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venusvity · 2 days ago

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CHAPTER TWO: 2014 & 2015 ... LONG UNFORTUNATE WHILE.

STARRING ... JUNG YOONAH & SON JINHWA. WORD COUNT ... 4.6K SUMMARY ... Dreams are nothing like realities. &&. WARNINGS INCLUDE Sexual assault allegations, gaslighting, abuse of power, inappropriate workplace relationships, recounting of attempted sexual assault, and a lot of crying. Let me know if I missed anything.

“Oh, Yoonah, stop crying!”

Yoonah laughs at her mother’s cooing, her bottom lip quivering as the cameras around her continue to flash. On either side of her are her parents. Her father is on her left, and her mother on her right, both holding onto her arms that hold onto a bouquet of flowers nearly the size of her. She feels her mother lean in and squeeze her as tears continue to roll down her round cheeks. Yoonah shuts her eyes as her father rubs her back, a proud smile on his face as he pats her head sweetly like he did when she was little.

Debuting as the center of Emphasis feels like the highest honor Yoonah has ever achieved in her sixteen years on this planet.

Yoonah can hear her members chattering with their own families and friends. It feels like there are a million people backstage right now, but Yoonah has never been happier to be in such a crowded room. Her manicured nails squeeze her flowers, the paper around them crinkling as she does so. They’re from her father’s garden. She can tell by the fully bloomed yellow dahlias and long-stemmed salvias throughout the array of flowers. Gardening was his passion always has been. He said it brought him peace when he felt the world was falling apart.

“Can I get a picture with my favorite idol?” Yoonah opens her eyes with a sniffle, laughing through a tight throat when she sees Jinhwa standing beside the cameraman. Several men with cameras walk around, taking pictures of what Yoonah has to assume is press or for memories. Yoonah gives Jinhwa a nod, wishing she could wipe her eyes before they take a photo, but her hands are too full holding her flowers. She’ll get over it, she thinks, blinking her stuck-together lashes to hopefully make her gaze less watery, but she isn’t sure it works.

Jinhwa moves in, giving a polite and small bow to her parents as he moves closer to Yoonah. He’s wearing a suit that Yoonah likes the color of. It’s grey, and his tie is black. Her eyes scan over his outfit before looking up at his face. His skin looks so smooth and dewy, making her fingers ache to touch it. His hair looks soft, a dark shade of brown and long. There’s a natural wave to the locks she never noticed before. Jinhwa always had a slight tousle to his hair that Yoonah liked, making her want to run her fingers through it and fix it. She always has an urge to touch him, but she never does. She’ll wait for him to touch her like she always does.

Jinhwa moves to where Yoonah’s father once stood, putting his hand on the small of her back. She feels her cheeks get hot, thanking the lord they were already flushed from her crying as she adjusts her shoulders, subconsciously sniffling once again. Yoonah rubs her cheek on her shoulder to hopefully alleviate some of the glossy sheen from her cheek. Then there’s a hand on her cheek, brushing away the wetness with a pair of knuckles that could only belong to Jinhwa. Yoonah can’t stop herself from laughing softly, ducking her head down and covering her face with her flowers. She can hear her parents laughing and feel Jinhwa laughing beside her, raising his hand from the small of her back to sling her exposed shoulders, patting her arm softly.

Despite getting goosebumps wherever Jinhwa touched her, she wished he kept his hand on the bottom of her waist. She liked it when he touched her like that, where no one could see. It felt like a secret between them. Yoonah likes having secrets. She likes making people guess and leaving them wondering, but she fears she talks too much to be seen as mysterious. She wouldn’t talk nearly as much if she and Jinhwa had a secret. For now, they don’t, and maybe they never will, but Yoonah pretends they do.

“Always so cute,” Jinhwa coos playfully, nodding towards her mother with a charming smile, “Just like her mom, yeah?” Yoonah laughs again, hitting his chest as her mother laughs as well, always liking a compliment even as she shoos away Jinhwa’s words with her hand.

