#classic wine glass is out of the question

[mcchicken-scratches]

What would be the best type of alcohol glass to drop a tiny person in without drowning them?

[gyuzgrl]

too sweet //lsm//

summary- when Jeonghan brings up BDSM at dinner, your boyfriend is keen on trying it out for himself. you laugh it off, telling him he doesn't have the stomach for it, and he decides to show you just how capable he is in bed.

Crystal-chandeliered ceilings, a live cello performance, a bottle of Domaine de la Romanee- 1945; you're in the lap of luxury. After a particularly long week, your boyfriend decided to organize a 'little' get-together to get your mind off work. Something small, he said. Just a little dinner with Jeonghan and Hoshi- nothing much.

That's how you find yourself here- seated in one of the best restaurants in Seoul, surrounded by friends, donned in a dress so stunning it would've killed a small Victorian child.

Earlier on in the relationship, you used to get awkward in places like this, wondering how much it cost, trying to order the cheapest thing on the menu, but now? Now you've grown accustomed to Dokyeom's treats. It's how he shows his love for you- among many other ways- so who are you to say no?

"and yeah- we fucked." Hoshi states, mouth full of food as Dokyeom's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

Jeonghan giggles, turning around to see if anyone heard, and shakes his head.

"and?"

"and-" Hoshi continues, prodding a bit of beef with his fork, "and it was like painfully vanilla,"

You watch as Jeonghan's face contorts into a disapproving frown, and sip at your wine, praying to whoever's listening that your sweet, baby boy doesn't open his mouth to ask any questions.

But of course, you've never had much luck with the universe, have you?

"like ice cream?"

Aghast, the older man turns to Dokyeom.

"dude..."

When the inquisitive, wide-eyed stare doesn't leave his face, you cut in, clearing your throat.

"c'mon don't be like that- you know how he is Han"

Your boyfriend shifts his gaze to you, now wondering how you of all people know what his hyungs are talking about.

A sheepish, watery smile paints your face as you reach for your glass, taking another sip.

The air stills for a minute, awkward pauses flooding the space while Hoshi and Jeonghan share knowing glances.

They turn to you, flashing you those up-to-no-good grins, before fixing their attention to your poor boyfriend.

"alright buddy," Jeonghan starts, reaching out to grasp Dokyeom's shoulder, "lemme teach you about sex."

Immediately, you see the tips of his ears burn red. Poor thing.

"why are we uh, why're we talking about sex?"

"cause you still think we're talkin' about ice cream" Hoshi sneers. You shoot him a glare, and his shrinks back.

Ever the explorer, Dokyeom chimes in again, turning to you this time.

"we're not talking about ice cream? what are we-"

"sex." Jeonghan whispers, voice taking on a mock-sultry tone. He turns to you,

"what's he like in bed?"

"hey!-"

"he seems vanilla now, so I'm guessing it's basic shit" he continues, eyes narrowing in on you.

Suddenly you feel conscious of your surroundings. A nice evening out has somehow turned into a free-for-all analysis of your sex life, and your most intimate moments with Dokyeom have come under the looking glass.

"y-yeah, we're vanilla"

"oh you poor thing," Hoshi fakes a sob, bringing his hand to his chest as if your house caught on fire.

"don't be like that- some people prefer vanilla y'know?"

Some people, sure.

Not you, though.

As much as you love how Dokyeom makes you feel, you have to admit, he's a little, well... basic. It's the same old scene, classic p-in-v sex, sometimes he goes down on you, sometimes you do him, nothing apart from that.

Not that it doesn't feel good- it feels amazing- but you've always wanted something more. Something you're sure he won't be able to pull off.

"uhuh, I'm sure they do," Jeonghan muses, seeing right through you.

"what are we even talking abou-"

"sex!" all three of you whisper-shout in unison, starling Dokyeom.

"but- vanilla?"

"it's classic, like your basic animal-planet kinda sex" Jeonghan's voice turns serious, brows set in a firm line. "there's more than that, though"

Hoshi watches intently, moving a bit of bread to his mouth in slow motion, as the scene unravels before him. You find yourself equally invested, eyes fixed on Dokyeom's wonderstruck expression.

"there's more?" he gasps.

"oh you bet- d'you know what BDSM is?"

Your mouth goes bone dry.

"I think so? it's the stuff with the knives and leather and like latex-"

Jeonghan shoots you a quick glance, mouthing 'you're welcome', before moving back to the man next to him.

"that's not- it's not all intense and gory... there's layers to it, kay?"

Dokyeom nods, eyes shimmering.

"BDSM as a concept is deeper than just leather and blood. B and D stands for bondage and discipline, D and S stands for dominance and submission, and S and M stands for sadism and masochism-"

"so that's what Rhianna was talking about-" he cuts in, jaw falling slack as he listens further.

"each of these can come out in different ways- bondage could include cuffs, rope, shibari, or y'know whatever material you have on hand. discipline is meant in its literal sense- you do things to teach your partner the quote-unquote rules of sex, which could include spanking, using gags for punishment or doing things they like for reward. Sadism and masochism basically play on pain. Sadists like to cause it, masochists like to feel it- again, many ways to do this."

Hoshi stares in awe as Jeonghan concludes, putting his fork down to clap.

"wait- what about dominance?"

A sly smile quirks up Jeonghan's lips.

"oh that."

You swallow at the lump settling at the back of your throat, unable to tear your gaze away from your boyfriend's face- so eager, so fascinated by what he's heard.

"it's the premise of what all this is; discipline, sadism, bondage, it's all built on power play. One of you is in control and the other follows, letting themselves be controlled, it-"

"what about consent?"

Oh sweet, sweet boy.

"that's where safe words come into play. I use the traffic light system, so if my partner says green it means they're feeling good, if they say yellow, they're still okay but I need to slow down, and if they say red, they want me to stop"

"huh."

Dokyeom sits still for a minute, eyes glued to the plate sitting in front of him, and you can practically hear his brain churning to process all that he's learnt.

As the night goes on, he seems quieter than usual, staring at you, absorbing information, listening to what's being spoken about around him. Every time you turn to the side you meet his gaze- intense, preoccupied.

Dinner comes to a close with him shoving his shiny black credit card into the waiter's hands before anyone else beat him to it, and soon, you find yourselves saying your goodbyes, heading to the car.

Dokyeom opens your door, making sure you're seated, and moves over to the driver's seat.

"you don't- do you like how things are now?" Out of nowhere, his voice sounds in your ears, catching you off guard.

You look at him, surprise etched in the rise of your brow, and shake your head furiously.

"of course I do! baby, I love how things are with us, I love you"

He sighs, turning on the ignition, and begins to drive.

"not like that, honey, I meant physically,"

The blank look on your face has his cheeks burning as he works up the courage to say it.

"sex, y/n" he says, a little louder than before, "do you like the way we do things now?"

Oh.

You hadn't expected the conversation from earlier to stick with him, but evidently, it has. A shiver runs through you when he says it- sex. He's never brought it up so unambiguously before. It feels dirty, somehow, even though you've laid with him multiple times.

"I-"

"be honest, honey, okay?"

The earnest, gentle tone of his voice has your heart softening. He really is too pure for this world.

"I mean, I love the way we are now," you mutter, eyes focused on your lap as you pick at your nails, "you make me feel good"

Technically you aren't lying to him- you're just choosing to keep some things hidden. Dokyeom doesn't need to know that you've spent your nights thinking about his fingers buried deep inside you, forcing you to cum again and again until you're sobbing and shaking. He doesn't need to know you've been fantasizing about his arms, wondering how they'd feel pushing you down, leaving you helpless, completely at his mercy.

He's a nice guy, after all. They don't usually like stuff like that. And even if they think they like stuff like that, they don't have the stomach for it.

One stray teardrop and Dokyeom will be on his knees, apologizing profusely, crying along with you as he chastises himself.

"I'm not convinced," he sighs, shoulders slouching against his leather seats. "if this is about protecting my feelings-"

"no! no- not at all baby,"

"so tell me- I know you, I know when you've got something hidden away in that pretty head of yours"

Caught between a rock and a hard place, you find yourself in a bit of a dilemma. Should you be honest with him and take your chances? Or should you pacify him and convince him that plain old vanilla lovin' is all you need?

"I-"

"baby," he soothes, voice gentle, "I just wanna make sure I'm doing the best I can for you,"

A car passes you by, blaring loud pop music, and he breaks into a sheepish smile.

"there's a lot I didn't know before today- stuff that you knew about... so I just- I'm checking. If there's something you'd like me to do, someone you'd like me to be, I wanna try"

"oh,"

You stay silent for a bit, thinking over what to say. Sure, telling him that you're actually a submissive and you hate taking charge is simple, but the execution part leaves you tongue-tied. Someone as sweet and innocent as Dokyeom wouldn't be able to handle taking control.

Nothing against him, it's just that he's so cute and naive- there's no way he'd be able to restrain you and make you cry.

"there's one thing..." you mutter, voice so meek you're barely audible.

His ears perk up.

"y'know the dom-sub thing Hannie spoke about?"

"uhuh, one of us is in control and the other one listens,"

"yeah, I kinda, uh- I tend to lean towards being controlled rather than being in control"

"oh, we can do that if you like, baby" he chirps, twisting the steering wheel as he pulls into your apartment, "we can try whatever you want,"

There's a smile on his face- that same shining, star-studded gaze, eyes crinkling, teeth on full display- and you feel your heart sink.

You'll just have to make do with vanilla for the rest of your days.

The lift ride up is tense. You chew on your lower lip, tapping your heel impatiently against the ground as you move higher and higher, finally reaching your house.

Dokyeom keys in the passcode, unlocking the door, and you stumble inside, rushing to the bathroom for a bit of space.

Locking the door behind you, you stare at yourself in the mirror, worry etched in the crease of your forehead. Your face is beet red, pupils blown wide, and your throat feels dry.

All that talk about the bedroom has you feeling a little jumpier than usual and you can't help the way your brain automatically shifts to its usual Dokyeom fantasy- tied up helplessly in bed as he eats you out over and over, saying the filthiest things known to man.

God, the things you'd let him do to you...

His nose is built just right, bumping into your clit perfectly as he eats you out, tongue lapping up your arousal from your past orgasms. Those long, slim fingers would be splayed across your thighs, forcing your legs open, even when your body spasms, begging for an intermission.

'snap out of it- Christ' you tell yourself, shooing away any wandering thoughts as you unlock the door and head into your bedroom.

"everything okay, honey?"

You curse the universe when your eyes are greeted by his broad frame, standing by your dresser as he clicks his watch open, shaking it off his wrist in a few crisp motions.

"y-yeah I'm-" you cut yourself off when he begins to fold his shirtsleeves up, dragging the white fabric up around his elbow, putting his forearms on display. The way his veins frame the shape of his arms so perfectly, peeking out just enough, has you growing restless with desire, and you feel your face grow hot.

"baby?"

When you stay silent, he eyes you through the mirror, making sure you're still listening, and continues-

"I was thinking about what you said in the car, and I think we should give it a try"

Before you can stop it from happening, your lips part, letting a taunting laugh slip past them. Dokyeom halts his actions.

"why's that funny?"

"it's not! I just uh-" you nibble at your lower lip, trying desperately to conceal the smile perking up the corners of your lips, "I appreciate you saying that, but we really don't have to do things you won't be comfortable with,"

"how d'you know I won't be comfortable?"

You sigh, walking over to him.

"Kyeommie, you're a really great guy- you're sweet, you're kind, you're funny- and I love those things about you,"

"uhuh"

"it's just that you're too sweet, y'know? You won't be able to handle the stuff I'm into, baby"

His brows furrow, and he opens his mouth to speak, but you cut in, sugarcoating your words as much as you can.

"being nice isn't a bad thing at all, okay- don't get me wrong. I love you exactly as you are, so there's no need to make yourself uncomforta-"

"you think I can't do it, don't you?"

His voice is low, dripping with a kind of venom you've never heard from him before. You reach out, moving your hand to soothe over his shoulder, but he catches your wrist, pulling you into him.

"Dok-"

"I may be slow, I may not understand the things you do as easily" he sneers, his grip tightening, "but I know my way around your body-"

"I know I can make you feel good."

He inches closer, nose bumping against yours, and you let out a shaky sigh. Your heart thuds rapidly against your chest, banging against the confines of your ribs so noisily you're sure Dokyeom can hear it.

You've never heard him speak like this before, never seen his eyes flood with such darkness. The once glittering light in his pupils has now dimmed to a darker, lust-filled ocean, void of mercy.

The expanse of his broad shoulders shield you from the front, and a hand slides down your arm, resting at the curve of your back, trapping you in his hold.

"what is it that you want from me, hm?" he mumbles, angling your chin up towards his face, "want me to take control- be a little aggressive?"

Your breath catches, and you stare up at him, eyes wide. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd hear him talk this way, with his voice all low and mean. The way he holds you too, it's different from before. There's no gentle embrace, no tentative grip- no, he's sure right now. There's a certainty with which he holds you, a forcefulness he would've once been afraid of.

"tell me," he whispers as he walks you backward, heading for the bed, "tell me what you want and I'll make you feel good,"

With each step forward he takes in your direction, you take one back, staring up at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. Is this really the same guy from two hours ago?

His gaze pierces through you, challenging you as if to say- 'try me, I dare you.' It's simultaneously intimidating, yet somehow exciting, and you feel a familiar heat spread in your lower belly.

Like some sort of predator, dead set on catching its prey, Dokyeom stalks toward you, moving further and further, until your calves make contact with the bed.

He smirks.

You've been caught.

"what's wrong, honey?" a faux pout graces his lips, "you were saying so much a minute ago-"

You gasp as he closes in, leaving no room for anything but your body and his. The hand on your face leaves your chin, and he traces a finger down your throat, stopping just below the divot of your collarbones, lingering over the hem of your dress.

There's an evil glint in his eye and you watch, waiting patiently to see what he does next.

"strip."

Certain you heard him wrong, you stay still, staring up at him dumbly.

"oh, we don't feel like listening today?" he quirks a brow at you, loosening his grip on your waist as he lets his hand travel up your back, "either you do it- or I'll do my fucking self."

On beat, he thumbs the zipper of your dress and tugs it down in one sharp motion, leaving you stunned. The fabric falls slack against your body, loosening at your neckline just enough to give Dokyeom a peek of what lies underneath.

He trails his finger down your clavicle, pushing your dress down to reveal the lacey surface of your bra- the fabric flimsy and transparent, letting your nipples poke through.

"someone's excited," he bites his lips, smirking down at your hardened nipples. "you wanna take this off for me, baby?"

His voice is raspy, taunting almost, and your body obeys, arms hastily undoing your bra as you shimmy out of your dress. You should feel embarrassed, getting naked so desperately like some sex-hungry nympho, but you don't.

The arousal pooling in between your legs is far too distracting to leave any room for humility or shame.

Dressed pooled at your ankles, bra tossed aside, you stand bare before him.

Teasingly, Dokyeom lets the pad of his extended finger trace down your chest as he leans in, lips ghosting over yours. Your eyes flutter closed and your lips part- ever so slightly- bracing for impact. You feel his breath fanning across your face as his presence nears, skin almost touching yours, before he sends a sharp tweak to your nipple, pulling away with a devilish grin.

Jolting at the sudden stimulation, you gasp, eyes opening wide. There's a current running down your body, stemming from the spot he abused seconds ago, and you feel it land in your clit.

You want to argue, to call him an idiot and tell him to kiss you proper- to quit teasing- but you know you like this. The way he's got you all figured out, the way he so effortlessly gets you to bend to his will, god this is what you've been waiting for.

"get on the bed."

The firmness of his voice tells you to bite your tongue and acquiesce, but there's something deep inside of you that wants to see how far you can push him.

"don't wanna"

He pauses for a second, looking into your eyes-

"do you actually want to stop or are you just being difficult?"

"the latter," you singsong, staring up at him with a challenge dancing behind your eyes.

There's a moment of silence as he prods his cheek with the tip of his tongue, taking in what you've just said. His blood boils at the mockery in your voice, eyes hardening to a cold brown.

"brat." he spits, clenching his jaw.

In one forceful motion, Dokyeom yanks you towards himself, lifting you up by the thighs before tossing you onto the mattress behind.

"baby-!" You can't help but squeal as he manhandles you effortlessly, showing you just how strong he really is. Your body lands with a dull thump on the bed, sinking deep into your duvet as he stares daggers into your sprawled out frame.

"sit still."

Dokyeom steps back, standing before you at the foot of the bed, and keeps his eyes on yours. A sly hand creeps up his neck, fingers weaving into the intricate knot of his tie, and he pulls it loose, tossing the silk fabric near your feet.

Undoing the top buttons of his shirt, his hand travels down to his belt, clicking the buckle open with ease. The metal comes apart in his hand, loosening with a single flick of his wrist, and you feel your mouth begin to water.

He looked sinful. With his sleeves rolled up- biceps straining through the fabric, the way his chest peeked out tauntingly through his shirt, how his eyes bore into yours, not breaking contact for an instant- it made you want to scream.

The sound of metal clanking pulls you from your thoughts, and you realise that he's shucked off his trousers, leaving himself in his CK black boxers and a partially unbuttoned shirt.

"Kyeommie," you pout, reaching an arm out towards him, "c'mere"

It takes every bit of his strength to keep himself from crumbling instantly, but he manages it with a firm shake of his head.

"thought I told you to stay still, hm?"

You frown, your pout still evident, and turn away with a huff.

"I'm taking this off, y'know," he teases, plucking open the buttons of his shirt, and you feel your attitude fade to dust as you turn back to him in an instant.

Who wouldn't? After all, he does have the body of a God.

As he undoes his last button, you're greeted by his sculpted torso, tanned to perfection.

Dokyeom smirks, ego inflating at your star-struck reaction as if you haven't seen him like before.

"every single time," he mutters, shaking his head in amusement.

Before long, the shirt is discarded to some remote corner of the room, and he stands before you, nearly bare.

"where were we..."

Grabbing your ankles, he tugs you down till your hips reach the foot of the bed. A startled gasp escapes you at his actions and he can't help but smirk.

"if tossing you around was all it took, you should've just asked, sweetheart"

Your cheeks burn red. Never once has he spoken to you like this- so direct, without scaffolding.

"makes me wonder what else you might like,"

Dokyeom brushes his fingertips up your legs, kneeling down to face your clothed cunt.

"I learned a lot today," he bites his lip, eyes fixed on the damp spot growing under your panties. "will you tell me which of all those you like or should I find out for myself?"

His gaze shifts to you, eyeing the flush on your cheeks, the scandalized widening of your eyes.

"I- I want-" you trail off, voice so small it makes him melt.

"I'm listening, honey, tell me what you want,"

That soft, silverish quality of his voice resurfaces, and you feel your body relax. He rubs slow circles into your thighs, trying his best to coax the words out of you, but you remain hesitant.

Embarrassed, rather.

You've never told anyone what you want from them so plainly, with nowhere to hide. You feel exposed in front of him for the first time in a while and the feeling excites you.

"don't stop." you murmur, unable to meet his gaze. "don't stop after just one... y'know-"

His eyes darken.

"oh I'm going to like this"

Deft fingers slide up your inner thighs, hooking under the last of your lingerie and pulling it apart, tearing the lace off of your body to reveal what Dokyeom wants most.

The most intimate part of you lies spread out all for him, glistening with arousal, and he has to suck in a breath to calm himself.

"don't- don't do that,"

"do what?" he asks, backing away slightly just in case you've changed your mind.

"try to control yourself like that- just don't hold back"

You breathe shakily before continuing- "I want to see how far you go-"

Something snaps within him, that final band of restraint finally tears apart, and he yanks you down onto his tongue, licking fervently at your cunt like this is the last time he gets to taste you.

Your lips part, letting breathy, helpless cries slip past, and Dokyeom knows he's doing well.

Despite the gusto with which he devours you, his movements are precise, practiced. It's exactly as he said earlier- he knows how to make you feel good. He knows your body.

He works his tongue against you, lapping at your clit without any care of hypersensitivity or overstimulation, pressing harder and harder into you as your legs spasm around him.

"wai- oh my god-" you moan, back arching up, hips lifting off the bed for a second, before Dokyeom pushes you back down firmly with his hand splayed across your lower belly.

Squirming helplessly under the force of his arm, your body tries to move away, to get just a little respite, but all in vain. He doesn't let you. The weight of one hand holds you secure, while the other cups the underside of your thighs- pushing your leg up as far as it can go.

With your legs spread out further, his assault on your clit feels even more direct, with each firm motion of his tongue sending shockwaves across your body, and you feel your muscles tighten, building up for release.

Dokyeom seems to have noticed too, and his lips curl up at the corners into a deeply satisfied smirk. You feel it against your skin.

"already?" he abashes, eyeing your tensed frame, "after all you said?"

"m'sorry- please, please can I-"

"can you?" he echoes.

"can I cum ple-please"

You've done this before- asked for permission before- but not with him. Never with him. Dokyeom's smirk only widens when he realises the power he now holds over you. To be able to deny one their right to pleasure is... exciting, to say the least. He certainly seems to enjoy it, considering the bulge growing in his boxers.

"mm, I didn't quite hear that honey, come again?" His voice is patronizing, mocking.

"please Kyeommie please let me cum"

Dokyeom's never thought of himself as a man who likes to abuse his power, but right now with the way you're begging? He wants to see just how much you can take before the seams begin to rip.

"no."

Your eyes fly open, jaw agape as your clit throbs under his tongue.

"w-what"

"you asked, I said no."

Now he knows he isn't being fair, he knows. But the tears welling up in your eyes have him entranced. There's this urge he has deep inside to see them all spill out and stain those pretty cheeks of yours.

"but-"

"are you gonna act up? 'cause that's not how you're getting what you want sweetheart"

Dokyeom's voice sends a chill down your spine. With the way his tongue abuses your clit, you're certain you won't be able to hold yourself back, not when your high is almost near.

You want to be good for him, you really do- but is this even fair? As he laps into you, nudging your sensitive nerves just right, your head tips back into the pillows and you moan out a string of profanities, getting completely lost in the pleasure he gives you.

He isn't happy.

"if you wanna cum that bad- I should give you more, hm? who am I to deny?"

You know very well from the tone of his voice what he's got planned.

Grabbing the tie- now dangling precariously off the bed- Dokyeom crawls over your spent frame, balancing his weight on his knees.

"gimme your hands."

Tentatively, you hold out your arms, pushing your wrists together.

"what are you do-"

"you know what I'm doing, sweetheart"

You do.

He pulls the fabric of his tie taut, looping it at your wrists before tying a firm knot to keep you from moving. The black silk, although soft to the touch, presses into your skin, and you hiss when he gives the fabric a sharp tug.

Dokyeom's eyes draw back to yours, and he grabs your wrists, pushing them up above your head.

"keep these here," he murmurs, gulping slightly when he notices how close your faces are.

Your eyes burn holes into each other's, and he sees something in your gaze that he hasn't before-

Hunger.

