#and will be smacked in the face with the this kind of smut halfway through

[bendwill]

miraak has seen enough hentai to know where this is going

“Others write of this exact subject uncomfortably often. Too many others.”

[howisjoostfanfictionforfree]

Stop Sending Me Fruit Pics

Joost Klein x reader fanfic 18+ MDNI | RPF!!!

Joost hears something you don’t exactly want him to...

Reader: established relationship, f!reader, tried not to be too descriptive with physical characteristics but I’m sure I slipped up somewhere

CW: 18+ NSFW, RPF, smut, consensual but consent is not explicitly stated so be warned if you care about that, kind of rough, unprotected piv, cream pie, filthy onomatopoeia, cringe dialogue?

Words: ~1,900. Just a lil blurb. 

A/N: Ayy you know when sometimes you’re so wet you realize you can hear your pussy makin’ little *schlick-smack* noises when you walk? No? Just me? Dang. Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.

No I did NOT listen to WAP when I was writing this…

🍌🥝 🍌🥝 🍌🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌🥝 🍌🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌

You just got home. 

You had been at Tantu’s all day with Joost and you had been so worked up the whole time. You tried to play it cool, keeping to yourself on the beanbag in the corner while they worked, pretending you weren’t thinking about choking on that dick. 

Sometimes you think the fact that you don’t have a dick makes you a little too bold. Since you don’t have to worry about boners there is literally nothing to stop you from having wild fantasies in public and you rarely fail to take advantage of this. There have never been consequences so far, you’ve never been rendered unable to act normal when people engage with you. Still, you wonder if one day you’ll slip up and say something like ‘oh hey, how’s it boning?’. The possibility hasn’t stopped you yet. 

You sit there all afternoon thinking fairly depraved thoughts with no one the wiser and try to look busy on your laptop while discreetly watching Joost work.

When evening rolls around they decide they are done for the day and you are happy to see there is no wet spot on the upholstery when you get up. You gather your things and say your goodbyes. Then, as you’re heading out the door, you realize you can hear something strange. There is a little *schlick* with each step. Schlick...schlick… Oh. That is definitely your pussy. Guess you got a little carried away. It seems quiet enough that no one will put two and two together though. You just hope if Joost does notice something he will chalk it up to the bouncing click of a zipper or the back and forth of the synthetic material of your coat. You resolve to change your underwear as soon as you’re home. 

You’ve arrived and you’re taking off your shoes by the door when you look over and see Joost’s brow furrowed, looking at you curiously. Fuck. You’re not sure when it caught his attention but it has now and you try to walk into the living room slowly to dampen the sound. Maybe you can keep him from zeroing in on it. He puts down his bag and slowly pads after you. 

You’re halfway through the main space now. Act casual, act casual. The bedroom door is right there. Be cool, be cool. You look behind you to see if he’s still following and happen to catch the moment it clicks for him because his eyes go wide.

FUCK

His strides are swift as he bridges the gap between you and grabs your wrists when you turn and try to backpedal, palms raised in defense. He’s got a disbelieving look on his face and it’s turning into a shit-eating grin.

“Are you….wet?” 

“No, definitely not.”  You don’t even know why you’re lying. It’s not like you’re not super down to get it on. You’ve been lusting after him since this morning. Just, something about arousal to the point of being audible is embarrassing. What did that one guy in the vine say to his mom when she was making mac ’n cheese?

“I think you’re lying schatje.”

He spins you around and bends you over the arm of the couch before you can think of an excuse.

“Joost! Come on!”

You try to stand up but he has a hand on your back and his other one immediately works to shimmy your pants down. 

“Dude!”

He’s ignoring you. As soon as he’s got them down far enough he presses his fingers to your panties and swears violently at how obviously little they are doing to contain the situation. You suck in a breath. The gig is up. He rips them down to join your jeans and you can feel the string that connects them to your pussy break and stick to your thigh. God. He brings his hand back up quickly and dips his fingers in. He runs them through your folds and huffs out a laugh in awe.

“Joooost” you whine. You can’t believe he’s laughing at you.

“Schatje, what has you so fucking wrecked?”

“Shut upppppp” You groan.

“Is this all for me? You’re so wet I can’t believe it.” 

It is in fact all for him but your tongue is now stuck to the roof of your mouth with the way he starts tracing around your clit. He teases little circles around it. Not right where you need him but close enough to keep you arching into his hold. His huge hand on your back feels like a brand. 

“Aww that’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

You do your best to make an indignant noise into the cushions.

Continuing his investigation he drags the tips down to your entrance and teases around it lightly. You squirm a bit, it almost tickles, but his pin is firm. Suddenly he drives two fingers in to the knuckle and you choke. It makes the most filthy squelch. He pumps them in and out a few times slowly, repeating the noise. 

“My god schatje”

Your face is on fucking fire.

You want to make some quip, tell him if he doesn’t like it he can stick his damn fingers somewhere else, but you know that it isn’t an actual criticism. No, not with the way he is deliberately plunging his fingers to get the loudest possible *smack-slurp*. Not with the way he’s withdrawing every few pumps to run his drenched fingers through your folds, making equally obscene noises. It feels good but you can tell his entire focus is on reveling in the sheer quantity of your arousal rather than actually driving you higher. You start chasing his fingers, rocking back into his touch.

Then, just as suddenly, he whips his fingers back out, undoes his belt, rips down his pants, lines up, and sinks in in one go.

You scream.

Not in pain, but at the intensity of sensation. Things never usually move this fast. You were already so turned on that it felt perfect though. You have no idea if he’s saying anything to you because you white out for a moment. He holds there as deep as possible for a few beats, letting you adjust, but he can't help himself and soon he pulls back and starts building a rhythm. 

“Mmmmmmnn, baby, you feel so good. Were you waiting for me today?”

“Oh my god oh my godohmygodohmygod” You don’t know why he thinks you can talk right now.

Having done the bare minimum to not absolutely murder your cervix he begins picking up the pace. Soon he is jackhammering you into the couch as you scrabble for purchase on frustratingly smooth cushions. You can feel yourself dripping down his balls as they slap against you. The noises are worse than ever. The endless *slap-slap-schlap-shlup* is doing something to your brain.

Your hurtle towards orgasm alarmingly quickly. As soon as he reaches around to massage at your neglected clit you can’t even choke out a warning before your eyes roll back and you’re spasming around him in wild pulses. You whimper his name over and over in a way you will probably find embarrassing later.

At the feeling he grips your hips that much tighter, thrusting savagely as his gasps gain a breathy quality. Just as you start to go boneless he hooks an arm around you, pulling you back up into his chest before you can face plant, making your back arch sharply as he slams home and stays deep, spilling inside of you.

“Ohh fuuuckk....Schatje!”

You’re not sure you can actually feel his cum but there is some sort of twinge of warmth and it has you twitching around him once more. He groans at the feeling and bucks into you again lightly, teeth coming to gently press into your neck. You whimper and let yourself soak in the feeling of him in and around you. The weight of him still inside you and his bruising grip holding you so sweetly. 

After a minute he removes his teeth and brushes his lips over the spot. He kisses over your shoulders, gradually letting you both come down. Eventually he loosens his hold, releasing you from the somewhat contortionist pose. Once you’ve got your hands on solid couch again he pulls out slowly. Immediately his cum runs down your legs and you can’t help but let out another little noise. You try to close your legs to stop it but he grabs your thighs and holds them open, leaning back to watch. One of his thumbs moves to spread you open just a little, admiring his work. He gives a happy little sigh.

“Jooooost” You complain, but you really don’t have it in you to stop him.

He groans and pulls away finally, taking off his own shirt. He wipes up your thighs gently. When he’s done he wraps his arms around you and drags you up into a hug, your back pressed against his chest. He kisses at your temple a few times and then turns you around so he can finally kiss your mouth. You sigh heavily in his arms. As nice as it is to get dicked down you had missed his mouth. You always crave his kiss. You feel your strength returning and you bring your arms up around his neck so you can deepen it. You make out languidly for a few minutes but you are tired. All of that kind of made your back hurt. When you part from his mouth he is looking at you appreciatively.

“Was that okay?” he asks. “I know it was kinda fast. I could’t help it, I had to feel your pussy.”

“Yeah, that was really hot, even if it was kind of embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing that you were so wet I could hear it?” He leers at you.

You look away, shy all over again. He chuckles and kisses over your face.

“What made you so wet schatje, hmm? I still want to know. What is there to think about in the studio?”

You bury your face in his shoulder now, groaning.

“Come on babyyyy what has you so hot that I could hear it?”

“Hhhhhh…..the fruit.” You finally mumble into his skin. You still can’t look at him.

“Hah? The fruit? Oh!! Really?” 

You remember the moment you received the selfie with the kiwi. He had left for the studio earlier than you. Later, when you were on your way to join him, he sent you a picture of his snack with the words ‘babe my cum is gonna taste so good’. A few minutes after that you received another one with a banana. You sent a simple tongue emoji in return. Your relationship was no stranger to sexting but something about this made you blush. You spent the whole train ride to the studio flipping through your mental catalogue of the many times you had blown him. The weight of him on your tongue and the feeling of him in your throat. When was the last time he actually finished in your mouth? Oral always turned into fucking. God you want him to come down your throat. By the time you made it to the studio you were feeling more than a little warm.

“Yesss fuck you it was hot okay”

“Ohh? Do you wish we did something else? I can give you a taste next time kay?” 

You can feel his grin pressed to your ear. You sigh as dramatically as you can manage. 

“Okay, I guess I can wait.” 

You pull back to look at him.

“In the mean time, we do have blueberries in the fridge.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Cues door de Kirk* ~chap die poenie als bosbessen!!! 🫐✨

But like, the other way around,

eh you get it

[fallingfor-fics]

Jealousy - Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Okay this is scary ... my first Melissa fic! Please let me know if yall fw it.

Warnings: minimal angst, dom!Melissa/spanking, not any straight smut tho

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: You accidentally make Melissa too jealous in a space out of her control, so she decides to take it into her own hands and remind you of your place.

This is inspired from a scene in one of my new fav movies Secretary (2002)

This was thrown together when I got the inspo so I hope its not too shitty!

The day started out wonderful, birds were chirping and the sun was peeking in through the sheer curtains that glazed the windows in Melissa’s bedroom. You couldn't have had a better start to a Wednesday. Wednesdays were always your favorite day, no lunch duty and halfway done with the school week. Which meant you were halfway to spending all weekend tangled up in your girlfriend's arms (and legs). The traffic on the drive to work was practically non-existent and you seemed to only hit green lights. Melissa had a firm hand on your thigh as she drove and you managed to make it to work on time. So how you ended up flushed, out of breath, and bent over your desk as Melissa’s hand placed firm smacks on your ass, was a mystery. Or so you pretended it was.

“How was lunch duty yesterday Y/n?” Barbara asked from across the breakroom as she went to sit next to Melissa at a table. 

“It wasn't that bad for once!” You chirped, making eye contact with the red head who smirked and turned back to her coffee allowing a small blush to grace your cheeks from the interaction. Before you could make your way to the table you heard a voice call your name from the doorway. 

“Miss L/n can I talk to you for a second?” Dylan, a new fifth grade teacher like yourself, called with a smile on his face.

“Of course, and please Y/n is fine!” You smiled, setting your coffee down next to Melissa, who looked up at you with an unsatisfied glare which she allowed to follow you out of the door as you approached Dylan. You didn't enter too far in the hallway and could still be seen, and heard, by Melissa's spot at the table, and of course as nosey as she is, she didn't take her eyes off of you and Dylan.

“What's up? Have you been settling in okay?” You ask politely with a smile gracing your face.

“Yeah I have, thank you so much for all the help, you have been so kind to me and helping with the lesson plans, and oh god the projector-- has been so appreciated.” he gushed and flashed you a grin, looking you up and down, stepping closer. Melissa rolled her eyes at the remarks, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Oh don't mention it! I had someone do the same for me when I first started and I don't know what I would have done without her.” Your back was turned slightly to Melissa so you couldn't see the cocky grin she had on her face over-hearing that. You and her were keeping your relationship under wraps to avoid the whole school making a big deal out of it. Something you both were perfectly content with and honestly preferred. Melissa was snapped out of her daze when she heard the sweet sound of your laughter from the hall. She must have missed the joke Dylan said that was apparently so funny it had you covering your mouth as your cheeks grew red and you placed a hand on his arm, shoving it playfully. Melissa felt her own cheeks growing hot but not from laughter. She squeezed her mug tight, her knuckles turning white as she forced herself to look away. Melissa was an incredibly jealous person, but you loved that about her cause so were you. You knew the root of jealousy for you both did not come from insecurity but more so possession. When Melissa was jealous she became incredibly protective and therefore sexy. You always secretly loved when a man would flirt with you when you two were out, because it always led to Melissa giving a snarky remark to the man, and then taking out her anger on you in the bedroom. You knew Melissa was watching, and you wanted her riled up so when you got home tonight, she didn't… hold back. What you didn't know was that things weren't going to necessarily follow your pre-planned timeline. 

“So what do you say? Dinner tonight?” Dylan asked, flashing dreamy eyes at you. You stopped laughing fairly quickly and was obviously caught off guard from the question. 

“Wait, what?” You squinted in shock, your hand now resting on your chest to play with your necklace, one gifted to you by the redhead who was fuming a few feet behind the scene playing out. 

“Dinner. To go over lesson plans.” Dylan restated confidently, moving his arm to rest up against the doorframe beside you. Your gaze followed his arm and soon realized what he was proposing. 

“Oh. By lesson plans I thought you meant in my classroom like last time.” You cleared your throat, taking a step back slightly. He shook his head and moved his arm back to his side, not wanting to completely bruise his ego. 

“Oh yeah we can do that then. Rain check on dinner?” he smirked.

“Uh yeah, sure.” You said with slight uncertainty, “I'll see you in my classroom after school then?” you clarified. 

“Yeah I look forward to seeing you Mis- Y/n.” he corrected himself with a nod.

Before you could say a farewell of any kind so you could get back to your lunch, you felt someone roughly brush by you running into your shoulder as they walked out of the break room. You quickly noticed it was Melissa and your eyes went wide. That seemed a bit more aggressive than you were intending. You knew you couldn't follow after her immediately without looking suspicious so you watched as she disappeared down the end of the hall and you went to quickly finish your lunch. However, you didn't have time before lunch was over and you had to get back to teaching. Since you taught fifth, your students had three periods throughout the day and changed between you and two other teacher’s classes, Dylan being one of those teachers now. During the period changes Melissa would usually stop by to talk with you while her kids went on a bathroom break or were watching an educational movie. It was a short amount of time to see each other but something you had been doing since you practically started, however she didn't come today and you grew worried. You brushed it off knowing that you would at least see her at recess and continued on your day until then. But there you were, sitting on a bench watching kids run around playing, their screams growing muffled as you scanned the yard and checked the entrances continuously. No sign of Melissa, her kids were out here playing in the smaller jungle gym, but the redhead was nowhere in sight.

“Hey Barb, where is Melissa?” you yelled slightly so you could be heard over the noise.

“I don't know, I haven't seen her since lunch.” She shrugged.

You asked her to watch your kids while you ran to the bathroom and she nodded. You quickly made your way to Melissa's room, practically sprinting to get there. Crossing your fingers and praying to every god that she would be in there. Sure enough she was sitting at her desk, glasses perched on the end of her nose, a red pen in her hand as she graded papers. You walked in slowly, heels clicking on the tile as you approached her desk.

“Hey sweetie.” You greeted softly and she didn't answer. She continued to harshly mark the papers with X’s or checks. 

“Do you want some help? Must be a lot to do if you're in here instead of at recess.” She still didn't answer, just grabbed a stack and a red pen and held them up for you to grab.

You grabbed them without question and sat at the desk in front of her and began grading them, every now and then glancing up at her. You could feel the heat radiating off of her and it honestly scared you a little. You were reluctant to say another word, or ask her a question in fear she would either explode or just storm out. You had played with her and her possessiveness before but she hadn't ever reacted this way, maybe you went too far. You couldn't have predicted Dylan would ask you out! You finally got the courage to speak up, hesitance present in your tone.

“Melissa?” you called and she hummed in response, that's a good sign. “Um, is everything ok-” before you could finish your sentence the bell was ringing, and you realized you left Barbara outside with the kids. 

“Shit” you muttered, standing up and walking to her desk. “Um here, I'm sorry I'll see you after school?” you asked gently and she just grabbed the graded papers from your hands and nodded. One of the scariest things about this was the silence. It was thick, heavy, and suffocating. Melissa loved to argue, she loved to prove herself right, so the fact she was giving you the silent treatment was terrifying.

The rest of the day dragged on insufferably slow and you couldn't tear your eyes off of the clock, waiting for it to hit three fifteen and to hear the sweet ring of the bell. Finally the time came and you dismissed your students. You figured you wouldn't have time to see Melissa before Dylan got here so you just hoped and prayed she would come to you. Thoughts of the redhead filled your mind and caused the guilt to take over. You didn't understand what was so different about today that caused her to react this way. Maybe it was the environment. That's when it clicked, she was probably incredibly frustrated that she wasn't able to show that you were hers. She wasn't able to chew Dylan out with sarcastic yet classy insults because you were at work. That made you feel even worse at allowing Dylan to flirt for so long, and for playing into it. After a few minutes you got lost in your thoughts and didn't hear your girlfriend enter your room. You were brought out of your focus by a hand slamming a piece of paper down on your desk from behind you. You jumped in shock and quickly looked up when you felt Melissa standing close against your back with her hand around your shoulder sitting firmly on the paper on the desk. She lent down close to your ear and you felt a shiver run through you. 

“You have multiple grading errors on this paper, are you trying to make me look like an idiot?” She whispered into your ear, her hot breath against your cheek. You quickly shook your head and turned to look at her, but she moved away and walked around you, causing you to turn back the other way and follow her with your eyes as she came to stand in front of you, her hands on your desk. 

“I'm sorry Melissa-- I can fix it.” you stuttered out softly and she didn't offer so much as a sympathetic smile. 

“Close the door.” she ordered in her deep voice, her eyes never leaving yours as her brow lifted. You quickly obeyed, getting up to shut it. As you walked back over to her you went to reach for her but she moved away, turning the paper on the desk to face away from your chair. You stood next to your desk watching her in confusion. She was acting so unusual. It wasn't like you weren't secretly enjoying this, but she hadn't behaved like this in school before. She walked over to your door and locked it, pulling the shade over the small window on it down. You felt your heart beat faster as she turned to face you again. 

“Melissa, I didn't know Dylan was going to ask me out or that he even liked me. I was just trying to tease you-” 

“Bend over and place your palms flat on the desk and look at the paper.” she interrupted with a monotone voice. You looked at her confused, looking around the classroom and then back at her. You and Melissa were into a lot of stuff when it came to kinks, so nothing was ever out of your comfort zone, you had just never done anything at school besides a mini makeout sesh. 

“What? But- Melissa, someone could walk by.” you stated and she just walked closer to you. Her eyes scanning you up and down and her hips swaying. Her sparkling green eyes were dark and lustful now and you couldn't seem to read her as easily as you normally could. 

“Y/n… Bend. Over.” She stated again and you obliged. She hardly used this tone on you and it sent a shiver up your spine. You felt like one of her students that was being scolded. Arousal and excitement was present but so was a slight sense of genuine fear. You walked to face your desk, placing your palms and elbows flat on either side of the paper, causing your ass to arch up so your back was more comfortable as you bent down fully. Looking at the paper you noticed her highlights on the errors you missed, or marked incorrectly. You soon felt her come up behind you and you forgot how to breathe. Your heart was racing, having nothing to look at but the paper before you. Your eyes darted across it, trying to use all your other senses to get an idea of what the woman was doing behind you. You heard her let out a shaky breath as her hand rested on your hip, squeezing ever so softly.

“You know how much I hate you flirting with other people, especially men like Dylan. Do you realize how much of a slut you look like when you do that at work?” Melissa scathed from behind, her grip on your hip tightening. Your breath hitched and you felt a warmth growing in your stomach.

“I wasn't flirting with him.” you quipped back, a false confidence laced in your words. Her other hand came to grip the other hip and you let your eyes shut for a brief moment.

“No man tells a joke that funny hon,” she laughed with a hidden aggression, the addition of the pet name causing you to press your ass back into her, but she stopped you with her grip, holding you into place. “And then, you do a half-ass job on my papers that I so graciously trusted you with even after the stunt you pulled at lunch.” she scoffed, one of her hands running up your back to grab ahold of your hair. She yanked it back slightly as she leaned forward to whisper in your ear earning a moan from you. “Read the paper, out loud.” she released your hair and you let out a small gasp as you looked back at the paper. You were definitely soaked and could feel the fire burning in your core, causing your vision to go blurry for a second. Before you could mutter another word, a knock came from your door and the handle jiggled. 

“Y/n? Are you in there?” Dylan called from the other side. Your eyes went wide as you turned your head to the direction of the door. Then turning your head back to look at Melissa who gazed down at you with a smirk full of pity. Your mouth dropped open as you tried to think of what to say, the lights were still on so you couldn't just pretend to be gone. You felt Melissa run a hand down your thigh and your eyes fluttered, she grabbed for the hem of your skirt and you swallowed. 

“I can't do lesson plans with you today Dylan! I'll see you tomorrow.” you yelled out and he muttered a response and then walked away. 

“Melissa- we can't do this here anyon-”

“Read the paper Y/n.” she ordered, her voice deep and demanding, her hand leaving the hem of your skirt to meet your hip again. Your whole body filled with chills and you looked back at the paper, not wanting to disappoint the woman. You began with the first sentence, a spelling error you missed was highlighted. 

“It can be hard to keep track of time when-” you were cut off by a harsh smack to your bottom. You let out a gasping breath you didn't realize you were holding in and slowly turned to look at her over your shoulder. When your eyes met with the redheads green ones they were filled with mischief and an envious lust. A small devilish smirk graced her face and she raised an eyebrow. 

“Keep reading.”

 You did as you were told and soon another smack was planted. She kept going as you read through the short paper. Speeding up her slaps and placing them across both sides of your ass. With every slap they grew harder and your body was pushing up against the desk. Moans escaping between sentences. You finished the paper and she moaned in disagreement breathing heavily as her own eyes threatened to shut. 

“Again.” 

You started again and she continued. Your ass was on fire and you loved it. Your hip bones in pain from hitting up against the desk, and your knees growing tired. You felt your arousal growing in your underwear and you began to lose your voice from your throat growing dry. Her slaps grew faster and harder and finally as you reached the end of the paper for a second time she delivered a final rough slap. She allowed herself to fall forward, her body pressed against yours and her hand coming to rest next to yours on the desk, her face inches from yours. You both breathed heavily and you allowed your eyes to shut for a moment. She moved her thumb to rub gently against your pinky in a gentle gesture to remind and reassure you of the true intentions behind her actions. As she stood back up she kissed the side of your head and straightened herself out. Fixing her hair as she used one hand to tap your hip a few times. You stood up, your back aching slightly, and your ass completely numb. You turned to face her with your cheeks red and your knees wobbling as you allowed yourself to lean back against your desk, still trying to catch your breath. She walked up to you and placed a hand to your jaw, pulling you in for a passionate kiss, her lips moving in sync with yours, slowly but deeply. She pulled away with a cocky grin, leaving your lips slightly red from her lipstick. 

“Don't think your punishment is over hon, straighten yourself out and meet me in the car.” she said in a hushed and sensual tone, with a wink before letting go of your jaw and leaving your classroom. 

You stood in shock for a moment before packing up your things quicker than you ever had before. Mentally preparing yourself for what is to come when you get home to Melissa’s. 

[peterman-spideyparker]

In Suspense (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey lovelies! Because I was indecisive and didn’t know what fic to post first, I let a Tumblr poll decide out of three, and this one was the winner! I admit, it’s a bit self-serving, but good gravy I love this man. Enjoy! :)

Summary: Matt’s riding a high from a good day in court, and you’ve had a crappy day—your only perk having been being able to work from home. When Matt finally gets to the loft and you catch a glimpse of a particular piece of attire, you just can’t help yourself.

Warnings: Domestic fluff, established relationship, smut (oral—m and f receiving, needy and a bit rough, unprotected p in v sex, praise/Matt bring flirty and cocky, creampie), swearing/dirty talk

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 1,937

“Hey sweetheart,” you hear Matt call as he enters the loft. 

“Matt!” you say surprised, putting your laptop on the table and moving over to meet him halfway. His glasses, briefcase, and cane have all been discarded by the door, and he begins to loosen his tie. “Court let out early?”

“Yep,” he smiles, placing his hands gently on your waist as he pulls you in for a sweet kiss. “It also helps that it was a Friday afternoon and that I caught the prosecutions’s star witness in a lie during cross, got a confession on the stand, and saved my client from a wrongful imprisonment.”

“Matt, that’s amazing!” you cheer, wrapping him in a big hug. There’s a wonderful, prideful glow about him, feeling a strong sense of pride for what he was able to do for his clients. You mirror his joy, feeling nothing but admiration and amazement for him and how he helps the people who really need it. You press a sweet kiss to his cheek before you lean back and look at him, running your fingers through his hair as you cradle the back of his head. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“I do like the challenge of one-upping myself.”

You give him another kiss before you run your hands down his arms.

“I’m gonna clock out early and I’ll run down the the little market a couple of blocks over and I’ll get what I need to make your favorite for dinner. Tonight, we’re celebrating.”

“I think we can achieve that same level of celebration with some takeout. Now it’s just a matter of deciding the kind of cuisine.”

“Well, now, that’s something for the man of honor to decide.”

“Personally, I don’t think we can ever go wrong with Thai.”

“Then Thai it is,” you beam. “Usual?”

“Usual.”