Finally, they smile at the camera. One of them smiles with her teeth while the other only his lips, making a thumbs up with the hand next to her shoulder. The camera flashes once, twice, three times before the man behind it turns the device towards them to see. Jinhwa keeps his arm around Yoonah’s shoulders, pulling her in with him to look at the photo of them on the little digital screen.

He towers over her so easily, but Yoonah likes that. She feels safe like this. Her eyes glance over at Jinhwa with a sweet smile before at the screen, nodding happily.

“I like that one,” She tells him, her smile growing when Jinhwa hums and looks up at her, smiling as well.

“You look very pretty in it. I love this color on you.” She figures he would. He picked out all of the girl's outfits, but she pretended that meant something special between the two of them.

“Let’s get all the girls together,” A photographer calls, grabbing their attention and popping Yoonah’s bubble. Suddenly, the room is loud again, and she’s aware it's not just her and Jinhwa. Still, he squeezes Yoonah’s shoulder before letting go to let the girls conjugate in the center of the room. Without a word, she passes him her flowers, and he takes them silently, turning away to stand with Jihan over with the rest of the Angelico staff.

Ten girls messily huddle together, Akiko adjusting everyone as a leader would to make sure they don’t look a complete mess.

“Yoonah in the center,” Akiko says simply, dragging her friend into the center, making the other girls adjust to acclimate her.

“I want to be next to Yoonah!” A small voice calls as Yoonah finally wipes under her eyes, flipping her long, wavy black hair over her shoulder. She’s always wanted sisters, especially younger ones, and now she feels like she’s gained nine of them, but Mijoo will always be special. She’s the youngest of the group and looks it. Short and small with a baby face that everyone adores. Yoonah beckons the youngest over without a word, simply waving her hand over, causing the younger to rip out of Akiko’s hold and rush over to where Yoonah stood. Her skinny arms wrap around Yoonah’s waist, making Yoonah wrap her arm around Mijoo’s shoulders, giving her a tight yet brief hug before adjusting her to be in front, making her the center of the photo instead of herself.

Akiko sighs at the displacement but doesn’t say anything. Her sharp eyes give the group a look over before nodding, giving her nine members a thumbs up, and inserting herself into the lineup on the other side of Mijoo. The cameraman watches the madness, letting the girls adjust their postures or fix their hair before lifting up his camera.

“On the count of three, everyone say: ‘Emphasis!’” The girls laugh as the entire room begins to countdown for them. Yoonah keeps her gaze on the camera, smiling like she had practiced a million times before in the mirror as the room reaches the end of the short countdown.

“Emphasis!” The girls cheer as the camera flashes.

“Yoonah, stop crying.”

Yoonah covers her eyes tightly with one hand, ducking her head down with a choked-up sob she tries to swallow down. Jinhwa is pacing the room like some kind of caged animal, speaking to her with a hard voice she’s never heard him use before. His office feels small, stuffy, and dimly lit due to one of his lights being off. It’s after hours. She assumes Jinhwa was getting ready to go home before this mess started. He has a family to get back to, Yoonah thinks, an overwhelming sense of guilt consuming her for what feels like the billionth time today. All Yoonah seems to know is guilt and shame. She prays for it to go away, but seems to only make it worse. Can she not be grateful for God’s blessings? She’s trying, but it’s so hard.

Yoonah sniffles noisily, lifting her head to look at Jinhwa by the side of his desk, finally stopping his pacing to lean against it with one hand while the other runs through his thick black hair.

“I didn’t call them, sir. I swear I didn’t-”

“Yoonah,” Jinhwa sharply cuts in, raising the hand on his face to silence her. She whimpers, shutting her eyes tightly and ducking her head down again. She can’t bear the shame sitting square on her bony shoulders, practically crushing her with every passing second. She didn’t call the police, she didn’t file a report, and she didn’t want any of that. Yoonah doesn’t want any of this.