"Dokyeom," you breathe, chest rising shakily,

"kiss me"

Waiting no longer, he pushes his lips to yours, capturing the plush crimson in a slow, hard kiss. The way your lips mold so perfectly together, fitting into each other like pieces of a puzzle, makes this moment that much more meaningful.

When he touches you, when he kisses you, you know deep inside that this man is your forever. No one has or ever will make you feel so alive.

Dokyeom swallows your whimpers, your cries, as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's sloppy and messy and desperate- but you love the way it feels, the way he feels.

Leaving your wrist, his hand comes down to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so he can kiss you harder, deeper.

"wa-wait-" you pant, feeling your lungs burn.

As you try to pull away, a deep growl emanates from within his throat, and he tugs you closer, unwilling to let go.

A surprised 'mm!' escapes your occupied lips, muffled by his own, and your body lights up- embers of red-hot desire scattering across your skin.

Dokyeom's own lungs beg him to move away, to breathe, but he holds still, stubborn as ever. You feel far too good. If this is how he dies, he'll go gladly.

The airy whimpers and gasps from you, however, finally get him to let go.

Your chest heaves as you gulp in precious breaths to soothe your lungs, as does his own. Staring up at him in shock, you manage to stutter out-

"where has that been all this time-"

He lets out an airy laugh, pressing a tender kiss to your jaw, trailing down your torso until he reaches your gushing sex.

"the hands stay up there- got that?"

You nod eagerly, holding your wrists up to show him, but you're quickly cut off by his tongue, pressing back into your clit.

"oh-"

Tracing slow figure eights into you, Dokyeom works his tongue deftly while his fingers prod at your entrance. With ease, he slips two long digits inside, pushing deep till your arousal trickles down his knuckles.

"Dok- oh fuck oh my god"

Each knuckle of his fingers adds further stimulation as he begins to pump in and out of you. Every time he draws back, you stretch to accommodate the balls of his joints and it feels divine.

You've always loved his hands. Those slender, long fingers were perfect for you, and the fact that his knuckles jut out at each joint only makes it all better.

The kinks in his fingers have your legs quivering, and his tongue- god his tongue- nudges your clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

Feeling your orgasm build at record speed, you moan, completely defenseless as Dokyeom slurps noisily at your sex while his fingers push up against that one particularly soft spot inside you.

"Kyeo-Kyeommie m'gonna-"

"that's it, sweetheart- just let go for Kyeommie"

With a sob, you feel your orgasm burn through you, twice as intense as the previous one, and your thighs quiver.

You're spent. You're spent and he's only made you cum twice.

Watching the way your muscles twitch from the weight of your orgasm, Dokyeom grins, feeling particularly proud.

Now usually, this is where it ends. His arms would slip out from under your thighs, and he'd kiss you sweetly, telling you how amazing you are. He'd check to see if you wanted him to make love to you, and if you agreed, he'd do exactly that.

Tonight, however, he stays firm in place, his mouth still connected to your cunt. Limbs still quivering, your eyes widen when he begins to move against you, barely giving you a second to catch your breath and recover.

Your body goes limp when he pokes his tongue against your over-sensitive clit, licking gentle yet firm stripes with precision. Each oscillation elicits the most delightful sound, just as a clock chimes with the motions of its gong.

All you can do is clutch the fabric of his tie, nails digging into your palms as your skin burns under his touch. Your nerves throb, pulsing in time with your heart, in time with his tongue.

"so good for me, honey," he mumbles into you, sliding his fingers back inside you in one fluid motion. Your back arches comically off the bed, mouth hanging open in a mix of shock and pleasure.

Once more, you find your belly rudely forced back down. Dokyeom narrows his eyes at you, irritation flashing behind his deep brown pupils, and keeps his hand there- splayed over your lower belly, pushing down with just enough pressure for his fingers to prod out from under your skin.

You gasp, feeling fuller somehow with the added force, feeling his fingers drag deeper against your walls. Within moments, your cunt clenches down around his digits, and he laughs in disbelief.

"again? baby c'mon you have a point to prove, don't you?"

Under any other circumstance, you would've bitten back, calling him some name, yelling some profanity- but now? Now you need him. You're so close, right on the edge of the water, ready to fall in, and only he can give you that last push. You know better than to open that smart mouth of yours right now.

"is this all it takes? y'know if you're gonna start off by being a brat- you gotta keep up with the act at least-"

"m'so-m'sorry-" you gasp, tugging against your restraints as you feel your high mere seconds away, "m'sorry please can I cum please I've been so good for you-"

Dokyeom nods, scissoring his fingers in and out of you more rapidly than before, and you cum with a scream, straining against the cloth binding your wrists as your orgasm rips through you like a whirlwind.

"that's my girl-" he sighs, placing a kiss to your inner thigh, while his fingers continue their movement inside you.

"Kyeom- oh- t-too much,"

Your cries fall on deaf ears, and he shoots you a sly grin.

It has been over an hour now, you're certain. Dokyeom's held you still and pulled orgasm after orgasm from you with his tongue, his fingers, both.

"p-please-" you whimper, tears streaming down your face as those long fingers slide into you once more.

"just one more, honey,"

Dokyeom presses tender kisses to your inner thighs- now wet with your slick- and pushes further into you.

"just one more for me, hm? you can do that for me, can't you baby?"

You nod, small sobs wracking your body. Of course you'll do this for him. You'll do anything for him. Plus, you can't say you aren't enjoying this-

"that's my girl."

[ceruark]

eat your heart out

synopsis: you’re a vampire just trying to get by via feeding on your friends, having no desire to find a mate. sunday has other plans. notes: yan! sunday x vampire! gn! reader. (yan! aventurine if you squint) words: 3,396 notes: modern au. vampires are fully integrated into society. cw: yandere themes: obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, drugging. not nsfw but definitely a bit horny, my bad. a/n: apparently the key to overcoming writer’s block is having a really questionable dream

“Come on.”

“Aven, I said no.”

“Just one bite?”

“No. I’m not hungry.” You shove his face away from your arm, but he just rests his head on your shoulder in response. You roll your eyes in annoyance. “Besides, you’ve had vodka. Your blood probably tastes like shit right now.”

The blonde scoffs at you. “It’s not my fault you have an awful alcohol palate.”

You glare at him, offended. “Wine is one of the only things I can tolerate. It’s not my fault you don’t have a more refined taste.”

Aventurine heaves a loud sigh and pouts, but drops the topic.

It’s common knowledge that, as a vampire, you need to drink blood regularly to sustain yourself. After much trial and error, you found that you can get by just fine feeding only twice a week. Thankfully, your friends don’t harbor any fear toward you and are more than willing to let you drink from them. You always feel bad for leaving such a painful mark on their wrists, but they wave away your worries, insisting that it’s not much to put up with so long as you’re fed and healthy. You’re grateful for all of them and will take what you can get, even if you have developed a particular taste for Black Swan’s and Ratio’s blood— and Aventurine’s, when he isn’t drinking that godawful liquor.

Others of your kind often tell you that it would be easier and more beneficial for you to find a mate. Drinking from a single person would mean that you could feed more frequently, and the consistency of drinking the same blood would make you stronger, and overall healthier. You’re reluctant to tell your friends that drinking blood of various types and quality leaves you feeling more lethargic than could be considered normal. They would react poorly to that information, and the alternative is something you don’t want to do— not in the near future, and maybe not ever.

The thought of being bound to one person until they die leaves you nauseous; you’d seen how well that worked out for your parents. Becoming accustomed and addicted to a single person’s blood is a tricky thing, and your father’s withdrawal symptoms had been brutal for decades. For a long time, doctors believed he would never fully recover.

So you always brush away anyone who approaches you with the intent of becoming your mate, insisting you aren’t interested and you don't need one. 

Aventurine seems to be gunning for that position, anyway. He has a habit of clinging to you and flaunting his neck around you, wearing accessories that bring attention to it or leaving it completely barren while wearing a low-cut top. His intentions couldn’t be more obvious, but you refuse to acknowledge them; you love him dearly, but not enough to shatter your fear of taking in a mate.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when the bartender finally places your order in front of you: a glass of classic red wine. You perk up as they bow to you. “Apologies for the wait, we’re quite busy tonight.”

You shake your head in dismissal. You were wondering why it was taking so long to pour a simple glass of wine, but you suppose some things can’t be helped.

“No worries,” you respond with a grin. The bartender watches as you raise the glass to your lips and take your first sip, and leaves once you hum in satisfaction and go back for more.

You remain at ease for a while longer, sipping at your drink and enjoying conversation with your dear friend (who ends up ordering another drink with vodka in it, how disgusting). The two of you are in the middle of an argument about who in your shared friend group would survive in a zombie apocalypse when someone settles into the empty seat on the other side of you.

“Having a nice night?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden voice sounding next to you. You manage to catch the way Aventurine’s fond gaze morphs into a heated glare, the way his laughter breaks off and his genuine smile twists into that of a bitter one.

“Sunday,” he says in greeting, though the name rolls off his tongue with loathing.

Said man’s sharp golden eyes flick to Aventurine briefly, meeting the glare with one of his own, before looking back to you. You repress a shudder and greet him with a tight smile.

Sunday Oak, world-famous actor and esteemed son of the distinguished director Gopher Wood, has an interest in you that you haven’t been able to shake. Mr. Wood had picked up a screenplay you wrote, and you were ecstatic to hear that he wanted to meet with you to further discuss your vision for the film. The movie the two of you crafted together was a massive success, and Mr. Wood quickly snatched you up, not wanting to lose your talent to another agency. He’d seen something in you— “a keen eye,” he’d said— and decided to keep you around as his assistant.

Needless to say, you were in no position to treat Sunday with anything but respect, even if he did unnerve you. The two of you met in Halovian Entertainment’s main office during a major company meeting; as the heir to the man’s fortune, he was always at his father’s side, but as his assistant, you now had a place on Mr. Wood’s other side. You two are frequently around each other, and the more you speak to him, the more he seems to pop up in your life, even in places he shouldn’t be. He has a way of conveniently being in the right place at the right time, always lending a hand when you’re struggling to carry heavy equipment, or running through lines and providing an actor’s perspective when you’ve hit a roadblock while writing a script.

He’s always showing up when you’ve gone just a few days longer than usual without feeding, standing closer to you than he usually does. He’ll linger nearby, and the normally graceful and composed actor will somehow manage to gain a small wound that causes him to bleed and fills the air with a scent you can just barely resist.

You considered him a good friend at first. You might still be taken with him if you hadn’t long since figured out that he’s trying to sink his claws into you by getting you to sink your fangs into him. His demeanor is sweet, and his blood smells even sweeter— but you know better than to bite into the apple that the devil tempts you with.

Tonight, he’s decided to crash your weekly meet-up with your friends and sit beside you at the bar. He’s wearing a sheer white top that hangs lowly around his chest, leaving his pale, unblemished neck and collarbones as yours for the taking. Aventurine eyes his outfit choice with disdain, and had this been anyone else sitting with you two, you would have called him out on his hypocrisy; the black off-the-shoulder top he’s wearing shamelessly leaves everything on glorious display.

You turn your head to face Sunday— maybe a little too fast, given the way the room seems to spin a little. You blink rapidly, trying to pull yourself together against the fuzziness in your head.

“It’s nice of you to join us,” you say pleasantly, trying to smooth your smile into something less forced.

Sunday returns your smile, before shaking his head. “I wish I could join you on more friendly terms, but I do have unfortunate news.”

You straighten up, a bit alarmed. “What is it?”

“It seems teenage drama is more serious than we thought. Yanqing and Yunli are unwilling to continue to work with each other.” He sighs. “They’re both demanding that the other drop the film.”

You stare at him incredulously. “We’re already halfway through filming.”

“Yes,” Sunday says, sounding as tired as you already feel. His eyes flit to Aventurine, before looking back to you. “I’ve already discussed potential solutions with my father, but we shouldn’t go over them in… mixed company.”

As an actor under a different agency, Aventurine shouldn’t be around for a conversation like this. He narrows his eyes, giving Sunday another strained smile. “Certainly you can discuss it another time then, yes?”

“It’s an urgent matter,” Sunday answers easily. “If we have to recast and reshoot, we should have this sorted out as soon as possible.”

The blonde is about to fire off another snarky response, but pauses when you place a hand on his shoulder. “He’s right, we need to get this figured out.” You squeeze his shoulder. “Why don’t you go and make sure Veritas hasn’t killed Boothill over poker? They both left the bar pretty drunk.”

Aventurine eyes Sunday warily, then looks back to you. “Fine.” He drops his voice to a whisper, “But you come find us if he tries anything, alright?”

“He won’t,” you whisper back, “I’ll be fine.”

He clearly doesn’t believe you, but he stands to leave anyway. He flicks Sunday a cool look before turning his back on the two of you, wandering away from the bar and toward the casino.

You turn back to Sunday, ignoring the way your head starts swimming again. You suck in an unsteady breath. You feel hot all over, burning like a million needles are pricking at your skin. You glance at your empty wine glass with concern— alcohol never hits you this hard. 

You clear your throat, putting your discomfort on the backburner for now. “So what did your father say?”

Sunday hums, propping his arm up against the counter and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “There aren’t many teenage actors with the skill to replace either of them, and those with the availability are under IPC contract.” 

Your eyes go wide. Halovian Entertainment and the IPC don’t mix well, under any circumstances. “He’s not seriously considering extending the casting call to them, is he? The media will be a nightmare if we do that.”

Sunday opens his mouth to respond, then pauses. He takes a sweeping gaze of the crowd around them, too close for comfort. “Perhaps it would be wise to take this conversation elsewhere.”

You nod in agreement, rising to your feet—

—and immediately go crashing toward the floor.

The burning intensifies once you’re standing, and if it was swimming before, then the room is somersaulting now. You let out a cry of distress as you flail, your hands attempting to catch onto the counter or your chair as your legs give out beneath you. One hand feebly latches onto the counter, but slips off of it. Before you can hit the ground, Sunday rushes to your side and wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you against him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, voice dripping with concern and something else you can’t quite place.

“Something—” You cut yourself off, surprised at the way you slur your words. “Something’s wrong.”

Sunday’s face comes into view. His brows are drawn as he clicks his tongue at you. “Did you have too much to drink?”

“No.” You shake your head, and immediately regret it. “Alcohol doesn’t affect me much.” 

He frowns more at that. “Might you be getting sick?” He presses his hand to your head, feeling for your temperature. At the contact, your stomach roils, painfully contracting within you.

With horror, you realize it’s hunger. You fed yesterday— you shouldn’t start feeling hungry for at least a few days, nevermind feeling like you’re starving.

You tremble as he withdraws his hand. Your fangs poke at your tongue in your mouth, presenting themselves against your will. Standing this close to you, Sunday’s scent is too strong, and you feel your resolve hanging on by a singular thread.

“You’re running a fever.” He leans in closer, and you clench your jaw. “Do you want me to take you back to your hotel room?”

You don’t trust yourself to open your mouth right now. You shake your head, then move to separate yourself from him. You need to find your friends, any of them, and you need to do it now. But the second you manage to slip out of his grasp, you’re unsteady again, sent tumbling to the ground.

Sunday quickly catches you by the arm before you can fall and pulls you back toward him. The arm around your waist is firm this time.

“Please,” he says, sounding stressed, maybe even a bit desperate. “Let me walk you back. You can’t make it back in this state.”

You want to talk, want to tell him that no, he doesn’t need to escort you back— in fact, you’d rather him take you to one of your friends. But you can’t, not with the way your hunger overrides your brain and leaves you salivating. You can only bring yourself to nod slowly. Once he dumps you in your room, you can call Aventurine up and feed all you like.

The walk to the elevator is agonizing, but the ride up to the thirteenth floor is even worse. At least near the bar, you could distract yourself by catching bits and pieces of the patrons’ conversations, or by staring at the lights of the machines at the casino.

In the small and confined space with no lights or sounds— just you and Sunday— it’s much harder to ignore the roaring of your stomach. Unconsciously, the hand you have settled on his hip to steady yourself tightens, your nails digging harshly into his shirt and leaving crescent marks in his flesh.

He looks at you again, eyes shining in what seems to be anticipation. You would notice it if you didn’t have your gaze resolutely fixed to your feet. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

You nod again, still refusing to open your mouth.

The doors slide open, and somewhere in your hunger-induced haze you manage to feel relief at the sight of your hotel door. You reach into your pocket and produce the key card. Sunday takes it from you and opens the door, holding you every step of the way until he can set you down gently on the bed.

Once you’re seated, you use every ounce of strength you have left to say, “You can go now.” Your voice is strained from the effort of holding yourself back.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone like this,” he says, and you grit your teeth at his words. “You’re clearly ill. I don’t want to risk things getting worse with no one around.”

“I’ll be fine,” you mutter as you close your eyes. He needs to leave, and soon, or you’re going to lose your mind.

His hand is against your head again, and you jerk away from his touch, clenching your hands into fists to ground yourself.

“At least let me take your temperature,” he pleads. “The first aid kids have medicine that will help with the fever.”

“Fine,” you concede, and he sets off to the bathroom.

His return is indicated by the bed dipping beside you and the sound of the first aid kit being rummaged through. You feel the press of the thermometer against your forehead, and then hear a beeping sound go off.

“102,” he says, sighing. “I’m going to give you some Tylenol, alright?”

You nod weakly. You sincerely doubt the medication will help with your particular ailment. You hear the packaging being ripped open, and for a long moment there’s nothing else.

And then, you smell it: the metallic, unmistakable scent of blood.

Your eyes fly open, pupils blown wide as they lock onto Sunday. He’s pricked himself on the needle in the first aid kit, and a small bead of blood sits on the end of his index finger.

Were you in your right mind, you might have been able to piece it together: the way the bartender watched you as you drank the wine, the way Sunday was in the right place at the right time again, and the way he holds the needle in a way that makes the injury look more purposeful rather than accidental. But such a train of thought has no chance of departing when your blood is roaring in your ears and your carnal instincts take over.

In an instant, you're lunging at him. One of your hands grips the side of his neck and the other settles on his hip again. You push him onto the mattress, using your body weight and enhanced strength to pin him down.

Your lips brush momentarily against the soft skin of his neck before you open your mouth wide and bite into him.

Sunday lets out a soft groan as your fangs pierce his neck. Your fangs hold no venom yet he finds himself going still, paralyzed from pleasure. Despite the stabbing sensation, he cranes his neck and presses it against your lips as much as he can, trying to make access to his blood even easier for you. In a haze of his own, he reaches up and tangles one of his hands into your hair, placing the other on the small of your back and pulling you into him even more.

His blood is sweet against your tongue— sweet like syrup, as sweet as he is to you. You’re past the amount of blood you need to drink to be sustained, but you persist in drinking, indulging yourself just this once. You need more, taking in such big gulps of it that it spills out of the sides of your lips and dribbles down your chin.

You move lower, trailing tiny bites down his neck until you bite down firmly into his shoulder, taking as much as you please. He breathes shallowly and moans at every nip and bite, but he makes no move to push you away. If anything, he only holds you tighter against him.

He trails a hand down your back, and a coherent part of your mind registers that his hold on you has gone slack. Suddenly, an urgency to stop manages to cut through the fog still lingering in your mind. If you drink anymore than you already have, you’re going to leave him weak and seriously injured. 

You detach your fangs from his shoulder and peel yourself off of him. He gazes up at you through half-lidded eyes, desire evident and overflowing in his gaze. His hair is a mess from the rough way you handled him while keeping him pinned down. His chest rises and falls with the ragged breaths he takes now that you’ve stopped, drawing your attention to the blood smeared along his neck and shoulder, staining his white shirt beautifully. He reaches for your hand, delicately placing his own on top of it.

Coming to your senses, you pull your hand back as though you’ve been burned. And you have, in a sense— the realization of the night’s events and what he’d done to you hits you all at once. You pivot backward, scrambling away from him until your back slams harshly into the bed’s headboard.

Surprisingly, Sunday follows you, using the last of his strength to rise and move across the bed to sit at your side. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you against him. You curl in on yourself, turning your face toward the wall and away from him.

You can feel the haze already starting to pull at the corners of your mind. Whatever he drugged you with is still in your system, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re hungry again.

In a quiet voice, barely above a whisper, you ask, “Why did you do this?”

You can feel him hum where your back is pressed against his chest, then you feel his fingers settle on your chin. He coaxes you into looking at him, grasping your face gently and slowly turning it toward him.

The affection in his eyes makes your stomach turn. With what, you do not know.

“I thought it might be nice if you wanted me as much as I want you.”

He moves his hand to cup your face and pulls you toward him. He presses his lips against yours, relishing in the taste of his blood on your lips.

[daisynik7]

Sweet Like Honey

Chapter 1: The First Time

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: established relationship, fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary), nipple play, clitoral stimulation, sex without a condom, creampie, pet names

Summary: Nanami invites you to his place for the first time, where he offers to cook you dinner, which leads to a night of many other firsts. 

Author's Notes: I originally wrote these spicy side stories for A Bento For Kento last year and I'm just now getting around to editing/rewriting some of it to match more of my current style! I hope you like it, thank you for reading! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Sweet Like Honey Masterlist | Next Chapter

Being inside Nanami’s apartment for the first time makes you nervous for some reason. Maybe it’s the feeling of being in somebody’s personal space that makes you uneasy. You like this man, of course, but there’s still so much you don’t know about him. It’s only been two weeks since you started dating. Two weeks since your first and second kiss at the street food festival. With Ren still living with you at home, it’s been difficult to find time to be alone with Nanami. 

Until tonight.

He offers to make dinner, which is already such a huge turn on for you. The smell coming from the kitchen is intoxicating. You can’t recall the last time that someone cooked a meal from scratch to serve to you. There’s yearning in the pit of your stomach. Is it hunger caused by the aroma of the food? Or desire for the man currently preparing the food? It’s both, definitely both. 

You’re currently sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine in hand, classical music playing on his stereo in the background. You don’t expect anything less from him, already so smitten by the classy Kento Nanami. You sneak a glance at him in the kitchen, admiring the black apron he’s wearing over a blue dress shirt and his usual spotted tie. He looks extremely attractive right now. In fact, he is extremely attractive. Feeling increasingly nervous each passing minute, you chug your liquor before standing up to walk into the kitchen. He takes his focus away from the pan to look at you, asking, “Need anything?”

“I was actually coming here to ask you the same question,” you respond with a small smile. 

“I’m almost done. Just want the sauce to thicken up a bit more.” He eyes your empty glass. “Need a refill?”

You hold it out to him, nodding. “Yes, please.” 

He pours the bottle, filling it halfway. Without a word, you tip it into your mouth, taking three large gulps to swallow it down. From your peripheral, you catch Nanami watching you curiously.

Why are you freaking out right now? You’re with your boyfriend, who has been nothing but kind, gentle, and sweet to you. But tonight, you are hyper aware that it’s just the two of you, alone inside his swanky apartment, the bedroom just a few feet away.