“Now that you’ve heard about my day, how was yours, sweetheart?”

“Not nearly as eventful as yours,” you sigh. “Long. Stressful. Not things Fridays should be.”

“I’m sorry, angel. But the day is almost done, I’m home, and no one can give feel-better cuddles like me. Actually, Foggy probably could.”

“He is a master snuggle bear. But I have my cuddle devil on call whenever I need him.”

“Damn right, you do,” he confirms with a long, sweet kiss and a quick smack to your butt before you both move toward the kitchen. As you walk, he takes off his suit jacket, and you stop mid-movement when you catch what’s underneath. 

“Matty, are you wearing suspenders?” you ask, feeling a blush rush to your cheeks while you watch him roll up his sleeves to his elbows. 

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t suspenders more of a tuxedo piece of attire for you?”

Matt gives a little shrug and pout of his lips. “I just felt like mixing it up today.”

“Well,” you breathe, closing the space between Matt and you once more. “In the interest in mixing it up, I think we should continue with the theme.” Matt’s eyebrows arch in confusion and anticipation as that beautiful lopsided smirk graces his lips. Hooking your thumbs under the elastic, gently sliding them down the fabric and stopping at the middle of his pecs, barely an inch between your faces. “Dessert before dinner?”

The smile that curls on Matt’s lips and the mischievous glint in his eye speaks louder than words as he pulls you in for a panty-soaking kiss. You moan into his mouth and pull his body impossibly close to yours by the textured fabric of his suspenders. 

“This really does something for you, huh?” Matt chuckles against your lips.

“Oh, yeah, Matty,” you hum, running your hands up and over his shoulders. “You have no idea what this does for me.”

Feeling the soft locks of his hair, you cup the back of his head and pull him back into you the short distance for another deep kiss, causing your bodies to fall onto the couch. With the solid flop on the couch making squeaky leather sounds, you both giggle into the kiss as you continue to embrace. As Matt’s hands cradle your face, he chases your lips, planting big, quick, open kisses on you that make your lips tingle. You move to unbutton his crisp white shirt, feeling his soft scarred skin underneath the soft cotton fabric.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you murmur into his mouth before he pulls back and sucks on your neck, marking you up for all to see. 

“I guess I should wear suspenders more often,” he nips at your earlobe. 

“Then we’d be doing this all the time.”

“I’m not opposed to that, angel—don’t put the idea in my head.”

You smile and giggle as you move in for more kisses, moaning as his hands glide up your body and his tongue explores your mouth. 

“Mmm,” you whimper as you grind against him. His grip tightens on your hips, pushing the fabric of your shirt up on your skin. You pull your lips from his and suck marks into his neck, sucking at his earlobe occasionally. “Wanna suck you off. Wanna bounce on your cock, too.”

Matt slides his hands over your body, squeezing your breasts before running his fingers through your hair, holding you incredibly close as he kisses you, letting you sneak down between his legs, freeing him just enough from his pants and boxers where you can give him a few pumps and swallow him whole—the fact that he’s still relatively soft making the entire thing easier. Matt moans in delight as you drag your lips up and down his shaft, tracing the prominent vein in his cock with the tip of your tongue, further using it to your advantage as you lick the underside of the mushroom head before kissing the tip of his cock slowly, your lips wrapping around the hot, pink flesh. 

Your time on your knees with Matt down your throat doesn’t last long, as he pulls you up and leans your body backward on the sofa so you’re completely at his mercy. He pulls his lips from yours and presses kisses down your neck and exposed collarbone before pulling your shirt off of your body. 

“No bra, sweetheart?” he chuckles as his hands settle on your exposed ribcage, his thumbs brushing just under your breasts. 

“No need—perks from working at home,” you smile as you run your hand through his hair. 

“Works great for me,” he says with a lick of his lips, dipping his face down, taking one of your breasts into his mouth while his hand grabs at the other one. Your back arches as you moan loudly into the apartment, Matt sucking at your nipple and licking at the supple flesh. You feel him roll your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, getting it nice and pebbled before putting his mouth on it, mimicking the motion with the other nipple. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, your tits are so perfect,” he pants as he kisses you right above your racing heart. Taking your breasts in his large hands, he pushes your breasts together, burying his face right into them and moaning into the skin. 

“Matty,” you whine. “Fu . . . Ooh. Matty, eat me out. Please, Matty, need your mouth on me.”

Matt kisses your neck again before pulling off, making quick work of your pants. You lean up, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the living room before he guides you back down and spreads your legs wide, grazing his hands over your aching core before sliding two fingers into you, pumping them just so.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he coos. “Shit . . . So fucking wet f’me, too.”

Dipping down, he wraps his lips around your clit and you moan, arching your back and tossing your head to the side as he eats you out and stretches you wide. 

“Matt!” you cry. “Matty! Fuck . . . Fuck, baby, I need your cock.”

“Thought you wanted my mouth?” he hums into your core. 

“Matt, please! ‘M gonna cum. Wanna do it on your cock.”

He slowly pulls his fingers from you and kisses up your body. “Of course, baby. You’re such a good girl. I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart, I’ll give you my cock.”

Completely ridding himself of his suspenders and slacks, the fabric blend joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. He pumps himself in one hand while he uses his other to adjust you on the couch, pinning you in a pocket of the cushions that creates the most comfort for the both of you. Tapping your pussy with his dick a few times, he gathers up the slick dripping from between your legs and slowly pushes all the way in, your moans harmonizing in the apartment as he moves to completely bottom out. His lips move against yours in a passionate kiss, the both of you doing your darnedest to chase your desires. As you go back and forth, Matt starts fast, shallow thrusts, hitting everything just right.

“Feel so good like this,” he breathes against your neck. “Perfect, angel. Made for me.”

“Right there!” you squeak as you try to hold onto his back, your nails scratching at his soft, scarred skin. “Right there, Matty! Just like that!”

The leather of the cushions squeak as the feet of the sofa scratch against the old hardwood of the loft with each of Matt’s thrusts. Your moans and cries of pleasure come out of you on their own volition as Matt ruts into you over and over. You hold onto him as you feel your orgasm build, and you cling to him as if your life depends on it when you finally feel your release wash over you. He holds onto you and gives you the support you need as you experience nothing but pleasure, his hips keeping a relatively steady pace as he cums inside of you shortly after you clench around his length, pushing the hot ropes of his release deep inside of you. 

“Mm, congrats on your win, counselor,” you hum, completely blissed out as you kiss his forehead, temple, cheek, and finally his lips.

Matt gives you a happy-hazy smile as he kisses the expanse of skin from your shoulders up to your neck.

“Sorry you had a crappy day, angel,” he says with a kiss to your sweet spot.

“It’s been less crappy since you got home.” That’s when it hits you, and you can’t help but laugh. “Oops.”

“What?” Matt chuckles into your neck, pressing a kiss into one of the hickies he left on your skin.

“I didn’t clock out—I just had sex and got paid.”

“Like a prostitute?” he offers, only making the pair of you laugh harder.

“Oh my—not funny!”

“Objection—it’s hilarious. Can you imagine?”

“Okay, sustained,” you laugh as you roll into him, resting your head on his muscly arm, the image he put in your head truly too ridiculous to not be funny. 

“C’mon. Clock out so when this happens again later—.”

“‘Again later’?”

“Yeah. I’m still in a celebratory mood, and I’ve gotta make sure my girl forgets all about her crappy day.”

You hum in agreement as Matt kisses your forehead once more, adjusting you so you can get cozy on the couch together in his arms. Moving as little as you can from him, you grab your phone and clock out, kissing along the lines of a red angry scratches you left in his skin as he holds you close, making sure you both recharge for round after round tonight.

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[daryascurse]

𝙲𝙰𝚅𝙴𝙰𝚃 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝙾𝚁

── Part II: Ferae Naturae

Coriolanus didn’t lunge at you. The tendons in his neck tightened, and his palm ground into the wall. But when the two of you collapsed into each other, the violence met at your mouths in a kiss harsher than the one shared the night before.

chapter pov : 2nd person, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns ❀ tags: hate sεx, semi-public, coitus interruptus, fingering, oraI, (female receiving), biting, teasing ❀ word count: ~4.2k ❀ ao3 ❀playlist

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

See header "Caveat Emptor" link for table of contents/ chapter 1.

a/n (dec. 14 2023): thank you sm to everyone for the support and encouragement!! asks/ posts related to this fic are tagged #caveatcoryo. popping in to share that i have finally seen the movie like halfway through writing this. I absolutely loved it but will still be sticking to more book-canon details, but I don’t think anything outright contradicts movie canon, so it’s fine. By the way, it’s pretty likely every chapter will have some kind of smut. Idk, it’s what I like to write.. just to clarify for people who don't like things 100% explicit all of the time that it shooould be expected here. (Also, I think I learned through this that I prefer writing Coryo POV, but, I think switching off makes sense for a fic like this so yeah.)

-

“…your valedictorian, Coriolanus Snow!”

You were sure he’d seen you. It was all suggestive; barely a hairline crack in his veneer before that golden halo dipped back down, but Coriolanus’ eyes had met yours when he looked up from the podium. He paused a moment, adjusting the microphone with a suddenly fixed concentration, before he leaned in to begin speaking. And he spoke well. The notes he had been shuffling say ever so conspicuously forgotten at the edge of the curved stone podium. You felt the slight strain in the small of your back as you straightened up, fixing your gaze straight ahead.

His hand had lingered at the stem of the microphone, and you watched his fingers as they unwound from it. Those fingers that had stroked the serpentine sash across your body and held you aching and open, how they drew your attention in pale daylight as Coriolanus swam them through the air in emphatic, perfectly-timed gestures. He was an undeniably good orator.

You shifted again in your seat, feeling the resonance of last night within you still. Barely last night – it had been just past three in the morning when you wrapped your coat around your frame and left the club. But despite rinsing and gargling, properly cleaning your teeth before bed and after rising, the side of your mouth still smacked with the taste of him. Shifting in your seat brought the sweet ache to your muscles, your thighs tense from the motions of riding over his thighs. You clenched your fingers in your lap, opened them, and closed fists again, as if wrapping around his shoulders once more.

Early that morning, dressing for graduation with sleep still coating your mind in static, you’d realized the tip of a nail had chipped sometime in the dark velvet room. You looked down for a moment at your fingers knit in your lap, remembering the flaw, before looking back up at Coriolanus again.

And how this graduation ceremony seemed like an inversion of last night– with you, gazing up at him on stage, while he performed in costume!

You could relax the muscles of your face into a slack, neutral expression, but you could not keep your gaze from fixing on him. Perhaps that had been the same concentration he’d had last night, unable to keep the hunger from his eyes as you slunk across the stage. It had been clear, from the moment you pushed back the curtain and shivered into position, that he hadn’t recognized you.

And that itself hadn’t been a surprise. Coriolanus Snow was wildly popular, but he chose to make and keep few friends. It had been a relief. If any classmate were to happen down those basement steps, pick your face from the catalog feed, and watch you step onto the stage, Coriolanus Snow would be the least likely one to recognize you. It still hadn’t felt particularly nice, though, to see anyone from University sitting in that leather chair. Especially the night before graduation, when you were so close to making it out unscathed.

The broken chip in your manicure was brittle when it brushed against your skin.

If anything about last night was a surprise, it was how good it was. That even as Coriolanus starved the pleasure from you, the ache for it drove harder, weakening your thighs and panting your breath.

You adjusted your seat again.

At the end of his speech, when the applause began sprinkling through the crowd to roll into a thunder, Coriolanus hesitated a moment longer at the podium. His eyes flitted across the group of students again, a honeybee’s tense flight that avoided your area like brambles. His hand was at his side, as if to dip into the pocket of the graduation gown, but he turned to scoop up his abandoned cards and tucked them inside before stepping down. Instead of clapping, you ran your hand over your nail’s broken groove.

When the ceremony was over, after you had stood in dutiful line, crossed the stage, tucked the diploma and graduation program under your arm, you made straight for the refreshments table at the back of the hall. The silk pantyhose, regrettably in fashion, itched as the net shifted across your sore thighs with each step; the clack of your heels irritatingly sharp on the polished stone. Valerius Yeoman, who’d been your partner in dialectic seminar, gave a half-salute and pained expression where he stood hanging his head in the shade as his parents and grandparents fussed over him, adjusting the sweep of his gown and smoothing his cap. You smiled in response, raising your eyebrows at his pallid visage as you hobbled to the coffee pitchers.

The school-provided coffee was bitter to the point of being sour, and the taste stuttered your grip around the thick ceramic mug seared with the University coat of arms. A half-mouthful slid from your lips to your chin. You quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand.

“Good morning.”

You turned at the measured tone.

It was half a shock that Coriolanus had found you. Not that it was strange he’d been milling around the reception hall with everyone else who hadn’t rushed off to celebratory brunch reservations. But this was confirmation that he had seen you, recognized you. Now, acknowledged you, even if privately. Maybe only because it was private. Like you, he didn’t seem to be enveloped in familial support at graduation. Even his friends, the ones you knew to be his friends, weren’t nearby. That beady eyed Livia Cardew who usually dragged at his elbow was nowhere to be found.

You gestured at him with the coffee mug.

“Wonderful speech, Coriolanus,” you said.

He smiled, but the rest of his face betrayed its insincerity. His nostrils tightened, flared, ever so slightly. His pretty face turned so ugly. The crack in the mask deepened.

“So, you knew who I was?”

Last night lingered in the air to finish the sentence, lashing off his tongue in a way he couldn’t afford to snap while graduates and guests still flowed in the hall.

“How could I not?” you said, and returned the coffee to your mouth to take another sip. The caffeine had begun to rattle through your veins, push at the side of your eyes, hasten your tongue. You couldn’t hold back a wide grin. “The golden boy, our University’s valedictorian, and they said, next Head Gamemaker. Congratulations.”

Another man would be humbled, perhaps feel the heat of embarrassment not to recognize someone in turn. But Coriolanus Snow rarely turned his head to the back of the classroom, always looking ahead. He looked visibly disconcerted at the way you identified him, threw every label back in his face.

“Do you remember me yet?”

Care to know my name now?

You put the coffee down on the reception table and slid the program from under your arm, turning the pages and folding the spine back. You anglde the thick creamy paper towards him and ran your finger down the list of graduating names, stopping, tapping, when you reached the smooth black cursive marking your own.

Coriolanus studied the page. Or stared at it.

“We had Dr. Campbell’s memoria class together last semester,” you said, and he nodded. His eyes were still tight as they slid back to your face.

You closed the program and slipped it back under your arm, where the roll of your diploma had begun to crush.

“So, what do you want?” Coriolanus asked before you barely had a chance to pick your coffee back up. You blinked at him over the edge of the mug. “Bit late to spread schoolyard gossip, but, what, did you think you could blackmail me?”

“Sorry, what do I want?”

His eyes were cold, his words were terse.

“You knew me. You admitted it. So what are you looking for?”

“No, it’s not what you think,” you said, and the light grin began to fade from your lips.

A cheer of his name drowned out your words. It came from a girl and her family walking by – Persephone something, you’d seen her around – and Coriolanus turned, almost automatically, to give a genteel wave. Through his teeth, he hissed, “Go.”

“Excuse me?”

You almost spilled the last of your coffee down the front of your gown when he gripped your forearm, steering your back to the hall.

“That way,” Coriolanus said, jerking his chin to the entrance, and you managed to put the mug down, your diploma and program slipping from below your elbow. The papers splashed across the marble floor.

“That’s my – hey.”

Coriolanus stepped with you, his hand firm, and a thrill spiked through you at the thought of whether or not he had strength he could apply to the grasp. Strength enough to bruise, to fracture. The previous night certainly suggested he could.

“I’ll scream,” you said, loudly enough to make the old woman rubbing a lipstick kiss off Bergenia Wolfe’s cheek tilt her head.

But his grip tightened, and he leaned in, his voice so low that only you could hear over the ambient noise of the hall.

“It won’t change the fact that we need to talk. And I’d prefer it be in private, especially if your voice keeps rising.”

That was fair.

“Fine. But keep your hands to yourself,” you said, and shook your wrist free. You could feel the warm press of his fingers still as the two of you ducked through the archway at the end of the hall. Graduation morning had left the campus empty of usual academic operations, and the first door he tried, jerking the laboratory-grown ivory handle down with such vigor it made a springing sound when he released it, opened into a cold, empty seminar classroom. You rubbed at your forearm under the sweeping graduation gown sleeve, looking up at the cameras at the front of the room. The University had introduced a new policy to cease providing classroom recordings that last year of school, claiming that it encouraged students to pay closer attention to lectures and not rely on the film whilst studying for final exams.

You squinted at the lens, untrusting, even without the telltale red recording light.

Coriolanus must have had the same thought, because he jerked his finger irritably to lead you forward into a corner just out of view of the lens. Away from any proof that the two of you were together.

“I’m asking,” he said again, with frustration etching his features, “what you could possibly think you can gain from this.”

Coriolanus Snow was a certainly a man of multitudes. You had wondered, last night, as you pressed into the carpet and made your way towards his waiting boots, if that was the real him. If stripping aside the anemic University smile warped those lips into a stone-cold smirk, the point of his foot swaying on his heel as if he were tempted to flatten you below his sole, a woman whose time and body he had bought. Or, the earnestness you vaguely remembered from his televised introduction to the nation at those lost Games years ago – if that lust for life was real. But perhaps this was it, this was Coriolanus Snow, superior scleral show gleaming with barely-bridled rage, with his hand still forming a cage as he pressed into the wall besides you to keep you like a fox in the corner.

“What ‘this?’” you asked, and tried to keep the belligerence from creasing your face as well. “I swear. I only just knew who you were, your reputation here. That’s all.”

“And you think you can blemish my reputation by telling people you saw me at the whorehouse.”

“We – you just saw me, once -”

“There is no ‘we.’ Let’s be perfectly clear on that.”

“Fine,” you said, putting your hands up in a mock surrender. “Fine. Trust me, Coriolanus, I have no interest in getting anything from you, holding last night over your head, anything.”

His nostrils flared at that.

“Really,” you said. Your teeth gnashed with the heat of the word.

“Oh, really?” Coriolanus snapped, almost echoing your tone.

You wavered. Just a moment.  

Maybe this was quid pro quo.

“I’ll tell you,” you said, quickly, burning the words from your tongue as they left. “If it convinces you that I’m not trying to blackmail you, if last night is so serious a secret that you’re seeing shadows, I’ll tell you my secret. It was my last night because I don’t need the money anymore. Every bit went to cover my tuition, because I’ve needed it. Some of us haven’t been so lucky to lick from silver spoons our whole lives. So now you know my shame, and you can trust me to keep yours.”

You practically spat the word at him. At Coriolanus Snow, the adopted scion of the Plinths, son of the Snow dynasty itself; who had taken his leisurely choice to spend unmerited riches on a whore’s company in a thinly-cloaked room, and had the audacity to be furious with her for it.

“And I’m sorry,” you heard yourself continuing, wildly, “for tainting graduation for you with the inconvenience of my presence. But seems you had a fine morning anyway. Looks like you had a perfect day even if my eye contact happened to startle you. Your valedictorian speech went well, you’ve secured a job, and Livia Cardew has the pleasure of returning to your penthouse. She’s probably looking for you, waiting for you now -”

Coriolanus didn’t lunge at you. The tendons in his neck tightened, and his palm ground into the wall. But when the two of you collapsed into each other, the violence met at your mouths in a kiss harsher than the one shared the night before.

His knee slotted perfectly between your legs, the sweeping expanses of gown encasing your bodies like fine satin sheets. Your hands, still raised in that tableau of defense, were caught uselessly between your bodies as you leaned forward and pressed your chest against him. Coriolanus kissed you hard, with his own hold gripping your shoulders, your upper arms, with more strength than had fanned his furious grasp of your wrist. He tasted the same as he had last night, the bitter wind of coffee ghosting over both of your tongues with the same desperate touch as your thighs pressing against each other.

You turned your head for a gasp of breath, head dizzy, the anger ebbing into a more primal form of passion, and Coriolanus took the motion in stride. He moved his lips down to the juncture of your neck, drawing sinful, light pictures with his tongue before his mouth closed on the sensitive silk of skin over your collarbone, right where the graduation gown dove to a demure v-shape. You inhaled second breaths back in at the sharp suction.

“Ouch,” you gasped again.

And then – “please,” you heard yourself add even as your hips shifted forward against his, “don’t leave marks.”

Coriolanus made a humming sound, voice trapped against your collarbone.

“Why? Do you need to stay in perfect condition to sell your body to another man?”

Under other circumstances, more rational responses would have stuttered to your mind: I don’t want any questions. Love bites are just so juvenile. I told you, I quit. I told you, last night was the last night. I told you to trust me.

“Fuck you.”

He straightened up and cupped your jaw, turning your face back and forth to look at you, your bright eyes, your hot cheeks. The window was to his back, his face clouded in harsh contours of the shadow, but his teeth were wet. “That’s not what you said last night.”

You drew your lips back as much as possible. “That’s not what you paid me to say. It’s a little too late to return your purchase,” you said, with less punch than you would have liked.

Coriolanus smiled, terribly, blonde curls falling over his forehead. “Well, I never said you weren’t good at your work.”

He let go of your face. You grabbed his gown in fistfuls of fabric against his chest, ignoring the snag of thread against the chip in your nail. You pulled him closer to kiss him again with a shuddering sigh, to gather his bottom lip between your teeth and bite. The groan that came from you was more like a growl. And Coriolanus’ hands busied to pluck at your waist, gathering the fabric and pulling it higher, his yanks sharper with the pressure of your teeth against him. Your heels tottered on the floor.

“No marks.”

“What about where no one can see?” Coriolanus whispered back, the words cutting between kisses. He had hitched your gown high, your knees exposed and skin uncomfortably warm beneath the cling of your nylons.

Where no one – oh – you thought, just for a moment before he was down on his knees. He lifted the skirt of your gown and you caught it in an instinctive reflex, raising it high and bunching the fabric in desperate clutches as he skimmed his hands over your legs. You sucked in a breath at the friction of skin so nearly almost against skin, the nylon somehow feeling rough and exfoliating under his touch. Coriolanus ripped it between nimble fingers, right at the rise of your thighs, and you gasped. Your feet tottered again, wider, opening for him.

“Maybe,” Coriolanus breathed, his breath hot against your skin, his tongue sliding along the edge of his teeth, “we should have blocked the door.”

“Do you think that’s a problem?”

Your fingertips were trembling, your palms sliding with sweat against the gown.

“Suppose we’ll find out,” Coriolanus said, half-mindless as two fingers tugged at the fabric of your panties, the elastic snapping when he let go. “Or else someone will see me marking you up.”

The words burrowed under your skin, flames at the side of your face, and you ground your teeth together. He kissed your thigh, bottom teeth raking against your skin, and then they dragged across the expanse of your body as his fingers shred more nylon away. He bit you, a flashing pinch of pain, before his lips curved to create a vacuum for his tongue to sooth, wash away the sharpness in a coy play. Then the suction came again, with a smacking of his lips louder than the teasing over your collarbone.

You yelped animalistically, almost dropping your gown as he did it again on your other leg. Your skin smarted.

“Oh-”

“Mmm.”

There was no warning before Coriolanus had pulled your panties to the side again, his tongue pressed flat at the seam of your cunt and a low moan rising from his throat. It reverberated into you, split you, as his tongue dragged up.

“Oh – fuck -”

Coriolanus’s lips curved off your hot skin long enough to give a hissing shush of warning, and you turned your hands tightly in the bunches of fabric.

One hand came up, thumb smearing over your hip and popping another run in the nylon fabric, and Coriolanus pressed at your lower back until your hips canted forward. You were arching for him, feet weak in your heels and pussy exposed, open, to meet his mouth.

“It- fuck – feels good,” you whispered feverishly.

His other hand was open and pushing at your thigh, making room for his face. His thumb was hooked around your panties in a way that made the waistband cut into your hip. His spread fingers were wide over your thigh, and he tensed at the plumpness of curved skin. His fingernails just barely pricked, claws on your leg as he slid his tongue between your folds. Coriolanus rolled his tongue right over your clit, breaths murmuring into you quicker, and quicker. He began to move his tongue in darting lashes and coated your sensitivity in his saliva. You twisted your hips as much as you could between the hold of his hands, almost bucking into his mouth.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

Coriolanus’s head tilted back, and you clutched at the gown in a weird, frenzied anticipation of another scolding.

But instead he ran his hand back down, away from your back. You still pushed back against the wall as his fingers wound over the thigh that locked your knee straight, leg firm to the ground. Coriolanus teased at your folds with these fingers now, and you shook, waiting in agony for him to sink them inside you.

“You’re dripping,” he whispered, so low you almost didn’t hear him over the sound of your own breath in your ear. “So wet and so empty.”

You whined in your throat.

“Bet you’d feel so warm,” Coriolanus breathed.

“Please,” you said, and you’d said it without thinking.

“Please – what?”

You breathed through parted lips, watching his own close briefly and open again – swollen, blooming with furious kisses and bites.

“You know what,” you said, and gnashed your teeth.

Coriolanus let your panties slip out of the hook of his grasp, snapping against your skin. You squirmed. His teeth split again in that grin, gleaming eyes winking up at you.

“And you know what I want to hear,” he said.

But you didn’t pay for it this time, you thought, but you still said it:

“Please touch me.”

His thumbs were busy and nimble, and you couldn’t see what he did when he ducked his head back under your skirt; but there was the flash of devious smile against the angelic blonde hair and there was a whisper of response – “good girl.”

You moaned, and he was hungry.

It felt like he had turned his head, his nose burying against you as he yanked your panties away again with a vigor. He pumped his fingers in and out in steady rhythm, building speed as your hips began to shake in response. You rocked into Coriolanus’s mouth, riding his face as he licked over you and fucked you with his fingers.