“I don’t want this,” Yoonah speaks again through a sob, looking up at the man she so greatly admired with tearful eyes. Jinhwa finally looks at her, the stress clear on his face as they lock eyes. Yoonah shakes her head, shifting in her chair for what feels like a thousand times since she sat down. “I didn’t call them, Jinhwa. I promise I didn’t. Please say you believe me,” Yoonah pleads as fat tears streak down her round cheeks and her hands fidget with the leather-covered arms of her chair.

Jinhwa stares at her for a moment longer, silent. She watches his gaze soften the longer he stares at her, taking a deep breath before he looks away at his desk and plucking a tissue from a box with haste. He moves towards her, and Yoonah leans away at first, but Jinhwa doesn’t take it into account, putting one hand on the back of her neck to still her while the other wipes her cheeks with a gentleness that doesn’t match his gaze.

Yoonah stares at him with uncertainty, brows knit and lips parted as she watches his eyes. They stare at how his hand wipes away her tears with the tissue, sliding across her cheeks as if he’s polishing a doll made of glass instead of human skin. Her hands stay against her chest like she’s ready to defend herself, sitting stiffly in his hold despite always wondering what it would feel like to be touched by him. Yoonah’s tears now roll silently down her cheeks, watching the man in front of her with another sniffle.

“I believe you, Yoonah,” Jinhwa tells her softly, using the kind and warm voice she’s grown to know. Jinhwa’s eyes finally meet hers again, her hand still on the back of her neck. She swears she feels his hold tighten, but she must be hallucinating. Jinhwa would never hurt her. She’s sure of that. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head as his gaze drops.

“I just don’t know if the police will.” Yoonah doesn’t say anything to that, giving him a confused look. Jinhwa’s hand drops from her neck to her shoulder, where she can feel the full weight of it, making her jostle forward slightly with how heavy it is. Jinhwa’s deep-set eyes look back at her round ones, tilting his head with a sympathetic smile.

“They think Jaewoo assaulted you, Yoonah.” Yoonah feels dirty at the mere mention of the other man’s name, turning her head away from Jinhwa with a quiver of her bottom lip. Jaewoo’s handprints grow like mold on the places he grabbed her days ago, causing Yoonah to scratch at her wrists, her face distorting as her thighs squeeze together. She turns her body away from him, causing him to drop his hand from her shoulder. Delicately, he takes one of her palms into both of his hands. His thumbs kneed into her palm softly as he kneeled down to be at her level, but Yoonah still didn’t look at him.

There’s too much shame. Tears pool down her cheeks again when she remembers the burn of Jaewoo’s breath on her neck, causing her shoulder to rise so she can bring her cheek to it, a sob escaping her lips.

“I didn’t like how he touched me,” Yoonah finally whispers with tightly shut eyes, wrapping her fingers around Jinhwa’s palm and tightly squeezing. Though she can’t see, Jinhwa nods and squeezes her hand in return.

“I know, I know, that wasn’t right of him,” Jinhwa tells her softly, soothingly even, brushing her long black hair behind her ear and out of her face. He adjusts her top while his hand is near her shoulder, always wanting to tidy her up at the slightest imperfection. Yoonah can hear Jinhwa click his tongue. “But assault? He didn’t assault you, doll.”

Yoonah doesn’t say anything as she looks into his eyes again, blinking slowly. She doesn’t say anything but gives her head a small shake. Deep down, Yoonah knows that isn’t true. Maybe assault was dramatic, but Jaewoo put his hands on her. She knows he did. She still feels him touching her. People saw it. People stopped it. Someone told the police. If it wasn’t bad, why would this be happening?

Jinhwa gives her a small and pitiful smile when he sees her head shake, taking a deep breath. He brings her hand under his chin, resting atop her knuckles as they nearly turn white from holding onto his fingers so tightly.

“Are you still a virgin, Yoonah?” The question makes Yoonah’s eyes widen and her cheeks start to burn. Jinhwa is unwavering, still looking at her like she’s a soaked puppy on the side of the road in the pouring rain. Her gut twists in discomfort, but she nods assuredly.

“Of course, I am,” Yoonah whispers, looking down at where her hand is against his chin. She wishes to turn it upwards and hold his face in her palm. A single tear runs down her cheek, streaking down her neck. “I only want to do that with my husband.”