It’s just dinner, you remind yourself. This doesn’t guarantee that the two of you will have sex tonight. Besides, why are you thinking about sex to begin with? Get your mind out of the gutter. He invited you here for dinner, nothing more. However, there’s no denying that it’s been on your mind. You nearly pounced on him at the street food festival. Every night, you replay the memory of his touch; his gentle hand on your cheek, his warm mouth on yours. How his lips feel against the skin of your wrist. The way his jaw clenches when he’s trying to hold back. You want to feel that again. You want more. 

You’ve seen each other a couple more times after that night, either out in public or at your house with Ren. And with your protective younger brother always keeping an eye out, your goodnight kisses have been tame, a little too tame, if you’re being honest. To say you’ve been eager for this alone time with him is an understatement. Despite this, you can’t help being a tad nervous. Will you two be compatible in the bedroom? Are there any weird kinks he’s into? Is he okay with the kinks that you’re into? These questions won’t be answered all in one night, so there’s no use in stressing about it when sex isn’t even on the table yet. You’re only focus tonight should be to enjoy this delicious home-cooked meal courtesy of your super hot boyfriend and let everything play out the way it should. 

“Go ahead and sit. I’ll serve you.” You snap out of your reverie at the sound of his voice and take a seat at the dining table, taking the bottle of wine with you. Soon, he appears with two steaming plates in hand, setting one in front of you and the other at his spot next to you. “Carbonara and garlic bread. This is my favorite meal to cook,” he says, sitting down and filling his glass. 

“This smells and looks incredible. I’m so impressed!” you beam at him, eyes glowing with admiration. 

“That’s a huge compliment, coming from you,” he responds, smiling.

“Pasta is not a specialty of mine. You’ll have to teach me one day.”

“Sounds like a good date idea. Let’s plan that soon.”

You twirl your fork around the noodles for the perfect bite. It’s still piping hot off the plate. When it hits your tongue, your taste buds sing. The sauce is perfectly creamy with just the right amount of cheese and pepper flavor. The salt from the crisp bits of pancetta adds enough flavor without being too overpowering. The noodles are al-dente, just the way you like it. Everything together creates a luxurious, well-balanced dish. Even the garlic bread is delicious; he roasted the garlic beforehand, surrounding the apartment with one of your favorite scents. “Delicious. Absolutely delicious. It tastes even better than it looks, and it looks incredible.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating,” he says, a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“No, Nanami. It’s seriously amazing. Thank you for cooking this for me.” You take another big forkful, closing your eyes and making small noises of satisfaction. He doesn’t speak, a small smile on his face smile as he eats his own food, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you’re still enjoying the meal. The silence isn’t awkward; it feels comfortable. Both of you indulging in delicious food and great company. 

When you’ve scraped your plate clean with your last piece of garlic bread, you finish the rest of your wine, letting out happy sigh as you rub your belly. Nanami finishes soon after and stands up to take the plates into the kitchen. You follow, offering, “Let me wash the dishes! It’s the least I could do after you’ve fed me.”

“I’ll put them in the dishwasher, don’t worry.”

You lean against the countertop, helping him load the dishwasher. After the cycle stars, he steps towards you, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for dinner. Seriously. That was so delicious,” you say, peering up at him. 

“You know that I already like you, right?” he chuckles, planting another smooch on you. “You don’t have to keep flattering me.”

“I’m just being honest! That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had! But I’m obviously biased because I already like you too,” you tease, winking. From behind him, you suddenly notice something on his fridge. Curious, you walk up to it. It’s the bento box notes you wrote him, hung up by magnets, each one wrinkled from wear and tear. Smiling, you ask, “You hung them up on your fridge?

He stands beside you, arm brushing yours. “Of course. They keep me going throughout the week.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, beaming at him. “You are the sweetest man, you know that?” You kiss, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you in closer. The fact that he still has those notes, now hung up on his fridge like artwork, makes your heart swell. How is this man even real? And how are you lucky enough to have him as your boyfriend?

He pulls away from the kiss, voice wavering just the slightest. “Should we move to the couch?”

Heat creeps into your face as he leads you into the living room. Is the wine getting to you? Or is it your nerves? You’re the one who initiated the kiss, so why are you surprised that he wants to move it to the couch?! There’s no way he wants to get it on right now; you just ate. Isn’t there a rule about waiting thirty minutes after you eat, or does that only apply to swimming?

You both sit on the catch, knees touching, holding hands. He gazes at you lovingly, even as you try to avoid his gaze. “Are you okay? You seem a little distracted.” He brushes your cheek with his thumb, his touch giving you the flutters below your stomach. 

“I’m fine,” you lie, totally flustered now.

“Are you sure?” He brings your hand up to his lips, placing soft kisses between your knuckles. Oh no, your absolute weakness.

“I guess I’m just a little nervous,” you admit.

“What are you nervous about?”

You let out a timid laugh. “I don’t know. I’m just being weird.”

He stops kissing to study you. “You can be honest with me. Please tell me what’s on your mind.”

Taking a deep breath, you explain, “I want to get some things out in the open. Make sure we’re both on the same page.”

There’s a worried glint in his eyes. “Okay.”

Another deep breath. “So, um. Sex. I want to have sex. With you. Do you…I mean, would you like that, too? Is that, um, something you want to do with me?”

You can see a small grin forming on his lips, but he immediately goes back to a neutral expression to answer, “Yes. Very much so.”

Cheeks burning, you reply, “Okay. That’s…good to know.” You clear your throat before posing the next question. “Have…have you been tested recently? I’m sorry to ask this, I just want to make sure we’re practicing safe sex.”

Calmly, he says, “I got tested two weeks ago as soon as we started dating. Everything is good.” Before you can continue, he adds, “And don’t apologize for asking that. That’s a very valid question.”

You nod, easing up a bit. “I got tested a few months ago when I last saw my gynecologist. And I’m also good. I haven’t had sex since then, so yeah. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Good.”

There’s a moment of silence as you properly process this conversation. Why were you so anxious? You should have known that talking to Nanami like this would be easy, considering how mature he is. 

“Oh! Also, I’m on birth control. Just FYI. In case you were wondering,” you blurt out. 

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he says, a kind expression on his face. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the way he looks at you. 

Finally relaxed, you say, “Okay, I think that’s all I wanted to talk about. Thank you.”

“Thank you for opening up to me.” He places his hand on yours, caressing you with his thumb.

You ask, “Do you have any questions for me?” He shakes his head no. You continue. “I’m sorry if this is awkward. I just want to make sure we go about this the right way.” The fluster on your face is definitely noticeable; there’s no hiding it now.

His smile brightens as he scoots closer to you. “You’re too cute, you know that?” 

At that, you let out another giggle, glancing down at your lap, shy for an entirely different reason now.

“I really like you. You have no idea,” he whispers, breath warm on your ear. When did he get so close? Your heart pounds like crazy, enough that he can probably hear it. 

Attempting to lighten the mood, you joke, “You still like me after all that interrogation?”

“I think I like you even more now.” There’s lust dripping in his voice. “Can I kiss you?”

Without saying another word, you lean in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss starts slow and gentle. His hand cups your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone, reminding you vividly of your first kiss. How the sounds of the festival were drowned out by the thumping of your heartbeat. Now, the classical music playing in the background is muted by the wet noises your lips make against Nanami’s mouth. His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers dangerously close to the arousal between your legs. The first time, he was holding back. This time, he’s not. He wants you. 

He pulls your head back gently, lips trailing down your neck, sucking on your skin where it’s most sensitive. As if he knows exactly where to touch you to stimulate every nerve in your body. He slides under your blouse, fingers grazing the bulge of your belly. Feeling insecure, you grab his wrist and push his hand away. He stops to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I just…I just ate, so I’m a bit bloated,” you confess. “Feeling a little self-conscious.”

With another kind expression, he says, “I understand. I won’t touch you there.” He returns to your thigh, kissing your neck once more, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “You are beautiful. I hope one day you’ll let me worship every part of your gorgeous body.”

Your insecurity is quickly overtaken by the need to feel him on every inch of your bare skin. Without thinking, you take his hand and slip it beneath your blouse, allowing him to touch you there now. Why did you even bother trying to resist him?

He laughs softly. “Good girl.”

Hearing him utter those words as he touches has your pussy throbbing. There’s nothing else on your mind except feeling him all over you. Feeling him inside you. He squeezes your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple over the fabric of your bra. 

“Want to move into the bedroom?”