“Oh, oh…”

He sucked your clit, every nerve on fire and the smooth walls around his fingers wet and tight and gently opening, weakening, with each coaxing touch. You had to concentrate on the fists of fabric in your hand to keep the gown from dropping, from getting in his way, but all your muscles ached to do was convulse, to claw for him, to pull him closer. Coriolanus built speed, as if the touch of his fingers were attuned to the miniscule way you clenched and pulse. There was the panting of breath, the wetness of skin, the ravenous, beastly groans coming from two throats. Something was close. Something was getting closer, and close, and you let your eyes fall closed.

“Coriolanus…”

Your name broke through the room suddenly, shrill, on the intercom, and your eyes sprang open in horror. Coriolanus froze, and your hands clapped over your mouth to hold back a scream. He jerked his face away, harshly, and you sank to the floor in turn, letting your graduation gown balloon over your trembling legs and weakened ankles. Coriolanus fell back on his heels, looking up at the speakers in the corner as it came again.

“If you are still on University premises,” the dry voice continued, “your diploma has been recovered from the Main Hall and can be collected from the administrative offices.”

The fucking diploma.

You covered your face in your fingers, and exhaled sharply. Your thighs felt heavy, hot, sweat trapped against ripped strands of nylon webbing across your legs. From between the knit of your fingers you could see Coriolanus slowly heave to his feet, a visible straining in his pants before he smoothed his gown to stand.

Something had shifted in the room. It had shifted from the first kiss. It was only now that you could feel it.

You lowered your fingers, dragging them across your cheeks. The side of your chipped nail cut across your skin.

Coriolanus looked down on you, an animal cowering in a cage of your own making, his chest rising with the same speed that hurtled through your veins. He lifted a hand, smoothed the side of his hair.

Looking up at him, you felt something else in the air shift in an uneasy way.

“I should go get my diploma,” you said.

He glanced up at the camera, still facing the rest of the room away from the privacy of your corner.

“I’ll leave first,” he said. “They’ll be looking for me.”

His words were shaking, but his tone was cold again. His friends, likely; his family, his lover. You turned your face away.

“Yeah. I can wait a minute after you.”

“Count to ninety,” he said, and his voice was fast, as if he were already thinking of something else.

Before the sound of Coriolanus’ footfall echoed through the room, there was the sound of something else – rustling, and something falling to the ground. You looked up, at the stiff retreat of his back as he strode quickly from the room, his reach for the door, and the way his shoulders slipped through the gap. When it slammed, you turned your flushed face down to the floor, the place where you had clawed your cheek beating hotter.

He had flung money at your feet.

Part III: Sui Juris

[fleckcmscott]

Pillow Talk

Summary: While Y/N spends some time away, she and Arthur find a way to play.

Words: 3,992

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

A/N: This story stems from a request made by @jokerownsmysoul​. I really hope I got it right. 😂 Please enjoy, everyone! And thank you for reading! 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Y/N's happiness at attending the Atlantic Legal Society's conference had rubbed off on Arthur. Made her upcoming absence worth it.

Often he'd tag along, see the sights while she worked. Check out clubs, sign up for open mics where no one would ever see him again. Low-risk refinement. But this week's jobs were too good to pass up, and Amusement Mile's opening day meant lots of families and plenty of tips.

He could hold down the apartment. Hell, maybe he'd even enjoy it. Pour condensed milk over frozen strawberries, smoke as much as he wanted, catch a movie on Gothamvision. (When their rabbit ears had required aluminum foil to get a TV signal, he'd convinced her cable was a dire need.)

He wrapped an apple in a paper towel, tore a banana from the bunch, and stuck both in her purse. A breakfast that'd tide her over for the three-hour ride to Baltimore. Stirring milk into her coffee, he side-eyed the oven clock. When the java was halfway cold, he made his way to the bathroom.

Toes flexed in annoyance, Y/N grumbled around her toothbrush. "I can't believe I overslept."

"You'll get there," he said, and took the hairbrush from the shelf. "Here, let me." He drew horsehair bristles through her untamed mane.

"Thanks." The foam in her mouth made it sound more like fankhs. She spat into the sink, rinsed and spat again. "I don't want to buy another ticket."

A soft scowl crossed his brow. "You shouldn't've had to buy the first."

"Well, you know my boss. He didn't think it was necessary, which is silly with the WARN act being passed. That kind of ridiculousness makes me want Phil to come out of retirement." She hung her robe on the door hook and jogged to the bedroom, calling over her shoulder. "At least they're paying me!"

Minutes later Y/N emerged, frazzled around the edges but smart. She straightened a ruffle at her collar, tugged the corner of her blazer. She wore her age and era with pride. She guzzled her coffee like an engine on empty, poured herself another and skipped the dairy. "I'll regret this on the train."

They dashed to the elevator, vinyl suitcase in his grasp, her hand hooked at his elbow. As the steel doors parted, he made a show of holding them open with his foot. A beam to rival the rising sun crossed her face. 

"Thank you, sir," she said, and curtsied. The gesture made him want to lift her, spin around. They were running late - and she'd still taken a spare second to be playful.

God, how he loved her.

At this early hour, only a handful of Gothamites rode the subway. A guy sat in a corner seat. Sixty, gray stubble, wearing a flat leather cap. His outstretched arm held a wrinkled centerfold. Ms. December, judging by the Santa Hat, the sole fabric in the photo. A familiar friend that must've been in his pocket for a while.  

Y/N grasped the stanchion at the other end of the car. Arthur moved to stand behind her, a protective arm at her waist.

At every stop she inched towards him. Her round bottom nudged his thighs, her back grazed his chest. She smelled good, like the strawberries he'd eat tonight. He pressed his nose to the crown of her head, filled his veins with her scent.

A scarlet stripe bloomed from collarbone to temple, her ear a crimson shell. The corner of her mouth threatened to curl. Pink tongue darting to wet satin lips.

He squeezed her hip. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," she said. An obvious untruth given how her neck tightened.

Suspicion slanted his stare. But he let it lie. For now.

Wayne Central Station was a Beaux-Arts beauty smack dab in the middle of modernization and commercialization. And it had far too many flights of stairs. After the ups and downs of finding the right track, they landed on thirty-seven, the platform for the commuter line.

"You know," Y/N said, steps slowing to an amble. "I bet there are clown conferences. You could learn to juggle."

His days of working with other clowns were long behind him. But the suggestion was sweet, so he smiled. "My hands are already busy. You're a handful."

She stopped at a concrete column and riffled through her purse. "I'll call you when I check-in and give you the room number. There'll be a direct line." Then her riffling escalated to a frantic search. Patting her coat, the inner breast pocket. Checking her bag one more time. Taking advantage of her distraction, Arthur reached into his jacket. Anticipation tickled his shoulders into a shrug.

"Oh no," she said. "I could've sworn I put my ticket with my credit card."

He reached as if to tuck her hair back. Pulled a green card from behind her ear. "Is this it?" A relieved huff as she snatched her prize. She swatted his chest, wound her arms about his neck.

The squeal of metal on metal bounced off tile walls, announcing the oncoming train. A gust of wind whirled her silvery brown locks. Despite the mundanity of it all, the thousands of people about to step onto public transportation, the moment felt like a movie. A bona fide blockbuster. The ordinary suddenly extraordinary.