Jinhwa hums in approval, nodding. Yoonah swallows the lump in her throat, letting her head tip to the side with a quivering bottom lip.

“But he still touched me.”

Jinhwa nods with an understanding sigh, squeezing her hand.

“Where’d he touch you?” He asks. Yoonah shakes her head, shutting her eyes tightly.

“I’m embarrassed,” She whimpers out, covering one side of her face with the hand not held in his. “I didn’t want him to touch me.”

“Did he take your clothes off?”

Yoonah feels sick. She shakes her head.

“Did he touch you under your clothes?”

She doesn’t know why he’s asking so many questions like this. A part of her wants to scream for him to stop, but as it was before, nothing comes out. She shakes her head again, feeling a steady stream of tears flow down her cheeks.

Yoonah shakes her head again.

“Then why do you think he assaulted you, Yoonah?” He sounds so kind, but his words make her skin crawl. An urge to rip and claw at her skin until she’s nothing but meat and bones grows in her. If she were just meat and bones, men wouldn’t look at her, they wouldn’t touch her, and she’d be alone. She wants to be alone right now and deal with whatever this is by herself, but everyone is hyperfocused on her and helping her. She feels as if she’s drawing in a sea of concern she didn’t ask for.

Yoonah aggressively wipes her face, shaking her head with a tight groan.

“I didn’t say I did. I want to go home,” Yoonah says, looking at Jinhwa’s desk. Her palm feels sweaty and clammy; she wants to let go, but she doesn’t. Jinhwa tsks, causing a spike of irritation to flash through her.

“The police aren’t leaving until you speak to them, Yoonah…” She can feel him staring at her side profile before returning to his desk to pluck another pair of tissues from the box, wiping her face again. It feels useless as every tear or tear that Jinhwa wipes away, another trail is created. Yoonah can’t even feel that she’s crying anymore. Jinhwa shrugs like there’s nothing else he can do.

“Unless you tell them nothing happened.”

The silence that settles in Jinhwa’s office feels thick. She can’t feel anything but the silence and his gaze. Yoonah’s eyes dart at him, then at the door. His head tilts again, dropping her hand from under his chin to rest it on her thigh, removing himself from her physically as he stands up to tower over her again. Yoonah looks up at him, cast under his shadow, as he reaches out and adjusts her hair, patting it down and tucking it behind her ear.

“Because nothing happened, right?” Another silence. Yoonah finds herself staring at Jinhwa’s shirt with not a single thought in her head, nothing but static and buzzing filling her ears.

Nothing happened, she repeats to herself as her skin starts to burn again. Jaewoo had a heavy hand, pulling and dragging her to the bathroom until another man had to stop him. Reid. Yoonah had never seen violence like she had that day. She hates violence; she hates fighting, yelling, and blood, all of it makes her want to shrivel up and die. She likes pristine, clean, gentle voices. Nothing about that night in the hallway resembled any of those things.

Nothing happened.

“He didn’t take your clothes off, he didn’t touch you-”

“My knees,” Yoonah interjects, looking back up at him with a nervous swallow. Jinhwa raises his brows to urge her to continue. Yoonah blinks. “My knees have a carpet burn from where he dragged me.”

The silence that fills the office is dreadful, heavy and suffocating as Jinhwa looks away from the girl in front of him, sighing as he takes a step back. He points to her grey sweatpants, not a usual fashion choice from the girl who would rather die than not wear a skirt, but she hasn’t been up to getting dressed the days. She doesn’t think she deserves it.

“Let me see.” Yoonah waits a moment before leaning down to begin rolling up the loose fabric. Anything too tight hurts to wear. She flinches when the fabric lifts over her injured knee, brushing against the raw yet hardening skin. The red wound sticks out against her pale skin, starting from the center of her knee to the bottom of it. Parts of it are scabbing, while others look fresh. Arguably, she hasn’t been taking care of it as she should, figuring if she ignored the lesion, it would go away.

