "tell me who makes you feel this good."

"Jake-"

“I can’t hear you princess.” He groaned.

"Jake!" You sobbed, gasping and squirming as the pleasure became too much.

"That’s it, come for me, baby." He cooed, wrapping an arm around your neck and squeezing it gently.

The pressure on your throat, and the way his fingers played with your clit were enough to make you scream out his name, the coil in your stomach finally snapping, walls clamping around him and milking him for all he's worth as your legs shook, vision blackening, and eyes squeezing shut.

You moan his name, the only thing running through your mind and leaving your lips as he places you back into the bed, holding your hips.

"That’s right." Jake groaned, still slamming his hips into you. "Who does your pussy belong to?"

“Fuck,” you cried out, feeling another orgasm creep in, "it belongs to you, only you." You mewled as your walls tightened, shattering pleasure rippling through you once again, as his thrusts finally slowed.

“Such a pretty sight for me.” He moaned with a final thrust, shooting his seed into you as he rode out your highs.

Jake continued to empty his load into you, softly whimpering at the sudden warmth coating your walls until he finally pulled out of you.

Your head fell into pillows, the aftershocks of your orgasms still rippling through you as you tried to catch your breath.

"(Y/N)," He said softly, and you could feel his hands rest on the slope of neck and you slowly turned to look at him.

Jake gently wiped away your stray tears, his eyes looking for some sort of affirmation that what he did was okay, that he hadn't gone too far, that he didn't hurt you.

"You okay?"

You nodded with a dazed laugh, “Yeah, I’m fine.” You rasped, as he enveloped your lips in a sloppy and gentle kiss.

Jake wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing the marks on your neck that he left a while ago.

“Stay over.” He whispers against your skin and your shoulders fall with a sigh, hands brushing his slightly damp hair away from his face, “I don’t know Jake…”

“Just for tonight.”

“Please.” He begs, in a softer tone. You looked at him— at his pretty face, his pink plump lips and his slightly messy hair, breathing in the mellow undertones of sweet vanilla in the perfume he was wearing tonight.

“Jake.” You whisper again, as you watch his hands caress your shoulders. You look up at him, ready to turn him down but you don’t say anything.

“We don’t have to do anything…I just want to be with you.”

Those words.

It’s like you could see your past self rolling her eyes, “not again.”

“Okay.”

You let him pull you back to his chest, let him wrap his arms around you as you fell asleep, lulled by the rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his beating heart.

Jake watched you fall asleep in his arms, and the sight alone made him forget about the world outside, and the ache that was still in his chest.

It was just for tonight.

Just for tonight.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #jake sim x reader #sim jaehyun x reader #jake sim smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake x reader #jake smut #exes to lovers #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #kpop smut #smut

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ode2rin · 6 months ago

Text

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending). You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is.

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge.

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.”

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face.

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate.

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?”

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage.

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected.

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning.

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted.

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.”

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea.

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?”

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty.

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it.

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.”

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs.

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter.

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious.

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.”

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street.

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser.

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways.

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

#☁️ my ode to you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock imagines #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #michael kaiser #blue lock fluff #first milestone event!#writing: 004

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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The first thing to say about the hate and scorn currently directed at the mainstream US media is that they worked hard to earn it. They’ve done so by failing, repeatedly, determinedly, spectacularly to do their job, which is to maintain their independence, inform the electorate, and speak truth to power. While the left has long had reasons to dismiss centrist media, and the right has loathed it most when it did do its job well, the moderates who are furious at it now seem to be something new – and a host of former editors, media experts and independent journalists have been going after them hard this summer.

Longtime journalist James Fallows declares that three institutions – the Republican party, the supreme court, and the mainstream political press – “have catastrophically failed to ‘meet the moment’ under pressure of [the] Trump era”. Centrist political reformer and columnist Norm Ornstein states that these news institutions “have had no reflection, no willingness to think through how irresponsible and reckless so much of our mainstream press and so many of our journalists have been and continue to be”.