Fingers brushing his, she took her bag, speaking between kisses. "I love you. We'll talk soon."

~~~~~

The McKeldin Exhibition Center seemed a blunt, bulky building for the Atlantic Legal Society's twenty-fifth conference, a number Y/N would've considered celebratory. Four stories of concrete, cold steel, muscular exterior. A once modern design that now represented an idea of the future that, if the first five months of 1990 were to go by, wasn't bound to happen.

The registration attendants were friendly and professional. But Y/N wasn't a member of the guild, so she was directed to a line at the other end of a vast, airy hall. The additional hundred dollars she'd paid to attend included extra exercise. A gilded stripe ran along the top of her name tag, like she was a flake of gold to pan for, from which extract a membership fee.

Goodie bags contained the usual swag. A pen with the organization's logo, two legal pads, a folder to hold her notes. At the bottom were a blue stress ball and a gavel pinback button, which she'd pin on Sylvia back at the office. The young intern had received so little recognition in her short life that it'd thrill her.

White tablecloths and serving trays covered the tables in the reception area. Y/N maneuvered to a buffet to the right, snapped a napkin, two cheese and pepperoni skewers, and a paper cup of goldfish crackers. Munching away, she took the temperature of the room.

Lawyers and attorneys general, magistrates and judges swarmed, chatting and laughing, giving handshakes and back slaps. Legal secretaries and paralegals circled up to chat amongst themselves. Judging by overheard introductions, their origins stretched from the Eastern Seaboard all the way to Chicago.

Y/N recognized a former Gotham District Attorney, a lawyer from one of Shaw & Associates' satellite offices. The passing years had salt and peppered his hair, too. The city's newest criminal court judge was on the premises, one Henry Jake. An upset after an affair with one of his legal aides, his promotion from magistrate had been splashed on all the front pages.

He appeared eager to continue the scandal, proceeding to flirt in the way of men who like to wield their authority. A palm on the forearm here, an unwanted compliment there. It made Y/N want to chuck a stress ball at his head.

She stirred powdered creamer and irritation into a styrofoam cup of coffee, noted the restroom sign on the left wall. A woman in a floral shower curtain of a dress approached with tiny steps. Said she'd never been to a big city before, took a sip of Lipton and pushed her plastic glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"I'm Flossie Barteux, but all my friends call me Flo." The red stripe on her nametag denoted her as a fresh recruit.

"Nice to meet you, Flossie." Though maintaining distance, Y/N spoke with warmth. "I moved from the Ozarks to Gotham ten years ago. The lobby has some brochures. I think there's an aquarium on the waterfront, a couple museums, too. You should take advantage while you're in town." Then she gave a friendly nod and excused herself to the Industry Auditorium to sign up for presentations.

Whistleblower protections sounded interesting, considering past capers; she made a note to review Gotham's statutes for the next. Tips for wage and hour investigations filled an entire notebook. The presenter droned on in one agonizingly long sentence. It was impossible to keep up, even in shorthand. Y/N's fingers grew so fatigued she dropped her pen. It took several tries to regain the ability to make a fist.

When the conference broke for the evening, Flossie hopped in the same revolving door as Y/N and suggested dinner at a chain steakhouse across the street. A good number of attendees already stood in line.

To be honest, she could've used a break from the whole thing. But she didn't want to hurt the woman who sorely needed a work friend. She put their names on the waitlist and browsed chalkboard specials. Listened to Flossie's story of how going through probate for custody of her granddaughter had led her to the legal profession.

By the time Y/N stumbled back to her hotel, she could've dozed upright. At the bar, she ordered a variation on a Sidecar, a little number called Between the Sheets. She didn't ask for permission to take it to her room. She dropped a dollar bill in the tip jar and turned towards the lobby.

It was well equipped, a fax machine and pay phone in one corner, a stand with free chocolate chip cookies to the right. In the center of the far wall stood a bookshelf, flanked by overstuffed aqua chairs. A sign was propped on the coffee table: "Please read and return!" A set worthy of Donahue's photo studio.

She stepped onto the woven rug to browse the plethora of outdated bestsellers. Self-helps with mountains on the covers, charlatans offering poor financial advice. Children's books were piled haphazardly on the bottom shelf. And right in the middle was an entire row of romance novels, the ones in which every heroine's bosom heaved and bodice ripped. Ragged covers told the tale of how popular they were, spines split from overuse. As a pre-teen, Mabel had caught her reading a few. ("Why's your face red, Y/N? Are you sick?") Amused, Y/N took the one with the deepest seams.

Forbidden Seas was a terrible if fitting title, given the coverhunk's puffy shirt. He was alarmingly muscular, as though a bee had stung him, and he desperately needed an ice bag. Long, blonde tresses brushed the careening cleavage of the woman bent over his knee. Arthur's wiry frame held a hidden strength, cleaved her tightly whenever they danced, but that position would've ended with her on the floor.

Cackling, she returned the paperback to its place, betting the hunk would be at full mast by chapter four.

When she reached her room, she stretched her arms over her head, pushed herself to her tiptoes, released a short squeal. The conference center's folding chairs had next to no padding. Soreness nagged at her tailbone, a deep-seated throb ached her rear. She could really use a bath. She checked her watch. Arthur would be calling in about fifteen minutes. Luckily, the restroom had a phone.

Pantyhose rolled down her legs, a nail caught on the reinforced toe. The star-patterned vinyl floor was cold on her feet. A claw clip kept her hair off her shoulders, spare tendrils falling to her cheeks. Steam coated the mirror as the room filled with a pleasant heat. She dabbed away her mascara and eyeliner before it could streak. She sipped her cocktail, stepped into the bath. Gave her breasts a casual squeeze and sighed out the stress of the day.

The ringer rang right on the dot.

Voice as light as a game of I Spy, she said, "This isn't reception telling me to pipe down, is it?"

On the other end, Arthur's smile sucked his teeth. "No, it's just me."

"I'm glad it's just you."

The day had gone well, he told her. One of his gigs had cancelled, but that was all right. It let him get some work done around the apartment. He'd replaced the window shade that no longer rolled up, mopped the kitchen, sorted the drawers of his desk. He'd just tuned into a movie on TMC, a screwball comedy she'd deem too silly and dislike.

When he asked how the conference was going, she told him about Flossie, how she hoped the woman's eagerness to excel wouldn't result in her being suckered into membership upgrades. That the WARN act - while a step forward - put some guardrails on the mass layoffs that'd become the norm in the last decade but didn't prevent them. And the overeager judge she was happy to never have to face in court.

"You should teach a class on how to be a gentleman." She slunk deeper into the heat. "I'm learning a lot, but I'll be happy to be home."

"You're not missing much."

"I'm missing you."

"But you saw me this morning!" His protestations didn't fool her; he was pleased as punch.  A hitched giggle, one of his many laughs she loved. "Me, too. I mean, I can't wait to see you. But don't worry. I'm fine. Talk to me more. Tell me about the hotel."

"We'll have to stay here someday. There's a bar with a player piano, and I'm having a cocktail in the bath."

"You- You're on the phone in the tub?" The sound of him puttering. A drink set on the coffee table, a middle-aged groan as he sat on the sofa. "There is one thing I can't get out of my head." Nervous tongue smacked his lips. "What were you thinking about on the subway?"

Mercury threatened to crack the thermometer. But still. She was reticent to go there. "I already told you. It was nothing."

"Come on. You were as red as my clown nose."

She pressed the cool glass to her sweaty forehead. The flight of fancy had been completely inappropriate, not to mention out of character. She knew exactly what telling him would lead to, the direction in which this conversation would race. Tacky and cheap, belonging to a $3.99 a minute hotline.

And yet. She was grateful to have a husband she could blush around, whom she could fantasize about, whom she wanted to fantasize about. Besides. It'd been a stretch since they'd last made love. Tacky and cheap might be just what the Doctor of Laughter ordered.

She let the cognac trickle down her throat. Knuckles dragged up and down her breastbone. Her forearm brushed her pebbled nipple. A drop from the faucet plopped.

"Do you want to continue this?" she asked, an eager if uncertain invitation.

"Yeah," he purred. That rasp, the one positive of his cigarette addiction. "But I'm- I'm not sure what's next."

Neither was she, not quite. The next steps felt at once natural and as if they belonged to an unread novel on a hotel bookshelf. But it was him, so it would turn out all right. They'd figured it out every time before. "Tell me what you're wearing," she said. "Or what you're thinking about. Whatever you want."

"I'm in my pajamas. Um. I found my old journal when I was cleaning. I hadn't read it for years - it has everything from when I met you. Anyway, I read what I wrote our first night together? I'd wanted to touch you so badly and-" He gave a throaty laugh. "And all I knew what to do was squeeze your breast too hard."

The recollection struck a match in all the right places. She'd wanted him, too, more than was smart after such a short acquaintanceship. There'd been something that'd set him apart immediately. Whenever he'd looked at her, her heart had skipped to a new but familiar beat. His good looks, his kindness. Passion and flair hiding beneath a surface shyness, a mask you could see through if you took an extra minute.

"You knew how to look at me. How to listen. How to be gentle." She caressed her hip absentmindedly, a movement that soon became deliberate. "And when not to be."

Her knee shifted to rest on the lip of the tub, opening herself to the warm water. "I wouldn't want you to be gentle now," she whispered, and tugged at the curls between her thighs.

"I wouldn't be." Ragged breaths tempted over three hundred miles. A muted moan that meant he was palming his shaft. Her own palm felt empty. How she hungered for him to be in her grasp. Then he asked, "What- What did you pack for bed?"

"The blue nightie you gave me. The one that ties at the neck." It was six years old but a perennial favorite for both. The approval that'd radiated from him when she'd modeled it flashed in her memory. Strokes blazed at the crease of her thigh. "I'll wear it tonight - unless you want me to sleep naked."

A husky chuckle before he pressed her. Again. "Tell me what you were thinking about on the train. I wanna know."

Fingertips dipped to where she ached for him. Lower to tease plush, squishy flesh, plump with desire. Her eyelids fluttered shut, returning to the occasions she'd pleasured herself in front of him, both when he was inside of her and out. Even on the occasions he wasn't able to get hard, he loved it, asked her to do it again. Holding her. Stealing her breath from her mouth. Covering her hand with his. His thumb taking over until she cried his name.

Fever rippling through her arteries, she tapped her slick nub, body throbbing with need. She cleared her throat. She thought she'd lost her ability to be bashful with Arthur. But dirty talk didn't come as naturally now that she was alone, not the way it did when it was foreplay. When she'd beg him to fuck her, plead for more, more, more.

Yet, she wasn't alone. Though he was afar, she was abuzz with his presence. Spreading joy and happiness to others, always entertaining his audience, he was the performer in the relationship. Tonight the performer became the audience, and she was putting on a show for one.

A show she'd drag out a bit longer. Make it worth his while. "I'm touching my clit, Arthur. Slow and soft, like your tongue. God, I wish it was your tongue. You feel so good."

He groaned. Her grip on the telephone tightened, knuckles gone white. "When we were on the train," she began. "I imagined you shushing me. Your breath was hot on my ear. I wanted you to put your hand on my skin, down my skirt." Her strokes halted while she laughed. "I don't know why. I wasn't even horny."

"You're horny now."

"All hot and bothered."

A grunt came through the copper wire, luring her along. Her foot pressed the tub's curved rim. Splashes of imagery knotted her belly. The play of light on his slender abdomen when he'd put on a shirt. How his biceps flexed when he'd wash his hair. The tightening of his brow the second he lost himself to euphoria. The musky weight of him on her tongue.

She rubbed herself a little harder. A steady, firm pace. "When I come I feel your cock at my back-"

"Keep talking."

"-and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning, because I know you'll fuck me as soon as we walk through the door."

"Oh, fuck..."

Water licked at her labia with each flick of her wrist, awakening every nerve ending, cresting wave upon wave of sensation. She shoved the receiver under her jaw, lifted her shoulder to lock it in place. Cradled her breast, nipples just at the waterline Lapping, lapping, lapping. She circled the right with her middle finger, wishing her hand was as large as Arthur's, so that she could play with the left. Shivering, her knees drew together and upward, pelvis striving towards her wanton touch.

Splish, splash. Splish, splash.

A growl rumbled out of him. "I- I'm gonna come."

"Yes."

She was there. She was there. About to fly over the edge, her feet about to leap. Gasps caught in her throat. Half his name lost in a whimper. The peak of delight finally reached...

The phone tumbled off her shoulder and plunged into the water. Landed on the fiberglass. An unenthusiastic thud.

"Shit, shit-"

Locked in spasm, she watched air bubbles rise from the sunken plastic. It was hard to move mid-orgasm. Her legs weren't yet in the Jello stage. Hanging onto the towel bar, she stood on very shaky ankles.

She plucked the receiver from the water, shook it out over the tub. Yanked the drain and placed the handset on the rim. Fingers a blur, she dialed their home number on the bedside phone. How quickly had Arthur realized she wasn't on the line?

Had he heard any of the denouement?

Nine rings and Arthur answered, out of breath but with a laugh. "What happened?"

She covered her face. "I dropped the phone. It's ruined." It would be the one time she would pay a fee for damages.

"Oh. Well, I was just cleaning up."

The cord twined through her fingers. "Did you?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Me, too."

"I know. I heard half of it."

Giggling, she excused herself to dry off. Pulled the clip from her hair, retrieved her nightie from her bag. She crawled between cool sheets, fluffed her pillow, pressed Arthur to her ear.

"What'll you do tomorrow," he asked, scratching his cheek.

A Department of Labor inspector would give a presentation on the Severe Violators program, a list of closely monitored companies that violated labor laws like it was a talent and never lifted a finger to change their ways. The padding to their bottom lines was bigger than the fines. She'd chatted with the inspector during a break.

"ACE Chemicals being on the list isn't a surprise. But Wayne Steel?" A sharp inhale before she yawned the rest. "I hadn't even heard of them."

"You're tired.”

"No. Relaxed. Happy. But not tired." She curled up on her side, burrowed deeper into the blankets. "This bed is empty. I have no one to press up against." Another yawn betrayed her.

At her third, Arthur interrupted. "Y/N, go to sleep." A grin in his words, like he was about to call her cute. "You need your rest."

"And why is that?"

His voice lowered to the volume of secrets. "Because when you get back, I'm going to fuck you as soon as we walk through the door."

Her eyes went wide, then she burst out laughing. A wave of dizziness swept through her. She brought the heel of her hand to her forehead. "What time'll you wake up tomorrow?"

"Six, probably. Maybe 5:30?

"Let's have coffee together. I'll make a cup at 6:15."

He agreed before she'd completed the request, said how dearly he loved her. And, yes, to her consternation, called her cute. She kept the eyeroll out of her reply. "You're wonderful, too. Now take your own advice and get some sleep. No journaling until dawn. All right?"

"All right. Have a good night. And Y/N?"

She was already fading, his lilt her favorite lullaby. "Yeah?"

"Wear your blue nightie for coffee. I’ll be in my briefs."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1​​​​​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​ @fleckficgirl​

[lovelytsunoda]

she keeps me up // pierre gasly

summary: driving in the storm was a bad idea. when she gets stranded at a rest stop, what's the harm in having a little bit of casual fun with the hot stranger that's also stuck there?

warnings: smut, inappropriate use of a rest stop bathroom counter

she was stupid for attempting the drive in this weather

the news anchors were calling it 'snowmageddon'

when she found that she could no longer see three feet in front of her, she pulls into a local rest stop

and that's when she sees him

in a car that's definitely not built for the snow, he's pulling a tarpaulin over the car to protect it from the snow, but it's not working very well

"do you need a hand?" she asked, pulling her fur lined parka hood over her head. "it would be a shame to ruin such a nice car."

"that would be great, actually. can you grab the other end?"

once the car is all covered, they head inside

like the gentleman he is, he holds the door open for her

there are three other people inside the rest stop, a small desktop radio playing in the background

a married couple in their mid thirties

and an older man who's probably in his late forties

that's when they learn that they're probably going to be stuck there for eight to ten hours

"so, it sounds like we'll be stuck here all night. anybody have any ideas how to spend it?"

the group find themselves sitting around a table, uno cards in hand.

introductions had been done five minutes earlier, and she had been turning his name around in her mind ever since she heard it spoken in his smooth french tongue

pierre, god he was so french

they were halfway through a round of uno when her phone buzzed with an airdrop notification

it was a screenshot of a note from pierre

meet me in the bathroom in ten minutes

with a little winky face at the end

"hi, handsome". she says simply, leaning against the bathroom door

"bonojour, cherie." he grins and thats all that it takes for her to pull him in by the loose collar of his linen shirt, lips devouring his

he backs her up against the subway tiled wall, his cold hands roaming all over her body

under her hoodie, over her jeans, cradling her face

the kiss is all teeth and tongue, the wet, hungry, sloppy kind

her leg hooking around his, hands buried in his frosted tips

the cold metal of his cross necklace cold against her skin as it falls down the collar of her sweater, pierre's lips nipping at her neck

her hands sliding up his shirt, playfully toying with his belt as she moans his name

making out had been fun, but now she needs him inside of her

"bend over the counter, cherie. i want you to look at yourself in a mirror and see how good i make you feel."

and that's how they end up with their jeans around their ankles, gold granite against skin

pierre's cock smacking against her ass before he starts teasing it along her entrance

“so wet for me, mon cher”

“pierre, please.”

it’s rough and it’s messy

her hair grasped in his fist as he thrusts in and out of her

the sounds of skin hitting skin

her lips parted in an unholy moan

she’s even more turned on watching it happen in the mirror

pierre panting above her, struggling to keep his composure as he meets her eyes in the dirty bathroom mirror

“that’s it, take it like a good girl.” he manages to grunt out. “should I give you my cum, cherie?”

“yes, god yes!”

he spills inside of her, and she follows shortly after

fixing their clothes before they head out

but everybody else in the rest stop knows exactly what they did in that bathroom

the rest of those eight hours just got so much more awkward

[mellowswriting]

what we do in the dark pt. 1/2

pairing || Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader

word count || 2.9k

summary || Simon helps you get rid of that post-mission adrenaline. 

content || smut, p in v sex, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, kinda dom/sub dynamics, a hint of degradation (Simon calls you a whore but like,,, lovingly), fluff, established relationship, Simon is a thorough and attentive lover 

a/n || choo choo bitches, I hopped on the simp train

Main Masterlist 

The first day back is always the hardest. Being home feels… wrong. Your body is so ready to relax, to simply exist somewhere safe and comfortable. Somewhere known. Every inch of your body longs for the soft cocoon of your bed, a bed that has barely been slept in since you got it all those years ago. Exhaustion pulls your skin so tight it feels unnatural. After six straight weeks of putting your body through hell, you deserve the few weeks of mandatory leave time and all of the pamperings it entails.

The only problem is that your mind won’t shut the hell up. Every neuron is still firing like you’re taking effective fire in the middle of enemy territory and desperately searching for a way out. The familiarity of the little apartment you share with your teammate turned best friend turned fuck buddy does little to ease the prickling at the back of your neck. It’s bare bones and devoid of any real personal touch, but it’s yours. You’re safe, you know that. You just can’t quite feel it yet.

That is what keeps you up until the godforsaken hour of two am. The eerie silence of the building makes your footsteps sound impossibly louder than they really are, but you just can’t sit still. Your socked feet drag along the carpet sluggishly as you make your way to the kitchen. A glass of water probably won’t do much, yet another vain attempt to calm your frazzled nerves, but you’re willing to try anything at this point. The next on the list is sitting on the shower floor until the boiling water fizzles out into a chilly stream.

You’re halfway through the glass when you hear footsteps coming down the hall. The sound makes you smile. You know he has the striking ability to move without a sound for such a broad man. You’ve seen it firsthand a million times. He always strives to make his presence known around the apartment, just to avoid startling you. It’s sweet in a ‘two hardened soldiers trying not to trigger each other’s fight response’ kind of way. Two big hands find their way to your waist and you can’t help yourself from leaning back into his firm chest.

“You alright?” The low rumble of his voice and the warmth from his palms soaking into your skin eases some of the irritation scathing your soul.

“Can’t sleep.” You grumble, not bothering to hide the frustration from your tone. If there’s anyone else in the universe who knows all too well what you’re going through, it’s him. There’s something freeing in laying bare the ugliest parts of yourself and not being afraid of any judgment. “Still too wired.”

“So am I,” He sighs. It never takes much talking to get the point across with the two of you. You turn in his arms and smile at the sight that greets you - Simon “Ghost” Riley, in the flesh. All he wears is his briefs and that signature skull balaclava covers everything but those pretty blue eyes of his. It used to be an amusing sight, one you couldn’t help but chuckle at, but you’ve grown so used to it that all you feel is comfort. Simon presses closer until the edge of the counter bites into your lower back and you blink up at him, a small smile growing on your face as you realize what he has on his mind. He leans close, his nose brushing yours. “You want my help?”

The moment you whisper ‘yes’, Simon’s hands tighten on your waist and yank you upward, hauling you over his shoulder as you gasp and struggle in surprise. Your indignant cry of his name melts into disbelieving laughter as he carries you down the haul and into his bedroom. The temptation of smacking his ass is too much to resist, even though it earns you a much sharper one on yours before he tosses you onto his bed.

“You’re gonna pay for that one, sweetheart.” Simon tries to make it sound like a threat, but you know him too well - you can spot the humor in his voice from a thousand miles away. You know his every weakness, every little thing you can do to wear down his will to endure the allure of your body. You flash him that playful grin he loves.

“Bring it on then, soldier boy.” You taunt.

Simon doesn’t waste a second. He drags you down the bed by your ankle, his touch lingering on the black thigh-high socks that hug your calves before he slides them off and discards them on the floor. You can’t blame him - the fabric is soft and pretty. It isn’t something either of you gets to indulge in often. He loves seeing you in anything delicate. That’s exactly why you wiggle your hips, encouraging him to tug your shorts down and expose the black lace underwear you put on just for him. A low groan leaves his parted lips, the sound broken and rough at the back of his throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He grumbles. You never fail to mesmerize him. No matter if you’re strapped down with almost 50 kilos of gear and covered in a week’s worth of dirt and grime or dressed in something lacey and fine. You’re so beautiful that it takes his breath away. Simon lets his hands wander, savoring the softness of your skin as his fingers inch closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. The moment his fingertips brush your covered pussy, something feral flashes in his eyes. He can feel your wetness soaked into the fabric. “So wet for me already, huh?”

“Just for you.” You whisper. “Only you.”

The breathy admission snaps him into action.

The darkness of his bedroom is the only place he truly feels safe. The windows are blacked out. The overhead fixture doesn’t even have a bulb in it. This is his domain, the only place he can bare himself completely, body and soul. The only light filters in from the hallway, barely illuminating his body as he shoves his boxers down his thighs. You barely have a chance to admire the sight of his thick cock springing free from the material before he growls out an order.

“Strip. Now.”

You know better than to refuse an order. Those pretty black panties disappear onto his bedroom floor and in the mere milliseconds it takes to rip your tank top over your head, Simon has slipped his balaclava off. It’s a rarity, the privilege of seeing his face. The last six weeks have left you with the tiniest flashes of his lips and chin in those small moments of intimacy you managed to sneak away. Short kisses, rushed trysts in bathrooms. Those are moments you cherish, of course, but they make you appreciate this even more. The sharp edge of his jaw, the distinct ridge of his nose, those dark eyebrows - he’s so handsome that it damn near drives you crazy.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” Simon grits as he manhandles you, flipping you onto your belly with an ease that sends you reeling. The sharp smack of his hand against your ass makes you yelp but that doesn’t slow him down at all; he lands another smack on your other cheek before soothing them both with a slow squeeze from his big hands. All you do is arch your back for more, and Simon chuckles. “I’m gonna fuck you ‘til that pretty little head of yours is empty.”

“Fuck, Si,” You whine, your fingers twisting his sheets. “Please touch me. Don’t make me wait, I need you so fucking - oh!”

Two thick fingers push into your soaked pussy without a second’s hesitation. Simon has always been greedy in the realm of your pleasure; he would do anything just to feel you clenching around him, to feel your slick dripping down his wrist. The suddenness hurts so fucking good, you can’t help but lean into it. Your hips rock back and Simon hums, a dark, filthy sound that you know spells the best kind of trouble. He isn’t the only one who’s greedy.

“That’s right, pretty,” Simon grunts, curling his fingers until he makes you cry out into the mattress. “Fuck yourself on my fingers. Greedy little thing, aren’t ya?”

You want to tell him that it isn’t your fault - it’s all his fault for being so goddamn good at working your body to unbelievable heights - but then he slides a third finger into your pussy and steals your voice altogether. All you can do is whimper a pathetic sound and bury your face in the sheets. You can practically feel the intensity of his gaze burning into your skin as he watches you fall apart beneath his touch. Simon’s hand twists and his fingertips press into that spot that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, Simon!” Your voice breaks around his name pathetically.

“That’s right. Say my fuckin’ name.” Simon’s tone drips with approval and it makes you tremble, your pussy clenching around his fingers, trying in vain to pull him even deeper. His touch never fails to turn you into a debauched mess. He ignites something bright and needy and submissive, something for him to covet and own - and he sure as hell knows it, too. He spreads the cleft of your ass and curses at the sight of his fingers disappearing into your pussy. “Look at that perfect fuckin’ cunt… so wet for me, aren’t ya, pretty? My good girl…”

The rough timbre of his praise drags you closer to diving headfirst off of that edge and he knows it. He can feel it in the quivering of your pussy, in the sharpness of your gasp, in the breathless way you say his name. Simon is an expert in reading body language - and yours is singing to him. Your body is building up to a crescendo of pleasure and satisfaction, backed by the chorus of your voice sculpting moans of his name into something melodious and resplendent. You’re so close, so ready to break for him -

And Simon stops.

A distressed cry falls from your lips but he doesn’t give you long to mourn the loss. Simon manhandles you further up the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he kneels behind you. It’s like instinct; your thighs spread, your back arches, and you purr his name with the temptation of a goddamn siren. Simon growls out some unintelligible curse and that’s the only warning you get before he’s sinking into you until his hips are flush against your ass. The stretch rips the air from your lungs - Simon is fucking big. His cock is thick and heavy and leaves you so full that your mind goes pleasantly blank. All that you can think of is him.

He grinds impossibly deeper and your hips jolt reflexively, trying in vain to escape the intensity. Simon anchors you against him, both of his hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. His hold is inescapable and you revel in it. The strength he possesses is exhilarating, leaves you pliable and all his - and Simon knows it.

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty? Begged for me like a little whore and now you’re tryin’ to run away?” Simon tuts at you in faux disappointment but his hand slips between your legs to reward you nonetheless. Every swirl of his fingers against your clit makes you relax more, your walls fluttering deliciously around him. A low growl rumbles from between his grit teeth and you tremble; he’s finally giving in, relenting to that vicious instinct to fuck and fight and take, take, take. “That’s right… You’re bloody perfect, sweetheart.”

Simon’s hips snap into a harsh pace so suddenly that you scream. The bedframe jerks and groans under his ruthless pace but you don’t fucking care. Nothing matters in the wake of him; in the smell of his skin, the bite of his blunt fingernails against your hip, the indecently slick sounds of his cock fucking you into oblivion. Everything else falls into the background, unimportant. The entire world could be burning down around you and you would never even know. Simon consumes your every thought.

It’s animalistic, filthy. The air is filled with your soft whimpers and Simon’s guttural grunts and the sound of his hips meeting the plump flesh of your ass. You can’t help but roll your hips back to meet his thrusts because fuck, you needed this. It’s been too long since he’s taken you apart like this. You feel starved, pathetically needy, and he loves it. Simon worships your body the best way he knows - with rough, molten pleasure that melts you down to your very core. Each rub of his fingers against your clit sparks the orgasm he denied you back to life, burning low and hot in your belly.

Your bodies move together in this familiar dance, the well-choreographed moves coming without thought, and your climax hovers so close you can almost taste it. There’s no room to be ashamed by the ease with which he makes you fall apart, not when you can tell he’s just as close as you are. The pleasure builds under his desperate touch, climbs and climbs until it has no choice but to finally crash down over your entire body. It pulses out from your belly and throughout your entire body, seizing your limbs and burning through your exhausted muscles. Simon fucks you through your orgasm, doesn’t stop rubbing your clit until your nails claw at his wrist and you beg him to stop.

The spasm of your sex rips a violent sound from his chest. Simon holds you up by your waist as he uses your fucked-out body, chasing his own orgasm as the warm afterglow settles into your skin. Every punch of his hips forces quiet, broken moans from your parted lips. It sends his ego soaring; his stubborn teammate, a vicious warrior that he’s seen cut down entire crews of enemies on her own - transformed into this soft, purring lover beneath his touch. A shudder wracks up his spine as Simon buries himself deep inside your body, his cock shoved against your cervix as he spills his seed inside you.