Without a second thought, you answer, “Yes.”

~~~

Fingers entwined with hers, he takes her into his room, watching as she lies on his king-sized bed. He straddles her, hands at the hem of her shirt. “Can I undress you?”

She nods, sitting up to help him strip her, her upper body exposed except for the bra covering her breasts. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable; he can tell she’s a bit nervous, despite the obvious desire in her eyes. Most importantly, he wants this to be an enjoyable experience. “Is it okay if I take your bra off?”

She gulps loudly before breathing out, “Yes.”

He wraps his arms around her, fingers grasping for the clasp. She kisses him hastily, lightly nipping at his lower lip, his dick growing stiffer inside his pants. She reaches for him, palming his strained cock until he’s uncomfortable hard against the fabric. When her bra finally comes lose, he tugs it off her body, tossing it to the floor, admiring her bare bosom. 

“Can I suck on your nipples?” he huffs, his patience wearing thin. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, I really like that.”

She really likes it, she says. Good to know. He squeezes her breast, sucking on her nipple. His free hand massages the other, pinching it lightly until he it’s perky against his fingertips. He circles his thumb around it as he continues to work her tits, making lewd noises as he releases her with a wet pop, only to latch onto her again, sucking harder. She moans, his cock twitching with every erotic sound that comes out of her salacious mouth. 

Nipple plump on his tongue, he moves to the other one, sucking until she squirms beneath him, whimpering in pleasure. Still completely clothed, he loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt, stripping until he’s naked from the waist up. Her fingers trail his abs, then down to the skin right above the hem of his pants. Once she unbuckles his belt, he slides out of his pants until he is clad only in his briefs, her focus on the obvious bulge protruding from his underwear. She undresses, keeping just her panties on. He leans over to kiss her passionately, letting his hands explore her body freely, cherishing every soft curve of her glorious figure.

He’s been dreaming about this. Ever since their first kiss, he’s thought about her every night. The way she tastes on his lips. How soft her skin is on his rough hands. He would fantasize about the different positions they would try, the sounds she would make if he ever got the chance to pleasure her. Every second they spend together, his feelings for her grow stronger and stronger. He’s never felt like this with anyone else. That’s why he doesn’t want to screw it up. He wants nothing more than to pleasure her, make her feel comfortable and safe with him.  

He breaks away to catch his breath. “Is this okay?”

She smiles, cupping his cheek. “Yes. This is more than okay.”

“We don’t have to go any further, we can stop here,” he suggests. He really doesn’t want to, but he will if she does. 

“Do you want to stop?” There’s a naughty look in her eyes, as if she’s teasing him.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

Electricity surges through his body, ready to burst. His fingers reach for her panties, rubbing her clit through the cloth. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yes, Nanami. Fuck.”

His cock twitches at the sound of her cursing. This is one his fantasies, hearing filthy words come out her sweet, innocent mouth. He slips his middle finger past the fabric, sliding it up and down her wet folds, circling her clit, cock rigid underneath his briefs. Feeling her like this is better than he ever imagined. A dream come true.

“Show me. I want to see how big you are for me,” she purrs into his ear.

His eyes widen at her suggestion. Fuck. He won’t be able to last if she keeps saying things like this in her sexy voice. He shoves his briefs down his thighs, letting his hard cock flop against his abdomen. 

“Fuck, Nanami. You’re so big. Can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Losing his composure, he mutters, “Fuck, baby. Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

He lets out a huff. “Okay. I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” He reaches for his nightstand, grabbing a condom and lube from the drawer. When she sees him opening the packet, she grabs his wrist. “You don’t have to put that on. I’m on birth control, remember?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“Fuck.” He pours lube onto his palm, stroking his erection. She watches hungrily as he positions himself at her wet slit, guiding it in smoothly, her pussy clenching him every inch he slides in. When he bottoms out, he stays still, waiting for her body to adjust to his size. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she breathes out.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He thrusts slowly, savoring how incredible she feels around him. It takes everything in his willpower not to come yet. She wraps her legs around his waist, arms linked behind his neck. That beautiful smile flashes across her face, making him tingly all over his body. He really likes her.

His pace picks up, drawing out small moans from her sweet lips. He’s close, but he wants to make her orgasm first. He reaches down to rub her puffy clit with his thumb, the sudden sensation causing her to buck up towards him. Her reaction encourages him to thrust into her faster, moving his thumb relentlessly over the sensitive spot. 

“Fuck, Nanami. I’m going to come,” she whimpers. 

“Come for me, princess. Come all over my cock.”

She tightens, her body squeezing him until she climaxes. After her high, she relaxes her grip on him, eyes glazed over, grinning. When he tries to pull out, she stops him. “Don’t. Keep going until you come. Please.”

It doesn’t take long; he thrusts into her a few more times until he releases inside her, filling her up. As he pulls out, cum drips out of her slit, an erotic sight he’ll never tire of seeing. He collapses beside her, steadying his breath. She turns to him, sliding her arm over his chest, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. Cuddling closer to her, he whispers, “Thank you.”

She laughs. “Thank you, too.” 

They stay like that for a few minutes, the silence comfortable, their bodies cozy snuggled together. Before they end up falling asleep, Nanami sits up and announces, “I’ll be back.” He disappears into the bathroom, rummaging his cupboard for the unscented baby wipes he bought a few days ago. When he returns, he crawls back in bed next to his girlfriend and takes out a few wipes. 

“Wow, you’re so prepared!” she exclaims, taking the wipes from him to clean herself. 

“I figured these would be good to have, just in case. If you want, we can take a shower together before we sleep. You can wear my clothes.” 

“I can’t sleep over. Ren is going to freak out if I don’t come home.”

Slightly disappointed, he responds, “Oh, okay.”

Sensing this, she kisses him on the cheek. “I promise. Next time, I will sleep over. Just gotta get Ren’s approval first.”

“You’re such a good sister,” he smirks.

“And when Ren moves into the dorms in a couple of weeks, we can do whatever we want, wherever we want.”

“I’d like that.”

After she’s cleaned up, she changes back into her clothes. Nanami puts on a new pair of clean briefs to walk her to the door. “Call me when you’re home, okay?”

“I will.”

They hug each other tightly before saying goodbye. Exhausted from his orgasm, Nanami goes straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for sleep. As he lies in bed, under the very blanket they just had sex on, he moves his head to the pillow. The one she was sprawled out on as he made her come. He takes a deep breath with his nose pressed against it, inhaling her sweet scent. He feels his arousal growing beneath his briefs, thinking about the way his cum trickled out of her. 

He smiles to himself, reaching down to stroke his hard cock, realizing he doesn’t have to go off fantasies anymore. 

Taglist: @chiyoso

[munsonsreputation]

Dress

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [5.6k]

warnings: no use of y/n, best friends to (secret (kinda)) lovers (brief backstory), cursing, drinking, reader and steve are both twenty, SMUT (minors do not interact or i will dropkick you) kissing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, yall...this is just fiction), multiple orgasms (reader), creampie (like I said...use protection), annnnnd aftercare <3

summary: everyone knew you and steve as being the best of friends...though they had their suspicions of something more happening between you two. however at hopper and joyce's wedding everything seems to be exposed, or at least that's what they think. at the end of the day, the only people that truly knew what was going on between you and steve, were you and steve...and the dress you bought for him to take off.

Across the room, his eyes were dead set on your figure—the wine glass you’d been carrying now halfway empty. All of your weight rested on one leg, allowing the opposite hip to be jutted out so exquisitely that your thigh peeked out through the high slit. Your hair fell effortlessly down the expanse of your back in free waves.

“So you and Steve?”

The woman you were talking to was a complete stranger, just a friend of Joyce’s that she invited for the wedding. She must have known who you were, or at least Steve, because when she asked the question, she looked over at him, instantly tracking him in the crowded room.

Your eyes wandered ever so coolly, bluffing like you couldn’t feel him gawking at you in your peripheral for most of the night.

It was offensive how good Steve looked in a tuxedo getup. It had you wishing more people in Hawkins invited you two to their wedding just so you could have an excuse to see him in this attire again. Not that his classic polo and khaki pants didn’t do it for you, but this was a nice change for once.

“We’re just friends.” You waved off, separating your eyes from him despite your urges to continue eye fucking him for the rest of the night.

She laughed, her own hand reaching forward to rest on your wrist where she gripped too tightly for your liking. “I heard Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy used to date him?”

“It’s true.” You confirmed, peeking over to the dance floor where a very intoxicated Nancy was having the time of her life with Jonathan who looked to be just as wasted, dancing to the beat of the music.

“Jonny is a sweet boy, but Steve is just...wow.” She purred lowly, turning her head towards Steve who did his best to play it off like he wasn’t ogling at you. Coughing awkwardly into his elbow and turning away instantly as you held back a smirk and turned your attention back to the older woman.

“If I was still twenty, I would love me a piece of Steve Harring—“

“More wine?”

The stranger quickly shut her mouth as Steve popped up out of nowhere, suddenly holding the wine bottle in his hand as you grinned sneakily your hand holding out the glass for him to fill though there was still burgundy in there.

“What were you ladies talking about?” Steve sing-songed, the soft glug glug glug subduing the music as the lady blushed, turning away as you did your best to hide your amusement.

Steve bit his lip, staring as you eyed him up and down. “You’re always the talk of the town, Harrington.”

He snickered, shaking his head, “Nothing bad, I hope.”

You pouted with a not so believable innocent faced as you drew an x over your chest, “Cross my heart.”

Steve snickered at your hilarity, paying no mind to the woman beside you other than blindlessly filling up her glass with more alcohol.

“It’s nice to meet you Steven, my name is—“

You perked up at the swift song change, synth permeating the air as everyone hooted around and more dancers filled the floor. Steve turned to you, planting down the wine bottle and holding out his hand.

“Would you mind holding this?” You rose your brow towards the lady, your lips sheathing around the cusp of the wineglass, and lifting it, taking one last sip before sticking it in her free hand.

You gulped the bitter, looking back at Steve, then back at the lady with a calculated grin glued on your face because you wanted to add salt to her poor middle-aged wound.

“This is my boyfriend and I’s favorite song.”

The look on her face was priceless. Eyes wide and mouth held agape like you lied to her, which you totally did, but you had no care. Just simply twirling around and letting Steve draw you to the dance floor.

“You called me your boyfriend.” Steve’s voice filled with surprise and contentment, whispering the words in your ear while you moved your body against his.

You wiggled your shoulders, leaving kisses up his neck and murmuring in his ear, “Would you rather me refer to you as the guy I’m sleeping with?”

He shivered at your articulation and touch upon his skin, beaming at you and shaking his head. Steve was more than delighted to be called your boyfriend, even if that meant that your not so secret love affair was finally revealed.

But it wasn’t as if people didn’t know you and Steve were together.

Everyone knew you were together.

You two were just too blind to see that everyone knew.

The chemistry you and Steve shared was out of this world. Maybe it was because you two were best friends before you both decided to pursue something further.

But you and Steve both knew that you didn’t want each other merely as best friends. There was always something more lingering between the two of you.

Steve had met you long ago, back in middle school when you had moved to Hawkins. You were seated beside him in social studies, back when he had a buzz cut and you had experimentally bleached hair, or at least pieces of it after seeing it in magazines and wanted to strut into eighth grade with a cool look.

Friends to Best Friends is something that instantaneously took place between the two of you. But so did the mutual pining. Years of seeing each other jump in and out of relationships and double dates throughout high school was agonizing.

He’d listen to you complain about your incompetent partners and you’d never hear the end of his famous “you deserve better” or “I’ll kick their ass” lectures.

And of course you’d listen to him go on about how badly his dates went and how he was trying to find someone to really settle down with.

Both of you knowing and wanting one another, but just being too petrified to ruin the perfectly established and strong friendship you already had.

But like all the good things to come, you both had to be patient with time. It wasn’t until the two of you graduated that you decided to give the relationship thing a try.

“Why are people staring so hard?” He suspected, eyes floating around the banquet hall to see some guests and his friends closely watching your every move.

You humphed cluelessly, lifting his hand and intertwining yours together as you danced, “They think they know everything…like we really are just best friends.”

It wasn’t like you and Steve didn’t want people to know you were together. But it was just nicer keeping everything private. Him knowing he could come home to you. And you knowing you could come home to him.

An intimate comfort that was sailing right under everyone’s noses, just for you two to keep.

But holding back from each other was hard.

Pretending that you and Steve were stuck in traffic, which is why you were late to game night, when, in fact, you two got caught up having sex.

Or having to bite your tongue when Robin would ask Steve about any hot babes he was seeing.

And Eddie teasing you about how flirtatious the server was being when Steve just wanted to intervene and tell the son of a bitch to back off.

Self-control and lying is something you and Steve had thought you were good at—essentially keeping your relationship a secret, but they all caught on immediately.

Dustin and the boys noticing your car in Steve’s driveway at late hours of the night.

And Max and El questioning you about the hickey on your neck when you dropped them off at the arcade.

Evidently, with the younger teens conspiring it was only a while before the older teens found out and began their own discoveries.

Jonathan and Nancy, seeing the two of you sat in the theaters, snuggled up after you both had told them you would be working that night.

Eddie and Robin stumbling across a polaroid photo of the two of you kissing inside Steve’s glove box.

And even the adults, Hopper and Joyce, catching the two of you having dinner at Enzo’s to celebrate your three-month anniversary.

Everyone knew, but no one said a word.

“Henderson looks like he’s about to explode.” You stiffed your laugh with a smile, moving your eyes away from the curly-headed boy being shaken by Lucas and Mike as he glared.

Steve chortled, shaking his head at the young boy and mouthing a sorry, “He probably feels betrayed his favorite babysitter has been keeping his girl a secret.”

“Robin and Eddie don’t seem too surprised.” You tilted your chin to them, their shining figures gawking at you two as you stuck your tongue out at them, earning a laugh.

By now, ABBA had died down, and a slow song had replaced the synth. Bodies moving deliberately as the lights dimmed down and only couples were left on the dance floor.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Steve began, his lips ghosting upon your ear and he squeezed your waist, “You in this dress should be a crime.”

You blushed, your face nuzzling itself into his neck as you followed his lead, your hips rocking to the direction of his hands, “I told you…I only bought it so you could take it off.”

The air was thick, like it was just you and him in the room. The sexual tension lingering between the both of you was almost painful to try to hold back from, and so Steve spoke, one of his hands trailing up your spine and to the back of your neck, bringing your face away to meet him.

“Let’s get out of here.”

His voice dripped with seduction, his pupils blown wide as he stared intensely into your orbs. Though the lights were dimmed, he had memorized every feature and its curve on your body. You looked enticing, the kind that made him want to worship your body in private, like he knew how to.

“Please.” You replied, unwrapping your arms from his neck, and hooking them around his biceps and allowing him to lead you away from the dancing.

His other arm covered the small of your back, closing the distance between the both of you, desperately wanting you close to him. Your heels clicked against the floors, strolling past your friends and firing them a smile while you and Steve passed, accompanied by their whistles and Nancy and Robin blowing your kisses.

“Congratulations, again.” Steve congratulated, withdrawing his arm from your waistline and propping it up on Hop’s shoulder.

The newly wed couple stood at the double doors of the banquet hall, getting some of their photos taken as you greeted them adieu.

“Leaving so soon?” Joyce sought, resting a heartening hand on your shoulder and squeezing, and you smiled at her.

“Steve and I are gonna get some rest in the hotel room, but we’ll still be up bright and early tomorrow for breakfast at the cafe.” You reassured her of the plans that were already made and she smiled, kissing your cheek then doing the same to Steve.

“Don’t have too much fun now.” The older man badgered, patting Steve on his back and ruffling your hair as you giggled and nodded.

“Night Mr. and Mrs. Hopper.” Steve bowed, draping his arm back around your back as they waved goodnight, watching you two walk out of the doors and promptly adverting their eyes to the others who were giggling and whispering to themselves.

And of course, the second you and Steve were out of sight from everyone, your lips connected frantically. Stumbling into the elevator and him only drawing away for a millisecond to make sure he was clicking the right floor number before you dragged him back to you again.

Fingertips skimmed and squeezing parts of each other’s body, yearning for the electrifying touch that always got one another going a thousand miles over the limit. The only thing that tore them apart was the ding that came from the elevator, the doors opening as they arrived on their respective floor.

Steve wasted no time hoisting you up with ease, followed by your squeal as he smacked your butt. He was swift and smooth, reaching his hand into his pant pocket for the room key and unlocking the door. Kicking it shut and twisting the lock, he made his way over to the bed, placing you down at the foot of it.

The moonlight slithered past the curtains, illuminating your body before him. You leaned up on your elbows, uncrossing your legs and inching them open, wider, wider, and wider, until Steve finally fitted himself between you, trapping himself as you locked your legs around him.

His palms came down on the cushion, the soft cotton sheets upon his skin, leaning down, hovering over you, face fitting perfectly against yours.

“No more games.” He murmured sternly, his lips brushing along your jaw and you huffed out a laugh, playing coy.

“What’re you talking about?”

You were bullshitting him. You knew exactly what he was talking about.

The entire night you were playing games with him, knowing he couldn’t do anything but bite his lip and watch.

Watching you rock your hips back and forth to the beat of the music.

Watching you strike a pose every time the photographer would approach you for pictures.

Just anticipating to finally get his hands on you like this very moment.

“Stop wasting time, Steven.” You grumbled, shuffling your face closer to his and sighing as he finally connected your lips back together.

This time, his hands withdrew from the bed, instead smoothing down your exposed thighs and sweeping the fabric of your dress back, giving him more access to you. The firmness pressed into your clothed center gave you affirmation that Steve was more than ready to take you, to make you his as you did the same to him.

Your legs tightened around back, pulling him closer and your hands gripped and tugged on his suit jacket, prompting him to pull his hands away from you and shrug the coat off. Your lips moved in tandem with each other as you two made quick work of getting rid of each other’s clothes.

Your fingers skimmed against the buttons of his shirt, exposing his skin to the cool air and hands caressing your back as he unzipped the dress.

Steve pulled away from the kiss, inciting a wail to leave your lips, craving nothing more than to mesh your bodies together for eternity. He laughed at your neediness, but never in a bad way. He was just always astounded at how deeply you wanted him. How you always craved to have his touch.

“Fucking beautiful.” He spoke more so to himself, his tender palms peeling the dress off your shoulders and down the rest of your body, leaving it to fall to the floor right beside his feet.

Your heels were still on, those damn things that made your legs look even better, and made Steve even more of a feral man the more he kept watching you the entire night.

You’d never get acquainted to his skill, the way his hands would scroll over your body, burning your skin with electrifying touches that made you want more.

Rolling your head back with a deep breath leaving you, he squeezed your breasts in his hands, chuckling at the way you instantly fell deeper into the bed. “Don’t make me wait, please.”

Begging usually worked with most guys, but Steve…oh that man hated when he made you feel like you had to beg.

He’d give you anything if you’d ask.

Sure, sometimes begging was a fun little game the two of you liked to play in bed every once in a while.

But he loved to please you, do anything to get you off and give you the pleasure you so rightfully deserved.

You cried out a complaint as he reached back and undid your legs from around his body, but immediately shifted into a whistle when he shrugged off the button down you had loosened. His nimble hands worked his belt undone and through the loops, his eyes wandering up to meet yours before speaking.

“Teasing me all night with no bra on.”

You looked down at your exposed chest and shrugged innocently. “Couldn’t wear it with the dress.”

He tsked, nodding his head as he unzipped his pants, kicking out of his shoes first before leaving his legs bare. He was instantly back in between your still spread legs, working your heels off of your feet, tossing them a little gently off to the side of the room.

His knees made contact with the bed, hoisting you up onto the mattress with your lips kissing all over his bare skin until you sensed the cushioned headboard above you.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Steve spoke low, stretching your face away from his chest and pushing a kiss to your lips before tearing away.

Your hips jutted up, pressing against his covered crotch, making the two of you moan just before Steve pushed your body back down. “C’mon, tell me, baby.”

“Want you to touch me.” You hissed softly, head thrown back against the pillows, feeling his fingers dance along the waistband of your underwear, fiddling with the flimsy fabric but never daring to drag them off your body.

His breath fanned over your stomach where he pressed pecks along the skin until he just barely ghosted his lips over the front of your panties. “Won’t make you beg tonight, honey…just want you to be a little more specific.”

Your second attempt at jutting your hips up to where you needed him was unsuccessful. His firm grip holding your body into the bed with nowhere to go.

“M-mouth, want your mouth, please.”

In a blink of an eye, your panties were abandoned somewhere in the room and Steve found his place between your legs, his large hands splayed on your inner thighs as he spread you open. Your fingers urgently tangling in his hair, nudging him closer as his tongue lapped at you as if he was parched.

“B-baby, oh my god, just like—right there!”

Curses, whines, and a mixture of moans tore from your throat, the noises from your sinful mouth echoing off the walls and traveling straight to Steve member, getting him incredibly harder by the second.

His hum of approval against your sensitive core only made you louder, your fingers breaking away from his hair and instead twisting into the bedsheets, using it as leverage as you withered beneath him. His tongue was ruthless, never moving slower or picking up the pace too quickly. Steve always knew what would set you off, his eyes trailing from your tits to your face, observing you slowly being to unravel.

“S-steve, I’m gonna cum…p-please.” Your eyes were shut tight, rib cage heaving up and down and the lightness consuming all your senses until Steve spoke against you, “Cum, baby.”

His mouth enclosing around your bundle of nerves combined with the squeeze he gave your thighs led you to your first release of the night. A sob leaving your mouth as you caught your breath and gradually came back with cloudy eyes, Steve’s mouth smoothly leaving your core and kissing the inside of your thighs as he ran his hands over your midsection.

“Good?” He proposed cheekily, sitting up with his lips and the skin around his mouth covered in your essence, glimmering in the pale moonlight.

You swallowed, the dryness in your throat washing away and you nodded, leaning up on your elbows and pressing your face forward. “Amazing.”

He met you halfway, relaxing his forehead on yours and nudging your noses together. “Want a taste?”

You could feel the fire starting up inside you again, chewing your lip with a hum until you let the skin go, granting him to kiss you passionately. The blend of your sweetness and his mouth washing over you like the most decadent honey until he tore away, a string of saliva darting between your pair of lips.

“Please, fuck me, Steve…been waiting all night.”

You were able to roll your hips this time, right up against his crotch, being able to feel every vein and ridge despite him still being covered. You knew your man like the back of your hand. Had every inch of him memorized.

He kissed you once more before sliding away. His feet planted back to the ground, removing his boxers until he made his way back up to you.

Immediately, your hands reached for his cock—achingly hard and pleading to be inside of you. Your eyes flickered to his orbs as you stroked him lazily, your thumb brushing over his sensitive slit, smearing the pre-cum in circles, only making his own sequence of obscenities fly out of his mouth until he jerked his eyes open, shuddering away the nerves.

“Gonna make me blow my load before I get inside of you.” He swung his head, enclosing his hand around your wrist to pull you away from his length.

You smirked, prompting the hand up to your mouth, sucking his pre-cum off your thumb and toying the tip of it with your tongue. Teasing him and walking the thin line of him absolutely railing you.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it, baby.”

He reached down, guiding his length up and down your core, nudging your clit and getting you to fall back. Just how he wanted it. It was only seconds before he pressed the tip into you, working himself deeper and deeper as your mewls and moans got louder and louder.

The two of you bound up in each other with your arms hung around his neck, nuzzling your face in his neck. And him, balls deep inside of you, feeling your walls contract around him with every shallow thrust he urged towards you, working you open and getting used to his sheer size.

“You f-feel soooo good,” He grunted, his hips moving quicker, leaving just the tip inside of you before crashing back in, lingering there just long enough to feel you tighten around him, then repeating the action all over again.

You were panting, nails leaving crescent-moon impressions all over his shoulders and back, letting your hands roam his body, “So deep, baby…fuck! Feels t-too good.”

The rapid pace had you seeing stars, prompting you to unwrap your hands from his body, allowing your arms to flare out on the bed, finding purchase on the fabric beneath you. He was in your sight, dead center, the haziness enveloping him as he cooed down at you, his grip on your legs leaving to cradle your face.

“I know what you need baby—so fuckin’ tight…know you want to cum. I can feel it, sweetheart.”

His tone wasn’t supposed to be condescending in any way, in fact it was tender. But the way the words left his mouth…oh, it got you going. It had the knot in your belly pulling and stiffening as he spoke so highly of his expertise. Knowing that you knew that he knew just want you desired, because he always did. You couldn’t hold back even if you tried. He knew how to make you feel like you were floating on cloud nine and—

“Oh, my god!”

Your hips raised off the bed, only pressing yourself further onto his length. Your legs were shaking under Steve’s touch. And the pulsing around his cock was enough to let him know that you reached your second climax.

His warm laugh filled the room, his hips halted, only letting your aftershock tremble shift against him as you gently settled back down, ragged breaths leaving your mouth and your hands running across your own skin, attempting to come back to Earth.

“So good,” He kissed your knee sweetly,

“Bet that felt nice, huh, baby?” Another kiss, this time right in the center of your chest.

Your eyes began to open, your jaw trembling as you nodded your head, eyes glasses for him as he kissed your forehead, “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