Jinhwa shuts his eyes with a deep sigh from his chest. Unavoidable. Yoonah finishes rolling up her other pant leg to show the other knee, which isn’t as scraped up, but a bright red patch of skin shines brightly even in the poorly lit office. She doesn’t look at him, her round eyes darting around the room until they land on a picture on Jinhwa’s desk.

It’s of him, his partner, Naomi, and their son, Noah. Naomi and Jinhwa aren’t married. Yoonah has met Naomi a handful of times when she would go to their house to help Noah with his dancing. She’s always so kind to her, and her smile is warm, like a mother’s. She doesn’t think marriage is necessary, is what she told Yoonah when she asked why she and Jinhwa aren’t married. Yoonah has always been curious, nosey as her father would say, but Naomi never second-guessed a question from her. She answers earnestly and honestly. Yoonah likes that. She likes Naomi.

Noah looks like her in this picture. Round eyes and a beaming smile that mimics his mother’s exactly. He’s younger in this photo, six or seven, but Yoonah thinks he looks the same. He’s always had his father’s nose, strong and straight. Jinhwa has a smile in this photo that Yoonah swears she’s never seen him have before; looking at Naomi with fondness and gentleness, Yoonah swears he’s never shown her before, or if he has, she’s only gotten the cheap version of it.

She wonders what it feels like to have gentleness from Jinhwa, for sincerity, to be believed by him.

Jinhwa rubs his chin, staring at Yoonah’s injured knees before slowly shaking his head. Their gazes meet again, and Yoonah only blinks at him, silently asking for some kind of direction.

“How’d that happen?” Yoonah looks up with a deep breath through her button nose. She doesn’t want to relive this again. She can’t stand the sticky feeling of Jaewoo’s hands on her. The burning of her blood is driving her insane. This chair she’s been sat in for what feels like hours feels like a prison. She wants to leave. She wants to go home. She wants her mother. She wants to be a favorite again. Yoonah presses her palms against her eyes with a tight sob, needing to let something out before she explodes.

“Don’t be a child,” Jinhwa snaps at her, making her sob again, bending over to press her head to her thighs, wanting to curl into a ball. He’s never talked to her like that before. Yoonah was rarely scolded or talked down upon most of her life. She’s always been good. She’s always been right. There was never a need for adults to use a stern tone with her. She can’t stand it.

She can hear Jinhwa move in front of her again. He’s closer than he was when he stood above her, so she assumes he’s kneeling in front of her again. She feels a hand on the back of her head, petting her hair as she quietly sobs into her thighs. He doesn’t say anything, simply petting her hair, waiting for her to speak which he knows she will. She just needs time.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Jinhwa whispers to her, letting his hand run down to her back. She’s wearing a tank top, exposing her shoulder blades that protrude through her skin like angel wings. Jinhwa’s hand splays out between them, feeling each staggering breath she takes. “I just want to know what happened, Yoonah. I don’t feel like I’m getting the full story.” Yoonah lets out another body-wracking sob. The weight of his hand isn’t much, but she feels held down by it, making her eyes shut tighter behind her palms.

“It’s hard for me to get the words out,” Yoonah tells him in a choked-up whisper, lifting her now flushed face, freshly wet with tears. She uses her palm to keep herself upright, resting the heel between her brows. Jinhwa slides his hand off her back to his side, waiting for her with a manufactured sympathetic gaze.

They wait.

And they wait, Yoonah’s eyes shut softly like she’s trying to fall asleep, her body jerking with every sniffle and sob she lets out.

“I was getting water,” Yoonah recounts in a hoarse voice, eyes still shut. “I was practicing with Aki and I went to get water from the fountain by the bathroom. Jaewoo came around the corner and started talking to me. I-” She didn’t want to talk to him, but she did anyways. He’s her senior, and she’s supposed to respect him. They’re ‘stage partners,’ as the managers call them. She should get along with him, but he irks her in a way she’s never felt before.