“Down. Lay down, pretty.” Simon mumbles after a moment’s pause, the low rumble of his voice barely intelligible. He follows you down, threatens to suffocate you under his weight with his chest pressed firmly against your back. You can’t find it in yourself to care. If the way you finally go out is underneath the sexiest man in the world, that’s perfectly fine by you. A respectable death by anyone’s standards.

You have no idea how long he keeps you beneath him. Long enough for him to suck lazy marks into your neck and recover from being the most pussy-drunk he’s been in months. His hips arch into your body, fucking his seed back into you with his softening cock, even as you both shiver from the tenderness of your fucked out bodies. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to - Simon effectively fucked every ounce of energy out of your body. No, you’ve resigned yourself to using your lover as your own personal weighted blanket for the rest of the night.

A discontented groan reverberates from your chest as he finally lifts himself off of your body. The mattress dips under his weight as collapses next to you, just as exhausted as you are. With a long-suffering sigh, you roll onto your back and undertake a full-bodied stretch that hurts so damn good, you can’t help the sinful groan it pulls from you.

“Careful there,” Simon murmurs.  “Tryin’ to get me going again, sweetheart?”

“I think we’re both too tired for that Si’.” You finally look over at him with a sharply pointed finger. “Do not take that as a challenge.”

He just chuckles lightly as he props himself up on his elbow to take in the sight you make. The two of you unabashedly stare at each other, reveling in the rare sight of each other completely bare and comfortable. Fuck, he looks so good it should be illegal. He would be painfully intimidating to anyone else - 6’5, covered in tattoos and various scars, staring down at you with inexplicable heat burning in his eyes. Anyone else would see Ghost, the terrifying soldier that haunts the mind of his enemies. But to you? This is your Simon. The same biceps you’ve seen used to choke the life from enemies now draw you close to his side. His hands hold you with even more care and familiarity than he shows his weapons; his fingers slip beneath your jaw and tilt your face up into a soft, lingering kiss. Just one last indulgence before he lets you bury your face in his neck.

He shifts your thigh up over his lap and your arm drapes over his chest, effectively pressing your bodies against each other as close as physically possible. This is how Simon loves to sleep. Feeling every inch of your body against his, safe in his arms. He never knows a better rest than when he has you like this.

Simon gives your ass a playful pat. “Get some rest, darling.”

The last thing you feel is the warmth of his hand engulfing yours before a peaceful sleep finally takes you under.

[stevewhoreington]

two can play

[nsfw/smut. remember that post i made about preppy s1 steve knowing how much billy wants to suck his cock but he teases him by only letting him put his mouth on it over his jeans? well. here ya go!]

Billy's mouth is on fire. 

Dicks are made to be sucked on. Denim isn't. That fact doesn't seem to sway Harrington into popping open the front of his jeans and sliding his cock out; doesn't seem to sway the guy into making this even halfway easy for Billy. 

Asshole, Billy thinks, and that may be true, but Harrington's cock is big and it's hard beneath the rough layer of denim - beneath the heat of Billy's mouth - and Billy keeps his lips on it, anyway. Asshole or not, Billy is here for a reason. It's stupid and it's wrong and it's reckless, but Billy knows what he wants, and what he wants is right in front of him, trapped beneath a fastened button and a closed zipper.

"This what you wanted, Hargrove?" Harrington's eyes are dark, eyelids heavy as he stares down at Billy with a crooked smile. "You don't have to answer that one. I already know." 

Arrogant fuck. 

Arrogant fuck with pretty eyes, silk-soft hair and a nice, big cock. 

Billy can feel the size of it. He can see the size of it, too, but. There's something more satisfying in feeling it. He slides his sore mouth along the thick line of Harrington's dick, briefly pausing just to run his tongue along his lower lip. It doesn't quite ease the glide - he's lapping up denim, for fuck's sake - but it's surely better than a mouth that's completely dry. 

Harrington's cock is straining against the denim it's caught in; nudging right up against Billy's mouth like it's fighting to get out. Billy wishes it fucking would. Wishes it had a mind of its own, because Harrington seems intent on teasing the hell out of Billy, making him wait when all he wants to do is wrap his tongue around his cock and taste him. All he can taste is warm denim and fucking laundry detergent. It isn't even close to what he wants to be tasting, and it's not nearly enough. 

Until now, Billy has kept his hands to himself, but he's spurred on, now, by the swell of arousal in his own jeans and just the sheer fucking frustration of not being able to use his mouth to the best of its abilities. Spurred on to reach out in front of him, fingers grappling with the button of Harrington's jeans. Billy is rewarded with a short, blunt smack to the wrist. 

"Did I say you could?" Harrington asks, face tipped down to stare at Billy, and his hair is a brunette wave, falling over his brow. 

Billy growls against Harrington's cock, and Harrington just smiles. Billy doesn't want to speak, isn't in the mood for words, but he resigns himself to it anyway and says, "S'pose you didn't, no." 

"That's right," Harrington praises. "So hands off." 

The hell of it is, Billy does let his hand drop away, heavy and rejected, and completely obedient to Harrington's words. He's easy for the cock that's in front of him, and Billy fucking hates it. Hates that Harrington's clocking on to just how easy he is, too.

Because Harrington had coaxed Billy over to his car with a nod of his head and he'd followed the gesture until he was sitting in Harrington's passenger seat. Harrington had lured Billy upstairs, and Billy had put up no fight. Hadn't protested, either, when Harrington had enticed Billy to the floor with the promise of something nice in return. 

If Billy had known that Harrington expected him to suck his cock through his goddamn jeans, then Billy wouldn't have dropped to the floor. 

Bullshit. 

Of course he would've. 

It's why he's still here, after all, face abused by the rough material that's keeping Harrington's dick out of reach. It's frustrating and, no matter what Billy does, he can't get any closer to it; can't get a fucking taste of it, but he still tries like he has some kind of chance. Still rubs his mouth up against the bulge in the front of Harrington's pants, mouth parting around the the hard, hot shape of him, allowing his denim-clad cock to fit between his lips - even if it's all pointless. 

Clearly, it's a game. Harrington's hard and, if he had any sense, he'd nudge himself out of his jeans and slide into Billy's wet, eager mouth, but. He isn't doing that. It's a game to him. He's getting some kind of kick out of this, and Billy's just letting him get away with it - too far gone to think about clinging onto any remaining shred of dignity. It had all been stripped from him the second he followed Harrington into his car, anyway. Billy has nothing left to lose. 

"Was that noise for me?" Harrington asks, and Billy's only just realising that he's let out a distressed whimper; something entirely impatient and fucking upset. That crooked smile has never left Harrington's face. "It's okay, baby," he soothes, voice softened up and tone so condescending, so patronising, that Billy's cock gives a violent kick against the seam of his pants, leaving him wondering what the actual hell is wrong with him. Harrington keeps talking, says: "I'm letting you have it, baby. It's okay." 

"You're not," Billy grumbles, words muffled where his mouth is still fighting to get at what Harrington's keeping from him. 

Harrington laughs. "I am. C'mon, baby. Get it." 

His hand dips into Billy's hair and tugs, and Billy fucking moans. Above him, Harrington laughs again. Long fingers twine themselves into sweat-dampened curls, and with this new grip, Harrington keeps Billy's face flush against his stiff cock. 

"Get it, honey," Harrington repeats, tone a touch less arrogant and a little more dazed. 

Billy gets it. 

Gets it as much as he can, anyway, considering there's an obstacle of washed denim in the way. Kisses the shape of Steve's cock with damp, raw lips. Pushes his nose where he can get it and inhales deeply.

Harrington rewards Billy with a low groan. "Use your tongue," he advises - or orders. 

It isn't going to be pleasant, but Billy sticks his tongue out anyway, lapping at Harrington's erection over his jeans. His tongue works with enthusiasm; hungrily licks Harrington up, as though he might be able to work him out of his pants if he laps hard enough. That release never comes, though. Billy never tastes salt, or sweat, or skin, or fire. It's frustrating, but he doesn't give up. He keeps at it, like Harrington might change his mind if he sees how much Billy wants it. How he needs it. 

"Fuck." Words are falling out of Harrington's mouth and raining down on Billy. "Fuck, Hargrove. Keep going. C'mon, baby." 

He wants to draw back, look Harrington in the eye and kindly explain that this could be so much better for the both of them if he'd just unzip his fucking fly and let Billy have him, but. Harrington's fingers are tight in Billy's hair, keeping him close, and. It's good. This is good. It's not enough, but it's still good, and it's still more than he thought he'd ever have. Harrington's playing a game, and Billy's quickly learning the rules. He wants to play. 

Harrington groans again, and the noise sounds distant, almost - like he might have his head tipped back, throat bared, shooting the sounds towards his bedroom ceiling. Billy moans against the solid heat that he's trying to wrap his lips around. His eyes are closed and there are tiny, crystal-beads of sweat gathering at his temples. Billy is aching in his jeans, desperate for some kind of friction to roll his hips into. He surrenders to the urge and dips his hand between his thighs, cupping himself and inhaling sharply at the jolt of pleasure that shoots up his spine. 

"That's it, baby. Touch yourself," Harrington tells him, moving his fingers through dirty-blonde curls. "Bet you're gonna come for me, huh?" 

Billy nods. The front of Harrington's jeans are soaked through with spit - maybe with pre, too - and it wets Billy's face.

He palms desperately at his cock. Squeezes roughly. Strokes. With his face buried in Harrington's crotch, it isn't going to take long. Harrington is encouraging; tugs at Billy's hair and sends tiny bolts of lightning down his spine. Uses the grip to force Billy forward, impossibly close, and the denim scratches at his nose and his mouth, and. Shit. Billy can hardly breathe and it doesn't even matter. He doesn't need to. He just needs this. Needs to suck Harrington into his lungs, instead. 

"Honey," Harrington chokes out. "Keep touching yourself."

Billy does. 

"Keep going. That's good. So good for me, aren't you?" 

It's filthy-sweet praise and it works. Billy's grabbing and squeezing and massaging and kneading, and then something gives. 

The wave breaks. Billy comes with his mouth splayed open against Harrington's cock, spilling into the front of his jeans. His eyelashes flutter and his hand drops away. Billy finishes without the pressure of his hand. He doesn't need it, anyway. All he needs is to be pushed up against Harrington's dick, denim grating against his mouth and his tongue and his nose, fucking dizzy from lack of oxygen. 

He comes and he's still riding that wave, still trembling through the aftershocks, when Harrington takes a hasty step back, putting distance between them. Oceans of space. 

Billy knows, quite suddenly and quite certainly, that Harrington isn't going to get off in front of him. He isn't going to dip a hand in his pants and jerk it - isn't going to let Billy watch or help. Harrington's mouth is quirked up into a smile, and he thinks he has won this game. 

Maybe he has, but. 

Later on, when Billy gets home and he watches the sun drain out of his bedroom until the ceiling turns black, his mouth will be on fire and his tongue will be raw, and he'll feel Harrington on every cigarette he smokes and every smile he allows himself, and his face will still feel rough by the morning, and that - that feels like winning. 

[mikeys-bike-slut]

Untitled Part 2.

i'm srsly calling this Untitled, welp

Anyway, here's Part 1 and some warnings for this chap.

Warnings: violence, injury, mention of sexual activities, very mild smut, sexual assault threats

Word count: 2975

(halfway through my dumbass forgot if Hanma is the leader of Valhalla or not so um.. surprise? I guess cause now he is. it's 3am leave me alone T_T)

***

"I'm so sorry for what I did to you..." he said in a serious but quiet as he looked down avoiding my gaze. "I should have never laid a finger on you.. I let my anger control me and I just couldn't stop" he continued as his voice started to get annoyed and he clenched his fist. I can tell how much he was beating himself up for hurting me.

I turned around fully and cupped his face then softly wiped the dried blood off of his face as I lifted his head up to look at me. "Don't forget who threw the first punch.. me. I am not innocent here, Mikey" I said in a serious tone then let out a small sigh. "All I wanted is to be treated like any of the other members.. I disobeyed your orders and on top of that I have taken Babu without your permission, tell me what would you have done if it would've been Baji or Mitsuya, huh?" I cocked a brow as I looked at him. 

"Would've beaten them to a pulp..." Mikey replied with a deep sigh then just wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight. I just smiled as I knew he finally understood. "I guess you're right..." he said with a heavy voice, I can tell he is hating to admit that he was wrong. He pulled away then looked at me. "Though they would've never dare to punch me" he added with a slight smirk then let out a small laugh.

"Look... I am not saying you deserved it but-" I just left the sentence hanging and Mikey given me an offended look then we both just laughed.

"And you know what you deserve?" he cocked a brow with a grin as his voice suddenly dropped and the grin turned into a smirk on his velvet soft lips while he slowly backed me up against the tiles.

"Not what you want Mikey" I winked at him then gently pushed him away causing him to give me a look like I just ate his last dorayaki, making me let out a small laugh. 

"You're such a tease" he pouted then playfully smacked my ass as he reached for the shower gel. 

***

Next morning:

I woke up to my entire body being sore, getting beaten up by the commander of the Tokyo Manji Gang isn't exactly gonna leave you feeling refreshed. Thinking back, it's kind of terrifying that that wasn't even Mikey's full power. I know him and I know  he was holding back, if he would've used his full strength I'd have actual broken bones and or would be in body bag. We often fight but we never really hurt hurt each other, just some bruises and limps, nothing a few days rest won't fix.

When I tried to move I felt something heavy on me and as I looked down the first thing I saw was a ball of messy blonde locks on my stomach which belonged to a certain leader who was snoring on my stomach with his arms wrapped around my waist. I couldn't help but smile, sometimes he can be adorable. Suddenly my phone buzzed, I stretched out then when I grabbed the device and unlocked it, it was a text from the other blonde.

I bite my lip and let muffled moan as I read that text. Draken had the very annoying talent of being able to turn me on with a single sentence and he knew this very well and used it very well. I put my phone back onto the bedside table then reach down to my anchor and gently nudge him. "Wakey, wakey, Mikey" I chirp as I play with his messy hair.

"I don't think so..." he mumbles and buries his face deeper in my stomach making me giggle.

"Draken texted me he's coming to pick me up, I have to get ready. Come on, get up" I nudge him again and as he hears Draken's name he growls then lightly bites my exposed stomach to show his displease. "Hey!" I chuckle. "Careful..." 

"Why...?" he purrs in his sleepy tone then moves his head lower and starts leaving sloppy kisses as he goes lower on my body, dangerously getting close to the waist band of my PJ shorts which ignites the fire inside me.

"Mikey...." I groan then push him off of me before I fall under his spell again and just sit on his face and ride him till kingdom come. Mikey has the irritating habit of pushing me to the edge until I literally turn into his slut, doing whatever his horny little heart desire which result in hours upon hours of fucking and sucking and licking and whatever one's perverted mind can imagine. 

"You suck" he groans then giving me an offended pout. "Go and have fun with Draken then but then don't miss me" he says with a shrug then turns onto his stomach. 

"You seriously going to stay in my bed?" I cock a brow as I sit up and look at him, I'd say in disbelief but it's Mikey, he loves self-inviting himself to everywhere.

"Isn't that where I belong?" he gives me a tired but cocky grin as he turns his head towards me to look at me.

"Shut up and get up" I chuckle then shake my head as I get out of bed and grab my clothes. "I'm gonna have a quick shower, don't destroy my house when Draken gets here" I warn Mikey then walk into my bathroom and let the water run. 

As I wait for the water to get to a decent temperature I start wondering where Draken is planning to take me, especially that he knows I'm with Mikey. Mikey tends to get a horrible attitude when someone takes me from him. Outside of Toman Mikey knows no boundaries and loves acting like a brat especially when it comes to me. 

I try to have a shower as quickly as I can as I don't trust the tired, bratty ball of jealousy to behave when his taller friend gets here, but the second the hot water touches my skin I get lost in the calming, relaxing blanket the hot water throws on me. I close my eyes and allow myself to get lost in it and let my brain switch off. I don't know how long I was under the shower but suddenly a muffled yell wakes me up from my relaxation. I turn off the water immediately and wrap a towel around myself and rush outside before they destroy my house. Of course when I walk out I see Draken and Mikey staring down each other with Mikey holding my baseball bat and Draken holding my tennis racket.

"Idiots!" I yell as I walk up to them and smack both of them up the head. "Put the damn things down and behave like adults" both male hisses as my hand makes intact with the back of their heads especially Draken who has no hair to protect his melon. 

"He started it..." Draken mumbles as he points at Mikey while putting the racket down. 

"And I'm finishing it" I growl and cross my arms on my chest. "Now can I go dry myself and get dressed without fearing that you dumbasses will kill each other?" 

"You don't have to get dressed for my sake" Draken says with a slight smirk and I just flip him off. 

"And I can always help you dry yourself... though usually it's the other way 'round" Mikey winks at me and I just roll my eyes at them. 

"It's 10 am how in the hell are both of you so horny?" I shake my head and they both just start laughing.

I roll my eyes and retreat into the bathroom quickly drying myself then getting dress in a simple white tank top and some baggy black pants, putting my long light pink hair in my usual high pony tail. I stretch as I walk out, surprisingly finding both males talking to each other and laughing. I swear these two could be killing each other than having drinks the next. 

"Alright, I'm ready" I say as I walk up to Draken and flick his ear playfully. 

"Hey! Careful" he growls then sighs. "You're spending too much time with Mikey because you're starting to become a nuisance like him" 

"You love me" Mikey grins then yawns. "You two go ahead I'm gonna have another nap"

"If you leave don't forget to lock the house" I sigh then throw him my spare keys, knowing there is no way I can get him out of my bed and I am doing everyone a favour by not kicking him out cause God save us if we Mikey ever shows up, tired and cranky. I grab my bag shoving my phone and wallet in it then grab my bike's keys but Draken takes them from me and hang them up back on the key holder while giving me a kiss in the progress.

"You're riding with me" he says casually with a small smile and I just cock a brow suspiciously.

"Alright..." I say in a questioning tone then give one last glance at Mikey who's already back to deep slumber then just sigh and follow the tall shaved headed male out. As much as I was suspicious I trust both of them with my life. 

Draken gets on his Zephyr then hands him his spare helmet. I put it on then sit up behind him. "Hold on tight" he gives me a grin as he glances back at me then revs the motor and takes off. I let out a laugh from the sudden speed and wrap my arms tightly around his waist. We both laugh as he rides off to god knows where. 

After a good 20 minutes of bike ride Draken pulls up to an old shrine then cuts off the engine and gets off his bike then helps me off.

"Kenny, what are we doing here?" I cock a brow confused as I look around. 

"I have to show you something" he says in a serious tone. "This is something you cannot tell Mikey" I cock a brow even more confused as I follow him to the back of the shrine where he stops and points at unfamiliar gang mark.

"I don't recognize the mark" I say as I crouch down to take a closer look.

"It's Valhalla" he answers and my eyes widen. 

"What? They already marking their territory? Rather cocky of them if you ask me..." I say annoyed. 

"They're growing, rapidly and at an alarming rate. I wanted to let Mikey know but he has a lot going on right now and with Shinichiro's anniversary coming up I don't trust him to act with a clear head so we have to do something" he says as he looks at me. "Are you in?" 

Before I could answer we're interrupted by a loud roaring of bikes pulling up and start circling us. Great... Valhalla. 

"Well, well, well what have we here. Not the vice commander of Toman and their little whore?" one of the guys asks with a mocking tone as they shut their bikes off and get off of their vehicles. 

"Watch your mouth" Draken warns him. "You think we can beat them?" he smiles as he glances down at me.

"Oh, with pleasure" I grin then I stretch and crack my knuckles. "I take left, you take right?"

"Sounds perfect" he smirks then we both take off and starts kicking down and punching who ever gets in our way before they could have a chance to attack us. After easily knocking down more than half of the men, the rest stop and hesitate whether to attack us or not. 

"Wh-why... how can she fight like that...?" one of the men growl in annoyance. 

"She's the only person who ever beaten Mikey, keep that in mind. She's the pride and joy of Toman, if you see the wings and the dragon together you better run" Draken says with a proud grin. 

"You gonna make me blush" I blow him a kiss then kick off one of the guys who tried to attack me thinking I had my guard down. "Anyone else wants to go?" 

A murmur ran across the men surrounding us until I heard a familiar voice behind them, as the crowd opened up a black and blonde guy walked out with a sick grin on his face. Hanma... the current leader of Valhalla, the only person who ever dodged Mikey's kick. 

"I got this... stay behind" Draken says with a serious tone as he walks in front of me. "Been waiting for this for quiet a while" he says while cracking his knuckles.

"No, it's my turn to wipe that fucking grin of off his face" I say with a growl then without hesitation I charge at him but last minute I change direction and kick him from the side, straight hitting his temples. He stumbles back and just laughs. 

"You dumb whore. I'm gonna enjoy killing Mikey's little slut" he laughs then charges at me with such a sudden motion I can't even react. Everything happens so fast by the time I realized what happened I've been thrown across the ground with a piercing pain in my lower abdomen.

"Angel!" Draken yells then clenches his fist and jumps in front of me dodging the attack Hanma wanted to lay on me while I was down. "You have some nerve, hitting a girl while she is down" he clicks his tongue then punches Hanma hard enough to send him flying which surprises the shithead. "You okay Ang?" Draken asks in a softer tone as he turns back to me and helps me up. As I finally get back up on my feet I notice Hanma charging at Draken from behind. 

"Duck!" I yell at Draken who immediately ducks allowing me to swing my legs over him and kick Hanma away with a grin, ignoring the pain that shoots across my entire body. "Hanma you don't wanna mess with a dragon and an angel" I grin with a slight pant then I spit some blood on the ground and wipe my lips.

Hanma growls as he wiping the blood off of his face, glaring at both of us with pure hatred in his eyes. "This isn't over, tell Mikey to expect war, you disrespected us long enough you little shits" he says coldly then motions to his men to wrap it up. "Toman is over!" he barks. "And you... when Toman falls you'll be nothing more than a toy for us. We'll see how big your mouth is when 300 men fucks you one by one" 

Draken eyes darkens and steps towards Hanma calmly. "You'll die before you could lay a finger on her" 

With that Hanma got on his bike and ride off with the rest of his beaten up gang. I let out a sigh then collapse on my ass as the adrenaline wore off and I started to feel the pain of the punch Hanma laid on me. 

"Shit, you okay Ang?" Draken asks worried as he crouches down then picks me up carefully.

"Don't worry big guy, if I can take a punch from Mikey I can take it from anyone" I chuckle forcefully not wanting him to worry but it's hard to hide the pain I was in. The last time my insides were this rearranged is when Draken fucked me on the back of his bike. "I just need to lay down, we won't say a word about this to Mikey though, otherwise we're both dead" 

"Oh god, that is true" he sighs then lets out a small chuckle. "I almost forgot how hot you look when you fight though" he winks at me as he carries me to his bike then carefully sits me up on his back seat. 

"I can say the same thing about you" I wink at him as I look up at him. He looks around then once he's certain no one is around he leans down and gives me a long kiss. I run my hand up his cheek and lean into his kiss more eagerly then I intended and he notices.

"Hmm, let me take you to mine so you can rest and get your strength back... so I can take it all again" he smirks and kisses me again then hands me his helmet.

"I mean after Hanma's punch I think my insides need to be re-arranged again" I smirk and then I make a fake gagging sound as I hold my abdomen. "I think my stomach swapped places with my liver."

"Jesus Christ Angel... like are you okay?!" he asks with a laugh and a disturbed look on his face as he looks at me.

"It's fine, I'm sure they'll eventually crawl back to their original places" I say it with a playful strained voice and he just shakes his head and playfully shove the helmet in my head.

"Strap in and shut up" he says with a defeated small chuckle then puts his helmet on and sit up in front of me.

I chuckle and fix the helmet, ignoring the pain all the laughing and chuckling is causing my lower abdomen then wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his back. As we start riding I start to think about everything that just happened. Did we just started war between Valhalla and Toman? We need to talk to Mikey, he needs to know this but with Shinichiro's anniversary he won't be able to think clear, Draken is right but then what else can we do? There's only one thing that will work, as cruel as it is if we want to survive it has to be done. 

Mikey, forgive me for this. 

[eddiessidegirl]

Hell Bent for Leather

Chapter 4

Masterlist: x

Summary: You’re just now learning about what your little brother has been up to over the years post earthquake, and that formerly thought to be dead people weren’t

Pairing: Eddie x Henderson!Reader

Reader is a plus size Female with female genitalia, she/her pronouns

Slight Vol 2 spoilers but this is a fix-it fic

Warnings: Swearing, canon compliant violence and gore, eventual smut, mutual pining, death, kind of angsty at moments, potential for MC death.

Chapter word count: 2034

A/N: this is slightly smaller because I didn’t want to drag this scene out, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

MINORS DNI - 18+

Ten days, ten torturous and miserable days is how long it had been since Eddie called you a ‘good friend’. Your pride had been hurt, and you were trying to heal it with cheesy John Hughes movies (borrowed from Nancy) and some chocolate from your bedside table. Dustin tried to understand and you didn’t want him to be mad at his hero so lied and told him ‘school stuff’. You hadn’t left your room other than to pee since you came home that day. No one knew you’d been there so no one was none the wiser to your actual feelings.

On the other side of town, Eddie Munson was having obsessive thoughts. Beating himself up for not being honest with you. He’d practically paced a hole into the floor, he’d walked the same circle a million times. “Fuck it.” He muttered finally coming to a stop. “Just go to Y/Ns house and apologize to her. What’s the worst that could happen, she smack the shit out of you?” He shook his head, he’d deserve it if you did. Sliding his feet into his Reeboks and his arms into his leather jacket he bolted for the door.

It wasn’t until he was halfway to the Henderson house that he realized how late it was. He’d kept to the woods best he could, him still being ‘dead’ and all. Eddie hadn’t noticed that the streets were empty, save for maybe a car or two. His watch read 12:01AM, maybe you were still awake, maybe you were outside having a puff. Shit, or maybe he’d wasted his time. Eddie steeled himself and forged on. He’d come this far. Couldn’t chicken out now. “Don’t be a pussy, Munson.” He chastised himself pushing his feet to run harder, faster.

30 minutes later he stood outside, there was a light on in one of the rooms. Eddie hadn’t been to you and Dustin’s house since…before Spring break, he wasn’t sure that he’d be welcome at your family home now. Thankfully, Dustin had told him that your mom had gone out of town to visit her sister, so he knew he could sneak along and climb in the window.

And sneak he did, in five minutes flat, that was the hard part, thank goodness your dad had planted all the green bushes around the grounds before he left your mom. It helped shield him from the neighbours views had they thought to look out their windows. The window he sought was open, but only just, pushing it the rest of the way up, he slipped into the room foot first. He softly landed, not realizing the surroundings of the room matched that of a boys than a young woman’s.

He stood up tall, fixing his jacket and froze when he heard a familiar voice but not the one he was expecting. “What the fuck are you doing in my room, Eddie?” Dustin turned in his chair. He’d been painting a figure for the next campaign, he heard the window open and watched Eddie climb through.

“Late night campaign talk?” Eddie tried with a small grin. Knowing he was caught, his face covered in embarrassment at being caught.

Something roused you from the fitful sleep you were trying to get. Loud voices. “God dammit Dustin. Turn the television down.” Your form rolled back over, arm wrapped around your stomach comfortingly, you were just drifting off when the voices began again, this time they sounded like they were arguing. Roughly you shoved the blankets back and left your room. Not appreciating how loud Dustin was being. Just outside his door your hand on the doorknob you caught a bit of the conversation.

“Admit it, you’re here to talk to Y/N.”

“N-no man. I’m here to see you.”

“At almost 1 in the morning? I may be a freshman but I’m not an idiot. Just cut the bullshit, Eddie and own up to it.”

“Alright fi—“

You’d heard enough. Pushing the door open you came upon the scene of your brother in his PJs, and a very disheveled Eddie, looking like he’d seen a ghost. “Can someone please fill me in on what is going on and why… you’re here?” You shot Eddie a side glance.

“He’s telling me it’s D&D shit but I don’t believe him.” Dustin told you, “I know he’s here to talk to you but can you both get the hell out of my room,” your younger brother ushered you out of his bedroom, slamming the door in your faces. You’d hear your brother muttering and then then sound of his ham radio kicking in, he was calling Suzie. Figures.

Pinching your nose you wordlessly lead the metalhead down the hall to your own room, still dark. Your finger flicked the light on. “What the hell do you want, Eddie. I have a job interview in the morning and being awoken by you in the middle of the night wasn’t on my to do list.”

He crossed the room, the scent of weed, his cologne and natural scent wafting past you, carefully he sat on the edge of your bed, head in his hands. “Look, Y/N, I came over… to apologize ok? When… when I gave you that necklace” he gestured blindly to the chain still around your neck “I realize that I said something that clearly hurt you. I should have apologized before you left but Hopper and you left so fast that before I could realize what I did it was too late.”

Your hand had come up to hold onto the pendant while he talked. “What are you trying to say, Eddie, because I’m not following.” Your own legs backpedaled you until you collided with the stool at the vanity against the wall, forcing you to sit with a small oof. He hadn’t looked up yet, and you really wanted him too. Needed him too. There was a gnawing inside your chest that had an itch that needed scratching. Still he looked down.

He sat like that for a few minutes, and then looked up, pain etched across his face, but there was something else, something you couldn’t place.

Inside Eddie’s mind, it was jumbled, his subconscious reminding him of tender moments you’d shared when he’d be helping Dustin with his character sheets. The time he got something off the top shelf, when he fished a bandage out of a drawer for you, and one of the few times you’d been at his house and spilled Coke on yourself because Sinclair had been chasing Max with a water gun and ran into you. Eddie lent you one of his biggest shirts so you could wash out the soda before it stained. He remembered how good you looked in it, the way it was tight around your chest and stomach, accentuating your curves, and highlighted your thighs in the best way. Eddie hadn’t even cared that the image on it was stretched slight because you looked fucking hot in it. Not that he’d ever admit that his sheeps’ sister was giving him raging hard ons every so often.