Most voters, he says, “have no clue what a second Trump term would actually be like. Instead, we get the same insipid focus on the horse race and the polls, while normalizing abnormal behavior and treating this like a typical presidential election, not one that is an existential threat to democracy.”

Lamenting the state of the media recently on X, Jeff Jarvis, another former editor and newspaper columnist, said: “What ‘press’? The broken and vindictive Times? The newly Murdochian Post? Hedge-fund newspaper husks? Rudderless CNN or NPR? Murdoch’s fascist media?”

These critics are responding to how the behemoths of the industry seem intent on bending the facts to fit their frameworks and agendas. In pursuit of clickbait content centered on conflicts and personalities, they follow each other into informational stampedes and confirmation bubbles.

They pursue the appearance of fairness and balance by treating the true and the false, the normal and the outrageous, as equally valid and by normalizing Republicans, especially Donald Trump, whose gibberish gets translated into English and whose past crimes and present-day lies and threats get glossed over. They neglect, again and again, important stories with real consequences. This is not entirely new – in a scathing analysis of 2016 election coverage, the Columbia Journalism Review noted that “in just six days, The New York Times ran as many cover stories about Hillary Clinton’s emails as they did about all policy issues combined in the 69 days leading up to the election” – but it’s gotten worse, and a lot of insiders have gotten sick of it.

In July, ordinary people on social media decided to share information about the rightwing Project 2025 and did a superb job of raising public awareness about it, while the press obsessed about Joe Biden’s age and health. NBC did report on this grassroots education effort, but did so using the “both sides are equally valid” framework often deployed by mainstream media, saying the agenda is “championed by some creators as a guide to less government oversight and slammed by others as a road map to an authoritarian takeover of America”. There is no valid case it brings less government oversight.

In an even more outrageous case, the New York Times ran a story comparing the Democratic and Republican plans to increase the housing supply – which treated Trump’s plans for mass deportation of undocumented immigrants as just another housing-supply strategy that might work or might not. (That it would create massive human rights violations and likely lead to huge civil disturbances was one overlooked factor, though the fact that some of these immigrants are key to the building trades was mentioned.)

Other stories of pressing concern are either picked up and dropped or just neglected overall, as with Trump’s threats to dismantle a huge portion of the climate legislation that is both the Biden administration’s signal achievement and crucial for the fate of the planet. The Washington Post editorial board did offer this risibly feeble critique on 17 August: “It would no doubt be better for the climate if the US president acknowledged the reality of global warming – rather than calling it a scam, as Mr Trump has.”

While the press blamed Biden for failing to communicate his achievements, which is part of his job, it’s their whole job to do so. The Climate Jobs National Resource Center reports that the Inflation Reduction Act has created “a combined potential of over $2tn in investment, 1,091,966 megawatts of clean power, and approximately 3,947,670 jobs”, but few Americans have any sense of what the bill has achieved or even that the economy is by many measures strong.

Last winter, the New York Times columnist Paul Krugman, who has a Nobel prize in economics, told Greg Sargent on the latter’s Daily Blast podcast that when he writes positive pieces about the Biden economy, his editor asks “don’t you want to qualify” it; “aren’t people upset by X, Y and Z and shouldn’t you be acknowledging that?”

Meanwhile in an accusatory piece about Kamala Harris headlined When your opponent calls you ‘communist,’ maybe don’t propose price controls?, a Washington Post columnist declares in another case of bothsiderism: “Voters want to blame someone for high grocery bills, and the presidential candidates have apparently decided the choices are either the Biden administration or corporate greed. Harris has chosen the latter.” The evidence that corporations have jacked up prices and are reaping huge profits is easy to find, but facts don’t matter much in this kind of opining.