Priority and Emphasis often get promoted together as they’re marketed as brother and sister groups. If Priority is somewhere, Emphasis isn’t far behind. If an Emphasis member has an event scheduled, a Priority member is by her side. It’s all in preparation for their “supergroup” debut later this year. It’s all marketing, Jihan would tell the girls. They all needed a Priority member like the Priority members needed Emphasis, but Yoonah thinks Jaewoo took it too literally.

“I kept telling him I had to get back to practice. I wanted to practice. I was trying to practice, and he just kept-” Yoonah abruptly grabs Jinhwa’s wrist, tugging him as hard as she can, keeping her eyes trained on how her hand doesn’t wrap around him like Jaewoo’s did to hers. It makes her brows knit, and her stomach starts to twist. “He kept pulling me like this. He kept trying to get me in the bathroom, and I kept trying to pull away. I tried so hard, but he-he’s stronger than me. Then he-He like-” Yoonah hugs the air, wrapping her arms around her waist, and finally meeting Jinhwa’s gaze again.

“He grabbed me like this. And I tried to get away from him because he was touching me-”

“Where’d he touch you exactly?” Jinhwa asks, nearly cutting her off. She gives him an uncomfortable look, shaking her head. She can’t get the words out. It’s too gross to her, too shameful, but Jinhwa nods, seemingly understanding now. He motions to himself.

“Can you point to where he touched you?” Yoonah makes a face at that but nods, knowing there’s nothing else she can do. She doesn’t move for a moment. Her brows furrowed as she looked at his chest, blinking hard a few times before lifting her hand to point where she stared. Then she points down to his right thigh with an uncomfortable whimper, looking away from him as her lips quirked to the side.

“On the inside of it. Like he was trying to pick me up, so I went dead weight because I didn’t want…to go anywhere with him. That’s when he started dragging me, and I started crying because I was scared and I didn’t like how he was touching me. Then Aki was there, and she started yelling at him and hitting him to get him off me. Then Reid showed up—”

“And beat his ass.” Jinhwa finishes for her. Yoonah nods. That’s what happened. Reid’s fists didn’t stop pummeling Jaewoo’s face until Jihan ripped him off of the other. Yoonah hates violence. There was blood on Reid’s knuckles when he was done. Yoonah hates blood.

Jinhwa nods slowly, glancing at the door and then back at Yoonah, taking a deep breath before putting his hands out to her. She looks at them for a moment, causing her palms to itch. She slowly places her hands into his palms, watching his slender fingers wrap around her hands, and thumbs rub over her rosy knuckles, but his gaze never leaves her face.

“That’s really horrible what Jaewoo did, and I will deal with him accordingly, I promise, but…” Yoonah gives him a pleading look when she hears that “but,” making Jinhwa move a bit closer to her and squeeze her palms. “It wasn’t assault, honey. It wasn’t right, but it wasn’t assault. Do you really need to get the police involved?”

Yoonah’s throat tightens as her brown eyes glance at the door and then back at their hands. His hands easily dwarf hers, giving her a small sense of security. She blinks her watery eyes at him, shaking her head finally.

“No,” She whispers. “I didn’t tell them in the first place. I swear to God, Jinhwa. I didn’t tell anyone. Only Reid and Aki know…And Jihan. I don’t want people to know.” He takes in the information she tells him, eyes seemingly going vacant for a moment before he makes himself smile proudly at her.

“I’m proud of you for telling me, Yoonah. You did well.” He squeezes her hands once again before letting go of them. He stands, looking at the door of his office, then back at Yoonah, who stays in the chair she feels tied down to at this point.

“I’m going to let the police talk to you now,” Jinhwa tells her with a nod, “Are you ready for that?”

She isn’t. She feels bile rise in her throat.

Yoonah nods.