No that was inappropriate, yes, you were 18 since February but Eddie knew Dustin would be mad. He didn’t want to disrespect the little shit. He eventually let out a breath and spoke, “this is hard to say, because I…I don’t do feelings, nooooope. I’m as cynical as they come, sweetheart. But when I gave you that necklace, it… wasn’t about you being a good friend, and you are, better than I deserve, for a multitude of reasons. Fuck knows I’m a screw up.” He paused for a second, running his hands over his face, “what I’m trying to say is that I like you, Y/N, I’ve liked you since the beginning of school last year when you dropped Dustin off at his first Hellfire meeting. An—“

Eddie was cut off by you standing “Eds…why are you saying this?” You’d fallen into using an old nickname you had for him at school. Your heart was racing, it felt like a joke, it had to be. There had to be no way he was saying it of his own accord, he climbed through your brothers window and there had been time for the two of them to come up with this scheme to try and make you feel better. Even if it meant lying to your face. Cause there was no way Eddie Munson liked you. You knew his type and it could be summed up by a single word, Chrissy.

At some point you had begun pacing your room, and only stopped when you ran into Eddie’s chest. Stunned for a moment you opened your mouth to say something only to be silenced by Eddie cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. Your eyes remained open only for a second before they finally closed and you kissed him back, one hand still holding the necklace, the other one free to grasp his vest, pulling him close.

The kiss last for what felt like hours but in all reality only a few moments, both your mouths red and puffy, cheeks crimson with blush, neither of you knew what to say. Which surprised both of you, normally Eddie would have had a quip but nothing came. The room was quiet, your heart beating loudly in your head. His hands were still on your face, your hand still clutching his denim as if you both didn’t want the moment to end. For whatever spell had been cast on your room to stay.

It was in that moment that neither of you had heard your door open, or noticed that Dustin had stood there and saw the two of you in your semi-embrace “thank god, I thought I’d have to deal with the mooning and moping forever. God you two are pitiful.”

Eddie and you jumped apart, he tripped on a slipper and fell to the floor “you know what Henderson, normally I’d tell you where to go and how fast to get there, but not tonight. You will however have to paint all the figurines for every club member in the next campaign. On your own. You can’t even ask Byers to help.”

Eddie had a smile plastered on his face, you grinned yourself, your brother looked annoyed but a light in his eyes told you he was relieved that you two finally did something about your crushes. He simply nodded and went back to his room.

“You think everyone knew?“ you asked Eddie, helping him off the floor, slipping your fingers between his.

“With our luck? Most definitely.” He sat on your bed again and pulled you into a hug, his arms sitting comfortably on the top of your butt. Your face buried into his hair, relishing into this moment. “I need to head back soon, Hopper will be up soon, and I’m not cleared yet, so I can’t be seen by the general populace currently.”

You walk with him down the hall, leading the way, “I’ll come by later, I promise” leaning up you pressed a chaste kiss on his jaw and saw Eddie out. Your heart felt light, like something had gone your way for once.

At least until you got to the top the hall and Dustin stood there “what’s that?” He asked gesturing to your key pendant. Quickly you explained that Eddie had found it near his old trailer, “I think I’ve seen it before but I can’t remember where.”

Bidding him goodnight you resumed inhabiting your own rooms and you fell asleep clutching that necklace; hoping for peaceful dreams only to dream of a clock swirled in red clouds, it seemed unassuming at first, just a clock, and then the gong chimed loudly, it felt too real, a voice spoke softly, almost a gravelly whisper “Hello, Y/N, I see you’ve found my key.” A claw came out of the mist and reached for you. Suddenly you jerked awake in a cold sweat. There was no mist. No clock. Just your room and the still present sent of Eddie lingering in the air. There was no more sleep that night.

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Tag list: @alicefallsintotherabbithole | @tssf-imagines

[scumbagg]

NSFT/18+

Space Ghost Coast to Coast

A/N: I purely wrote this as Bell instead of Y/N since I can’t bring myself to write Y/N fics 😂 

I recently finished MW2 and needed some Ghost food to heal my broken heart after the traumatic betrayal I witnessed. Also maybe a bit of DadPrice! giving a lecture. Here goes nothing..

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem Bell

Word count: 3252

Warnings: smut, injury (gunshot), blood, swearing.

“Eyes up, scouts patrolling up ahead.”

Price’s voice in your earpiece came through at the exact moment the two men appeared in your line of vision 40 metres in front of you.

“Dropped him.”

Aiming your sniper, the guard trailing slightly behind fell to the ground before you’d even had time to place your finger on the trigger. Taking aim at the other man’s head, your rifle made almost no sound as you took him out a second later.

“Nice shot. Move up.”

“Thanks.” You whispered back. You turned back for a moment to the place you knew Price was laying hidden almost 90 metres behind you.

“Move, Bell. We won’t have much time before more patrols come along and find those bodies.” Soap’s whispered voice now, also in your earpiece - but you knew he was somewhere to the right of you hidden in the long grass. You crawled quietly through the grass. You heard the brush whispering slightly either side of you as the bodies of Soap and Ghost moved up to flank with you.

“Hold up, two more tangoes patrolling the fence line.” Price murmured a moment later. “Take ‘em out, or let ‘em move on. Your call Bell”

“No stragglers.” You whispered back. You heard the pops from Ghost’s and Soap’s suppressed guns as they took out the two guards ahead.

“Good call.” Price confirmed. “Can’t see anymore inbound. You’re in the clear. House up ahead is empty. We’ll regroup inside.”

“Roger.”

Standing up, you scanned the area out of precaution for more enemies. Satisfied, you nodded to the other two men to move up. The three of you passed the fence line and had almost made it to the back door of the house when it happened.

You heard it before you felt it. The sound of a pistol being fired in your direction had you spinning to face the direction it came from, when suddenly you felt white hot pain erupt in your left shoulder. Dropping to the ground, the sound was over almost as quickly as it started, but your eyesight went black as you squeezed your eyes shut in pain and gripped your shoulder as blood poured through your fingers.

“Bell!” The scream came from within your earpiece at the same time Ghost shouted your name, making your ear throb in pain. You hardly noticed with the burning coming from your shoulder, but you still flinched.

“What the fuck was that?!” You gritted through your teeth.

“One of the guards back there wasn’t as dead as we thought. He fucking is now. Don’t worry darlin’, you’re gonna be alright.” Ghost pried your hand away from your shoulder and replace them with his own. “Soap, get me the medi-kit from your pack, quick!”

“Darlin’?!” Soap laughed as he handed Ghost the pack. Frowning, he looked down at the two of you.

“He’s taking the piss.. it’s an inside joke.. had to be there.” You said through gritted teeth, glaring into Ghost’s glasses. Ghost said nothing as he worked on stopping the bleeding, but the minimal supplies in the kit weren’t doing much.

“Fuck!” Ghost said in a panicked voice. You were starting to feel drowsy, and the sight of all the blood was making you queasy. You could feel your head starting to spin, threatening to send you into unconsciousness.

“Ghost, she’s gonna be fine. Look, the bullet went straight through.” Soap said calmly, pointing at the bullet lodged in the brick in the wall just behind where you’d been standing. “It’s a clean wound, it’ll just need stitches.”

“Fine. We’ve gotta get her back ASAP. I’ll take her, you and Price grab the intel.”

“No, I’ll take her.” Price came into view, rifle slung over his back. “You’re the one that’s better with technology, you’ll get the intel quicker from the computer. Someone’s bound to have heard those gunshots, we’re sure to have company soon. C’mon Bell.” Price hoisted you up under your uninjured arm, replacing Ghost’s hands with one of his. Stumbling, you gripped Price’s arm for support. Looking over at Ghost, you noticed his eyes tighten behind his sunglasses, but he nodded in assent.

“Let’s get moving,” Price commanded, nodding at the other two. “Soap, Ghost, I’ll send for another chopper to pick you up. See you boys at home.”

*****

  Fourteen stitches and a bandaged shoulder later, the infirmary staff finally let you leave. Pushing open the exit door to the outside, you found Price leaning against a jeep waiting for you.

“What are you still doing here?” You asked suspiciously.

“Thought I’d give you a ride home. It’s a bit of a far walk and I assumed you’d be too hopped up on pain killers to drive yourself.” He replied, opening the passenger door courteously.

“Oh… thanks.” You said, taken aback by the display of kindness. It’s not that Captain Price was unkind; he’d just never shown any outward kindness outside of the field. You were surprised that he’d thought to even come back for you.

The two of you drove in silence for a few moments, before the question you were burning to ask broke its way out of your control.

“Did the other two make it back okay?” You tried to sound casual, but your insides were turning with worry.

“Yeah, they got back about an hour ago, no issues.” Price answered, concentrating on the road.

“And the intel?”

‘Acquired.” Price gruffed.

“Hmm, very good.” You stared straight ahead, watching the sun settle in the west. This was the first time in a non-formal environment you’d ever spent a moment alone with the Captain, and you weren’t sure how to make small talk with him. You sat in silence as Price drove you through the city. You wondered how he knew where you lived when it occurred to you that being a member of his team, he’d know where everyone lived. Not that you spent much time in your own house these nights. You thought back to a few nights ago...

The sound of Price clearing his throat awkwardly pulled you out of your reverie. Looking over at him, you watched as he shifted in his seat and waited for him to speak.

“What is it?”

Price sighed. “Look, I really don’t want to have this conversation. But I’ve told him the same thing I’m telling you now. This is one of the best task forces I’ve ever worked with, and I don’t want anything fucking that up. Understood?”

You felt your calm composure slip through the cracks as your eyes widened in panic. You glanced over to see him still staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a hard line.

“Wait, you know about-”

“Of course I fucking know.” Price snapped, watching you out of the corner of his eyes. Shit, so maybe he did know where you actually slept after all. “I know everything that goes on in my team. Look,” he said calmly. “I don’t give a fuck what you get up to in your spare time. It’s like I told him, I’m not going to report it. It’s not been an issue yet. Just don’t let it affect you on the job.”

“I haven’t! I’ve been so careful about trying to keep it professional while we’re on a mission!” Your heart raced at the fact you had been caught out.

“I know you have, Bell. But that man is head over heels for you, in case you hadn’t realised. I’m concerned he’ll let his feelings for you get in the way of the job. Look at today – he’s the best man on our team for tech, and he was willing to throw the whole job, just out of pure panic for you.” Price sighed again. “I’m not sending either of you away. I just needed to remind you of the main reason we are here. If you two can’t handle that, I’ll be forced to find someone to take your place on the team.”

“Does anyone else know?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t think so, but if Simon continues on the way he was today, I doubt it’ll be long until Soap catches on.” Price grimaced, then looked over at you. “Darlin’,” he grinned.

“Ughhh,” you groaned as Price pulled up outside what you now realised wasn’t your house. “I can’t believe he let that slip out.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, careful not to move too much that it pulled at your stitches. Opening your door, you looked back at Price. “Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it.”

Price smiled and nodded in response. “Don’t be too harsh on him about today,” he said, looking over your shoulder as you heard the front door open behind you. You closed the door and waved as the jeep drove away.

*****

  All your anxiety from the conversation with Price suddenly turned to irritation as you turned to face the man in the doorway. You stormed towards him, your uninjured shoulder hitting his lower abdomen as you barged your way past him into the hallway.

“Bell-” he began.

“Get out of my way, Simon. I need a fucking shower.” You snapped irritably.

“Here, let me help-”

“No.”

“Bell!” Simon pleaded.

“What the fuck was that today?!” You snarled. “You might as well just fucking announce to the whole place that we’re together!” You began climbing the stairs towards the bathroom, but stopped halfway there. Staying angry wasn’t one of your strong suits, and seeing him standing pleadingly in the hallway washed away your irritation. “Look,” you sighed heavily, coming back down the stairs so you were eye level with him. “I just had the lecture of a lifetime from Price. I can’t lose what we have here Simon, and he warned if we couldn’t keep it professional out there, then one of us would be replaced.” You stepped towards him, reaching for him in both apology and forgiveness. You placed a hand on his masked jaw, your thumb stroking along his hard cheekbone.

“I’m sorry for today,” he said apologetically, leaning his cheek into your hand. “Seeing you injured and in pain, all that blood… I panicked.”

“It’s okay,” you soothed. Smiling up at him, you smacked his arm playfully. “You’re silly, you know that right. Even I knew it wasn’t bad, and you’ve seen way more injuries than I have. I can’t imagine how you would’ve been if Soap hadn’t been there to pull your head in.”

Simon wrapped his arm around your head, resting his hand at the base of your skull and pulled you in for a hug. You lifted your other arm to place it around his waist and winced. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“How are you feeling anyway, darlin’?” He stepped back to survey you.

“Rubbish. These pain killers are doing their job, but I feel disgusting. I really do need a shower.” You looked over your shoulder towards the bathroom. “I uh... might need a hand actually,” you said awkwardly, wondering how you were going to manage without getting your stitches wet. Surprisingly, this was your first major injury, given your line of work.

“C’mon,” he said, pulling you towards the bathroom.

 Simon turned on the shower and helped you undress, helping remove your shoes, pants and underwear, aware of your fresh wound as he carefully pulled the shirt from your arms and over your head. His eyes filled with remorse as they fell on your injured shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he whispered. “That guy that shot you… that’s the one I took down. I didn’t know he wasn’t dead.” He looked away sadly.

“Hey,” you grabbed his chin gently and turned his head so he was looking you squarely in the eyes. “It’s not your fault. Stop blaming yourself, no one else does. I’m fine.”

“But what if it had been worse? What if that bullet had landed here?” Simon touched your forehead. “Or here,” he said, touching the base of your throat. “What if-”

“Don’t think about it,” you said firmly, pulling his hand from your neck. “Simon, I said I’m fine.” Still holding his hand, you pulled it up to your lips. “There is one thing I am annoyed about, though,” you smirked as you kissed his fingers.

Simon looked at you quizzically. “Why am I the only one naked right now? Surely you’re not gonna shower in your clothes.” You stepped inside the shower, letting the water run over your head, careful to avoid letting it hit your left shoulder.

Simon’s eyes squinted, and you knew he was smirking behind his mask as he removed the rest of his gear and dumped it on the ground next to yours. As always, his mask was the very last thing he removed. No matter how comfortable Simon was with you, and no matter how many times you’d seen him without it, there were certain insecurities that were too deeply ingrained. The last piece of Ghost removed, and only Simon stood in front of you.

Simon stepped in the large shower with you. Grabbing a face washer and pouring body wash on it, he gently helped scrub off the dried blood that had made its way down your torso. He shampooed, conditioned and brushed your hair, knowing you couldn’t lift your arm to wash any dried blood that had knotted in there. Once you were clean, you grabbed the other face wash and carefully, with your good arm, moved it across his chest and abdomen. He watched as you gently made circles on his large shoulders and down his muscular arms.

You wrapped your good arm around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Don’t be too long,” you smiled as you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel.

Walking to the dresser, you pulled out some clothes and attempted to get dressed but you couldn’t pull the shirt over your head. You sighed, and sat on the bed resignedly, still in your towel. You heard the shower stop running, and Simon stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Here,” you beckoned, reaching for him. Simon came to stand in front of you, standing in between your legs. You leaned forward and kissed his stomach, feeling the warm skin beneath your lips raise with goose bumps. You tugged on his arm, pulling him down towards the ground. He knelt, still between your legs, and leaned forward to bury his face in your neck. Almost a whole foot of height difference between the two of you, yet you were the only person who could bring Simon Riley to his knees.

Your good arm snaked its way around his broad back, tracing his spine, down to his hips to the edge of the towel. You heard Simon’s breath quicken, still lightly kissing your neck, when your fingers made their way around to the front of his towel and tugged it loose, letting it fall to the floor.

You lightly brushed your fingers down his stomach and over his navel, until you reached the base of his shaft. You felt Simon’s breath hitch as you gripped it in both hands.

“Bell..” he groaned.

“Mmm?”

He brought his mouth round to yours, kissing you deeply. His mouth trailed back along your jaw to your ear. “Why am I the only one that’s naked?” You felt his smirk against your cheek as he repeated your line back to you.

“Maybe you should fix that,” you whispered back.

Simon wasted no time in removing your towel and throwing it across the other side of the room. You laid back on the bed as he trailed kisses down your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and thumbing circles around the other. Your hands threaded themselves through his thick hair as you massaged his head. Simon’s hands followed his head as he made his way down your stomach and down your navel, his hands gliding over your hips and massaging up and down your thighs.

You threw your head back and moaned in pleasure as he buried his face between your legs, his mouth sucking and licking at your clit. You gasped as you felt one of Simon’s fingers enter you, then two, and he slowly picked up a rhythm as his mouth and fingers worked in synch. You could feel your walls begin to tighten as you got closer to your orgasm.

“Stop,” you gasped. Simon looked up quickly.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked worriedly.

“Not at all,” you tugged at his arm so he pulled himself so he was hovered above you. “I need you in me right now,” you purred as you pulled his head down, his lips crashing to meet yours.

You reached down and grabbed his length firmly, stroking it. Simon’s eyes glazed over with lust as he moved his head back to your neck. Guiding him, you positioned him at your entrance.

“You sure?” he asked huskily. You knew he was teasing. He knew exactly what you wanted.

“Yes,” you breathed.

You both groaned with pleasure as he entered you, filling and stretching you out. Simon set a slow pace at first, until he was sure you had adjusted to him, then quickened the pace. His hands moved to your waist as he slammed into you, holding you in place so you didn’t move around too much. He pulled your legs over his shoulders and you gripped his forearms, lost in pleasure.

Simon leaned forward and your legs dropped to his waist. He took one of your breasts in his mouth. You moaned in ecstasy as he hit the sweet spot inside of you.

“Simon.. I think I’m gonna-” you gasped.

Still inside of you, Simon pulled you on top of him as he rolled onto his back. “Not yet, you’re not.”

“Owwwww!” You winced as the action pulled tightly at your left shoulder.

“Fuck! Sorry! You okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” you moaned as you picked up the pace again. You brought your legs either side of his waist and pulled his hands to your breasts as you lowered yourself onto him, taking him completely. Now in control, you could feel every movement and every angle as you took him deep inside you.

Simon gripped your breasts firmly as he felt your walls begin to tighten. “C’mon, darlin’,” he groaned. “I’m not far off, myself.”

“I’m gonna come,” you whined. You rocked your hips back and forth and threw your head back as your walls clenched around him. You rode your orgasm out, and heard Simon groan as his own orgasm erupted into you. You fell on top of him, exhausted and satisfied.

Simon gently rolled you off him and onto the bed as he got up to get some water. Your eyes followed him, appreciating his finely sculpted body as he walked to the sink in the ensuite, grabbing a glass off the nightstand and filling it with water. He met your eyes as he walked back to the bed.

“What?” He asked bashfully as he handed you the water, aware of his nakedness.

“You’re beautiful,” you smiled drowsily, taking the glass.

Simon chuckled. “Are you sure you’re okay? They must be some strong drugs they gave you.”

“Hmmm... never better” you sighed as you handed the water back to him. Despite what you said, sleep was already pulling you under.

Simon leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[gaysimpsstuff]

BNHA Characters + Their Biggest Kinks

PT 2 Here

PT 3 Here

Genre: smut, obviously

Warnings: NSFW themes, hard kinks, BDSM kinks, lots and lots and weird kinks

Other: felt horny, wrote this

NSFW Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy

Characters: Hawks, Bakugou, Dabi, Shigaraki

Keigo Takami/ Hawks-

Authority Kink- mans has spent his entire life being bossed around, he needs you to submit to him completely and without question. Call him ‘sir’ and he’ll melt. When he’s in this mood, there’s no room for brattyness. Just bend over and let sir take his stress out on you.

Wing Kink- Pretty self-explanatory. The underside of a bird’s wings are very sensitive, and get them horny in no time. Same thing with his back, one when you were cuddling, you were playing with his wings and massaging his back, and you noticed he had his face hidden and he was breathing kind of heavily. It was an embarrassing situation to explain...

Breeding- This one comes more into play during Nesting Season, he just has you pinned down and just keeps going and going and going, trying to fill you up with his babies even if you want get pregnant. You’ll always be his little breeding slut. Even better if you have a bird or lizard quirk and you lay eggs (infertile usually). Even with a male reader he’d want to ‘breed.’

Pegging- He likes to bottom sometimes, so that he can whine and cry and beg and be a good boy for his y/n. Expect him to come home from work feeling more tired than stressed. Total pillow princess. He needs you to fuck him into the mattress so hard that he’s only flying tomorrow.

Praise/body Worship- This goes both ways. You’re his everything, and he wants to make sure you’re aware of how much he appreciates you, but he’s so insecurities that he needs it in return. Soft, teasing touches, whispered I love yous, doing so wells, my pretty baby, go a long way for this man.

Dirty Talk- he wants you to know just what he’s going to do to you, how he’s going to fill you up so good, make you need him and his cock, make you cry for him to keep going, beg for his cum. Even when he’s on bottom, he’s babbling and whining. You can’t get this man to shut the fuck up. It can get annoying at times.

Bath/shower sex- this plays more into his bird instincts. Bathing/ cleaning oneself usually gets birds horny. They usually preen prior to mating season so look out for that. There’s just something about ducking you in his bathtub (jacuzzi) that gets him going like nothing else.

Katsuki Bakugou/ Dynamight-

Switch- this man will present as a top, but he has absolutely nothing against getting manhandled and having the life fucked out of him. Just so long as he can do the same to you. Fuck him rough and good and then take his revenge tomorrow.

Rigger- after all he’s been through, he does not wanna be tied up at all. But he has no problem with handcuffing you or wrapping your pretty body up in Shibari and watching you struggle against them. Will totally tease you the whole time.

Gags- You’re still talking? You need to shut the fuck up. Or else you’ve got something keeping your mouth shut. Tape, underwear in mouth, his hand or fingers, or an actual gag. Loves your muffled sounds when he asks you a question. “Want me to keep going? You gotta say so. Aw I didn’t hear anything so I guess you want me to stop...”

Dirty Talk- Just like Hawks, he can’t keep his mouth shut. But this one is spilling the dirtiest filth you’ll ever hear. Plays into a minor corruption kink. Wants you to repeat it all back to him. On the flip side, gets so flustered when you talk dirty to him. Whining about how you’re a pervert, but just ignore him, he’s hard as shit right now.

Dacryphilia- All those years of Deku crying and you think he wouldn’t have a crying kink? Thinks your tears are so beautiful, might even lick them off your face. “Aww, look at you~ crying for my fuckin cock.” Don’t be weirded out if he licks them off your face. He also cries during sex, though. It’s just too fucking good and he hasn’t had a good cry in a while. Tease him about it and he’ll hide his face, but praise him for it and he’ll cry even harder.

Praise- This man shouts enough degradations outside the bedroom, he wants sex to be different from everything else. Gets a little embarrassed first time he praises you, but if you look at him with those shy eyes and a quivering lip, he’s just gonna keep loading it on. He also wants to be praised, both out of insecurities and superiority. When he’s bottoming just repeat how amazing he’s doing, how no one else is as pretty as him. When he’s on top, he still needs you to be praising him. Tell him how good his cock feels, how he’s gonna make you cum, how no one else fucks you as good as him.

Impact Play- mostly spanking. Uses his quirk. He loves it when your skin forms a light burn in the shape of his hand. Spanks you even if his handprints don’t show up on your skin. He needs it to, just keep smacking his stomach and thighs with a paddle until he’s sobbing.

Touya Todoroki/ Dabi-

Degradation/ Brat Taming- Starting off with the roughness with this guy. These two go hand in hand for Dabi, you need to know where you belong. Underneath him, begging and crying for his cock, his mercy, anything. You need to understand your only purpose is to service him, moan for him, and be his little personal cumdump.

Hard Dom- he won’t go easy on you, no matter what, you’re not getting it sweet or easy. It’s always going to be rough, fast, and difficult. Just try and complain.

Size kink- We all know this man is hung like a donkey, too big to handle. Loves it when you’re trying to suck him off and can’t even get down halfway. Even better when he’s pushing in, and can’t get further than six inches in. Just laughs at how “your cute little hole can’t take my fat cock can it, baby?”

Sadism- Pretty obvious, he likes hurting you. Knives? He’s got plenty. Fire? More relunctant but sure. Impact play? Yes sir. Loves seeing you cry and you babble about how much it hurts. His favorite thing is to write his name on your back with light burns that usually fade in a week or so. Always takes care of your injuries afterwords.

Bondage- Can’t have his little baby trying to touch themself can he? Can’t have his darling trying to escape from him, can he? No no, you’re better off tied to the bed, taking everything he gives you like a good little slut.

Sensory Deprivation- He wants you waiting, dreading maybe, anticipating, his next moves. You don’t know where he’ll touch you, what he’s saying, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

Corruption- He has a thing for people who seem innocent, and he wants to corrupt that innocence. To everyone else, you’re naive, doe-eyed, and probably can’t do anything for yourself. He’s going to change all of that. Bonus points if you’re actually fully capable and he morphs into a co-dependant mess. This man is all Yandere nothing else.

Teasing/ edging- Loves working you up to the grand finale, then pushing you back to the first scene. You’ll never forget his laughter as you beg him for your orgasms. You’ll be lucky if he lets you cum at all. He’ll humiliate the fuck out of you for your pitiful begging.

Tomura Shigaraki/ Symbol of Terror

Mommy/Daddy/Renny (Renny is the gender neutral term for Mommy/Daddy)- This man will call you whatever you want, but this is his go-to nickname for you. You’re taking care of him in and out of the bedroom, at least until he matures.

Switch- Up until he matures, your on top of him the whole time. Loves it when you’re in control, but after certain events in the manga and anime, he starts to gain an apprentice for being on top, although being so unused to it, he has a lot less kinks for being on top than on bottom.

Pegging- self-explanatory. He was always afraid of disintegrating his dick, and anal stimulation meant most of his fingers were pointed away from his body while only two or three were touching his skin. Safer. Now he’s got a huge appreciation for anal play, anytime you see him naked, he probably has a butt plug in.

Pet-Play- he’s your dumb little puppy, okay? Treat him like a bitchy little animal and he’ll do whatever you want. Feel free and drag him around on a leash or feed him food out of a bowl on the ground.

Feet- he doesn’t know why, but your feet are such a fucking turn on. Whether you’re wearing combat boots with spikes, fancy heels with a flower on them, or normal tennis shoes. Socks, thigh-highs and tights? Man is already begging. Just step on him and give him a foot job already! He’s begging, come on!

Water sports- kind of gross, skip this one if it’s gross for you (it is for me but for some reason I’m writing about it) but it’s something he appreciates more as a top than a bottom. Controlling when you go to the bathroom, giving you so many drinks, watching you squirm, begging and crying for him to let you relieve yourself, only to piss yourself. And when you do that, he’s on his knees in front of you, drinking it. Loves how embarrassed you get. Says “anything you make is always gonna be the best” while licking his lips.

CNC- something he enjoys as a top or a bottom. Skip this one if it’s weird or wrong to you, or a trigger. Always pre-planned with a safe word and everything, but he always pretends it’s real. Something about you or him not having a choice, being forced to take whatever the other gives them, begging for it all to stop but being betrayed by your body, it all just drives him crazy.

S&M- Doesnt care of he’s the S or M. He just loves pain. Crying when you spank or slap him, watching you scream as he cuts his name onto you.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

weird, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: Your roommate and best friend, Kim Seokjin, forgot to double-check the autofill information and shipped his package from the online sex shop with your name on it. Naturally, this ends with you tying him up and sucking his dick, and him tying you up with you riding him like a wild animal. Wait, what?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends with benefits; crack (sorry, I can't be serious for more than two seconds when writing Seokjin); yes, reader usually fucks younger dudes XD; smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics (both switches), bondage, m-receiving oral, thigh riding, cowgirl, spanking); non-idol!BTS - just two best friends fucking for sexual exploration, don't mind them

technically a prequel to love roulette, m | myg yes, this is the explanation to that mysterious package, but is it really an explanation or rather an excuse to fuck WWH, you decide

--

“Seokjin, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

When Kim Seokjin looked at you, it was a bit like looking into the eyes someone much younger than you even though he wasn’t. He had that youth about him, the ‘here’s-to-never-growing-up’ sparkle in his large brown eyes, complete with parted lips in a small ‘o’ and, alright, yes, his Nintendo Switch in his hands.

“A long time ago, I asked you which way you think you lean, more dominant or more submissive, no?”

His handsome face flushed pink, slowly scooting away from you.

“Er… yeah, I remember…”

“What?”

“Huh?”

You poked him and he squeaked, slapping a hand over his side even though he was wearing a brown sweatshirt. Seokjin was always cold, even during the summer.

Your best friend was an odd character.

You chuckled. “Why are you being so awkward? I thought we were over this phase.”

Well, he should be. You had known Seokjin since elementary school and seen him, er, date was a strong word for what you both were doing in middle and high school, more like being bumbling messes and walking in on each other bonking classmates, but, hey, what mattered is that you both got better at it over the years.