You’d give him however many he wanted.

“Yes, baby.”

He left you for a moment, leaving you an empty and whining mess, but only for a second as he dragged you to the end of the bed. And just like that, he was guiding your legs over his shoulder, pushing himself back inside of you and starting up the same unrelenting pace that had you in pieces just minutes ago.

“There we go, honey.” Steve praised, watching the scene below him. You licking your fingers and bringing them to your clit, rubbing stiff circles as your half-lidded eyes watched him smile proudly, a little sweat beading at his forehead where his baby hairs stuck.

He braced his hands on either side of your head, the new angle sending him deeper, if that was even remotely possible. Steve could tell you were only a moment away from falling apart for him all over again. He prided himself on being able to get you off over and over again with ease, getting you to the point of cock-drunk, just the way you liked it.

Your moans were babbles of slurred words at this point, telling him how good you were feeling and how good he felt inside of you. The words only spurring him closer to his own release, but you always came first. And so when he noted your hand faltering between the two of you, he instantly sprang into action. Bracing himself above you with one arm and his other replacing the rubbing on your clit.

“Come on baby, s-shit, fucking tight, give it to me baby, c’mon, be my good girl, one more.”

Your mouth opened wide with a silent scream, all the thoughts leaving your head as you surrendered and pulsed around him. It took you a few seconds to draw a clear breath in through your nose, your entire body feeling like a magnetic field as Steve’s thrusts began to stammer as he searched for his own release.

Your arms and legs were numb, but you wanted that closeness to Steve despite him already inside of you. Your legs wrapped around his rear, leaving just enough room for him to thrust deeper and deeper.

“D-don’t stop.”

Your arms found his biceps, drawing all his weight down on you, causing him choke out a grunt, alarmed he might be crushing you, but if anything you held him tighter.

His eyes were dead set on you, never daring to miss the way your face contorted with every move he made. Your lipstick was smeared, mascara smudged, and your hair a tangled mess, but you still looked as ethereal as you did before you got here.

His heartbeat was out of control, and only when you moved your shaking hands to his neck, did you feel his pulse beneath your fingertips, “Cum inside of me.”

Pure seduction weaved into your tone, even after your throat was raw from the moans and screams from your previous orgasms. It had him weak.

“I’m going to, baby.” He assured you, pants leaving his mouth, just seconds away from giving you everything.

“Fill me up.” You continued, purring it against his neck, feeling him shudder and whisper out curses under his breath, “Fill me up, Steve.”

“Fuck!”

A sleepy smile plastered on your face feeling every spurt of his cum and twitch of his cock from within you. Steve sank his forehead to your chest, grazing at your boobs and every inch of your skin as he caught his breath, slowly pulling out of you, surveying the mixture of you and him dripping onto the bedsheets.

“You’re fucking divine, you know that?” He puffed, palms resting on his hips, watching you turn on your side, eyes drifting close as you mumbled.

“I’m gonna wear that dress every day if you keep fucking me like that.” You added, causing the two of you to laugh, and Steve shook his head.

His palms ran up and down your legs, working them to feel some sort of relaxation as your shaking began to die down, “Gonna get a bath started, then bed.”

You nodded, eyes still closed, feeling his weight come off the bed, “I love you, Stevie.”

“I love you too, baby.” He replied, shuffling towards your side of the bed and leaving a passionate smooch on your lips before he headed towards the bathroom where the water began to run.

You had contemplated it multiple times…going back in time to act upon your feelings for Steve sooner, getting to have more moments like this and memories together. But in hindsight, the pinning and anticipation that grew between you and Steve made your love for each other sweeter.

It made you appreciate one another a little more. Learning to take your time and savor every touch and kiss you got to share. Reminding yourselves that you two both waited and longed for one another, which meant that you sure would have to learn how to love each other the way you each preferred.

You two acted upon your feelings at the right time.

Not too soon and not too late.

And so now you got to wake up every next to Steve and fall asleep right beside him every night. No matter where you were, the indentation in the bed always belong to Steve.

Your one and only.

Your lifeline.

And Steve, he was grateful for the same reasons and others as well.

You always saw something in him, even way before you two were an official couple. Back when you were just best friends, you saw the truth in him despite all his horrible attempts at trying to mask it with lies. And you definitely saw the best in him, even when he felt like others didn’t and even himself.

You were his one and only.

His lifeline.

“Stevieeeeeee.” You giggled, sloshing the bubbly water around the tub while he worked his fingertips through your scalp, massaging the shampoo into a lather.

“I told you no getting wine drunk in the bathtub!” Steve pretended to chide, seeing you reach for the wineglass and take another sip of the burgundy you had found in the mini fridge.

You laughed, catching his reflection in the glass, him looking laser concentrated at ensuring your hair was getting washed.

“Want a sip?” You suggested, turning back slightly to hold the glass up to his lips.

He nodded, fingers never withdrawing from your head as he wrapped his lips around the curve of the glass and you tipped it forward, enough for him to get his serving only before pouring it a little too much as it spilt past his lips and into the tub.

He grumbled, swinging his head as you were now a giggling, woozy mess, moving down to place the glass back on the floor as you continued to shriek at the red dripping down his chin.

Steve couldn’t pretend to be annoyed, just cracking his own smile and pulling his hands from your scalp, rinsing them in the water before wiping his mouth clean.

“You’re drunk.” He bopped your nose, smirking as you beamed back at him with a guilty face.

“Tipsy.” You corrected, only before turning your entire body to face him, not caring if the water was spilling outside of the tub, “Kiss?”

“Of course, baby.” He laughed, pressing his lips to yours, not drawing away until you did with a bemused smile on your face.

“Do you think the officiant is still going to be in town tomorrow?” You sought curiously, twirling a strand of his damp hair between your fingers.

Steve furrowed his brows and shrugged, “I’m not too sure…why?”

You bit your lip, pressing your cheek to your shoulder. “We could get married.”

He snickered, nodding his head at the thought of getting hitched to the love of his life on a random Sunda morning, it was so on brand for the two of you, yet it would be better to wait until you were fully sober to talk about it.

“I’d love to marry you, sweetheart, but let’s wash your hair first. Then we can talk about marriage alllll morning tomorrow.”

You beamed like you had won the lottery, frantically nodding your head as you kissed him once more, and got back into the position letting him finish washing your hair and then falling asleep in one another’s arms.

The mark that you and Steve left on each other, whether it’d be literal or figuratively, was something that neither of you could ever try to hide or replicate. It was like a golden tattoo that the two of you had inked on your skin. Something so rare yet fragile—worth so much, but just for the both of you to have.

Everything about you two was inescapable. Not worth trying to run from or trying to disguise.

So maybe at the end of the day, people knew about you and Steve.

But they didn’t know everything.

Not about how you two had carved your initials on his bedpost to mark your relationship.

Not the secret moments you two shared in crowded rooms with no suspicion.

Not the fact that you didn’t want each other as just best friends.

And definitely not that you only bought that dress so he could take it off.

A/N: UMMMMM first off...thanks to taylor for writing this sinful masterpiece that will forever have a chokehold on me. this song is soooo steve coded i just had to indulge and write this. speaking of, this is my first ever attempt at writing smut so please let me know how i did...i couldn't stop laughing cause i suck at explaining shit like this 😭😭😭 anyways, reblogs, likes, tags, and comments are greatly appreciated and i hope you all like this 💘✨💌

officially starting a taglist, so inbox me or leave it in the comments if you'd like to be added!!!

taglist: @translatemunson

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girl on fire 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

“Chardonnay, simple but classic. Versatile,” Jonathan declares as he uncorks the bottle, “a fine match for this delectable looking salmon.” 

He’s plated the meal nicely and set the patio table for the dinner. It isn’t the one you planned but better than the one you’d been about to resign yourself too. He pours you a healthy glass and you can’t help but admire his profile. He’s younger and fairer, but does he ever remind you of your husband. It’s like a cruel joke. 

He fills his own glass and sits, his elbow close to yours as he leans it on the arm rest. He reaches for his wine and raises it, awaiting your cheers. You cling the crystal and try not to show how flustered his gaze makes you. You were prepared for your unloving husband but not an intent neighbour. 

“Thanks, this is all very nice,” you smile. How long since you did that? Genuinely. “You really didn’t have to humour me.” 

“Humour you? Not at all. I have to confess, it’s rather lonely. Hattie’s great fun when she’s not in pain but I’m afraid she’s been rather lethargic with all the sedation.” 

“She is? I didn’t think she’d had her surgery yet,” you perk up and take a cautious sip. The chardonnay is oaky and bold. It must be expensive. 

“Not as yet, no, she’s due soon,” he explains as he slices into the flaky salmon, “but I’m afraid she is not handling the pain.” He hums before he tastes the fish. He tastes it very deliberately, “that is perfectly cooked. You must have training, yes?” 

You laugh, not meaning too, but it’s a compliment you don’t expect. 

“Oh no, no, I... I worked at the deli in a grocery store, a long time ago, but I wouldn’t call it culinary school.” 

“Very long ago? You don’t seem that old,” he says, “not that I’m guessing your age. I am aware it’s rather uncourteous to mention it to a woman so I suppose I’ve already said too much.” 

“Thirty-three.” 

“Spry,” he comments with a grin. “I enjoyed thirty-three. And thirty-four. It was all rather merry until forty.” 

“Now I know I have a lot to look forward to,” you kid and take a more generous mouthful, “this wine...” 

“Ah, yes, I’m a bit of an enthusiast. Hattie only had cooking sherry when I moved in. I had to stock up for my stay though I admit I’ve found it rather glum to drink alone. I opened a single bottle of merlot and couldn’t finish.” 

“Mm, I... think I know what you mean,” you admit bittersweetly. 

“Yes, I’ve not seen the husband yet. Elusive? He must be busy.” 

“All the time. Eleven years... well, the flame gets dimmer,” you swirl the chardonnay and watch the golden cyclone, “I’m sure you don’t care. I’m boring. Tell me about you,” you put the glass down and pick up your fork, “when you’re not caring for elderly women, what do you get up to? It must be something exciting. Does your wife miss you?” 

“So many questions, I’m afraid I might disappoint,” he mulls his response as he chews. “I can’t help but repeat myself. Absolutely delicious.” 

“You’re not answering,” you goad. Your heart is fluttering. You can’t help it. He just seems so sophisticated. 

“I manage several hotels for a luxury chain. Though I am looking into slowing down. I’ve invested in the brand so I have a cushion. I tire of all this running around,” he says forlornly, “I didn’t realise it until I arrived here. Hattie, bless her, she’s helped me realise how much I’ve missed out on,” he shifts and sits straighter, “so to your point, no, I’ve not a wife to miss me.” 

You laugh, “I’m sorry. I’m so nosy. It’s just... this place, well, we have gossips but it’s always the same stories.” 

“I’m flattered, truly. I’m truly not very exciting.” 

“Look who you’re talking to,” you scoff. 

“I’d counter and say I find you rather interesting,” he insists, “I wonder how any man could keep away from you.” 

“Oh, you really know what to say,” you giggle. 

“The truth is always the best policy,” he winks, “a woman who cooks like this, she must be something special.” 

Your cheeks burn and bulb and you smile even deeper. There’s an edge to your delight. The nagging voice in the back of your head; he isn’t your husband, though not for your own negligence. You wish he was Loki. You have yearned for your husband to look at you, to speak to you like this.  

It’s fine. It’s nothing. He knows you’re married. It’s only dinner. You’re not going to do anything.  

❤️‍🔥

“I’ve some sorbet in the freezer, would you like some dessert?” Jonathan asks as you empty your glass. The third. Like everything else, he is generous with the bottle. 

“I’d love dessert,” you preen and set the glass down, cupping your chin in your hand as you lean in to marvel at him. You angle your foot to touch his leg, “but I’m not in the mood for sorbet.” 

He tilts his head and his blue eyes flash. He takes a breath and you sense his reluctance. Oh no. Why did you do that? Why did you say that? It’s the wine. 

“Ah,” he reaches to touch your knee, squeezing, “I am entirely flattered but... you are married.” 

“Oh god,” you pull back and cover your face, “please, forget that happened. I’m drunk.” 

“It’s rather fine. It is a rather strong vintage,” he removes his hand, “please do not be embarrassed.” 

“How can I not be?” You whine. 

“Truly, I... I would. I cannot say I invited you in without the whim and yet... you are married.” 

“I know,” you whimper. 

“And I wouldn’t want to put you in such a compromised position.” 

You nod and gulp, hiding still behind your fingers, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Please, I should be. I’ve been... misleading. I must admit I would leap at the chance and yet I find it difficult knowing that it would be only a fleeting deceit.” 

“Ugh, please, I’ll go,” you sit up and grip the edge of the table, about to stand. He catches your arm, and holds you there. 

“Darling, you are one of the most immaculate woman I’ve met. That man, whoever he is, is a fool. I’ve not met him and even I know it,” he trails his hand down your arm and takes yours, raising it to kiss your knuckles, “please, know I do not reject you out of repulsion, only out of consideration. I wouldn’t dare put you in that position.” 

“I...” the touch of his lips makes you tingle. You tear your hand away and get to your feet, “I have to go.” 

“Darling--” 

“No, you’re so sweet,” your voice quavers, “but I can’t... I can’t hear lies from another man. I understand, okay? Please, just forget this all.” 

You clamour around his seat and across the deck. You take the two steps to even ground and wobble to the gate. You leave it open as you barrel through and across the street. You slow as you approach your house, the moonlight high above its peak. You stop short as Loki’s car sits in the driveway. 

What timing he has. 

[ureternalmajesty]

Bad Descisions || Spencer Reid

Warnings: Praise Kink, fingering( f receiver), hate sex, p in v, Spencer being picking on reader, enemies to lovers, creampie,uses of the name slut ,was this proofread? NOPE 18+ y’all

Author’s note: This is my first time writing for Spencer. So if Spencer seems a little off I’m sorry! And I was harassed for this smut btw 🙄

If there was anything you hated more than your co-worker Spencer Reid it was crowds and parties. Here you were leaning against a wall in the corner of Rossi's House at a party he was throwing. The only reason you came was cause Garcia promised to replace the book she ruined with coffee a couple weeks beforehand.

Everyone was spread out amongst the house mingling and laughing. Some were by the bar getting drinks that Garcia was making. The only two that weren't participating would be Spencer and yourself. You looked out of place and awkward even as you stood in your corner nursing a glass of expensive red wine as your eyes trailed over everyone. Bouncing back and forth between the people that wander the room.

It was too much. Your nails started tapping against your glass of wine rhythmically as you tried to calm yourself. But you couldn't seem to do so. Not with the death glare you were getting from the corner adjacent to you from none other than Spencer fucking Reid.

You looked towards the tall messy-haired doctor with your own glare and mouthed a 'what' to him before zoning out and looking down at your glass of wine. Jolted back to reality by the voice of your co-worker's voice. You looked up eyes meeting his brown ones that looked down at you with confusion, anger, and something else. "You know you could try and mingle. You've been standing in this corner for a while you are not exactly enjoying yourself, huh?" He asked hands in his pocket. "Fuck off Reid." You spat in annoyance as your tapping against your glass sped up.

His eyebrows raised slightly as he looked at you taking a step closer to you. "No need to be grouchy L/n. I was simply checking in on my work enemy." He took his hands out of his pockets raising them in surrender with a faint smirk on his face words laced with sarcasm. "Work enemy? What are we Spencer five?" You scoffed glancing at him before taking a sip of your drink. "Well, we aren't friends L/n. And you are no friend of mine." As he looked back out at the crowd. "Besides you look like you hate this place. This isn't really your type of party." Your head snapped towards him. "Then tell me Reid what is my type of party?" You questioned glaring at the man. "You know a cafe with tea books and classical music." He shrugged as a scoff left your lips.

"I'm here for the free drinks." You mumbled leaning onto the wall ignoring his jab at you. A sigh left Spencer's lips. “You know for the second most intelligent person in the BAU you sure are an odd duck. You hate being in crowds and you didn’t come because of the party you came for free drinks. You are strange y/n.” He rambled. “Yeah whatever.” You rolled your eyes watching Hotch and his date leave the room only to be brought out of thoughts once again by Reid.

“You should drink and dancing you know. Normal people stuff.” He spoke as he glanced around the room. “I am normal. I like my books and drinks instead of people.” You replied causing him to snicker at you. “You normal? Please your anything but normal and you fucking know it. That’s why your lacking social skills.” He answered making your eyebrow twitch in anger. “I might be lacking social skills Spencer but at least I’m not lacking in other areas.”

Once again his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “Oh really? And what would those other areas be?” He asked turning and facing your only to be met with your side profile as you watched the crowd. “Like I would tell you.” You glanced and scoffed at him. A smirk graced his face as he took a step closer. “Why not tell me though? What’s a little confession between enemies.” A playful tone laced the words he spoke. Turning to face him you looked him over reaching out and running a finger down his tie. “You first.”

“No my work enemy you should go first. I think if any of us are going to divulge sensitive information over this topic it’s you.” He spoke as he watched your finger run over his tie. “Hmm…I like tall messy haired doctors.” You teased as you spoke slowly tugging his tie making him jolt forward. “Is that so? Your attracted to tall doctors then? That’s reasonable. I just have one question for you l/n.” He looked down at you. A cocky smile on his face that made your gut twist. “I’m a tall doctor and I’m standing in front of you. Why aren’t you making a move.” He whispered.

“Cause it’s your turn to make a move doctor.” The cocky smile on Spencer’s face morphed into a smirk. “When did the rules say I needed to be the one to make the damn move. Tall doctor. Right here.” He spoke making a hand gesture to himself. “Then fix me doctor.” You replied twirling the tie between your fingers. “What exactly needs fixing?” Eyes trailing over you as you sat your glass of wine on a table next to you. “My body.”

His eyes widened before he chuckled crossed his arms across his chest as he was once again pulled closer. “And you know I’m a busy man and what my PHDs are right?What’s wrong with your body.” Your smile now was replaced with your own smirk. “Do you think you can help or not.” You deadpanned. “Well I’m not that kind of doctor but yeah I can help.”

“Good.” You chirped your other hand playing with the fabric of his cardigan. “The shall we begin.” He whispered in a suggestive manner. The anger for each other was still there just resting at bay. The amount of drinks you’ve had and you don’t think Spencer had any drinks which was probably why you guys weren’t at each others throats as usual. “Let’s get out of here. My place?” You dragged him out of the party by his tie ignoring the whistles coming from Derek when he saw the two of you. “And here I thought you didn’t do anything social. Your place huh?” He questioned as you tossed him the keys to your car as you climbed into the passenger seat.

“Yeah my place now hurry up before I change my mind I’m already regretting this.” As you closed the door and Reid jogged around to the other side getting in and took off towards your place.

—

Closed discarded on the floor as moans and the squelching sounds your wet cunt made filled the room along with Spencer’s groans as his middle and ring fingers curled with almost every thrust of his fingers. “Bet you always wanted to fuck me huh Reid? Is that why you look at me like I’m a sex toy?” You sat up a bit leaning on your forearms.

Fingers leaving your hole clenching around nothing as you whimpered. “Projecting are we? I think you wanted to fuck me that why I barely touched you and your already acting like a bitch in heat.” He mumbled pulling one of your legs over his shoulder as he rubbed his tip through your wet folds nudging your clit.

“Fuck I hate—“ you we’re cut off by Spencer thrusting into you. “Oh fuck.” You arms slipped from holding your upper body up. “What was that l/n? What do you hate?” He asked keeping his pace slow almost agitating. “I hate you.” He leaned closer one of his hands pulling your head up to his face thrusting deeper. “Prove it then. Prove it you hate me.”

Moans and whimpers falling from your lips as his pace sped up throwing your other leg on his shoulder fucking his cock into you a deep as he can trying to get any sound out of you. Your hands gripped onto his forearms on either side of you as he placed kisses along your shoulder as he fucked into your hole with vigor.

"How do you like being my toy, Spence? There, don't stop." Your eyes rolled back as the headboard struck the wall. A sudden sharp pain on the side of your thigh making you yelp at the stinging. “D-do you e-ever shut the fuck up l/n.” He groans as you open your eyes to look at him. His tussled hair lay slick with sweat in front of his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed.

You were growing desperate for release. Hands leaving his forearms as you gripped the sheets. “Fuck! Please please please.” As you uttered the words, they fell from your mouth in a begging and pleading manner, in contrast to all the times you had upset him or argued with him. “Please Reid ‘m sorry won’t be mean anymore.” Spencer sucked his teeth as he exhaled a breathy sigh of irritation before gripping your jaw making you keep eye contact with him.

“Since your such a desperate slut I’ll have to believe you.” Hand sipping from your hip down your stomach to your clit. Pressing his thumb on the bundle of nerves rubbing circles onto it. “Cum l/n and you better not forget who made you cum.” Your toes curl as your back arches off the bed as your mouth opens in a silent scream. Your body went lax as Spencer continued to fuck your pliant body.

“Now we know what shuts you up.” He quipped as you laid there fucking you impossibly deeper than before. You could feel the soreness in your legs and the sensitivity from your orgasm just seconds ago as he swipe his thumb across your clit once more making you whine in protest. “Spencer please—“

“I’m close l/n you can take one more.” His other hand gripped your side as he leaned down and bite your shoulder muffling a moan. A few thrust later and you cum again clenching around Spencer once more letting out a small moan. Hips stuttering as he thrusted in deep hips stilling as he filled your pussy.

He pulled out with a hiss and a whimper from you as his cum seeped out your hole. “I hate you.” Spencer mumbled placing kisses along your shoulder. “Yeah yeah you hate me. Love you too.” You rolled your eyes.

—

“What’s up with Reid and L/n.” Emily spoke leaning against JJ’s desk. The two looked over to see Reid sitting down her mug along with her poetry book.

“Bet you they fucked.” Garcia popped up out of nowhere. “No way.” Emily shook her head. “200 dollars they fucked.” Garcia smirked. “Your on.” Emily shook her hand as JJ shook her head and went back to her paperwork.

[themidnightcrimson]

little pill (part 2) ࿏ wm

summary: in which you get revenge on wanda for putting libido pills in your drink.

words: 4.8K

warnings: top!wanda, drugging, dubcon/noncon, face riding, bondage/restraints, strap-on, size kink, vibrator, overstimulation, forced orgasm, wanda being so chaotically feral

this post is for 18+ only. minors: dni.

masterlist. | part 1.

Your revenge on Wanda had to be carefully planned and meticulously executed.

Dating a woman who can read minds and has an extraordinary sense of intuition made these little feats harder than usual. It shamed you how easily she’d slipped that pill to you, how easily she’d wound you up and had you foaming at the mouth for her like some sort of feral animal. Of course, Wanda reveled in it and never failed to bring it up every other day since it happened. You knew you couldn’t act too brash—if you’d tried to mimic her prank too soon, it would still be too fresh in her mind and limit your chances of getting by with it without her knowing. So, you waited.

As the months passed and Wanda seemed to forget about the little incursion, you planned your revenge. You’d managed to find the same libido pill that Wanda had used on you in her little witchy trickery. You went to the nearest store that sold it after a day of work, kept it hidden in a secret pocket of your purse when you got home and Wanda greeted you with a kiss, trying your absolute hardest to not think of the sex pills burning in your purse pocket in fear that Wanda would hear your thoughts. Out of respect, she didn’t invade your mental privacy at will, but if she got the sense of something being off, she would do what she could to figure you out.

Relief and adrenaline passed over you when Wanda let you go without questioning, and you stored the pills away in a place in the house where Wanda would not find them.

Figuring out when and how to slip Wanda the pills was the hard part. Would you crush it up and put it in her drink, the classic way? How would you do this without her noticing? Surely, she would sense your anxiety and thrill and understand what was happening, and you had a vague idea of what the punishment would be if she did.

With a lack of creativity, you decided to just go the traditional route and crush up the pills one night that you and Wanda were having wine after dinner.

“Red, please,” Wanda said from the couch, her eyes glued on the television screen. She was watching one of her favorite new shows, and you were grateful that would capture all her attention.

As you pulled two wine glasses down from the cabinets in the kitchen, you peered around to lay your eyes on Wanda in the living room. She was paying not a single ounce of attention to you. You popped a new bottle of wine and poured equal amounts into both glasses, and then decided to use the glass on your right as Wanda’s so that would be the one you hand to her first. Taking one last measured look at Wanda who was still staring at the TV, you reached into your pocket and took the little bag of crushed pills and swiftly emptied it into her glass, swirling it around with your finger and hoping that the wine didn’t look muddied. You were glad she chose red wine.

You nearly sucked your wine-stained finger clean until you realized it had been swirling around the powder, opting to wipe it off on the handtowel instead. Carefully taking Wanda’s glass in your right hand and yours in the other, you made your way into the living room trying to wrangle your pounding heart and cool your skin that burned in excitement. Wanda didn’t even look at you as you appeared in front of her and handed her the glass in your right hand.

“Thank you, baby,” she murmured as she took the glass, leaning her head around you so she could see the TV. You mumbled a welcoming reply as you sat back down beside her, your hands nearly shaking as you brought your glass to your lips. It made you feel embarrassed to know how easily and smoothly Wanda had done it to you, but here you were trying to restrain yourself from just blurting out what you had done. You wiped your face discreetly, feeling the skin hot under your touch.

Glancing at Wanda from the corner of your eyes, you watched as she brought the wine glass to her lips and took a tiny sip, licking the red liquid from her lips and sucking her cheeks inward as she moved her tongue around the inside of her mouth. Did she taste something off? Were the pills not crushed up enough?

When she only laughed at something on TV, you silently exhaled in relief and turned away, lest she catch you staring at her and wonder what’s up. You tried to quiet your thoughts and focus on the TV show as you both sipped your wine slowly.

By the time Wanda’s glass was empty and discarded on the side table, nothing had happened yet. She hadn’t even spoken to you except for a few comments on the show. You wondered if you didn’t use enough or if she had undermined your plan, and you felt stupid for thinking Wanda would be so easily fooled.

But after a few minutes of silence, Wanda started fidgeting where she sat beside you on the couch. She moved around a bit, her eyebrows creasing together in a sign of discomfort. You watched discreetly, sipping on the last half of your wine. She was acting like she couldn’t sit comfortably, until finally she decided on sitting halfway on her side, leaning towards you. You were leaning the other way, your feet propped up beside you on the couch. Her eyes flickered down to your legs, your ankle exposed by your short-cut sweatpants. She placed her palm over your ankle and rubbed it a little before leaving it there, turning her eyes back to the TV.