It’s hard to gloat over the decline of these dinosaurs of American media, when a free press and a well-informed electorate are both crucial to democracy. The alternatives to the major news outlets simply don’t reach enough readers and listeners, though the non-profit investigative outfit ProPublica and progressive magazines such as the New Republic and Mother Jones, are doing a lot of the best reporting and commentary.

Earlier this year, when Alabama senator Katie Britt gave her loopy rebuttal to Biden’s State of the Union address, it was an independent journalist, Jonathan Katz, who broke the story on TikTok that her claims about a victim of sex trafficking contained significant falsehoods. The big news outlets picked up the scoop from him, making me wonder what their staffs of hundreds were doing that night.

A host of brilliant journalists young and old, have started independent newsletters, covering tech, the state of the media, politics, climate, reproductive rights and virtually everything else, but their reach is too modest to make them a replacement for the big newspapers and networks. The great exception might be historian Heather Cox Richardson, whose newsletter and Facebook followers give her a readership not much smaller than that of the Washington Post. The tremendous success of her sober, historically grounded (and footnoted!) news summaries and reflections bespeaks a hunger for real news.

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chelseeebe · 5 months ago

Text

you win, i lose

we’re back with these two pathetic little weirdos, who cheered!! another follow up to gimme a hand, bump n’ grind and truth or dare or can be read as a standalone! i think i’m gonna give these two a break for now and work on some other things including some lovely requests i have<3

18+. mdni! smut with a little bit of plot this time! female!reader x eddie munson. no use of y/n. modern au i guess but it is so not mentioned or relevant

eddie sighs, a long, guttural sigh that on reflection, made him sound like a sad little dog.

“what the hell was that for?” barely looking up from your phone to talk to him.

he debates even saying it, terrified that you’d have his balls chopped off for uttering the words.

“don’t you think we’re boring now?” voice wavering as the words come out.

after six months of officially dating, your relationship had started to slow a little. no more making him cum in his pants or sneaky blowjobs in the bathroom at parties. it was sex or it was sleep.

the transition from best friends who shouldn’t be doing this to same old couple had been jarring, especially over the past week when eddie’s felt his dick was on overdrive.

“boring? huh? i don’t think we’re boring? we literally went to a gig tonight,” baffled by his insulting suggestion.

“not like that,” leering up at you from his side of the bed, “i mean.. when we have sex, it’s kinda boring,” shrugging, as if to lessen the blow of what he’d said.

your face crumples, both offence and perhaps a little hurt flash through your features. “wow, thanks eds. no, i actually didn’t think that at all.”

it’s in that moment that he realises, he’s fucked up. majorly.

“w- i’m- shit, no,” shoulders slumping, “you’re taking it the wrong way,” as if there were any other way for you to take it.

“i don’t think so, you couldn’t have been clearer actually,” sending daggers through his skull, “alright,” you place your hands on your hips, “you don’t get to touch me for a week, no kissing, no cuddling.. definitely no sex,” pouting slightly, “since that’s how you wanna be.”

“what?” eddie sits up, at full attention now, “you know i didn’t mean it like that,” fumbling to turn this around.

“i don’t care, you said it,” standing strong, “now you have to live with the consequences.”

his head rolls back against the headboard, immediate regret for anything he had just said.

god only knows if he’d live to survive the week.

that night in bed, eddie turns, huffing his frustrations into the pillow. it hadn’t even been twenty four hours yet and he already felt like he was going crazy.

his hand sprawls out over the mattress, edging to touch you, though he stops just before.

“you wanna give up already?” you taunt, staring though the darkness to throw another jab at him.

“no, i don’t. i just wanna cuddle my girlfriend in bed, is that too much to ask?”

“i told you the rules, no.”

“fuuck,” grumbling to himself, “this is stupid,” pouting to himself, in his self-inflicted drought.