It being sex.

Not romance.

You both still had only sketchy ideas about what romance was supposed to be.

“We are,” your best friend coughed, clearing his throat for absolutely no reason. “We are, I just…”

“Used my name for purchasing goods from an online sex shop?”

He choked and nearly flung his Switch. You caught it, swiftly placing it on the coffee table as you procured the cardboard box from behind your back, already open, address and name circled in thick black permanent marker on the rather inconspicuous package.

“W-What, that’s absurd, why would I ever–?”

You hummed pleasantly, sweeping the box away from his lanky limbs and his flailing hands. For someone who didn’t purchase goods from an online sex shop, he sure was interested in getting the box. He tumbled into your lap, and quickly scrambled back, black hair suddenly fluffed and wild from the movement.

“Something tells me you didn’t check the autocomplete form before clicking submit.”

You saw Seokjin choke on air.

He jerked away from you and fumbled with his phone beside him. You peeked over his broad shoulder and saw that he was scrolling through his emails like a madman, except Seokjin had a bad habit of never deleting any. He had maybe fifteen thousand unread emails to sort though.

“You don’t have to check. I am sure I didn’t order red cotton bondage rope and a leather flogger.”

Seokjin whipped his head around, face redder than a tomato, looking halfway between fainting and screaming.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is it for you or a mysterious imaginary girl that you’re dating?”

Now your best friend seemed to be contemplating holding his own breath until he passed out to avoid your questioning.

“I-It’s not for me!”

“Oooh, then who? You’re not an internet hookup kind of guy though… unless she was dumb enough to put her full name as her username, then she’s too airheaded to be a catfish–”

Seokjin flapped his hands, smacking you in your pajama-covered chest, sputtering. “No one! There’s no one! I just…!”

You caught one of his wrists, raising an eyebrow.

“Just?”

He froze.

Silence.

“… Seokjin?”

You left go of his hand. It stayed there, frozen in the air.

Ah, it seemed as if his soul left his body.

Rest in peace Kim Seokjin. You were the handsomest best friend one could ask for.

You prodded him in the side again and Seokjin doubled over, trying to cover his face with the large sleeves of his sweatshirt, long legs in black sweatpants curling up as if he could cocoon himself away from the conversation.

“Seokjin, you can be interested in whatever you want,” you snickered, placing the package next to his fetal positioned body. “I simply thought it was funny that you accidentally used my name. Although I wouldn’t use that flogger on a real person, only for posing in pictures. In any case, have fun being freaky by yourself and not for some mysterious woman you refuse to tell me about.”

You stood up, about to leave and give your best friend some space. You shouldn’t go too far teasing him after all.

“What do you mean?”

You stopped, looking back. Seokjin’s large brown eyes were peeking out of his splayed fingers, shifting awkwardly when you made eye contact. He cleared his throat. He was doing that a lot for someone who seemed perfectly healthy ten minutes ago, shrieking at himself for missing the ledge in his game and dying.

It had seemed like a good time to interrupt and embarrass him so you could save your eardrums.

He coughed and pointed to the box. “About the… um… whip… thingmabob…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You marched over and opened the box, making Seokjin jolt and cover his red ears instinctively, but you ignored him, pulling out the black pleather flogger you had already unwrapped from the plastic – purely from thinking it was your own package, by the way, no other reason, surely not because you were mildly curious about what your best friend was into, nope – and you slapped the short three tails into your hand, wincing.

“This kind of cheap material is too plastic-like. If you use this on bare skin and hit too hard, you’re going to cut someone and I know you’re squeamish around blood, unless you secretly have a blood fetish too and have been a really good actor all this time–”

“How do you know that?”

You blinked at his question.

“What?”

Seokjin sat up, giving you a confused pout. “Why do you know something like that?”

Now it was your turn to shift your eyes around.

“Uh…”

Er… how to tell your best friend that the younger guy you were casually fucking for the past couple of weeks was, ah, rather knowledgeable about certain things, was, um, interested in teaching, uh, yeah, teaching…

Seokjin squinted at you suspiciously. “Is it that idol trainee that was here two nights ago when I was out drinking with Hose–”

You waved your hands very quickly, tossing the flog aside carelessly and slapping your thigh to silence Seokjin and his far too invasive questions. “Look. I just don’t want you to hurt anybody on accident, okay? Your rope choice was good though. You should always use an organic material for shibari, cotton, hemp, linen if you’re rich, but you’re a cheapskate, so–”

Your best friend narrowed his eyes into slits. “How much younger is that guy compared to you again? Hm? And what was his name? Ye–”

You slapped a hand over Seokjin’s mouth, smiling sweetly and dangerously, reaching into the box and pulling out the red cotton rope.

“I know a lot of knots now and I can tie a noose just for you, Seokjinnie.”

Your best friend, rightfully so, looked terrified.

“Now. Let’s talk about you, okay? Okay.”

You removed your hand and held onto the rope.

Seokjin gulped, but then shook his head vigorously, frowning. “What did you call it?” He was already moving past your death threat. Smart man.

“Call what?”

“Shi-something?”

“Shibari? Japanese rope tying?” You lifted the cotton cord in your hand. “Is that not what this is for?”

Seokjin blinked very rapidly.

You blinked back at him. Then it dawned onto you. “The diamond-y rope patterns where they’re all tied up and stuff.”

“Ah! Yeah! That!”

“You want that done to you?”

Seokjin jerked to one side. “What? No! To someone else. Maybe. No. What?”

You slowly placed the rope on his lap and scooted away.

“Uh… huh. Okay. Enjoy.”

“Wait,” he blurted.

“What?”

“CanIpracticeonyou?”

“Can you WHAT?” you echoed shrilly.

“Right, yeah, okay, never mind–”

-

“Seokjin.”

Your best friend choked on his own toothbrush and threw himself into the bathroom wall, colliding into the towel bar and howling in pain while simultaneously hacking up a lung.

“I’ve decided I am going to teach you some simple knots to prevent me from having to pick your naked ass up from the police station or hospital,” you said calmly as Seokjin half-died on the floor tangled in your mint green and his navy-blue bath towels. “And because I don’t want to have to cut some poor girl off your bedframe because you’ve blacked out running onto your door trying to find me.”

“I’ve never–” he wheezed.

“But you will if I don’t take precautions,” you cut in, grabbing your purple toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it as Seokjin attempted to collect himself off the ground. “Like that one time you ran into the window when that wasp was in the apartment.”

“That was a fucking wasp, you freaked out too!”

You started brushing your teeth. “Yeah, but I didn’t knock myself out and wake up with a fat bump on my forehead. That was you,” you gargled.

“Ack…”

“Anyway, I know a few things and I figured I would do a good deed and enlighten you.”

“Who taught you? Was it Ye–”

You jabbed Seokjin forcefully in the ribs and he immediately shut up because he choked on his toothbrush again.

-

“Why do you have scissors?”

“For cutting the rope.”

“Yeah, but why are they so big?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Cool, now I’m gonna tie you up. Give me your hands.”

You unwound the end from the bolt and frowned, nudging his knee with yours. You were both sitting on his bed, him cross legged and you on your knees because he was wearing black sweatpants and you were wearing no pants, just your usual large lavender pajama shirt with a pattern of yellow stars.

“Take off your sweatshirt. It’ll get in the way.”

“But I’m cold.”

“You won’t be because apparently this shit turns you on,” you snickered.

“Shut up, it does not. It’s the other way around,” Seokjin grumbled, yanking his chocolate brown sweatshirt over his head.

You paused.

“I thought you were more sub.”

Seokjin froze, head half-out of his sweatshirt. You waited. He didn’t move. You waited some more. He coughed and chucked the article of clothing aside, yanking his white t-shirt down and smoothing his hair, not looking at you.

You waited.

He smoothed his hair for a full two minutes.

“Um, anyway–”

You planted a hand on his knee and Seokjin tried to chop your hand away, only for you to snatch his wrist, so his other hand came up to stop you, but you wound the end of the rope around his wrist and bounced off his mattress, pinning your knees on top of his knees and making him squeak as he tumbled back into his pillows, bringing you with him. You had to jerk your head out of the way to avoid collision.

“My nuts!”

“I didn’t hit your precious nuts, you numbsku–”

Hang on.

You locked eyes with Seokjin under you, who gawked back at you, absolutely terrified.

“… You are still a sub.”

Seokjin winced. “Ugh, it’s just… I’m getting older, alright? I can change my mind…”

You could get off him. You could let it be. You totally could.

But were you going to?

No.

You straddled his abdomen and brought his hands to his chest with a big grin. Seokjin’s eyes turned into giant brown saucers. He looked ready to pass out and not from your weight because you weren’t putting much weight on him.

“W-W-What are y-you d-doing?!” he shrieked.

You rapped him in the forehead. “Teaching. Pay attention. Hands up.”

“You aren’t taking your rings off?”

He was referring to the three silver rings you wore on a daily basis – an onyx stone on your left middle finger, a goat-head shaped ring on your right thumb, and a skull with a jester hat on your right ring finger.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do I need to take them off?”

He lifted his hands and gave you an exaggerated shrug in between your thighs. Come to think of it, Seokjin had a rather broad chest so you had to spread your legs pretty wide to accommodate and hover over him.

Precarious.

“Ah, perfect.”

Your best friend yelped as you wrapped the rope around his wrists, leaving the end sticking out between them, first focusing on loosely binding. He tried to break away, but you harshly squeezed his sides with your thighs, narrowing your eyes.

“Stop squirming.”

He froze at your cold tone, shifting his eyes awkwardly.

“Watch. Now.”

His eyes immediately snapped to your hands.

“Wrists together.” You nudged them so the inner parts of the wrists were touching. “A little space in the center,” you added, looping out the end of the rope. “I’m just teaching you how I learned it, there are a few ways, but the details are important so you don’t prevent loss of circulation,” you added seriously, waiting for him to nod before continuing. “So, wind it around a couple times, but don’t overlap. Four or five?”

“But I can still get out.”

You glared at him. Seokjin shut up and jammed his plush pink lips together, shaking his head rapidly as if to say, who me? I wasn’t talking!

“Turn it ninety degrees like this,” you demonstrated. “And start going perpendicular to and in between the wrists to create the binding. Line up each coil side by side. Mind the starting end here. Then…” You reached for the scissors and snipped the excess away, dropping the rope and scissors beside you on the bed. “You tie it off on the outside. I use a square knot, so this end over this end, and then retie it the opposite way. Try to break free.”

Seokjin frowned at the red rope around his wrists, twisting it this way and that, squirming underneath your legs. You put your hands on your waist triumphantly, nodding to yourself in pride. You did a good job! It looked neat and it was inescapable without tightening on any blood vessels to cause any dangerous loss of circulation.

Hang on.

Seokjin froze.

You froze.

You both looked down.

You smacked him in the cheek.

“Ow!”

“What are you looking there for?!”

“Why did you hit me? Why do you always resort to violence?!” Seokjin accused, jabbing you underneath your breasts with his bound hands. “What is going on down there?”

“Nothing! Stop moving!”

“No!”

“You–”

You closed your thighs around Seokjin’s waist and sat down on him, causing him to gasp, wind knocked out of him as his diaphragm was pushed up into his lungs, struggling with the rope between his wrists and resorting to slamming them down on the bed above his head. You growled as you towered over him. He started yelling, as he always did.

“Yah!”

You slapped your free hand over his mouth.

“Silence.”

He glared at you behind your palm, breathing hard. You sat on top of him, breathing just as hard. He was bigger, strong, yes, but not in the position of power and – being honest, after all – your best friend was never really out to fight you and win. He was more of a ‘I’m-going-to-be-stupidly-annoying-until-you-do-what-I-want’ type, which made him rather childish in some ways. You were more of the ‘I’m-gonna-beat-your-ass’ type.

In conclusion, it was a healthy friendship.

Seokjin started licking your palm and making crazy eyes at you.

Your eye twitched.

“Stop it.”

Unsurprisingly, he did not, in fact, stop it.

“I said, stop it.”

And you slid down, past the wet spot now on his t-shirt, planting your soaked panties on top of his crotch, grinding down, and, yup, Seokjin bucked and yelped, immediately stopping and seizing up as if he could hide the massive erection that you had been willing to ignore but he was being a little – nah, actually, an extra-large, supersized – shit and it was getting on your last nerve, so what better way to resolve a wordless argument (on his part, heh) then humping his hard-on?

You removed your hand and Seokjin had a brief moment to gasp your name before you slid the pads of your fingers onto his tongue, rubbing it roughly and making his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“I told you to stop, but you aren’t listening,” you snarled.

Seokjin whimpered, brown orbs glassy, pupils blown out.

You stilled.

Hold on a second.

You had a brief epiphany where you realized you were grinding on your best friend’s dick with him tied up and you were wetter than the Yellow Sea. This wasn’t some guy you picked up at the night market that won you that sleeping Pikachu at the claw machines, only to chat him up and end up with bed with a guy who was – ack, never mind his age – anyway, this was your best friend.

Kim Seokjin.

Oh shit, I’ve gone too far.

You let go, backing up. “S… Sorry, I–”

But then Seokjin’s plush lips closed around your fingers, sucking hard and you choked slightly, feeling his hips roll and the tip of his clothed erection hit your covered clit. He was glaring at you. You gasped as his teeth gently but firmly caught your two fingers. It did hurt, but only a little. Mostly it sent a rush of rather uncomfortable and mind-boggling arousal racing from your knuckles to your core, drenching your panties further.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbled around your fingers.

Don’t stop?

DON’T STOP?

His teeth let go, panting, staring into your eyes.

“Don’t make this weird,” Seokjin muttered, shifting his gaze. “Don’t make this weird, okay?”

His brown eyes flickered back to you. His bound hands were still over his head, black hair flaring out of his pillows, white t-shirt messed up, still trapped between your thighs. You paused, fingers slipping out of his lips, the pads trailing on his lower lip, turning it glossy with his saliva.

Your heart was racing fast.

He furrowed his dark brows and, for the first time, his serious expression made you think that perhaps, maybe, there was a side of him down there, the other side to the coin.

“I just…” Seokjin exhaled slowly, not looking away from you. “I trust you to do this. You’re capable and knowledgeable. I know you are. Word gets around with your, er, habits with younger guys…”

You felt your cheeks heat and you scratched your head awkwardly.

“Anyway, it’s fine if you wanna… er… get off. With me. Because I’m so handsome and all.”

You were thiiiiiiis close to leaving out of sheer embarrassment that instantly dissipated at Seokjin’s sudden unexpected self-compliment. Instead, your eye twitched and you squinted in annoyance.

Seokjin coughed, ears singeing bright red. “Unless you can’t, of course. Because it’s easy to fall in love with me, and that would be very bad considering I don’t want to marry you–”

“I don’t want to marry you either,” you snapped. “You’re ugly.”

Seokjin gasped dramatically, highly offended. “How dare you–!”

He abruptly sat up and you twisted back, only for his arms to swing over your head and sandwich you between his tied wrists and his chest, ramming you back onto his lap and his hard dick. You hissed and bit down your moan, not willing to admit it was mildly turning you on, because of course neither you or Seokjin hated each other – only in that classic way best friends hate and love each other at the same time – and, yeah, sure, you could admit Seokjin was handsome and cute and fun to be around, but he wasn’t the one, not that you knew what the one was supposed to feel like or knew if you would ever feel such an intense, romantic love, but you had this strange idea that the one for you would be someone who could understand you on a different level, and you didn’t have that with Seokjin even if you did talk all the time. You were quite sure the feeling was mutual and now, looking into his brown eyes with a scowl, you saw that the feeling was indeed mutual.

Also, Seokjin was an immature shithead.

A loveable, worldwide handsome, immature shithead. Redeemable.

Still.

You were horny.

And Seokjin was horny.

You weren’t going to date Seokjin ever, but your best friend was hot as hell and you could definitely bang him without any regrets.

“Let’s fuck,” he breathed into your face.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t make it weird.”

Don’t make it weird, yeah, okaaay dude–

Your thoughts were suddenly cut off when Seokjin kissed you.

His forearms closed in behind your back and he pressed his bound wrists into your shoulder blades, pushing you into his solid chest and his embrace, taking your breath away. He always had good hugs, even if they were just to comfort you when your favorite flavor of ice lollys stopped being stocked at your local grocery store – still tragic to this day – and even when he was clinging onto you like a howling monkey because a cockroach was in the bathroom and he was screaming at you to kill it and nearly blowing out your eardrums, even then…

Now.

You closed your legs in around his hips and rolled your crotch into him, suddenly kissing him back.

He gasped into your mouth, your eyes half-opening, him gazing back at you, long lashes and dark eyebrows and glowing tan skin, holy shit, your best friend was handsome as fuck, why did other men even try when Kim Seokjin existed?

“Are you falling in love with me because I’m so handsome?” Seokjin teased, nipping at your lower lip.

Your eye twitched. Oh, yes, that’s right, because you’re annoying.

You shoved him and he yelped, clutching your back as you both fell onto the bed with a flump! You slid out from under his arms, skin prickling at Seokjin’s involuntary whine at your departure. Don’t make this weird, yeah, okay, don’t turn me on this much, dumbass, you are reminding me of… You pushed the thought away.

You didn’t want to think about other people when the person you were touching was right in front of you.

“What are you – yah!”

You gripped the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked down, exposing his underwear – bright blue, nice, nice – and his clothed erection, leaning in, hot breath ghosting over it, Seokjin jerking his arms about because he seemed undecided on either if he wanted to see or not see, but you let him deal with that in his own time, lowering your mouth, tongue extended, fingers splayed over his hips, silver rings glinting in his bedroom lights.

“You look like a demon,” you heard from above you.

You planted your tongue on the spot where the head of his cock would be and soaked it with saliva.

“F-Fuck!”

That shut him up real quick.

Your eyes drifted up, lapping slowly, barely stimulating the sensitive head through his underwear, closing your lips around it so the fabric clung wetly to the taut skin underneath. His cock swelled and twitched under your mouth; the action was mirrored by Seokjin’s jaw. He was clenching it along with his hands balled into fists, gasping for breath.

“O-Oh, f-fuck…!”

You were beginning to get the hint with each passing second of working your tongue around his rapidly hardening cock. Seokjin had put himself in the sub category when you asked back then because he liked to things being done for him. It was less about the mental aspect and more of the physical acts of service in his case. However, he wasn’t very good at articulating what he wanted and thus the natural pattern of someone just doing it led to, ah, exhibit A.

You currently parting your lips and letting your tongue snake out, coating the length with saliva.

But.

You could see it in his eyes, that burning intensity.

Maybe part of it was because it was you. He probably didn’t have those butterfly jitters of trying to woo a stranger or the nervousness of looking bad in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. There was already a level of comfort – and the ability to readily shit-talk each other at any moment – and so Seokjin was free to relax, even if it was a bizarre situation of sexual discovery.

“Take it off,” he growled.

Your fingers creeped up his sides, hooking over his boxer briefs. Slow, deliberate, kissing up his length, on the tightrope, dominant in your control, submissive in the action, raising your head so Seokjin could lift his hips, feathering kisses on the exposed skin and making him hiss and shudder, eyelids fluttering, slipping into subservience a little.

At the end of the day, who killed the unwanted bugs in your shared apartment?

Yeah, you.

“Oh, f… fucking shit…”

You tilted your head and ran your tongue up and down the length, licking up the sides and circling around the thick head, bordering on frustratingly soft, switching to wet, sloppy kisses when his hands raised, making him pause, gazing down at you curiously and attentively, entranced by the action. You ducked down, tongue slurping around his balls, lifting his cock, kissing, sucking, eyes closing, tip of your wet muscle drawing zig-zag patterns that soft skin.

Seokjin moaned your name.

A shiver of electricity went up your spine.

Alright, fine, you were getting turned on.

You wrapped your lips around his balls and enveloped them both with your mouth.

“Whoa!”

You opened your eyes to see Seokjin staring wide-eyed at you, hands straight up to stare at you between his upper arms. You almost laughed at the hilarious triangular-looking pose, but your mouth was currently full, so you restrained yourself.

“That’s possible?! You can put both nuts in your mouth at the same time?!”

Uh.

Where you supposed to respond with your cheeks stuffed with his nutties?

You hummed casually in response.

“A-Ah…!”

Seokjin gasped at the vibrations and the movement of your tongue slapping all over them, short, rapid licks all over his skin, watching him with a cocked eyebrow, but he didn’t even notice, hands dropping and moaning to the ceiling, his eyes closing and savoring the hot wet warmth and the power of your mouth, shivering as your hand slowly stroked his length in time with your tongue.

You let him bask in it before detaching and swallowing his cock.

“Gah!”

Seokjiinie, you thought wryly, we gotta work on your repertoire of sex sounds.

You spied him looking down at you, so you paused around the swollen head and slid your tongue out, circling and wrapping around his length while sucking on the tip and rubbing the back of your tongue along the underside.

Seokjin made a bunch of weird croaking noises that were, strangely, rather attractive. Okay, you could admit it. You were kind of a sucker for your best friend in the most platonic way possible… while in the middle of sucking his dick.

What?

He was handsome!

You began to bob your head up and down, tongue and lips descending, taking him deep so you kissed the base of his cock, head buried in your throat, waiting for him to glance down at you, hazy brown orbs under lush lashes, and you would peek your tongue out and lap at his balls, interrupting the tightness, causing him to swear and jerk his hips up, urging you to keep consistent speed and pace, all the while watching every single movement of your tongue. You kept this irregular pace, slow, then fast, then slow again when he looked at you, then fast when the ecstasy was too much and he closed his eyes, over and over. You could see that a battle was being waged Seokjin’s pretty head, between wanting to observe the lewdness of you licking his balls with his hard cock buried in your throat while also desperately needing to get to the fuck off.

“You… bitch… suck me off properly, fuck…”

You raised all the way so only the head was in your mouth and sucked, rubbing up and around it, swirling all over, teasing the slit and soaking the sensitive skin, rutting it against the roof of your mouth and Seokjin groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, black hair covering his eyes, fists pressed to his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, let me cum!”

His hips rammed up and you dug your nails into them, wincing as the head hit the top of your throat and slid down, cutting off your air, and then he began to thrust erratically, the position, inability to use his hands as leverage, and your resistance not letting him set up a good rhythm. You had to force him back down, popping your mouth off, snarling.

“I’m gonna gag if you do that! You want me to vomit on your dick or what?”

But all of a sudden Seokjin sat up again, grabbing your pajama shirt and yanking you to him, saliva dripping down your chin and then it was on his chin, a messy, savage kiss, ravenous need in his actions, pulling you to him, close, closer, you twisting and then gasping as he pushed one of your thighs down, planting your soaked panties on the exposed part of his thigh.

“Ah, Seok–”

He attacked your lips again with a light growl, sparks shooting across your skin, his thigh rising and bouncing you both on the bed, his legs still tangled in his pants and underwear but the effect was undeniable.

Seokjin was making you ride his thigh.

Whoa.

He bit your lower lip and sucked hard, your eyes fluttering closed, hips rocking, heat turning hotter, wet turning wetter, your sticky, sweet juices clinging to his upper thigh, your own pressed against his saliva-covered cock, wrapping your arms around him, close, closer, you thrusting your tongue in his mouth and him moaning before he did the same to you, starting a tug of war, rubbing harder against his skin, his muscle tensing against your covered clit, friction and wetness everywhere, too many clothes and no eye contact, one of your hands slipping into his black locks and tilting his head, deepening the kiss and inhaling his exhale, shuddering at the erotic nature of the moment.

He mumbled your name against your lips, still clutching your pajamas, stars bunched in his hands, fingertips pressed into the curve of your breasts.

“Can I try the rope tying now?” Seokjin whispered, voice gravelly and low.

-

“Excuse me?”

There was a ripped-open condom wrapper sitting on the bed.

“What?”

Your pajama shirt, bra, and panties were on the floor, along with Seokjin’s shirt, sweatpants, and underwear.

“Why are you – gah!”

You sucked in a breath as you sank down on his cock. Fuck, it was tight, tight as you lowered yourself onto his hips, Seokjin gasping and clutching the long length of red cotton rope that you had carefully untied from his wrists. You had even taken the extra step to massage them afterward, not that he needed it because of your careful work – good job, past you – but he appreciated it all the same, because deep down Kim Seokjin was a prince.

“Oh my God, you’re so tight, shit, shit, shit…”

You neglected to tell your best friend that you were both low-key proud of and turned on by your own ability to take dick without much foreplay. That little edge of tightness added just the right amount of spice of pain that amplified to the pleasure.

Okay.

And yes, you felt a special kind of glee as you witnessed Seokjin’s stunned shock and near passed-out expression from being inside you.

You held out your wrists and grinned. “Go ahead. Tie me up.”

Seokjin gawked at you like you had three heads.

You squeezed your breasts together with your upper arms, tilting your head with a devilish grin.

“God, you’re so hot, but you look crazy,” he wheezed.

Your grin dropped and your eye twitched. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or…?”

Seokjin shrugged, and moved your hands so they were in the better position for him. Much to your annoyance, he didn’t elaborate.

“Um, let’s see, you left a bit out to use as a tie and…”

You began to rock your hips.

“H-Hey!”

The side of your lips curved upward. “What? We’re multitasking.”

“We–?” Seokjin choked, gritting his teeth as you pulsed around his hard length, rolling your hips gently, adjusting until you found a comfortable spot so the head hit you in just the right spot, ah, yes, right there, spreading your fingers out over his chest, leaning your forehead against his, not quite going full force but a slow, deliberate rhythm that wasn’t going to make either of you cum, but, damn, did it feel good.

Seokjin shuddered, gasping your name.

“Tie me up, Seokjin,” you murmured back, caressing his skin.

His eyes darted up, saturated with lust, searching your eyes, and you gazed back.

You could be a real jerk right now.

His hot exhale washed over your lips, a shudder of nervousness.

But this was your best friend, and he was trusting you.

You tilted your head and kissed him softly, flush against his plush lips.

“Come on,” you nudged his nose lightly. “Do it.”

You viewed him from under your lashes. He shivered. Almost.

He needed only one more little push.

“Want you, Seokjinnie,” you breathed against his skin, hints of need and desperation in your voice.

A small smile danced on his lips, staring into your eyes.

You might have fallen for him a little bit in that moment.

“Okay.”

He kissed the side of your mouth, a teasing little peck, and you smirked, turning your head so you wouldn’t break the image you had created for him, but he was already looking down, busily occupied with your wrists, so you drew back, focusing instead on riding him, closing your eyes. You built a leisurely, pleasurable pace, leaning forward a bit to rub your clit against the base of his cock, sighing contentedly at the way he filled you, a wonderful, thick, satisfying girth that you could get used to, other than the fact that most of the time Seokjin drove you up the wall, but, hey, maybe if both of you reached a certain age and you were still single, maybe you could marry your best friend solely for having accessible dick…

“Ah! Perfect.”

You cracked open one eye.

And tried not to burst out laughing.

“Erm… well…” you coughed, tugging at the rope a little. It looked messy and rather hideous, parts overlapping and twisting awkwardly, but he had the… basic idea? It wasn’t like you were going to do anything dumb anyway, so it was pretty good for a first time.

Seokjin frowned. “I don’t know how you did it so neatly…”

“You line up the coils next to each other – ah!”

He seemed to think that was good enough and grabbed handfuls of your ass, causing you to tip forward and brace your hands against his chest, gasping as his hips thrust up into you, abrupt pleasure blooming up your core, sudden squelch of wetness between your joined hips.

“Come on,” he grunted, clenching his jaw, tone getting deeper and more dangerous with each word. “I have to get off, and now.”

He smacked his hands down on your ass and you almost whimpered.

Almost.

Seokjin drew back a little, giving you a strange look.

“W… What?” you managed to get out.

He tilted his head. “Do you like that?”

You almost said, no, of course not, but you stopped yourself, looking down at the red rope tied around your wrists, heat flaring in your cheeks, ass stinging slightly from his slap.

His cock twitched inside you.

Your eyes flickered up to him. A sly smirk danced on your lips.

“Yeah. I like the things you do to me.”

You saw Seokjin pause, brown eyes widening a little, black hair over his forehead.

You pushed him down on the bed. He gasped, but he was used to it now, gripping your ass and tipping his head back as you began to really ride him, waving your hips to ram his cock into your pussy, not even noticing the moan seeping from your lips, fuck, it was good, fulfilling and deep, your bound hands on his chest, fingers spread out and nails digging into his skin a little, but Seokjin seemed to be into it, his own nails sinking into your ass, pushing you down with every descent, hitting you harder, rougher, intensifying the pleasure, building onto it. Hot breath, warm skin, joined hips, loud slaps, rocking bedframe, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, gazing at each other through half-lidded eyes, not quite seeing each other but drowning in the gratification, the roughness, gasping sharply as his open palm smacked down on your ass again, making it bounce and jiggle in his hands, your core and thighs squeezing tighter, witnessing his tight hiss of desire, mesmerized by your sound so he did it again, spanking the other cheek, and you did it again, whimper creeping out, arousal consuming his handsome features, intoxicated by your reaction to his action so he did it again and again, hard, stinging slaps as you rode his stiff, quivering cock harder and faster, fuck, Seokjin must be incredibly turned on because he was so fucking hard, just so incredibly sexy how hard he was right now, even the pain was nothing but an injection of added carnal pleasure, throwing your head back and sinking your nails into his skin, fucking him recklessly, forgetting about hiding your moans, who the fuck cared, not you and not him because Seokjin too was crying out, the sinful sound of sex echoing off his bedroom walls, except instead of you in your bedroom putting headphones on to drown him out, you were in his bedroom, doing it, fucking the daylights out of him.

Alright.

You could see why girls wanted to date your best friend now.

Seokjin was a loud dork, but he had a great dick.