It wasn’t unusual for Wanda to grace little touches on you like that at random moments, but she was chewing her lip and the number 11 was forming between her brows. Her hand felt warm and clammy on your cool ankle, her thumb grazing over the bulbous bone every once in a while.

By the time you’d finished your wine and set it to the side, Wanda huffed and turned away from the TV to look at you. Acting confused, you turned to meet her gaze. She was smiling a little, pink lips curled on the ends, but there was a shimmery glaze over her softened eyes.

“What?” you asked with a nervous laugh, and now that she was staring right at you with her full attention, you began to grow paranoid that she’d figured out what you’d done. If she allowed even one peek into your nervous thoughts in that moment, she would know.

But she didn’t. She just hummed and crawled towards you on the couch, settling herself between your body and the back cushion. It was a tight hold, both of your bodies squished on the couch, and you were worried you would slip off the cushions with how close you were to the edge, but Wanda nestled her arm around your middle and pulled you back into her so tight you could hardly breathe. She loosened, giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek before she returned to looking at the TV.

Your tongue anxiously explored the back of your teeth as you tried hard to breathe normally, to think normally, to not give her any indication that you were guilty. Wanda seemed placated for a moment, before she unlatched her arm around you so that she could run her hand down your hips and thigh.

“You look so pretty,” she murmured, and you felt her nose into your hair and inhale your scent. It tickled, so you giggled and squirmed, but her arm latched back around you and pulled you tight against her so that you’d be still.

Wanda pulled your hair away from your neck with her other hand and leaned forward so that she could press her lips there. It was just a kiss, a normal kiss at first, but a gasp left your throat when she suddenly sunk her teeth into your skin.

“Wanda,” you breathed, giving a nervous chuckle as she started to bite and kiss all up the side of your neck, her hand grabbing your hips and pulling you backwards into her. The TV show was long gone from her mind now.

“Baby,” she groaned, urging her hips into your ass as her grip on your hip grew tighter. “Let’s go to bed.”

It would be too easy if you gave her what she wanted right away. “Don’t you wanna finish the new episode?”

She looked back up at the TV with hesitation before she shook her head, leaning back down to attach her lips to the underside of your jaw. “Nuh uh.” Her other arm slipped under your arm, her hand coming up to latch softly around your throat, her thumb pushing your chin upwards and to the side so she could kiss your neck more freely. “Let’s go.”

“Well,” you began, feeling your body grow warm against her body that felt a thousand degrees hotter than normal. “I wanna finish the episode.”

Groaning, Wanda dug her hand into your side and bit your neck again, harder this time. You didn’t have time to whimper before she dove her hand up your shirt, reaching around and under to grab roughly at your breasts. “Please,” she whispered against your ear before kissing it. “I want you.”

Breathing shakily, you felt her grope at your breasts and pinch your nipples which had already hardened for her. Her touch was eager and impatient, and within a few moments she slipped her hand back down the expanse of your tummy and pushed it down your pants, roughly parting your thighs so she could grope at your core.

“Wanda,” you breathed, overwhelmed with the suddenness of her actions. She was usually slow to startle, always taking ample time to wind you up before she ever did something so direct. You started to realize that the pills were working.

“I want your pussy,” she whispered in a half-grunt and half-whimper, licking a hot line up your neck with her tongue as her hand massaged your clit from over your panties. You tried your hardest to just stare at the TV, to deny her the way she denied you, but it was difficult with her hand rubbing you between your legs, with her body pressed flush against yours, with her mouth trying to leave no inch of your neck unstained by her lips.

“Wanda, just wait,” you said as firmly as you could, though you felt yourself throbbing from her touch and growing wetter by the second. You tried to pull her hand out of your pants, but the muscles in her arm felt like iron and wouldn’t budge. She’d never felt that strong and unyielding before. You started to squirm to get away, but realized she’d effectively trapped you with one arm crossing over your body to reach between your legs, and the other arm wrapped under you and holding you by the throat.

“Detka,” she whispered, starting to shamelessly hump your ass that was pressed to her crotch. With the hand on your throat, she jerked your face to turn towards her, diving forwards to catch your lips with hers in a deep, hot kiss. She moaned against your lips as she dove her tongue into your mouth and fiercely explored it, her hand between your legs rubbing your clit harder. It was all too much, the way she was moaning, touching you, and humping you with utter, desperate need that had sprung out of nowhere. Her body felt like it was made of burning coal, making you grow uncomfortably hot trapped against it. You could even feel her nipples bursting through her braless shirt and rubbing against your upper back.

Losing oxygen, you twisted your face away from her kiss and sharply inhaled, but she only kept her lips at the corner of your mouth, kissing sloppily. “Wanda, please, slow down.”

Suddenly, her hand between your legs stilled, her hips stopped gyrating against you, and her mouth froze against your face. She pulled her face away, jerking yours back to face her with her hand on your throat.

You stared up at her; her wide, frenzied pupils; her puffy, reddened lips that were parted from the heavy breaths she breathed through them; her face that was flushed a deep shade of pink. Her darkened eyes started searching all over your face, and you tried to turn your head away from her stare, but her hand kept your jaw locked forward. Nervousness sprung in the pit of your belly, and as hard as you tried, you couldn’t reel in your thoughts.

“What have you done?” Wanda panted in a serious tone, and you noticed a gleam of sweat at the top of her forehead. She looked like she had just got done running a mile. You’d never seen her so worked up before.

“Nothing,” you tried to say as coolly innocent as possible, but your voice came out in a shriveled squeak.

Her eyes squinted a little as they ran all over your face, before finally they focused on your eyes, staring right into yours. Fear filled you as the familiar feeling of your thoughts being read seeped into the confines of your mind, that subtle glow of red that hovered around your vision, evidence of her touch. You watched the number 11 between her eyebrows slowly fade, her face changing in realization—and then it deepened into a darker shade of red.

“Wanda—” you began, wanting to explain yourself and tell her it was just a joke, just the same prank she had done to you. But she wasn’t having it.

She climbed out of the spot where she had nestled between you and the cushions, hauling a leg over you and then the other so she was standing on the floor, leaving you devoid and cold of her touch. When she stepped away, you felt all the heat fade away from your body, and when she reached down to grab you, you felt it again, like it was just radiating off her body. She grabbed you by the wrists and pulled you up to your feet. You stumbled against her and tried to jerk your wrists out of her hands as she started leading you away.

“Hey, hey, Wanda, wait,” you said, digging your heels into the carpet to try and slow her down. With a locked jaw and hard eyes, she let go of your wrists but instead bent over and wrapped her arms around your torso, hoisting you off the floor. Your balance lost you, but then you realized Wanda had thrown you over her shoulder and was now carrying you up the stairs.

“Wanda, calm down,” you pleaded as you stared at the back of her legs, your hair falling down around your face from the upheaval of gravity.

From what you could see of the floor, Wanda was leading you into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with her foot before walking to the bed and heaving you down on it. The mattress sprung under your weight and popped you back upwards, but Wanda was already on top of you, forcing you back down onto the mattress.

“Do you think you can just get away with something like that?” she growled, her voice quivering with something that was not fear. She pulled your body up on the bed so your head was on the pillows. “Think you can drug me and manipulate me?”

Your face heated as she finally spoke your trespass out loud. “You did it to me first…” you weakly argued, but she was already pulling your shirt over your head and stripping your pants off your body, along with your undergarments. You tried to ignore the heat that flooded you when you heard the fabric of your panties rip as Wanda pulled them off.

“Don’t fucking talk back to me,” Wanda spat, placing a hand on your bare chest to keep you pressed into the bed as she got up and reached into the nightstand. Your stomach sunk when she took out a pair of velvet handcuffs and roughly cuffed your wrists to the headboard, rendering you trapped on the bed. Next she took a vibrator and a silk rope, moving so fast you couldn’t prepare yourself enough for when she clicked the vibe on and placed it right onto your clit, tying the rope around your thighs until they were tied shut, trapping the vibe that was already making your insides tingle.

“Wanda,” you groaned, trying to break your thighs loose, but the rope kept them tied completely shut. You even tried to yank your wrists out of the cuffs, but it was no use. Even in her haze of desire, Wanda had trapped you efficiently.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” Wanda asked as she started quickly undressing herself, her pants falling from her ankles as she climbed back onto the bed. She hoisted herself over your face, and you saw her bare pussy, the way it was already glistening with wetness and puffy from lust. “When you put the pills in my wine, did you expect to get face-fucked, slut?” Her voice was edged and sharp as she grabbed a fistful of your hair and hovered over your mouth. “Open,” she snapped.

Trembling, you slowly opened your mouth and she lowered herself onto it, the taste and smell of her arousal filling your tongue and nostrils as she started grinding on your tongue. Eyes staring up at her, you watched her instantly moan from an open mouth, throwing her head back as her hardened nipples perked from her breasts.

The vibrator between your legs was driving you crazy, the constant friction on your clit to which you couldn’t relieve because your thighs were tied shut. You could already feel wetness pooling there, dripping down your skin and onto the bed.

“Fuck,” Wanda moaned, holding tighter onto your hair as she gyrated her hips over your open mouth, her liquids smearing over your chin and dripping to the back of your throat. You could even feel her clit throbbing on your tongue, hot and swollen.

You started to feel almost bad, seeing how worked up and needy she was, but she was rectifying you with how harshly she began to ride your face, jerking herself against your tongue and placing a hand on the wall to steady herself. The handcuffs on your wrists jingled with the force that she fucked your face, her red hair growing wily and wavy from the humidity incited by her ravenous desire.

Wanda’s teeth showed as she squeezed her eyes shut, her breasts bouncing as she moaned loudly. You echoed her moan against her pussy, your hips involuntarily bucking against the vibrator. Pressure was coiling in your stomach, from the way you were trapped under her, from the taste of her, from the merciless pleasure being forced on your clit. Before you could stop it, an orgasm washed over you, and the moans and whimpers that escaped your throat and landed on Wanda’s core pushed her to an orgasm directly after you, fucking herself on your mouth so hard that you could feel your lower lip smash against your teeth and start to sting.

You were losing breath, heart racing, the vibrator still trapped to you even after you had cum, the sensitive feeling driving you mad as you violently bucked your legs to try and free yourself. Wanda took her time in riding her climax out before she finally moved off you, looking down at you and grinning at the sight. “Mommy made a mess of you,” she whispered, her eyes, still crazed, looking at the shimmer of her cum all over the lower portion of your face, your lip which had burst and now drew bubbles of blood from under the surface, your face contorted in both pleasure and pain, legs kicking desperately to get the vibrator off you.

“Mommy, t-take it off, please,” you begged, feeling more pressure quickly chase you.

Wanda only sneered and lowered, taking you by the face and pressing her mouth to yours, tasting her own cum and the blood of your lip as she kissed you deeply and hungrily. The cruel sensations coupled with Wanda’s eager kiss pushed you over the edge again, your back arching off the bed as your second orgasm crashed upon you. Wanda suffocated you with her kiss, and she smiled when you moaned open-mouthed against her lips.

Tears were pooling in your eyes when the vibrations did not stop, already starting to reel you back up when your second orgasm faded halfway away. “Mommy!” you shrieked, jerking your head away from her.

Finally, Wanda reached down and untied the ropes, taking the vibrator away from you and turning it off. A groan of relief passed through you, your legs instantly parting wide to keep away any sort of friction possible.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Wanda said, and you noticed that she had reached into the nightstand again and was pulling something up her hips. “Already opening your legs for me. Such a good whore.”

Turning your head, you saw that she’d pulled a strap-on to her hips, a large red dildo staring right at you from between her fist that clutched its length. You looked up at her pleadingly. “No, Mommy, that’s enough.”

Wanda stroked her cock as she neared you, and you could tell by the look in her eyes, which somehow was made even more feral after cumming, that she was not anywhere near done with you.

“This isn’t what you wanted, mutt? To be fucked mindless and dwindled down into my pathetic personal sex doll?” Her words were so dirty that you couldn’t even look at her. “Stop talking dumb like that and get my cock ready for you.”

Grabbing you by the hair, she turned your face towards her and teased the tip of her strap against your closed lips. “Open,” she warned, her voice swinging deep and low as she pushed the tip against your lips. You parted them, allowing her to slide herself inside. You weren’t sure if your vision was just hazy or if you were already dumbed down, but you hadn’t noticed how large the strap was until it was nestled down your throat, urging you to quietly gag. You could barely fit your mouth around it, struggling to swirl your tongue all the way around its girth. Wanda, standing by the bed and holding your hair, took liberty in thrusting her hips a little bit to lodge it further down your throat, grinning when you gagged audibly.

“Good girl,” Wanda cooed once she was satisfied with how wet you’d made her strap, pulling it out and climbing over you on the bed, settling herself between your open legs. You didn’t even make an effort to close them, knowing that you were far past denying her now.

Curling her arms under your knees, she bent them and pushed your thighs to your stomach. You started to whine when she teased her strap against your entrance, and she shot a dark glare your way.

“What are you whining about, slut? All you have to do is lie there and take my cock like a good girl. Is that so fucking hard?” Her hunger was turning into anger, and that turned into her forcing herself into you all at once, squeezing her way through your walls that were far too tight for her cock. Crying out in pain, you threw your head back and tried to kick at her, but she held your thighs still and bottomed out inside you, the tip of her cock pressing deep in your lower tummy.

“M-Mommy,” you cried, tears flooding down your cheeks. There was pain from her size and pain from the overstimulation of having already orgasmed twice, but there was also the sickly pleasure you took in seeing her so needy and crazed, so forceful and demanding with you.

“Don’t cry. It will just make me fuck you harder.” She pulled nearly all the way out of you before snapping her hips again, and she fucked you with a harsh pace, the headboard slamming against the wall each time she slammed into you. She pulled your legs up over her shoulders, placing her hands on your tits for leverage as she stuffed herself inside of you over and over again, the friction it stirred against her own clit driving her to grunt and screw her eyes shut.

“Mommy, slower,” you begged, trying to reach out and touch her, but you were reminded that your hands were cuffed.

“Shut up,” Wanda snapped, slapping a hand over your mouth to silence you. “If you’d stop fucking talking, I’d tell you you’re doing so good for Mommy.” She looked down between your legs, her mouth falling open at the sight of your hole stretched tight around her strap that repeatedly disappeared inside you. The sound of skin slapping and wet squelching filled the air, and you grew dizzy as pressure soared inside you again. “Taking all of me like…” Wanda trailed, her eyes closing again as she grabbed your breast forcefully with one hand, her other bruising your punctured lip as it silenced you. “Fuck… Oh, fuck…”

You realized Wanda was just as wound up as you were when her thrusts grew sloppy from her impending orgasm, and the sight of her cumming as she was eight inches deep inside you propelled you into another climax that left you screaming under her hand and arching high off the bed. Wanda leaned down and buried her face into your neck, biting at your skin and grunting loudly into your ear as she trembled with her orgasm.

Your senses left you a little. You could feel her weight crushing you, hoping she was satiated. Through swirling vision and echoed hearing, you sensed her pull out of you and uncuff the handcuffs on your wrists. When her hands came to you again and started moving you onto your stomach, you were too blinded and dazed to understand what was happening until Wanda’s body weight pressed against your back, and you felt the sobering pain of her entering your stretched pussy again, starting to fuck you from behind.

Shrieking, you buried your face into the mattress and clawed at the sheets. You were so sensitive that every thrust and movement made you want to crawl out of your skin, but Wanda was grunting and moaning behind you as if she hadn’t already cum twice.

“Fuck, I love being this deep inside you,” Wanda said against the back of your neck as she grazed her nose across your skin, coming to bite into the back of your shoulder as she sloppily thrusted into you. Both of your juices had combined into a sticky puddle on the sheets below, dripping onto each other’s skin and mixing into a mess of wet at the point where you were connected.

When you’d put the pill in Wanda’s drink, you’d expected her to be needy, of course. You did not expect for it to all come back on you, for her to both punish you for your actions and also quell the desire you’d forced into her in the same swift blow.

When you’d both cum again, your legs were shaking beyond control, and Wanda finally fell limp against your back, crushing you into the mattress. She panted heavily, still lodged inside you, running her hands up the smooth skin of your waist as she gently kissed the deep red bite mark she’d left on your shoulder.

Her breathing started to slow, her hands comforting you with their gentle touch, her lips kissing your skin so soft it felt like feathers.

“Has your pussy had enough, detka?” Wanda whispered, reaching down to the kiss the side of your face that wasn’t pressed against the sheets, wiping away some of the still fresh tears from your cheek.

You nodded desperately, wincing when you wiggled too hard and felt her still inside you. Hissing, you felt her slowly pull out of you, sighing in relief.

“Well, then,” she whispered, right when you thought that the punishments were over and the lust had been fucked out of her system. “I’ll just have to take your ass.”

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Michael Gavey - In a relationship - SFW/NSFW

warning : fluff, Michael being well Michael, drinking wine, degradation, oral (f reciving), lingerie, teasing

Info : Yeah what can I say besided Michael is the cute, clingy slightly obsessive sweet Nerd and I love it. Have fun reading ;)

—————————

SFW

°Affectionate, emotional and arrogant

°Michael loves you no question he loves you from the moment you brought him an extra sugar free candy bar when you bumped into each other alone one night. ,,Here, you never know when you're hungry...not like you can calculate it with a formula" you told him - a simple joke, no more, no less. But for him, for the involuntary genius, it was the beginning of something he thought he would never experience.

°The relationship with a woman

°But it was exactly that evening that he saw your kindness, friendliness and outstanding taste in men. It was bound to happen at some point that a girl like you recognized him after his "friend" Oliver left him and betrayed him. He had to have everything you wanted in a man, at least someone like him.

°Even in the first few days, even if he tries not to make it look like it, he clings to you, won't leave you and couldn't hide that big grin at lunch and during the break when his arm was around your side. He may have been the loser but with you he was above everyone.

°Every day he brought you a Crunchy and you brought him all of yours. He loved it when you gave him a math problem, he knew he was helping you with your homework when you took out your pencil and your smile made him giggle. ,,I deserve a kiss, don't I darling?" he loved to ask knowing she couldn't refuse her cute kahki pants and shirt wearing boyfriend.

°Who needs student parties, lonely beer times or anything else when they have you? You lead him into a well, slightly different world. Gone are the alone times in front of the computer, books and early bedtimes. He had you. You, on the other hand, took him to the drive-in movie theater where his hand kept running over yours while he had a crunchy bar in another one. He can't help but tell you fun facts about the movie and you roll your eyes in amusement as his mood suddenly changes when some of the moviegoers criticize the film. You can hear his screaming and he only calms down again with a surprised expression when your lips touch his. ,,My emotional mathematician tiger," you told him and saw his lips curl into a grin and a blush rise on his cheeks.

°You went out together in the evening and he insisted on going to a restaurant with you. He, the classic romantic, is of course always with a Crunchy bar with him. The two of you after the dinner date on which he had perhaps drunk a little too much wine he was nervous it was always a little true around you and it led to a relaxed sweet side of the blond. ,,You-you...youuuuu are soooo beautiful...soo prettyyyy," he slurred as he nestled his head lightly on your chest and began to count your heartbeat. It at least calmed him down and helped him come down from the alcohol.

°You maneuvered you too onto the bed, you couldn't get him off you but he loved it and you liked the way he mumbled praise the more tired he got. ,,You're so pretty...your heart beats in a symmetrical beat my darling" he murmured and his hand stroked through your hair as you smiled and took off his glasses and kissed him goodnight.

°However, he cannot separate himself from his darling even at night. No matter how much you twist and turn he stays snuggled up to you and you find out that he talks about math formulas in his sleep. Too cute. But he's a real blanket stealer and holds onto them with a strength you didn't expect from the math nerd.

°The morning starts with a hug, tea and pancakes. Pancakes he made himself while listening to a science lecture and telling you the latest gossip. The gossip he thinks is important and has picked up that he knows you'd like to have a laugh about in the morning.

°,,Does my lady have a math problem for me? A fact or...a crunchy bar?" he asked as he sat down next to you with a smile, sipping his tea and hugging his turquoise shirt to his body while his nightcap was still on his head. ,,I even have a kiss for you, my lord," she smiled and gave the already calculating man another kiss. From now on, every morning would be like this for the two of them.

———————————

NSFW

°Something you didn't know he had in him like his attachment would be his devotion to degradation. ,,My good girl will get full marks next time… isn't that right?" he asked his favorite as his long, shapely fingers snuck under his school skirt.

°He seemed to be a changed man when it came to revealing his inner self for every tease, look or misbehavior he takes out on you in one way or another. Not like the jocks who hit their girlfriends or the rich guys who played with everyone. No he was more sophisticated he played with her like a genius he enjoyed it.

°Which always starts with a simple hand on the thigh a hint. ,,You know what you have to do," he reminded her, leaning over as he saw that she was doing her homework all wrong. It was just homework and something like a game of cat and mouse developed between the two of them. For every wrong homework assignment, he pushed his fingers on her body, pulled her in his room and made her read the Math books while he fucked her into the mattress.

°For every math tiger attack from a boyfriend who was always watching her behind his sweet innocent gaze, the hug that lasted too long, him sucking in her scent, his lips whispering lewd words to her and leaving her with hot cheeks. she hit him back in her own way.

°She knew he adored her in every possible way, he was a pathetic desparet nerd after all.

°He was always watching her, his eyes were always on her. But above all, she always saw him licking his lips, adjusting his glasses and dropping his pencil when he saw her lingerie. Whether it was black, white, pink or purple, he loved to see his imagination run wild and before you got together he jerked off to every picture of you in that pretty lingerie. Tried to secretly take pictures to keep and not ruin them completely with his lust.

°But now it seemed like a callback to the time before you knew exactly how needy he was getting, forgetting to study and eating right out of your hand. An off-the-shoulder sweater with the straps of your bra showing, a short skirt that practically begged you to bend over and look underneath? There were scenarios for him to take advantage of all of them until it came to "studying" in the library. ,,Michael sweetie, tell me, what do you think of these?" he heard her quiet but sweet voice and looked up from his notebook in amazement.

°He saw how she had pulled up her skirt slightly and he had a perfect view of the dark red pantei, the tip of which nestled against her skin and she saw how he swallowed and looked around. But no one was there but them. ,,You want Mommy to do well on her exam, don't you?" she murmured, her hand sneaking onto his cheek, slowly taking his glasses off his nose, seeing him blink, but the pink on his cheeks let her know that the cute butterfly had been caught by the spider. ,,Yeah-anything for you, of course," he mumbled, his fantasy of having her for himself and giving her everything she wanted from him coming true thanks to his girlfriend.

°No sooner had he spoken than a pen suddenly fell to the floor and Michael disappeared under the large table and obediently, excitedly and aroused, went between her legs, kissing every inch of her. His fingers stroked the warm soft skin, kissing the birthmarks on the way to her center. He almost made a whimpering sound as her one hand placed itself on his head, playing a little with the strands of his hair while her shoe went down on his center. He was desperate just to please her, to give her everything so that she would continue to treat him like this, he didn't want to lose her, so he almost like a starving man didn't let go of her and took everything he got while his darling leaned back in the chair and praised him while he slowly began grinding against her leg like a lapdog. ,,Such a good boy-fuck for mommy".

°It didn't stop at just one time for each back and forth between the two of them, the other one made a point of making it stronger. Michael to fuck her harder, to moan the right answers straight to him. While she in return can just practically force him on his knees and use him like a toy and he would do anything for her just to get her sweet attention.

[charliesangel67]

Home with you:

Authors note: I wrote this so much faster than I thought I would. Anyway, just a cute lil drabble based off a Mamma Mia theme bc I just re watched it and forgot how good it was.

Parings- Jensen Ackles x Fem!reader

Word Count- 769

Warnings- Mentions of drinking, nothing else, pure fluff.

“So, when you're near me, darling, can't you hear me? S.O.S.

The love you gave me, nothing else can save me, S.O.S.”

I sang as I moved around the kitchen, swaying my hips to the music and occasionally stirring the soup I had cooking on the stove. I heard a key turn in the lock and turned to see my boyfriend walk into the house, dropping his bags in the hall before coming to give me a hug. I giggled as he held me tight in his warm embrace.

“Oh, Jensen. I've missed you so much,” I said to him when he finally let go. “I missed you too, sweetheart,” he responded, leaving a soft kiss on my lips. “How was Louisiana?” I asked, interested in how the filming went. “Not bad. We did have to put filming off for a day because of storm warnings, and our scenes for the day were supposed to be outside.”

“Oh, that's too bad,” I responded. “I'm gonna go upstairs and take a shower real quick, okay? I'll be back in 10,” Jensen said before leaving a kiss on my cheek and heading upstairs, carrying his bags with him. A couple of minutes later, I had set the table, plated up the soup with bread on the side, and Jensen was coming down the stairs in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Gosh, he looked handsome.

“What's for dinner, sweetheart?” he asked as he got himself a beer from the fridge. “Tomato soup with bread. I don't think beer goes very well with it,” I stated, eyeing him.

“Fine then, I'll have the beer later.” He put up his hands in defeat and I giggled. We talked over dinner about filming, The Boys, and what I did over the 3 weeks that he was away.

“Well, I drove out to Austin to catch up with Maya.” “Oh, really? When was the last time you saw her? Hasn't it been since Gen's baby shower?” Jensen asked, surprised that I had brought her up.