“maybe don’t say stupid shit and this won’t have to happen again,” smug and self-righteous as you turn away, leaving him to yearn for just a brush of skin.

the party had been a bad idea from the start. eddie had never been so pent up in his life and it had only been three, long, miserable days.

you’d made sure to wear that tiny black dress, the one he really liked. struggling to even keep his eyes on the road on the drive over.

a few beers and a no-contact order could only mean one thing and he was dreading it.

you were adamant on making eyes at him across the kitchen counter all night, driving him literally insane. any other time, you’d have snuck off to the bathroom or gone home early but he knows there is a slim chance of that happening tonight.

you sidle up to him, mischievous glint in your eye as you slide something into his pocket before slinking off again, faster than he can compute.

he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the lacy fabric just enough to realise what it was. quickly spinning on his heel so as to not let anyone else see.

your fucking panties. wrapped around his fingers for everyone to see.

there’s no hesitation about it, excusing himself to the bathroom before anyone could ask what he was doing.

holy shit. you’re fucking crazy. on another playing field completely. eddie almost wishes that he’d asked for your panties earlier, far before you’d decided to play these brutal games with him.

he slides them from his pocket, not before making sure the door was locked for the second time, holding them to his nose, like the freak he truly was.

oh god.

he misses you so bad. he’d take the most boring, uneventful missionary for the rest of his life if it meant you’d never deprive him of this ever again.

it takes a moment for him to regain enough consciousness to rejoin the party, keeping his fingers wrapped tight around the lacy material as argyle prattles on about some crazy new strain he’d discovered.

your eyes sparkle, waiting for him to meet your gaze. but he’s not giving you that. not allowing you the satisfaction of ruining him so badly.

the second the van is far enough away from the house, eddie wails loudly in despair.

“that wasn’t fair!” he whines, throwing his head back against the seat of his van, gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“it’s totally fair,” you refute, smiling away to yourself.

“no it’s not,” huffing like a petulant child, “i can’t give you my boxers to sniff.. it’s not equal.”

“i’m sorry- you sniffed them?” flabbergasted, “you’re a pervert,” collapsing into a fit of giggles.

“yeah i fucking did,” proud of his perversions, he was the most sexually frustrated he had ever been, sniffing your panties was nothing compared to what he felt like doing.

“weirdo.”

eddie wants so badly to reach over, slide his hand underneath your dress and really take advantage of the no-panties situation. he was getting hard just thinking about it.

it’s crazy how much you insulting him was actually turning him on more.

“please just let me touch you,” he pleads, “i’m sorry for what i said, i need you,” there had been a time where eddie had to make do with getting to feel your touch every couple months, he’s not sure how he ever survived.

three days and he felt like he was about to implode.

not only had he dreamed of your pussy, it had been haunting him in his mundane life too.

stuck under some dusty old car at work, only thinking about how good you felt, ignoring any of the actually important things he had to do.

“nuh-uh, you made your bed, now lie in it,” propping your feet up on the dash, causing your skirt to slide even higher.

eddie couldn’t believe you’d be so evil and cruel, even in his darkest hour you were depriving him of you.

at some point in the night, eddie’s brain must have decided that enough was enough. his half-asleep, dream filled mind doesn’t really comprehend what he’s doing, hand snaking around your waist, using your body as leverage to pull himself closer, pressed against your ass.

“eddie.. eddie,” you hush, shaking his arm. “you’re cheating,” voice still hoarse and sleepy.

“i give up,” he grumbles, slowly grinding his hips against your ass, “you win, i lose,” admitting defeat at long last. if only he had sucked up his pride enough to do this four days ago.

“four days.. four fucking days,” you scold, though make no effort to move away from him, “you can’t even last a full week, you loser,” chastising him was music to his ears.

“mhm,” he grumbles into the back of your neck, “keep being mean to me, i love it,” spare hand creeping down to shift your shorts to the side.

you laugh into the pillow, moving your hips backwards against his crotch, “you’re so pathetic,” you goad, only firing him up more.

“oh god,” he groans, still rutting against the soft fabric, “i’m gonna cum right now,” whining into your ear.