“F-Fuck, Seokjin, fuck!”

He had a similar response, although it was more a choked garble of your name mixed with, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You must really be drunk on his dick because even that turned you on and tipped you over the edge.

Your thighs tensed and you moaned deeply, tucking your chin down and spreading your palms onto his pecs, wrists straining against the cotton rope, a rapid torrent of adrenaline soaring through you and then you smacked your ass down onto Seokjin’s crotch, whining as you came in vicious pulses of pleasure, clenching around his jerking length and you realized Seokjin was clutching your ass, pinning it down so you couldn’t move, shooting his release into the condom, so much that you felt his cock shudder and throb inside you, head buried in your deepest, most pleasurable spot, you feeling all of him and him feeling all of you.

Holy shit.

You almost saw stars.

“Hah… wow… I guess I can’t blame younger dudes for wanting this pussy…”

Your eyes weren’t open but your eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Shut up, Seokjin.”

-

“Come on, man! Look what you did!” Seokjin barked accusingly, pointing to his chest with red indents of your rings.

“Excuse me? I’m the one who has scratches and a bruised ass!”

“You’ve marred my beautiful skin! I should fine you!”

“Where’s that fuckin’ whip – get your naked ass back here, Kim Seokjin!”

-

Hm, well, maybe you would find your true love some other time. Maybe try gambling?

--

masterpost

[binniesthighs]

dear anon, sweet anon, thank you so much for requesting this <3 i didn’t know that i needed it in my life and now...here it is;) IT WAS SO FUN hehe

melt in your mouth | reader x jisung

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x han jisung 

Genre: that good good smut 

Summary: After hearing a rather interesting story about a certain brand of chocolate aphrodisiacs, your curiosity gets the best of you and your friend’s roommate, Jisung.....a spin off of bites like bittersweet

Word count: 3.7k 

*photocreds to OP!

{see below for tags, nsfw and warnings!} 

Tags: aphrodisiac au, somewhat friends to lovers, hints of mutual pining, bestfriend!seungmin, seungmin’sroommate!jisung, hardswitch!jisung, hardswitch!reader, explicit language, mentions of food/eating, hand stuff (r &m), degredation, petnames, dirty talk, unprotected sex (stay safe cuties), creampie, voyeurism, and we love a plot twist ;)  

~💋~

two flavors seemed excessive. one flavor seemed like just enough. you didn’t want to break the bank or anything on something that was likely crappy quality or potentially psychedelic; even worse, it could be both. 

“and you want to try these with me why?” seungmin pushed his wire-framed glasses up his nose bridge and scrunched it up. he inspected the paper wrapper with a skeptical glare. the design itself was anything but trustworthy: in swirly cursive pink font, the name Cherri Amore and under it, a absurdly large lipstick mark with the outline of a couple doing what must have been fucking “spread eagle.” 

seungmin muttered, leaning over the counter of the dingy kitchen he shared with his roommates, “proven aphrodiasiac and libido booster...? y/n, sorry, i just--i’m fucking lost here--” 

“--ever heard of trying something for the hell of it seung??” you snatched the bar from his hand. “the review that i read online said that it made them crazy fucking horny, so much so that they fucked their best friend of something like five years or something like that. isn’t that insane?!” 

your best friend’s eyes blew out with his mouth aghast, “what the hell?? shit--of course you’d find something insane on the internet like this and drag me into it...”  

in your incredulous laugher, you threw your neck back so hard it hurt a little. “loosen up! it’s probably a scam or something. plus...if it does work on us...don’t act like i haven’t caught you in the act before...” 

seungmin, ever the angel, flushed a shade of fuchsia you thought inhumanly possible for someone to attempt. “that-that wasn’t--that wasn’t what you thought it was!!!” he cast away the chocolate bar as if it were his dick on the very night that you had walked in on something that was supposedly not what it looked like. 

“relax!” you punched your embarrassed friend on the arm which he dramatically rubbed into. “it’s not a sin to jerk off or anything. hell, i do it....obviously.” 

seungmin chuckled out unsteadily, “well, um, what if it does work then, what do we do?” 

you snickered, “ha! hell if i know. cross that bridge when we get there?” 

“so what you’re saying is...this could either be a massive waste of our time, or, both of us get so stupidly turned on that we decide to have sex....with eachother?” 

“that’s the gist i’m getting.” you took to the corner of the shiny pink paper wrapping at the corner. “but...who said that we had to fuck or anything...?” 

from fuchsia to nearly scarlet, seungmin averted his eyes at the speed of light. 

“seung!!! do you have something to tell me?!” your teasing grin spread wide and you lifted your hand to give your adorable friend a clap on the back. 

“i’m just repeating what you said!!” 

you broke the bar open, cracking off the first square on the counter with a solid snap. with a smirk, you offered it to your friend. he reached out, only to nearly jump out of his skin when the old-timey ringtone from his phone erupted in the hollow kitchen. 

“shit.” he murmured under his breath, pulling it out and immediately pressing the call button upon seeing the caller. “h-hello? yeah? wait, wait...slow down...the cultures did what?! and you have to start over?? shit--” 

before you could have anything to do with it, your friend was already throwing on his sneakers and sky blue raincoat. “sorry, y/n but i have to go. that was my co-worker, they said that something went bad with the incubator, and all of the cultures are ruined, and there’s the stupid lab meeting in the morning--” 

“i’m gonna pretend that i understood everything you said.” you hung at the doorway to the kitchen, observing him trip over pairs of shoes and other random-ass college-aged boy items. “you only get a pass because i have a feeling that the coworker we’re talking about here is the cute one.” 

your friend rolled his eyes, mouthing a reluctant, “yes.” 

“fine then. we can try the chocolates another time.” 

“fine--sure--” seungmin grabbed for the handle, “sorry. again.” 

~💋~

you felt like the chocolate bar was taunting you, just sitting there opened with two squares all ready for the eating. oddly, you really couldn’t figure out exactly why you had wanted to try them in the first place. for a second, the guilt and loneliness started to seep through and it felt sticky, pathetic, and stung like thorns right into your breaths. 

“fuck it.” you whispered under your breath, swiping them all up and walking over to the trash can. 

“whatcha got there?” a voice entered the room attached to one of seungmin’s roommates, jisung. 

the two of you had met many times in passing, and you had shared enough small talk to consider him somewhat of an acquaintance. from what you had gathered about the boy, he spent much too much time in his room working on his animations and was the dictionary definition of one of those cocky-assholes you had a soft spot for. 

“jisung--hey. it’s...it’s nothing. something stupid that i blew my money on.” 

“let me see.” he crossed the room, looking wired and overtired as usual. 

from staring at his screen for so long his eyes bagged with dark circles, but somehow it made him look mischievous, or something like that. his muscle tank had been cut low to reveal his sides and ribs which flared when he grabbed for the bar of chocolate. 

“huh.” he scoffed, “i’ve seen like, infomercials for these things. you were going to try it?” 

“yeah...i-i mean--no...i was.” 

“what’s stopping you? not curious anymore?” 

“window of opportunity passed.” 

“i don’t think so.” he grinned, matter of a fact. “i like chocolate.” 

you couldn’t quite believe what was being said to you at first. jisung, the boy that you barely knew, was standing there with his goofy heart-shaped smile and all, holding libido boosters and asking you to take them with him. 

“you do know what those are, right? what they could do?” 

immediately, he popped one in his mouth, nearly like it was a challenge. “empahsis on the “could.”” 

he held them closer to you, prompting you to take the remaining square which was flecked with little red hard-candy looking bits. 

“fine then. you’re right. what they could do.” you downed the candy, crunching it and finding that the quality was certainly not a guarantee. the thing itself tasted halfway between a tootsie roll and cold medicine. “fuck.” 

jisung laughed, throwing the rest of the bar away.

“what did you that for?” 

“i’m guessing whether they work or not, you might not need them anymore.” 

your friend’s roommate slicked his hair back, and ruffled it over his dark eyes. his face was slightly puffed with exhaustion, but it didn’t make him any less handsome. 

“so we wait now?” you asked, glancing at the clock. 

“wanna order some food or something?” he smacked his lips, “i need a fucking chaser after that.” 

~💋~

you didn’t know what time it was; late, probably. after a couple hours of realizing that nothing was really going to happen to you or your friend’s roommate, you had decided to stop expecting it. although, you had kind of hoped...

the sofa that the boys shared was just about as comfortable as you had remembered it. it was large enough to hold you and seungmin’s two roommates on better days, but, once again, random-ass college-boy stuff cluttered at least half of it. it was one of those “dumpster finds” and kind of smelled like a grandma’s house, but honestly, that was what made it so comfortable. 

the tv carried on, playing some kind of animated movie that jisung had chosen claiming that the director was some kind of “god of animation and storytelling.” you liked the colors, but soon you felt yourself being lulled and drowsy: your head felt heavy simply resting on your shoulders. 

your eyelids fogged, and the sounds from the tv set started to fade into inexistence. beside you, jisung had crossed his arms, but the lack of space had pressed both of your thighs together, and the warmth from his leg started to wash over your drowsy state. your head bobbed, swayed...then fell, directly onto his shoulder. had you been more lucid, you would have cared more. 

“oh--” he jumped slightly, and shifted awkwardly. 

the room darkened and soon all you could see was the thin line of light that your half-open eyes allowed. 

“this-this can’t be comfortable for you.” jisung hushed and clicked the tv off. “hey, you should be heading to bed anyway, it’s late.” 

“are you kicking me out, jisung?” you babbled, not really aware of your own words. 

your friend’s roommate chuckled, straightening his posture to support you. “i’m not gonna make you walk back to your place at this time of night.” 

“it’s only a couple of blocks--” 

“--you’ve slept over here before, haven’t you?” 

you stretched out your arms with a little squeak.

“yeah. on the couch.” 

“you...can’t do that. you’d have to sleep in a fucking corkscrew if you did that.” 

“yeah, i know.” you giggled, now finding yourself in a kind of stupor that made you wonder if the chocolates really were doing their job. “i’ll just take seung’s bed then--” 

“--he’s! not back...yet.” jisung hugged his arms to himself. “i dunno, shouldn’t he have his bed when he comes back?” he cleared his throat, composing himself. “of course, there’s space in my bed if you’d like.” 

“me? sleep with you?” 

“yes, with me.” just as he had before, that little challenging edge coated his tone, “only if you’re comfortable i mean. i guess that i’m forgetting that the most that the two of us have shared yet is some wack-ass chocolate so, i shouldn’t be making any assumptions.” 

“no, no!” you pounced off from the couch, reaching high to the ceiling to stretch out your sore back next. and, perhaps to let your shirt tuck up just a little bit as you did so. “i don’t have a problem with it.” 

jisung nodded, grinning in the half-lit room, cleaning away to-go boxes. you had noticed before, but the way that his triceps tensed when he moved around was really just a little too distracting. 

“you can head on in, but--be quieter about it. jeongin is sleeping in here.” 

you clicked off a sleepy salute, following the hall down exactly where you had known his room to be, but you had never entered it before. it didn’t surprise you, but it was just as messy as the rest of the place was, and you had to tip-toe around god-knows what to find your way.

after tripping on something soft and sort of damp, (which you prayed was a shower-towel) you made your way to jisung and his face illuminated by the blue-glow of his phone screen where he had immediately jumped in bed after navigating through the room much more skillfully than you had.  

“you have an issue if i sleep in my underwear?” you asked, realizing. 

jisung paused, wide eyed, but quickly fell back into his casual and cocky smirk. “i mean, that’s basically what i’m doing so...”  

“scooch over. i hope you’re not a blanket hogger or anything.” 

the bed was already pleasantly warm from jisung having occupied it. it would have felt amazing if you had been as tired as you had been moments ago, but now your entire body felt horribly wide-awake. 

“--and if you start to snore, i’m leaving you for the couch, got it?” 

jisung let out an airy laugh, shifting and creaking the bed a bit under him, “i don’t snore...for your information.” 

with the blankets pulled up to your nose, you turned to lay on your back, eyes finally adjusting to the darkness of the room. above you, the faint green glow of glow-in-the-dark stars sprinkled across the ceiling, making up constellations: from what you could make out, the big dipper was above jisung’s bed, and the little one was above jeongin’s, who peacefully slept with tiny breaths. 

jisung rolled to the side, accidently brushing his bare leg against yours. 

“night, y/n. sorry the chocolates didn’t work out. would’ve been kind of hilarious if they did.” 

“psh.” you rolled over too, closing your eyes, “you saying you would’ve taken up the opportunity to get in my pants?” 

“guess we’ll never know.” he sighed. 

~💋~

birds chirped, signaling the coming sunrise what was nearly breaking upon the horizon, and filled with deep blue sky with a type of orange-glow. the room was dim and stuffy, and noticeably much hotter than you remembered it being before. over the course of the night, you had tangled your legs with the sheets, finding them trapping you between them, and you shuffled to escape them and feel the air hit your skin. they shifted, letting you feeling the sticky mess between your legs. 

“what the--” the aching and heated desire made itself painfully obvious, soaking directly through your underwear, making a wet mess of them where you throbbed with an utterly unexplainable arousal that reverberated in your core. 

the friction from your legs only heightened the sensation, and you found yourself unwillingly rutting down into the mattress just to feel an ounce of relief. 

fuck, the chocolates, you recalled. while you had expected to feel something from them, this was twenty times more intense than anything you could have planned for. 

you were like an animal in heat, vulnerable, weak, dazed. your body set ablaze, and it only made sense to strip of any and all clothing that held you back. in your own desperation, you had completely forgotten about the man resting next to you. 

“y/n? what's--what are you doing?” jisung groggily croaked in a tone several octaves lower than you were accustomed to. your brain could only calculate it is as downright, unbelievably sexy. 

“jisung, i’m fucking burning up, an-and, i think i’m finally feeling something....are you?” 

he hadn’t noticed it at first until he did, but from where he could see where the blanket dipped all the way down to your waist, you were completely bare. with fluttering eyes, he gulped down dry. you noticed the way that he took you all in, looking at every inch of you. you reveled in how he greedily and shamelessly didn’t stop. 

under the covers, his own legs twisted. 

“me too.” he answered gravely, speaking with a low whisper.  

carefully, his tentative touch advanced under the covers, slowly reaching to your bare hip, where he settled a testing caress, squeezing harder, then cascaded down the small of your back to make you shiver. your own hand did the same, instead finding his leg and creeping your hand up and under his shirt. little space existed between the two of you, and only the panting of your heavy inhales and exhales could be heard. 

your eyes glued to his, beautifully brown and dilating, trembling a little while holding yours. from his light touches, it took every bit of your will to control yourself from launching over him. jisung’s hand fell lower, and toyed with the elastic band of your underwear which had started to feel painfully confining. each of your own fingers traveled up his torso, brushing over his chest which made his whole body shake. 

“sh-shit, i’m so fucking--” jisung started, dropping off his words to let out a wavering sigh. you didn’t need to guess any further. 

jisung slid two fingers under your elastic band, and it became too much to handle. 

“please, touch me jisung.” you whined out pitifully, clawing directly into the soft muscles of his back. 

you were shocked how quickly he had given into you, immediately crashing his lips against yours first, then using both arms to pull you into his chest so close it stole all of your breath away. you kissed him back roughly, ravenous to feel the sensation of his mouth against your own. he growled out a small groan directly into your lips, sloppily working every single corner and edge of your mouth with a devilish smile curling his own. 

lower, both of your hips met flush, grinding and twisting to create the kind of pressure that the both of you craved. limbs twisted, sweating and heated skin mingled, and you could feel every bit of his hardened cock right against your own arousal and how his shaft throbbed helplessly. 

“you taste so good.” he murmured between haphazard kisses, letting his low tone vibrate against you. 

“take these off.” you ordered, tugging at his boxers, nearly taking them off yourself. 

“take yours off.” he echoed, and you did. 

curious hands plunged deeper, delighting fingers in the slick of the other’s cum. 

“fuck.” jisung dragged the explicative over your lip where he lapped lazily into you. “don’t stop.” 

you gave him a moment’s pause, stopping to wet your palm with saliva, then met it with his cock. you worked his length with the sharp and twisting turn of your wrist, causing him to whimper out shamelessly. 

“shhh.” you hissed, pulling his lip with our teeth, “don’t want to wake up your roommate do we?” 

he nodded, biting each and every tantalizing little sound into his lip instead. your own breaths grew shallow feeling the pressure from his hand between your legs and how he had grabbed into your thigh to swing it over his hip for better access. 

“wouldn’t you like me to fuck you out, baby? fuck you like the good little cock whore that you are for me? i’ve seen the way that you look...you’ve wanted this...haven’t you?” jisung’s words were slick and luxurious despite their bite.  

to suppress the begging moan in your throat, you cupped your hand over your mouth, and pressed hard into it. 

the blanket tented from your pulling at his cock and how you rubbed over his slit: it was an ethereal sight even in the blurriness of the room. 

slowly, you leaned over to his ear, waist rocking back and forth over the sensation of his hand rubbing into you relentlessly. “don’t lie baby, you want my ass bouncing on your cock...don’t you?” 

in one movement, he swept his full body weight over yours and harshly pulled your legs back to open your entrance just for him to tease with his tip. he guided himself in slowly and meticulously, bottoming out once you had sunk your fingers into his shoulders to manage some of the screams you would have let out otherwise. 

“fuck yes, baby.” jisung growled, finding an animalistic pace that burned your whole body with white flames of pleasure. 

you grew impatient wondering furiously what his cute little pouty cheeks would look like when you fucked him from above, riding his dick. you wouldn’t wait any further, taking your grasp on his shoulders to then flip him, settling your hips over his dick which you pounced on to the tune of one of his moans slipping past, loud and guttural. 

“shut. the fuck. up.” you scolded him, throwing your hand over his pretty mouth. he whimpered out once again, eyes rolling feeling the tip of his dick reach as deeply inside of you as you would let it.  “cum inside me sungie, i won’t stop until I have every last drop.” 

jisung nodded, chest flaring as his breaths quickened. 

“cum for me baby, and i’ll cum for you...got it?” your breathy whispers scratched your throat, but you needed him to hear. 

you held his eyes which glistened with two pretty little tears that fell  as he came hard, shaking with his whole body and letting each of his gleeful moans come spiraling into your hand. 

your own heat came surging, right at your core, growing....growing...

a lamplight flashed on. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? WHAT THE--WHAT THE--” 

jeongin threw his sheets over his eyes, while shuddering. “I WAS FUCKING SLEEPING!!” 

his shrill scream sent you jumping out of your lust, and you scrambled off jisung’s throbbing and pink cock, and forgetting the force of gravity, which sent his cum dripping out from inside of you. in your panic, you grabbed at anything to cover up your body and his, only to get so tangled that you lost your balance on the edge of the bed and.....

~💋~

THUMP 

your body hit the wooden floor of jisung and jeongin’s room, right on your butt where you knew that it would be hurting for weeks. 

as disoriented as you were, it took you a good few minutes to realize what had actually just happened. 

“y/n?” jisung called with his groggy half-awake, half-asleep tone. “did you just fall out of the bed?” 

on the opposite side of the room, you whipped your head over to see jeongin still peacefully sleeping with his back turned to jisung’s bed.

“fuck--um, yeah. i did. shit...” 

jisung chuckled in the dark room just barely peeking with the first bits of the sunrise in streaming into the room. 

“i don’t know how you did that considering i gave you plenty of space. get back up here.” 

still dazed and brain overheating, you could have sworn you felt the little aftershocks of the orgasm that felt so real still coursing through your body. 

you felt it too: the way that your underwear had slicked. some part of it all must’ve been real. 

“jisung--” you started, not even sure if you wanted to tell him in the first place. “are you certain that you didn’t feel anything?” 

jisung turned to face you and shook his head, “no, you?” 

you hesitated, holding his eyes to see that he must have been telling the truth. 

“i just...i just had this insane dream...” 

“dream? about what?” 

“it’s hard to explain...” you trailed. 

“you look kind of shaken up, are you sure that you’re okay?” jisung extended a careful hand, and smoothed down the side of your face in the way that had felt frighteningly real only seconds ago. his hand lingered, falling down your neck and giving you goosebumps. your eyes fell to his lips, and you wondered if they would taste like you had imagined them to be. 

you leaned in closer, closing the gap. 

“it went something like this.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

[just-a-creep-babe]

Teasing & Denial~

Ticci Toby x Reader Smut

Commissioned by anonymous, thank you so much luv 🥰😘

Requests are closed

Masterlist: x

His hands are pinned up above his head, shirt lifted to expose his chest while his pants have been shoved down to reveal his cock

He’s hard and throbbing as he twitches beneath your touch

“P-please… please…” he whines

His shallow breaths are hot and heavy as he pants the words out

“F-fuck—pretty please—!”

You chuckle, but refuse to give him what he wants

Instead, you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock, lapping at the precum beading up his slit

He flexes his wrists against the restraints, jutting his hips up and throwing his head back with a deliciously pathetic whine

“You’re so cute, baby boy~ Such a good, obedient little slut for me, aren’t you?~” you coo

He nods frantically, whimpering

“Y-yes—please. I’m—I’m your good slut, (y/n)! G-god, fuck, please!~”

He jerk up again, looking for some kind of contact, some kind of release—only to get absolutely nothing

You have to bite back a smirk as you run the pads of your fingers up and down the underside of his shaft

His body thrashes—a twitch or voluntary movement, you’re not sure—and more sweet moans escape him

“Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me, and I just might reward you~”

“I—a-ah~ I wanna—wanna cum. P-please, Mistress, I wanna cum so badly. Pretty please—”

You hum

He looks so desperate

You know he’s at a point where he’d do anything for you—and the thought of having someone so dangerous at the mercy of your touch is exhilarating

Without breaking eye contact, you wrap your lips around him and watch as he shudders and gasps

But you don’t take him any further down your throat

Instead, you trace your tongue over his slit, lathering the tip with attention while ignoring the rest of his pulsing length

He looks so cute, so absolutely adorable as he writhes, trying to flex into your mouth, his head falling back and chest heaving with every choked moan

You let him hump himself into your mouth for a while, never letting him get more than a few inches deep before pulling back all over again

He’s so eager, so wonderfully responsive as you pleasure him between your lips

Your tongue flicks at his most sensitive parts in short, quickly repeating motions while you hollow out your cheeks at the same time

You can feel him trying to fuck himself into your mouth as best as he can, moaning and squirming for more

And right as he’s starting to get a bit too eager for your liking, you pull away, and the wet warmth of your tongue disappears from his pulsing cock completely

“N-no! Fuck, fuck—please!”

His fervent protests fall on deaf ears

“Aww, I’m sorry, baby,” you pout mockingly, “Were you getting close again? Hm? Did you wanna cum in my mouth?”

Toby’s always been the softest, sweetest boy you’ve ever been with

You almost feel bad for being so cruel, denying his release for this long despite him being as obedient and submissive as ever

But he’s just so much fun to tease, how could you possibly resist?

He nods at your question, still dazed and reeling from the shock of being denied yet again

You tilt you head, coy smirk playing at your lips, and watch as he takes in deep, shuddering breaths, trying to control the way his hips keep stuttering up for your touch

It’s all too endearing, really~

“So cute, baby. You’re so cute when you get all desperate for me~”

You trace down his torso, and he squirms beneath feather-light touches

“(Y-y/n)—Mistress~”

Panting and shaking, he whimpers your name, looking up at you like you’re a goddess

You toy with your bottom lip between your teeth, body tingling pleasantly at the sight he offers

But still, you manage to resist getting too excited in the moment

Instead, you continue tracing down his form, gently stroking his scarred skin as you give him time to catch his breath

You want him nice and ready for what you have in mind, after all~

When his breathing’s calmed down and you think he’s had enough time to recover, you wrap your hand around the toy strapped to your hips, giving the silicon cock a few strokes just to tease him

His gaze immediately fixates on your movements, his own member twitching in need as his hips rolling up into nothing at the same pace that you jerk the toy

He bites his lip, brows furrowing

And then you release your grip on the fake shaft, chuckling at the urgency in his eyes

“You want this, baby?”

He swallows thickly

“Yes,” he breaths out

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows back another moan before adding, “p-pretty please—“

His begging is all you need to hear 

You reach out, grabbing a fistful of his dark brown locks between your fingers

And then you tug his head to the side for access to his neck, being delicate enough to not injure him, but harsh enough to be firm and commanding

He whines, but lets you take control of his body nonetheless

He’s all yours to use, all yours to play with~

Your lips find purchase on his neck in a teasing kiss, teeth nipping at flesh before moving down to his collarbone

You take your sweet, sweet time littering love marks all over him until reddish-purple flowers are blossoming on his skin

He shudders as you do, still wriggling and writhing beneath you, his member rubbing against your thigh and smearing streaks of white every time he tries to grind up for more friction

“That’s my good boy~”

Your free hand lines the toy up to his entrance while you’re distracting him with your mouth

You murmur encouraging nothings as you ever so slowly ease into him—all the way until the toy’s completely disappearing inside him

His lips part in a hushed moan as you bottom out, his eyes glazing over and back arches for more

“Look at you, baby. You’re so cute, so fucking perfect for me~”

Your eager praises are accompanied by slow, gentle thrusts

His hands ball into fists above his head, muscles tensing as wave upon wave of pleasure crashes through him

There’s a perfectly blissed-out look on his face as you rock into him with calculated movements

Try as he might to hold back his desperate sounds, the room is filled with his eager cries

It’s like music to your ears~

He rolls his hips back, meeting you halfway for every thrust, trying to get you to go faster and harder, but you maintain your even pace

“(Y-y/n), please. More. P-please, I need more~”

You hum, biting your lip, enjoying the way his cock twitches against your stomach

He wants you

He wants you to get him off—wants you to pound into him until he’s nothing but a shambling, babbling mess of a person

But you’re not done having your fun just yet~

“You want more, baby? Yeah? I bet you want me to fuck your dumb little brain out, don’t you?”

He nods frantically, and he’s about to say something, but he quickly cuts himself off with a loud moan as you hit that spot inside him

He jerks, a string of curses escaping him, his body tensing so that you can see his muscles tightening beneath his sweat-slicked skin

His sounds are nearly driving you desperate as well

It takes more willpower than you’d like to admit to pause, keeping still so that the toy is just barely grazing the same spot

“N-no!” he whines in protest, cursing, knowing all too well what you plan on doing to him.

You have to resist touching yourself at the sight of him so worked up

“P-please—don’t stop! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Please—“

“Tsk tsk tsk,” you shush him, tapping your fingers against his thighs, “ah ah, good boys don’t complain now, do they?”

He shuts his eyes, brows furrowing and body trembling as his teeth find purchase on his bottom lip until it bleeds

You smack his thigh, forcing him to release his lip and return his attention back to you

He shakes his head in response to your previous question, swallowing thickly, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes

So submissive

“Good boy~” you praise, purring in satisfaction

You wrap a hand around the base of his cock to reward him, and watch as he bucks up, seeking more of your touch

“Are you gonna take it, baby? Gonna take my cock like the little slut you are?”

He nods eagerly, hands fumbling to grip the bindings for leverage on something

“Yes, please, I’ll be good,” he promises, groaning, “F-fuck, please fuck me, Mistress~”

You hum, running barely-there strokes up and down his stiff member, ever so faintly jerking him off to get him nice and riled up—even more so than he already is

It has his head falling back again, and you savor how vocal he becomes at the slightest hint of contact

You coo more praises, chuckling at how needy he looks when he squirms beneath you

You really do feel bad for teasing him this much when he’s been so obedient, hanging onto your every word—but you just can’t help it

He looks so damn cute when he’s this desperate

The slick pooling between your legs has gotten damn near unbearable by now, but you don’t want to stop just yet

No, you want to drag this out as long as you can

Which is why you take your time toying with him, moving your hips again to readjust him to the tempo of skin smacking against skin

You move faster than the last pace you’d set before, but still not as fast as you know he likes

Every time you pump the toy into him, it reaches right where it needs to—and with every push of your hips, you feel his body tense eagerly with a surge of pleasure and adrenaline

He looks so needy, trembling and mewling beneath you, that you can’t help but succumb to what he wants—what he needs

You give in to the desire to fuck him faster and harder, impaling him on the toy cock like he’s your own personal fucktoy

And your efforts are immediately rewarded

He’s loud and absolutely shameless as he cries out for you, cursing and mewling, yanking at his restraints, his back arching and his cock twitching impatiently

You know he won’t last very long at the rate you’re going

But you don’t want to stop just yet

You use him shamelessly and recklessly, taking out all of your frustrations by pounding into him until he’s gasping for breath

And then, right as he’s about to cum—his member tensing and his voice getting louder as he nears ever so close to ecstasy yet again—you stop

“N-no, fuck!” he cries out, rolling his hips, trying to find the slightest bit more friction to get off, but you pull away again before he can reach it

A few tears spill down his cheeks, his body unable to process the sheer lack of release he’s had to endure for god knows how long by now

“Aww, it’s alright, baby,” you shush him, wiping away his tears. “There’s no need to cry~”

Your cooing doesn’t do much to quell his desperation

“I-I wanna cum. Please, please let me cum, Mistress. Please~”

His begging goes straight to your core

You smoothen out his hair, contemplating the sadistic plan running through your head

You know fully well that you shouldn’t go through with it

It’s much too cruel

But at the same time, you don’t want him to stop being so desperate, so on edge for every faint bit of attention you give him

With a knowing smirk, you shake your head

“No baby, I don’t think you’ve earned it just yet tonight~”