“Yeah, since Odette. I just wanted to hang out with her a little. I stayed over for a couple of nights and we went hiking and shopping. It was fun,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, facing Jensen while he sat at the table sipping his beer. “I'll pack up the dishes. You go have a shower, love,” he announced.

I stepped out of the shower, the fluffy towel feeling soft on my skin. I dressed in my silky blue pjs and dried my hair. When I walked down the stairs to greet Jensen, I saw there was a box on the counter.

“Ooh, what's this?” I asked curiously.

“I ordered some donuts so that we could have a movie night,” Jensen stated from the far side of the kitchen, preparing a big bowl of popcorn.

“I'll grab the drinks and choose the movie!” I yelled as I raced to the fridge to get him a can of soda and myself some wine so I could pour a glass.

“Whatever you please, my love,” Jensen whispered under his breath.“What movie are we watching tonight?” asked Jensen as he entered our bedroom with the popcorn and donuts in hand. He had already changed into his pjs and was looking sexier than ever.

“I have chosen an absolute classic, a personal favorite of mine, and most teenage girls.”

“Oh gosh. Lemme guess: She's the Man or 10 Things I Hate About You?” Jensen questioned.

“No! Although either of those would've been a good option. I have chosen to go with a more musical one. We are watching Mamma Mia!” I announced excitedly.

“OK, I'll pre-warn myself about the crazy singing,” Jensen laughed as he leaned in to kiss my lips.

“I'm just kidding, love. Sing as loud and as crazy as you want. I love your singing,” he whispered in my ear, making me smile.

Together, we belted out every word to "Mamma Mia", danced to "Dancing Queen," and drank a lot of wine. By the end of the movie, I was too dizzy to even walk downstairs, so Jensen took the empty box and bowl to the kitchen, and I went to brush my teeth. I lay in bed, suddenly feeling the bed shift over from Jensen's weight. I turned over to kiss him. “I forgot to tell you earlier, welcome home, babe,” I said before giving him another passionate kiss.

“When you're gone, how can I even try to go on?

When you're gone, though I try, how can I carry on?”

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 1

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Eventually Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Abnormal Psychology. It was among the final requirements to successfully complete the Master's Degree I had been working on for nearly two-and-half years.

Slow and steady wins the race. It was a common mantra that I continually used to motivate and justify the turtle-like pace of my educational progress. Working full time and refusing to take online courses were the two main factors contributing to the prolonged nature of my tenure at Woodbridge University. I had nothing against online learning. It just simply wasn't for me. Call me a geek but I genuinely enjoyed the classic classroom setting.

It was mid January. The younger generation of college students were loathing their frigid trek to whatever night classes they had been forced into signing up for the semester before. It was an assumption; though I had been there, done that. I knew what they were feeling on that first night of spring semester classes. As an adult, my feelings had transformed. I was eager.

The seventy-thirty class began right on time and I could still taste the dinner on my breath that I had hurried to inhale in the car on my ride in. The thought exited my mind as quickly as it had entered when the professor walked in, promptly shutting the oversized mahogany door behind him and locking it.

The click echoed off the walls of the stadium-style auditorium and everyone appeared to freeze where they sat. No professor in all of my graduate or undergraduate studies had ever locked the door.

What if there's a fire? That was my first, anxious thought. Again, it swiftly floated away when the finely-dressed stranger before us began to speak. His voice was deep; a bit scratchy. It felt like his vocal chords were made to narrate one of those Planet Earth shows.

"I'm sure you all know by now my name is Dr. Miller. If you didn't know at least that much by now.." He paused as he sat down on the edge of an oversized, wooden desk centered perfectly at the head of the room and removed a pair of glasses. ".. I'd have to wonder how the fuck you made it this far in your education."

My eyebrows lifted at his casual use of profanity in the first introductory sentence. I looked to my left and right, as most of the others in the class did, and amongst the silence there were a few stray chuckles that tested out the room's acoustics.

When I looked back, Dr. Miller was smirking. "Well that woke you up, didn't it?" He rose to his feet again and put his hands out to the sides. "Look.. I know you're all working. Maybe some of you have families. Maybe not. It's seven-thirty at night and you'd probably rather be getting ready to watch The Bachelor with a glass of wine."

There was more collective laughter now and his eyes scanned the room, both amused and almost as if they were searching to see who was smiling and who was still cautious. There was a genuine, curious nature to the way his eyes danced over the crowd.

"This class will be worth your while," he went on. "You're here for a reason and I intend to pump those big brains of yours with all the information I can." Dr. Miller smiled wider now, highlighting a pair of boyish dimples beneath a trim, salt and pepper beard, "Welcome to Abnormal Psychology."

He sure knew how to captivate an audience. The delivery of the first bout of information had me laughing, pondering answers to questions I never would have thought of and desperately scribbling notes down in my yellow, ninety-eight cent notebook as the class progressed.

I was so interested and so intrigued that I hadn't realized that class was on the verge of concluding until Dr. Miller uttered his words of departure. "I'll see you next class."

And just like that, the first Abnormal Psychology class had ended. I sat there for several seconds before rising to my feet, slinging my backpack over one shoulder and then gave a generous stretch toward the ceiling before beginning my slow climb down the wide, oversized steps.

Half of the class had piled out by the time I reached the ground level. I passed by Dr. Miller and, for some reason, didn't have the confidence to look in his direction.

"So, what'd you think? Hooked yet?" His voice cut through the air and more or less grabbed me and spun me around in his direction. I didn't even know if he was speaking to me until our eyes locked.

"Me?" I glanced over my shoulder - another habit that highlighted my inner insecurities. When I saw his smirk, an expression that I knew held all kinds of unspoken wit behind it, I decided to respond. "Yeah."

Say something else. I couldn't think. I never did well with being put on the spot. Still, I was eager to maintain a conversation.

"I'm really interested in Abnormal Psych. I've been looking forward to this class since I started my Master's."

"The delivery.." he went on, "What did you think? Too much?"

"Just right," I responded too coolly. I almost impressed myself. A red blush filtered into my cheeks and the nervous laugh I let out killed any type of confidence I appeared to have going for me.

Dr. Miller smiled and right then I decided that I thought he was handsome. Crimson filled my cheeks a little deeper and I glanced up toward the few stragglers who were still getting their things together halfway up into the seating area. It was my only means of a quick distraction before I turned back to face my new, slightly unorthodox professor.

He hadn't looked away, and I swallowed hard. "Thanks.." It was all I could manage and I gave a fleeting wave before heading out into the hallway.

It was as if I was reentering the world after being put in a trance for two hours.

On the drive home I wondered if anyone else had felt the same effects that I had. Were the other students in my class still thinking about the class like I was? Did they find Dr. Miller to be the perfect combination of intelligent and.. cool? Was cool even the right word?

Smooth, I corrected the description in my mind and then immediately shook my head. What was I even thinking about? I had known the man for two hours.. two.. and here I was passing judgment as if he we had been in each other's company for an appropriate amount of time to match my opinion.

In my final conscious, cognitive thoughts of the night I, again, reflected back on the fascinating opener of Abnormal Psychology and the riveting professor that taught it. No class I had ever taken was ever interesting enough to consume my final thoughts of the day.

Even less, they never made it into my nightly dreamscapes or nightmares. That night, the images that danced their way into the multiple cortexes of my brain where dreams were concocted were a troubling combination of both.

I heard Dr. Miller's indistinguishable voice narrating the ordeal as I was lost in a forest. A sea of fog swallowed me whole though somehow I knew I was visible to something that was out there. It was haunting. I could not pinpoint what my professor’s role actually entailed. Was he trying to guide me? Hurt me? Lead me away from whatever dangers lurked?

It felt all-too-real when his hands clamped down on my shoulders, finally revealing his presence. I couldn't see his face, though I knew the pair of hands belonged to Dr. Miller.

My overemphasized gasp bridged the realms of dream and reality, and I sat up in bed, a cold sweat coating my body as my mind struggled to recognize my immediate surroundings.

“What the fuck..” I whispered to myself, eyeing the red numbers on the digital clock on my nightstand.

3:37. I sighed and laid back down eying the ceiling fan that swirled in circles around me. Yes, I was one of those people who still needed a fan to sleep in the middle of winter.

I closed my eyes again and it was like coming down off a high. Adrenaline made the thud of my pulse pound in my ears, as if actual quarter-sized drums had been implanted there. In that early morning hour my heart palpitated. Half of it was what I could only interpret as misplaced desire. The other half was outright fear. I never fell back asleep.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

[is-the-thing-actually-jewish]

grapes. like grapes in general. idk why i feel like theyd have a connection. with judiasm.

Rating: JEWISH (not exclusively)

You feel that grapes have a connection with Judaism because they totally do! Grapes are one of the  seven species biblically associated with the Land of Israel, along with wheat, barley, pomegranates, fig, olives, and dates (Deuteronomy 8:8).

More importantly, grapes → wine, and wine (or grape juice, but classically wine) is crucial to Jewish ritual and celebration. Wine is associated with joy and specialness, to the point that the biblical commandment to “remember the Sabbath day and make it holy” is fulfilled by making a special holiness blessing over wine known as “kiddush.” (I once watched an adorable four-year-old ask how to make kiddush, and when her proud parents coached her through saying the blessing, she kept asking, at which point we belatedly realized that her question was actually about the production of grape juice).

Every biblical holiday has a special blessing to say over the “fruit of the vine” to sanctify the day. (Yom Kippur, which is a fast day, is a general exception, but there are traditions specifying what people who cannot fast for health reasons ought to say for kiddush on Yom Kippur). Seder has four cups of wine, the happy couple shares a glass of wine as part of a wedding ceremony, the circumcision/baby naming ceremony has wine, and we mark the transition out of Shabbat and into a new week with a glass of wine. In fact, the gemara in Pesachim 109a explicitly states an opinion that "אֵין שִׂמְחָה אֶלָּא בְּיַיִן," "there is no rejoicing without wine" (i.e. one must have wine or grape juice to fulfill the commandment to rejoice on holidays).

For all of those reasons, grapes feature fairly prominently in Jewish art, especially for ritual items intended to be used on Shabbat, like a challah cover or hand-washing cup. Obviously, neither grapes nor wine are exclusive to Judaism or Jewish culture, but they are undeniably quite Jewish nonetheless.

[gingiesworld]

Fatal Attraction

Chapter Five

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader/Wanda Maximoff x Jarvis Stark

Warnings: Angst. Some fluff if you squint. Ick warning with Jarvis

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic

18+ MINORS DNI

Wanda was extremely confused about everything, even when she returned to work the next day, Y/N remained at a distance but still treated her the same. Although she found it endearing, she also found it annoying.

"So, we only have a couple of meetings with some investors today." Y/N informed her as she nodded, handing them the files they needed.

"Do you want me to sit in or?" She 9questioned as they looked up at her.

"Of course." They told her. "We are still professionals." They smiled at her. "Besides, it will be going over the gala mostly, like how much we should donate to the cause."

"Oh." She whispered as Y/N looked at her, analyzing her face.

"I know the other day was extremely unprofessional." They started as Wanda shook her head. "I just need to say this Wanda." She sighed and let them continue. "I care about you, you're an amazing woman and your husband is extremely lucky to have you."

"Doesn't feel like it sometimes." She mumbled as Y/N gave her a soft smile.

"Look, I don't know what's going on in your home life, but I want you to know that I am here for you." They told her as she gave them a thankful smile. Everything seemed to have gone back to how it was, although the two kept thinking back to the kiss, they kept things professional. Even as they walked out of the last meeting.

"I'll file these, you go home." They told her as she just nodded, they took the files with them as she gathered her things, deciding to meet Natasha. Once she arrived at her friend's apartment, she had already had two glasses of wine ready for them.

"So, I am attracted to my boss." Wanda stated as she sat opposite her friend. "I just, they're being too perfect about the whole thing and it's just adding to it."

"What do you mean perfect?" Nat questioned.

"They are still treating me like they did before." Wanda told her. "Like the kiss never happened and they are blaming themselves." Nat listened as Wanda rambled on and on about Y/N, a smirk on her face as she only saw that look once before.

"You're falling for them." She stated as Wanda shook her head. "You are, the last time you looked like that when you spoke about someone was when you and Jarvis started dating."

"But I am married." She stated as Nat shrugged.

"Maybe you got married too soon." She told her. "You're only just fresh out of college and married literally after graduation." She filled the two glasses back up as she spoke. "And now he wants to start a family, it seems he is trying to trap you into being a stay at home mom and you deserve better than that."

"I." Wanda shook her head. "You're wrong. He respects me, he wouldn't do that to me."

"Wanda." Nat tried as she gathered her things, ignoring her friend's apologies as she left the apartment, heading straight home.

As the night of the Gala.came around, Wanda wore the light blue dress that Jarvis had picked out. It wasn't particularly a colour that Wanda would wear for herself.

"Are you ready?" Jarvis asked as he made sure he had his wallet, phone and keys.

"Yup." She spoke as she took one last look at herself, rolling her eyes at his lack of fashion sense.

Once they arrived at the Gala, it was in full swing, many people were conversing as they sipped on expensive wine and champagne. The music was classical as a vast majority of the guests were middle aged at the least.

Her eyes searched the room, finding Y/N as they stood beside Gwen, looking around at the other guests and chuckling between themselves. As soon as Y/N's gaze caught Wanda's, a smile formed on their lips as her stomach flipped.

"I'm going to talk with the Coopers." Jarvis told her, leaving her side without even a kiss on the cheek. She headed straight for the bar, Y/N approached her with Gwen as she smiled at the two.

"You look beautiful." They smiled at her as she nodded.

"It's not particularly my colour but he chose it." Wanda shrugged as she sipped on her wine.

"Well, he should leave you to do your own shopping." They remarked as their eyes found Jarvis Stark, laughing with a group of men. "He doesn't deserve you, Wanda."

"Y/N." She whispered, just low enough for them to hear.

"My apologies." They stood back as they ordered another drink.

"Aren't you drinking?" Wanda asked as they shook their head.

"I can't afford to make a stupid decision, not with you." They whispered before smiling at her. "Have a nice evening Wanda." With that she watched as they walked away. She spent most of the evening on her own, watching as Jarvis floated between the other guests, but she noticed how he stayed clear of Y/N. Knowing of their rivalry, the companies as Oscorp is a much bigger organisation since Stark Industries had halted a lot of their products.

"Come on." Jarvis pulled her with him to the bathroom, locking it before he kissed her roughly. Wanda was too caught up in the moment as he ripped her underwear away before he inserted herself. She tried to push him away before he came but he gripped her hard as she told him to stop repeatedly. Tears in her eyes as he soon came inside her.

"How could you?" She whispered when he pulled out.

"What?" He asked her as she just pushed past him and walked out of the bathroom. Her tears running down her face as she entered the ballroom.

"Wanda?" Gwen spoke up as she was on her way to the bathroom.

"I need to leave." She whispered as she tried to hold in her sobs.

"Come on." Gwen took her by the arm and led her to the parking lot, sending a message to Y/N who wasted no time in getting there.

"What's going on?" They asked hurriedly as she pointed to Wanda, their heart broke as they saw her red teary eyes. "Let's get you both home." They said as Wanda shook her head.

"I'll get an Uber." Gwen suggested as Y/N was about the protest. "She needs you now Y/N." With that she left the two.

"Come on." They whispered as they closed the car door, heading around to the driver's side and starting the journey, opting to go to their own apartment.

"What happened?" They asked her as they led her to their sofa, kneeling before her as Wanda kept her dress covering her exposed sex.

"He." She tried as she took a deep breath. "He came in me. I told him to stop. No. But he didn't."

"Here." They held out their hand, leading her to their bedroom. "Have a shower, use whatever clothes you find in the closet." They grabbed their keys again.

"Where are you going?" She asked them as they gave her a soft smile.

"The pharmacy." They told her. "I'm going to get the plan B for you. I'm not having him get complete control over you or your body. He doesn't get to have that." She smiled as they pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving. Wanda wondered what it was about them that made her feel so safe.

She made sure to scrub her entire body, letting the hot water burn her skin, tears escaping her eyes as sobs racked through her body. She had no idea how long she was in there for but Y/N had returned, knocking on the door.

"Wanda?" They called out. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah." She whispered as she opened the door, a towel wrapped around her form.

"I got you the plan b." They told her softly. "You also have an appointment with my doctor, you can use the company's health care insurance."

"You didn't have to." Wanda whispered as Y/N shook their head.

"I know I didn't." They smiled at her. "I don't know why but I care about you deeply and that is strange for me because I never really let anyone in or see the real me but you." They sighed as they gazed in her eyes. "You've broken me down Wanda, you make me unafraid of being who I truly am." With that they left the bedroom, heading straight to the kitchen to make some coffee, giving Wanda the time on her own. She can't deny that she feels free when she is around them, she feels seen and heard. Her opinions matter to her.

[poetryandfluffycats]

Poker face

A/N: i wanna write a death note fic....

Pairing: Husband!Fyodor Dostoevsky x fem!reader

Content: You husband, Fyodor, doesn't tell you much about himself. He says that his stories will just bore you, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of murder, fyodor is a warning in itself😭

Words: 521

Oneshot under cut!

Fyodors eyes met mine from across the table, his cold gaze never leaving me even as he reached for his glass of wine and took a long sip. I watched his adams apple bob up and down with each swallow, the red liquid slowly disappearing from the glass. Our staring contest continued as he placed the glass down, leaning back in his chair resting his hands comfortably in his lap.

"How was your day, dear?" There was a smirk in his voice, even if it didn't show on his face. He didn't need to ask, he knew. He always knew.

"Fine" I blinked, keeping my face as neutral as possible. If I showed any cracks in my facade, he would have the upper hand. He would win. "Yours?"

"A bore" Fyodor sighed, moving his chess piece forward on the board. "Don't worry yourself, a worried wife is a useless one"

His words used to hurt me, burrowing like maggots into my brain and rotting away. Now I understood that I shouldn't take it to heart. That our marriage was a loveless one to begin with. That there was no reason to care for insults from a husband who only married me to use me as a tool in his game.

"Same for a worried husband, no?" I quipped back, moving my own piece. "Checkmate"

"You're learning" He chuckled, the corners of his lips curling into the slightest smile. He didn't smile much, or at least, not a genuine smile. Whether this one was real or not, I had no idea. It looked more out of mockery than anything. "Shall we go to bed, or do you have more snarky comments for me?"

"It's only 9pm" I tilted my head to the side, eying up the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room.

"Is that an issue?"

"For a man who stays up all night working on something he won't tell me about, yes. Why so tired now?"

Fyodor sighed again, shaking his head and sending me a sharp glare. "Don't ask me questions you don't want the answer too"

A classic response. A warning, more like. Fuck around and find out, poke the bear and get eaten, or which ever cliché phrase you wanted to use. It was true, however. I didn't want to know what he got up too at his work-which he had told me was an office job that would 'simply bore me to death'.

But I had seen him leave late in the night, seen him return covered in blood, seen the headlines the next morning and heard the gossip from the woman in town.

A terrorist organization, the Rats they called it, revoking havoc all over the country. The leader had been spotted too many times to count, a sicky Russian man with a piercing purple gaze.

I wasn't stupid.

But I wouldn't pry, either. I had all the information I was going to get. Because if there was one thing Fyodor was best at, it was his poker face.

"Fine. Bed it is"

"That's a good girl, tuck me in, will you?"

[atrueneutral]

Any thoughts on warlock!Tav? I don't know which would be more fun, having Raphael as a patron or Raphael being jealous of Tav's patron 🤭

They were four moves in, and Tav had yet to learn why Raphael had called her to the Devil’s Den.

She doubted it was as simple as a ‘friendly match of lanceboard’; there was always something just shy of his ambitious reach, and she was waiting for when he would be forthright about what that something was.

Thus far for their appointment, the fiend (in his mortal disguise) offered only polite pleasantries; an inquiry about how she was faring after being rid of the tadpole, a recommendation that she try a glass of ‘perfectly aged wine he’d been saving for her’, and, of course, a ‘friendly’ game of lanceboard (to ‘personally witness her strategic skills in action’).

And here they were; barely talking as she concentrated with a pinched brow on what move to make next, all while Raphael stared at her with a glint in his eye and the faintest of smirks on his lips.

She was a piece down (lanceboard was not a strong suit of hers), meaning he was in the lead.

Which was probably the main reason as to why he looked so arrogant and relaxed.

Tav bit her lip in question of whether to move her priest or send out another pawn.

“Am I correct in the knowledge that you’ve been in a pact with your patron for a few years?” he asked.

More pleasantries - so that the scales of their appointment didn’t tip towards awkwardness.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Tav answered softly. The reply was automatic; all attention was centered on the game before her.

She wanted to win - especially when her opponent was none other than Raphael.

The white priest slid to a free space, and, in response, Raphael swiftly mirrored a similar move with his black priest.

“Tell me about this patron of yours, my dear.”

Her previously focused gaze flicked up from the board to meet that oh-so-devilish glint, and, in response, Tav’s eyes mirrored his in forming a glint of their own; it was a mischievous twinkle that her fey patron would appreciate and applaud - hence why the pact was offered to her to begin with.

After all, it wasn’t every day that a mortal outtricked a trickster in the middle of a dangerous wood.

“They’re from the feywild,” Tav said, her brow pinching again in pretend consideration of her the next (literal) move. Yes, lanceboard was assuredly not her strong suit, but games involving ‘Reactions from Raphael’ were a favored pastime she excelled in. “I’d ask if you knew him, or of him, but he never gave me his name…”

She glanced up, and at the mention of ‘him’, a muscle twitched in Raphael’s cheek.

“Perhaps you could describe this patron, and I would know their name? I’m versed enough in the archfey and the dealings of their ilk,” he said with the offhanded shrug of a shoulder.

What a wonderful idea!

“That’s a wonderful idea!” At that, Tav mentally bid the game of lanceboard farewell. She lifted a foot to sit on the cushion with her and rested her elbow upon her knee. Her cheek leaned into the palm of her hand, and a wistful expression was painted upon her face. “With as often as I think of him, he should be easy enough to recall…”

Raphael’s glint was becoming lost to an approaching fire on the horizon.

“He’s tall, dark, handsome - the classic, romantic type from the stories. His hair color reminds me of yours, actually, but it’s a fair bit longer - goes past his shoulders, and not a strand is out of place. Now that I think about it, he’s about your height, too. Slightly less broad-shouldered, more wiry I’d say, but still quite muscular. Not sure what he was doing in the middle of the woods without a shirt, but, hey, that’s the fey for you…”

None of it was true; Puck was a small and sprightly creature with rosy cheeks and other impish features. His hair was not long and tidy, having been an unkempt mess adorned with twigs and leaves at the time of their meeting, and also unlike her false rendering, the fey’s childlike frame had been dressed in greenery and animal skins.

“He’s very strong! Lifted me easily - ah, forgive me. That probably doesn’t help you much…”

Raphael was battling a sneer, and his relaxed pose was becoming less relaxed the more she went on.

So Tav did the next best thing.

She continued.

“There was a…” She tried to find the correct word while miming in the air with her free hand. “Certain regalness about him. I thought he might be a part of some high court of some kind. He appeared in fog and left in fog, but not before offering me a pact - which I accepted, naturally.” Tav sighed. “The whirlwind encounter, however brief it was, left me breathless. I’m so grateful to have lost my way in the woods that day.”

Raphael looked livid, and she could imagine Puck clapping.

She pushed a pawn forward. “Do you know of any fey by that description?”

“It is unfortunate that I do not,” he deadpanned.

The glint had long been lost to the fire of his burning stare.

“I believe it’s your move, Raphael.”

The cambion worked his jaw, and his tongue ran across his top teeth, emitting a slight sucking sound.

He was determining his move, but it was not a move involving lanceboard.

Tav dropped her innocence along with her tone.

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

His tone dropped to match hers. “And if I was, Little Mouse?”

Humored, she huffed a breath and smiled.

“Why did you have me come?”

Raphael glanced at the board and aggressively (recklessly) took her pawn with his priest. “I wished to become your patron.”

Oh…

An exciting prospect that she’d thought about but never considered as being a possibility...

His interest in her… did it mirror her interest in him?

“I’ll tell you what,” Tav snatched his priest with her rook. “If you win this match, I’ll see what I can do about breaking my pact with Puck, and I’ll happily sign a new pact with you.”

Disdain drained the color from his face.

“Puck,” he sneered, and it was then that he knew he’d been played. “Like attracts like! I should not be surprised that one chaotic wretch of a creature was drawn to another!”

“On the contrary, surely you also believe that opposites attract?” Tav smiled with a tilt of her head. “Or have you changed your mind about wanting me, a ‘chaotic wretch’, to be your warlock?”

Raphael’s silence was confirmation that he had not changed his mind (though it disagreed with his contemptuous stare and scrunched nose).

A moment passed.

“And if you win, my dear?”

“I want a written and signed letter from you stating that you lost our lanceboard game and that you were jealous of Puck.”

The huff that left him was not the humored kind.

“I agree to the terms of this match, and you are to forfeit should I get the slightest whiff of any tricks.”

“Good thing my sleight of hand work doesn’t smell,” Tav said before dramatically cracking her knuckles.

 Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “No cheating of any kind, you fey-touched miscreant.”

Tav’s bright laugh filled the room, seemingly disarming her fiend of an opponent.

Her poor skills in strategy were likely to lose the match for her, but Tav was not bothered by the potential loss.

She’d won the more important game.

[min-gis]

LEAVE ME WITH NOTHING — kim hongjoong.

pairing. fwb!hongjoong x fembodied!reader

synopsis. kim hongjoong and the moon has a lot of things in common. grand, captivating and most of all — no ones to keep.

genre/warnings. angst but not really at all (?), more just confusion while trying to make sense of feelings, smut ! mdni .

word count. 5.7k

IS IT POSSIBLE TO YEARN AFTER AND CRAVE SOMETHING YOU’VE NEVER HAD?

A question asked into the darkness of the night when nothing but the moon lits up your room, peeking and forcing its way through the blinds. 