“if you cum without fucking touching me, i’m gonna be so pissed off,” your grip tightening on his forearm, almost pinching him.

he huffs into your hair, slowing his rhythm to a complete stop, hastily tugging on your pajama shorts, eager to get them off and his dick wet.

this can’t have been any better on you, really, not only were you punishing him, but yourself too.

your shorts rest somewhere around your ankles as eddie struggles to get his own boxers down, grunting in sheer desperation as his cock aches for you.

his hand slides underneath your tee, pulling it up with his arm, gripping onto your boob for leverage. eddie’s never been one to take control but if he hadn’t, he’s not sure you’d have ever touched him again.

wasting no time in hoisting your leg higher, his already leaking tip nudging your sopping entrance. confirmation that you’d been just as eager for it as he was.

“‘m so hard for you,” pushing himself between your folds, shuddering at the overwhelming feelings jolting through his limbs.

“shit,” you breathe, placing your palm above his as it gropes your fleshy skin.

“need you-oh god.. so bad,” senselessly thrusting his hips, slamming against your ass while the bed begins to rock, thanking his lucky stars that wayne was still at work.

“yeah? tell me, tell me how bad you need it,” gasping for air, your soft, angelic pants fill his tiny bedroom.

eddie groans, aching to please you but also unable to fathom the correct words needed to truly convey his feelings.

“y-you’re all i think about,” tightening his grip on your skin, “at work..” panting his words out between rhythmless thrusts, “at home- fuck oh fuck,” squeezing his eyes shut, hoping to make this last at least a few minutes longer.

nothing had ever felt so euphoric, frying his nerve endings, sending his brain into a hazy state that he just may never recover from.

“fuck,” you grit, clawing at his hand, “missed you so bad,” rolling your head back to rest on his shoulder, showing no mercy to his neighbours with your echoing moans. guaranteed to receive disgusting looks from david across the way for the rest of his life.

at this point, eddie becomes an incoherent babbling mess, eyes pressed shut as his stomach flips and turns in all directions. is now the time to start thinking about having kids?

“let me.. let me cum in you,” driven wild by the thought of filling you up over and over. a rare treat that really only lead to a week of stress for you both, but so incredibly worthwhile.

chanting his name right into his ear, other hand stuck between your thighs, circling your clit with an animalistic ferocity. you’d wanted this just as bad as he did, only you were clearly more strong-willed than he’d ever be.

not a second of this had been boring or anything he ever wanted to miss again. swearing to himself that he’d never be so to open his mouth foolish again.

“y-yeah,” nodding encouragingly, “please,” nearing your own, overdue orgasm.

eddie had been clued on to all the little signs for months now, tightening around him while your moans turned more into whimpers, jaw slack and your eyes rolled back.

“shitshitshit,” he rushes, certain he’d left indentations in your skin, “gonna cum- gonna cum in you,” making sure that you know what you’d signed up for, not that he had much choice.

his orgasm rocks his body, juddering as he paints your walls, howling as the overwhelming feeling washes over again and again. four days of built up energy all coming out in one.

you shriek, “oh god,” your body turning to putty between his arms, trembling as you cum, “mine.. all mine,” cradling his arm in yours, placing half-assed kisses to his neck.

he was, unashamedly so. no one had nor could ever come close to the way you make him feel. dragging him to the lowest levels of his pride just to boost him right back up when you said shit like that.

eddie doesn’t let go, scared that you’ll come out of your haze and get mad about his failed temporary abstinence.

you shuffle round under his grip anyway, face burning and your hair resembling a birds nest, though completely content as his release drips down your leg.

your palm slaps his cheek playfully, “don’t you ever call me boring again,” squishing his flaming hot skin between your fingers, “because you’ll never touch me again,” unsure of whether you were joking or not.

“yes ma’am,” running his fingers down your side, until they reach the curve of your ass, “that’s a promise.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x y/n

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