Ultimately unwelcomed and it disturbs your sleep, something that you’ll be annoyed about once your alarm clock goes off and you’ll have to force your way through the day with only a few hours of sleep — and the only thing left to blame for your frustration — is the moon.

But despite being unwanted, the dim yet so bright beams still peeks through your blinds and prevents you from slipping into slumber. Intruding, really.

Perhaps it’s not the moon’s doing, you think. Your restlessness and inability to fall asleep isn’t the moon’s doing, no, you know it isn’t.

It’s the question of yearning and craving something you’ve never had that prevents you from closing your eyes and from fading into deep slumber. It’s not the moon nor is it the sound of cars in the distance, it’s the question. 

The question that runs through your mind over, and over again — and just like it prevents you from focusing during the day — it seems to keep you up at night, too.

Is it possible to yearn for and crave something you’ve never had?

And if not, then what exactly is Kim Hongjoong?

While the moon most definitely intrudes its way into your room, so does Kim Hongjoong, you think. The only difference between the two is that you at least try to shut the moon and its beams out, and as for Hongjoong?

Well, you suppose you actively allow him to slip into the darkness of your room. Perhaps you beg, even, for him to slip through your front door and into the darkness.

But other than that, they’re pretty similar, you think. 

Out of reach and equally captivating, something you want but will never have — only meant to exist and be admired long after the sun has set.

A description of the moon or Kim Hongjoong, you may never know.

What you do know, however, is that the moon simply isn’t something you can ever acquire — and that you, sincerely, never stood a chance.

A chance of resisting the temptations of getting something you know you can’t have, a temptation that comes along with sleeping with Hongjoong. Something you thought you realized the very first time you drunkenly kissed him in the alleyway outside of his favorite bar downtown — something you only truly realized when he fucked you in the back of his car a few moments later.

Kim Hongjoong is someone you’ve never truly had and never will have, so, therefore, you ask what has turned into a recurring question for the nth time of the night. Is it possible to yearn after and crave something you’ve never had?

And if it is, just how do you go about it?

K.HJ : are you up?

The screen of your phone reflects in your wine glass, and you don’t need to look at the notification to know what — or who — it is. It’s just past 11 PM, and there’s only ever one person reaching out to you at this hour.

Just like you know just who it is before even looking, he, too, knows that you’re, in fact, up and very much awake.

It’s more of an invitation, you think. An invitation for you to come over, and if not — it’s a way of him asking if he can come over. In classic Kim Hongjoong style, of course — ever so charming, and ever so casual.

And the Kim Hongjoong style, despite being so casual, it’s almost lethal in a way — and you?

You’re the main victim.

You can’t bring yourself to complain, though.

You suppose you signed up for it when you fell into a relationship based on lust and desire with someone you had only considered as a brief friend. 

Perhaps a friend of a friend, even, at least that’s what he was; until he no longer was.

Until you agreed to accompany him out for a cigarette, to sober up after a night of one too many drinks — only to slip your fingers into his hair while complimenting the bright red color he had dyed it the night before. 

That’s where it went wrong, you suppose, because if you hadn’t gotten so close and tangled your hands through his hair — you probably never would’ve gotten a taste of his lips and the cigarettes that lingered on his tongue.

The start of a chain reaction, really, one that led to you craving the cigarette taste lingering on his lips again, and again. And again.

Not tonight though, you have to tell yourself.

‘’You up for another glass?’’

The voice of your friend rips your eyes away from the screen of your phone before you even get to consider the option of leaving. You’re thankful it does, because if he hadn’t spoken up — you might’ve actually succumbed. 

Succumbed to the craving of Kim Hongjoong, that being said.

A hum leaves your throat as you look over at your friend, curious eyes peeking through the doorway leading into his kitchen. Wine bottle in hand, he waits for you to reply. 

‘’No, it’s getting late, thank you though,’’

Your mumbled reply brings a sigh out of the man, accompanied by a roll of his eyes as he disappears behind the door frame. 

‘’You’re getting boring,’’ You hear him mumble, followed by the sound of liquid pouring into what you assume is his wineglass. ‘’You’re getting old.’’

A chuckle rips through your chest as he emerges back from the kitchen, placing his now-filled wineglass onto the table before returning to his original position, slumped beside you. ‘’No,’’ You shake your head, ‘’I’m just responsible.’’

Your remark, meant to be playful, brings out a chuckle of his own as he stretches his limbs out and across the couch. ‘’One can’t enjoy a second glass of wine on a Friday night?’’ The equally playful raise of his eyebrows as the question slips past his lips causes yet another chuckle to leave the back of your throat.

‘’Of course,’’ You let out, ‘’But I also have to get home, on my own, in the middle of the night,’’

Seonghwa just shrugs his shoulders in response, both his arms coming up to rest behind his head as he looks over at you. 

‘’Or I just go with you, to make sure you get home safely,’’ He shrugs yet again as his eyes dart back to the TV, ‘’Or would Hongjoong not like that?’’

The sudden mention of Hongjoong causes you to frown. A frown you try to hide by letting your gaze land on the TV, one Seonghwa misses. 

It’s not the mention of Hongjoong itself that causes a sense of heaviness to spread across your chest, it’s the question. The question of whether or not Hongjoong would mind another man taking you home.

A question you, frankly, do not know how to answer. A question you wish you could answer, a question you wish you knew the answer to.

You do. You just wish it was the answer was different.

‘’He wouldn’t care.’’

You reply, honestly. It stings and you wish it wasn’t true, but it is, so you give your friend the most honest answer there is. He wouldn’t care, perhaps you would’ve liked for him to.

For him to actually care.

Seonghwa just hums in response. His eyes remain focused on the TV screen, mindlessly watching the movie he had put on long before you arrived and missed half of because he opted to dive into conversation with you instead of watching.

‘’So it’s still just causal between the two of you, I take it,’’

Casual. While what you and Hongjoong share feels far more than just casual, you suppose Seonghwa isn’t wrong when he says it’s casual. 

Casual, as in nothing established, but far from casual as in not important.

For you, at least. For you it’s important.

You’re not sure if it is for Hongjoong, though. 

Therefore, Seonghwa doesn’t lie when he asks if it’s still just casual. It is, despite your growing desire for something more.

‘’Yeah,’’ Maybe you should’ve accepted his offer about another glass of wine, you think. At least if this is the next conversation Seonghwa decides to dive into, the conversation of you and Hongjoong, one you’re not certain you wish to dive into — one you know you kind of have to dive into.

‘’Is that what you want?’’ 

With the question trailing off his lips and his eyes darting back to look at you, you realize that this is the next conversation your friend chooses to dive into. And that you most definitely should’ve gotten another glass of wine, if you wish to truly discuss the matter at hand. 

‘’Something casual, I mean.’’

Perhaps. Maybe not. You don’t know. Perhaps you’d like to establish something, anything — what you are, if you even are something — you truly do not know.

So you tell him just that. ‘’I don’t know.’’ You shrug, in an attempt to come off as more unbothered than you are. Seonghwa just looks at you, his lips pressed into a thin line and you think he’s trying to decipher you.

‘’I fear I don’t know the man any better than you do,’’ He shrugs after a moment of silence, ‘’Perhaps talk to Mingi about it. If you can’t get anything out of Hongjoong, I mean,’’

He’s not wrong, and you know he isn’t. Mingi is the one who introduced you to Hongjoong after all, and if there’s anyone who knows him — it’s Mingi.

But you haven’t even tried to get anything out of Hongjoong. You don’t want to, either. Because you don’t know just what it is you’re looking to get out of him, other than something to satisfy the craving. 

The craving of having something you’ve never had, and in this case, it’s Kim Hongjoong.

‘’I will,’’ You hum, ‘’Thank you.’’

The buzzing of your phone, followed by the screen lighting up the ceiling just above your bedside table doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. The clock reads just past 1 AM, and for a moment, you almost start wondering if tonight is one of the nights he lets you bathe in your own despair and yearning.

Almost.

Because somewhere along the lines he, too, feels the same yearning — for you or for intimacy, you’re not sure — something he proves when the screen of your phone lights up and nothing but his name decorates the screen.

K.HJ : are you sleeping?

YOU : no

K.HJ : i’m coming over

The creative process is always more important than the end result. While it’s hard to navigate through and possibly even harder to understand, it’s still more important and certainly more giving, you think.

Kim Hongjoong is no different, you suppose. 

Kim Hongjoong, a true work of art. An ever-changing, never quite done, work of art, you think. Constantly changing and can’t seem to settle — alternating, maybe altering — a more fitting word for someone like him.

For someone like Kim Hongjoong, who wears his now vibrant blue hair down and while most people wouldn’t go for a leopard fur coat a few sizes too big, Hongjoong does. Most people probably wouldn’t look good doing it, either — Hongjoong does. 

Remarkable, noteworthy, and always changing.

And incredibly hard not to want, you think.

The front door barely creaks open before a small figure pushes their way through the gap, allowing themselves to enter your apartment — something only an intruder would do, and you suppose that’s kind of what he is.

‘’Fuck,’’ You can smell the cigarettes lingering in the fabric of his coat the second he slips into your apartment, ‘’It’s fucking freezing out,’’

The sound of your fingers twisting the lock in place echoes through the apartment, and as you go to look over at the man — he’s nowhere to be seen, and the worn-down shoes kicked across the floor tell you he’s already taken it upon himself to enter your space.

An intruder, really. You don’t mind it.

‘’You can’t do that,’’ It’s mumbled, the way the words leave your lips as you walk across the floor, ‘’You scared the shit out of me.’’ 

Your eyes land on the fur coat discarded on the floor of your living room, almost taunting you, in a way. Scolding you for succumbing to your cravings once more and allowing him to slip into the comfort of your apartment even though you have to be up in a few hours.

You don’t care. You, frankly, do not care.

The sight of his small, but noble, figure slumped down on the couch almost brings a chuckle out of you. Kim Hongjoong, ever so straightforward. You can’t help but find it charming, though.

He just shrugs, a wolfish grin plastered on his lips as you come into view. As a way to tell you that he doesn’t care, that he knows you don’t care.

You know I can, and I know you’ll allow me to.

He just looks at you for a moment, his gaze flickering up and down your figure before his tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip. ‘’Come here,’’

You’re already on it before he tells you to. 

His gaze remains fixated on you as you carefully walk across the floor, and he can tell you’re dragging it out — just to feel his gaze on you for a little longer. He knows it, and he doesn’t mind it. He enjoys it, even.

If it’s the view of you with nothing but a t-shirt hanging off your frame, or if it’s the knowledge of you wanting — craving — his gaze on you and the sense of power that comes with it that he enjoys, you’re not sure.

Small, but firm hands grab onto your sides as soon as you’re within reach, followed by a pleased hum as they help you place yourself on top of him. They’re cold, something you note even though the thin fabric separates them from directly touching your skin. 

You watch as his eyes dart down, almost like he’s taking you in once more now that your legs are placed on either side of his body — his fingers lightly dancing up your sides.

‘’You look cute,’’ It’s just above a whisper, and equally mumbled, yet loud enough for you to hear him. A light chuckle leaves the back of your throat as your fingers slip into his hair, lightly tugging at the strands that fall between your fingers — you’re teasing him, in the one way you know he loves.

And by the way his lips part and the way his grip on you grows more firm, you know you’ve succeeded. 

‘’No,’’ You whisper back, shaking your head, ‘’You’re just horny.’’

The curl of his lips causes a smile of your own to form on your lips. It’s a smile telling you that you’re right, you think. A smile in agreement, and equal playfulness, too.

He gathers more fabric between his fingers, using the grip to pull you closer to him. Something that pulls a small yelp out of you as his forehead presses against your own. He hums as he lets go of the fabric resting against your sides, allowing his fingers to wander further down your body.

‘’That,’’ He mumbles, his eyes darting down to watch his fingers wander until they reach the hem of your shirt. The feeling of his cold fingertips dancing across your exposed thighs ever so lightly brings a small gasp out of you, one that brings a pleased hum out of the man seated underneath you.

‘’I might be,’’ His eyes wander back up, meeting yours — and you think you might pass out as they do. 

Lust, yearning and eagerness — all combined and lingering behind his hooded gaze, something you nothing but reciprocate. ‘’But whose fault is that, huh?’’

He doesn’t give you the chance to respond. Not that you would have if he did.

His hands remain placed on your thighs as his lips meet yours, the tips of his fingers lightly digging into the skin. It’s nothing but a chaste, small peck onto your own — until it’s not, until he presses his lips against your own once more — with much more force, and all the more eagerness.

Eagerness to have you, to feel you; something he conveys by allowing his tongue to swipe across your own and by allowing his fingernails to slightly sink into your flesh. Your fingers remain buried into his hair, fingertips grazing his scalp as you gather more strands into your fists.

It’s always this way, though, you think. He’s always this eager, and it’s always just as straight forward, no matter what time or where he is. He’s eager and passionate about everything he does, and you — you’re no exception.

A light tug of his hair brings a low grunt out of him, one that gets muffled by his tongue slipping into your mouth and deepening the kiss further. 

‘’Was worried you’d be asleep,’’ He mumbles into the kiss as his hands glide over your warm skin, fingertips slipping under the fabric of your shirt that rests against the top of your thighs. “Worried I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

You hum against his lips, ‘’Worried you wouldn’t get to fuck?’’

Your question causes the man to chuckle, pulling away ever so slightly before tilting his head. His tongue comes out to collect the saliva that had gathered in the corner of his mouth, as both surprise and amusement paints his features.

‘’Mouthy today, are we?’’ He remarks, and you suppose it’s true, too. Why, is something you can’t answer — but if you had to guess, it has to do with the question still somehow lingering in the back of your mind.

He’s here, and you have him — so just why are you craving for more, and despite having him right underneath you, why does it feel like he’s not really there?

You already know why.

Because he’s here to fuck — not to see you. You, as in who you are, you, as someone that holds more significance than just someone to slip into the sheets with.

And the realization that you’re nothing more than just that — it stings, and it leaves a deep burning sensation to linger deep within your chest. A sensation you know you have, frankly, no right to feel.

“Am I wrong?” You challenge him. A challenge he accepts by allowing a breathy chuckle to trail off his lips as and for one of his hands to leave the top of your thigh.

“What if I told you,” He whispers back after a moment, allowing the same hand to travel up the side of your body, “that you are?”

Strike one.

Dainty, manicured fingers comes up to cup the side of your neck, cold fingertips slipping into your hair, “That maybe,” His lips brush against your own as the words leave his lips ever so quietly, “I just wanted to see you?”

Strike two.

“Would that be so wrong?”

By the third strike, you decide you can’t take another one. To stop him from further breaking your heart, you give him the best answer you can — by pressing your lips against his own, capturing his lips in a kiss both more hungry and urgent than the previous one.

You know he’s lying. You know it’s meant to be playful, that his words mean nothing more than just some meaningless teasing. But it’s not, it’s not playful to you — it’s borderline heartwrenching.

The man seated underneath you grunts into the kiss as your teeth clash together. The hand placed on top of your thighs wanders back up to your hips, fingers harshly grabbing onto the fabric adorning the area. 

The sudden tug at the strands of hairs that had fallen in between his fingers pulls a whine out of you, a whine that Hongjoong muffles and discards as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. Slowly, he guides your hips against his crotch — and the friction causes yet another whine to spill past your lips.

A low hiss leaves the back of his throat as you sink your teeth into his bottom lip, something that causes his grip on your hip to grow more firm as he slightly bucks his hips up against you. Desperate, in a way, you think.

The desperation is mutual, though — something you prove by grabbing onto the hand placed on top of your hip, before guiding it down to the hem of shirt.

A muffled chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls away from the kiss, fingers fiddling with the fabric in an attempt to push it away and up your stomach. 

‘’So eager,’’ He mumbles as he manages to get the fabric out of the way, and he doesn’t give you the chance to defend yourself before his fingers slip under the hem of your underwear.

Fingers pressing firmly against your slit pulls a hum out of you. A hum in both agreement and in pleasure, a hum to confirm that you are, in fact, eager. Eager to feel more, for him to give you more than just fingers pressing against you.

Another chuckle rips through his chest, almost like he’s taunting you before his lips are back onto yours. Slowly, his fingers begin to draw light circles over your clit, far from what you need but enough to satisfy you for now.

‘’Always loved that about you,’’ He mumbles as a small moan trails of your lips in result of his fingers speeding up ever so slightly, ‘’How eager you are,’’

You’re about to reply, to tell him that he’s the one who’s always so eager, when his hand suddenly slips out of your underwear — causing your eyes to shutter back open to look at him, to try and see why he stopped.

The confusion written on your face, combined with the desperation for him to continue causes the corners of his lips to curl into a grin. A satisfied grin, and equally playful. His fingers slip out of your hair, grabbing onto your jaw before swiping the thumb across your bottom lip.

‘’Open,’’ He commands, and you allow your lips to part — just for him to place his fingers against your tongue. A low ‘ah’ escapes past his lips as your tongue swipes across the pads of his fingers, his eyes darting down to look at the way your saliva coats his fingers.

His eyes low and lips slightly parted as your lips wrap around the base of his fingers, and you can’t help but smile as you feel him twitch against your clothed core. ‘’Fuck,’’ He groans as his fingers slip out of your mouth, now wet and coated in saliva. ‘’Might cum by just watching you,’’

The laugh that almost leaves your lips gets ripped away and replaced by a gasp as his fingers return to their original position, slipped under your underwear and pressed firmly against your slit. His fingers tighten around your jaw, using the grip to capture your lips in yet another messy kiss.

He wastes no time before once more drawing circles over your clit — this time much more firmly and all the more determined. A low whine leaves your lips as his tongue swipes across your own, allowing yourself to get lost in the taste of his lips, in the feeling of his fingers rapidly drawing circles against you — to get lost in him.

Despite having found yourself in this position countless of times before, Hongjoong somehow always makes it feel like it’s the first time. Like it’s the first time you’re experiencing his touch, like his lips have never collided with your own before — the hunger and the excitement is still there, like the first time.

You often find yourself wondering just where you would be if you never did kiss him that night. If you never had gotten a taste of something that would later turn out to be almost lethal — where would you be, and what would Hongjoong mean to you?

Would he have remained as nothing more other than Mingi’s producer friend? Would he have remained as the guy who showed up with different hair colors every time you saw him, and the guy who had never once shown any interest in you or anyone else, really — something you will never know, you suppose.

Perhaps things could’ve gone differently, you think. If you never had kissed him, a kiss that turned into a relationship based on lust and confusion, you could’ve gotten to know him differently. As a friend.

Perhaps then, there could’ve been something more.

Something that is no longer possible, now that it’s too late.

It doesn’t take long for the man to push you over the edge, something he notices once your legs start quivering and squeezing shut around his hand. ‘’Hongjoong,’’ You manage to breathe out, fingers grabbing onto his hair even harder. As a warning, you think, to tell him you’re close. To tell him not to stop.

Something he doesn’t listen to, something he discards as his fingers suddenly slip out of your underwear once more, ripping and taking your orgasm away from you. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming, you think as a shaky breath leaves your lips and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

‘’No, not yet, want you to come around me,’’ 

You wish to tell him off, to curse at him for taking your orgasm away. You don’t. Instead, your eyes meet his — lust lingering behind them, and a hint of playfulness.

‘’Then fuck me, now.’’

Your breathy attempt to command him causes a chuckle to rip through his chest as your lips meet his own, hands immediately coming down to fiddle with the zipper of his pants. 

‘’Already on it,’’ He mumbles into the kiss, hastily and clumsily pushing his pants down his thighs — followed by his underwear.

A hiss leaves his lips as his fingers wrap around his length, red and leaking from the tip from not receiving any attention. His fingers curl around the fabric of your underwear before pulling it to the side, too eager to take them off completely. You don’t mind — you’re just as desperate.

He breaks the kiss to lean backward, hand lazily stroking himself before pressing the tip against your now exposed entrance. The feeling causes a small moan to leave your lips, pushing yourself up in order for him to comfortably slip himself into you.

The stretch slightly burns as a result of him not properly prepping you, but you don’t care. The orgasm he ripped away from you was more than enough prepping you, you think.

A low grunt leaves his throat as you slowly sink down on his length, hands coming down to grab onto your hips. Rubbing small, soft circles onto your hips, he attempts to comfort you as your eyes flutter shut, face twisting into a combination of pain and pleasure.

It’s not until he’s fully buried inside of you that you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, eyes fluttering back open — just to be met by a sight that almost causes your breath to hitch in your throat.

With his bottom lip placed between his teeth, he looks at you through hooded eyes. A sight for sore eyes, really. And equally heartbreaking, too.

‘’Come here,’’ He breathes as he pulls you against him, capturing your lips in yet another kiss. This time, it’s a soft one, one that feels almost too intimate. He presses another one onto the corner of your lips, before placing another one on your jaw. ‘’Let me take care of you.’’

It’s a whisper that sends a chill down your spine, followed by a whimper as his hips slowly thrust into you. Your hands slip out of his hair and come down to grab onto his shoulders, before resting your head in the crook of his neck. 

Moments like these, where he allows you to melt into him and submerge yourself in him, aren’t exactly rare — but that doesn’t make them any less special.

One hand wanders to your back, placing it firmly against your lower back before slowly thrusting into you once more. ‘’So tight,’’ He mumbles, ‘’All for me, right?’’

You just nod in response, unable to give him any other form of response as his length slides further into you. He just hums before slightly picking up his speed, ‘’Look at me.’’

The hand placed on your hip comes up to grab onto the side of your face, forcing you to look at him. Your lips part as he thrusts into you, slightly harder than the previous one — his fingers coming around to wrap themselves around your throat.

It’s not rough, the way they grab onto the sides of your neck. It’s more a way of just keeping you there, to feel you, you think. The whine that spills past your lips causes a hiss to leave his lips, burying himself deep inside of you.

‘’Say it,’’ He breathes, ‘’Say you’re mine.’’

‘’I’m yours,’’

As the words leave your lips, low and no higher than a whisper, only then does he pick up his pace. A broken moan rips its way through your chest as he thrusts into you, with much more force and more rhythmic than the previous, slow pace he had set for himself.

I’m yours.

‘’Good girl.’’

I’m yours, but you’re not mine.

His hand delivering a harsh slap onto one of your asscheeks causes a yelp to leave your lips. The softness and intimateness that had just been present now nowhere to be found, and he’s back to being rough.

Rough, with the intention of making you cum before heading out.

His fingers squeeze the side of your neck before using the grip to lead you back into the crock of his neck, both hands coming down to grab onto your hips. The new gip makes it easier for him to slam your body onto him, meeting his thrusts halfway — the tip of his cock brushing past your g-spot.

‘’Fuck,’’ He grunts as your hips comes down, ‘’You fuck everyone this good?’’

You just moan in response, fingernails threatening to dig into the skin of his shoulders. Hongjoong, as talkative as always — especially during sex, you think.

‘’I don’t,’’ You manage to breathe out, your hips coming down to meet the base of his cock once more, ‘’I don’t fuck anyone else,’’

A confession, really. Confirmation of your previous statement. I’m yours, I’m only yours.

A guttural groan rips through him as the words, the confession, leave your lips. His fingers grab onto your hips even harder, fingertips digging into your skin and you’re sure they’ll leave marks for you to see once you’re done.

A reminder, for when he’s gone.

‘’Because you’re mine,’’

You can feel yourself growing closer to your orgasm with each harsh thrust, the knot in your stomach forming faster the more he speaks. The orgasm he had ripped away from you still lingers, waiting to be released — something that’ll happen sooner than you’d like for it to.

‘’You like that?’’ A breathy chuckle escapes past his lips, mocking you, ‘’You like hearing you’re mine?’’ 

A nod against his neck is all you have to offer him, followed by a moan as your hips come down his length. One of his hands slips away and down your legs, before pressing two fingers against your clit. 

‘’Come,’’ He breathes, fingers harshly rubbing against you. ‘’Make me yours.’’

The knot snaps before you even have the time to prevent it from happening, a broken moan getting caught in your throat as your orgasm washes over you. Your fingernails sink into his skin as you attempt to ground yourself, something that brings a loud groan out of the man seated underneath you.

For a moment, it feels like the whole world stops around you. Like there’s nothing but you and Hongjoong, a concept that doesn’t exist despite him claiming you as his. A concept that doesn’t exist when you freeze in his touch and allow yourself to come undone around him, and a concept that still doesn’t exist once you’re done.

A concept that never will exist, because Hongjoong will never be yours.

‘’Where,’’ His pants brings you out of your daze, vision slightly blurry as you come down from your orgasm while he relentlessly thrusts into you in an attempt to chase his own orgasm. ‘’Where do I cum?’’

You can tell he’s close by the stutter of his hips, his thrusts sloppy and his breathing uneven. ‘’Inside,’’ You breathe, ‘’Inside, please,’’

Your words is what sends him over the edge, his hips stilling and buried deep inside of you as his head hits the back of the couch. White ropes coat your walls as he shakily whimpers, hands grabbing onto your hips and pushing you down his length as he comes undone.

You remain seated on top of him as he relaxes and a shaky breath slips past his lips. He keeps his hands on your hips, his grip no longer firm nor is it rough. He simply holds you as you pant into the crock of his neck, still coming down from your own orgasm.

You wish to stay there. Seated on top of him, skin sticky and sweaty — you wish for him to stay.

‘’Stay,’’ You breathe into his skin after a moment of silence. ‘’Will you stay?’’

Another silence follows. The ticking of the clock hanging off the wall in your kitchen reminds you that time hasn’t stopped, and the pants coming from the man underneath you reminds you that nothing’s going to change.

You already know he’s not going to stay, he never does. And if he does, he’ll be gone by the time you wake up — you don’t care.

A little more time is all you need, to soothe the cravings. 

‘’Yeah,’’ It’s quiet, the way the word leaves his lips. ‘’I’ll stay.’’

As silence once again engulfs the room, you’re left with nothing but the bitter realization that he’ll still leave at the end of the day — and that Hongjoong is simply something you’ll never have, no matter how much you wish and long for him.

He’s not yours to keep, and he never was.