#╰ * venus : scenarios ⧽ burn it to the ground .#kpop oc #kpop fanfic #idol oc #fictional idol community #idol au #kpop au #bts addition #fake kpop oc #kpop addition #oc kpop group #oc girl group

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tedhead2 · 9 months ago

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nevermind im fine now

#it’s a little beat up and i can’t tell the year but he’s drinking coffee on some set and ive never seen it before #his hair is a little too dark and he’s in a suit and tie #so i think it’s scorpio era #early 70s #idk why i focus sm on old man burton i think it’s bc id drown 50s burt in a lake

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oreo-creampie · 2 months ago

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“𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! caught fucking and neither of you stop, sugar baby!reader, ceo au, light exhibitionism, light voyeurism, degradation/praise, impact play with a belt, choking with a belt, handjob, face fucking, satoru stick his thumb in your ass, cream pie, pain kink, collar and leash (they make one with the belt)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧! Ceo!satoru gets caught fucking his sugar baby at work but he doesn't stop

The heavy door of Satoru’s office automatically slides open with a small click. On the other side is a beautiful man in a black suit with angular dark brown eyes and long black hair.

His smooth, gentle voice contrasts his cocky smirk. “Thought I drop by for a surprise visit, didn't expect to be the one surprised.”Walking into Satoru’s office, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. “Suguru Geto.” Standing in front of you giving you an eyeful of the outline of his thick cock.

Your pussy sinfully clenches, you want them both. Looking up at Suguru pleading with Satoru, “Don’t stop! Don't stop! Nnn feels ‘s fuckin’ good.” Your messy cunt lewdly squelches, fluttering around Satoru. Getting off on Suguru watching you take Satoru’s cock.

Satoru’s long, veiny cock is making a mess out of your cunt. You’re dripping down your thighs as he wrecks your cunt with quick hard thrusts. Filling you with intense body-tingling pleasure making your knees weak.

It’s hot the way Satoru grunts, “Fuckin’ cumslut,” Clenching Satoru, biting your lip when he needy whines. “Her cunt got wetter, she’s a beautiful cock hungry whore.” Sharply smacking your ass, making your cheek jiggle. Crying as sweet hot pain spreads from your cheeks to your needy cunt.

Suguru unbuckles and tugs on his black leather belt. Biting your lip when he loops it, holding it out to Satoru. “Use my belt on her slutty ass. We can see how long it takes for her cheeks red.” Fondling Suguru’s hard cock through his pants. His cock is so heavy and thick, his balls are large.

Satoru slowly drags the leather belt along your cheek. Anticipation builds, “Best pussy sleeve I’ve paid for. Don’t fuck her mouth yet, I wanna hear her crying.” Gliding his cock out.

Smack! Smack! Smack! The desk keeps you from running away from the fourth.

Satoru groans, “It’s so hot when she tries to run away." Smacking your ass harder with the belt. "Where do ya think you're going? Stupid whores like you get their asses spanked for being dirty cock loving sluts.” Jerking forward with each sharp belt crack, clutching the desk.

Another click of the sliding doors. “Damn choke her out with it too while you at it.” A handsome man dressed less formally in white collar and black slacks. Short black hair hangs in his dark ocean blue eyes. His lips have a defining scar.

Satoru informs, “The meeting is delayed by an incoming flight.” Your cheek is warm with sweet white hot throbbing pain. The desk is the only thing keeping you up. “Beautiful,” Smack! “Here is helping me release a little stress.” Satoru massages your aching cheek, dragging the belt along your spine to your other cheek.

Looping the belt around your neck, lifting your head up, and choking you. “Her mouth is free to use.” Satoru lines himself up, swiping his head between your wet lips. Rutting his cock in with a harsh thrust of his hips and a loud smack of skin.

Suguru undoes and pushes down his pants with his underwear. His cock is beautiful, pale with a soft tan at his cockhead. There are two thick puffy veins close together. You want to choke, suck and gag on Suguru's fat dick.

Opening your mouth for Suguru, Satoru squeezes the belt around your neck. You hear the clank of a belt hitting the floor. A rough hand grabs your wrist, and he spits on your hand wrapping your fingers around his cock. Thicker than Suguru, swirling your hand stroking his cock, your fingertips don't touch.

Satoru spreads your cheek apart with one hand. Spitting on your other hole, swirling his thumb then sliding it in. "Since you got here late you can have the glory hole when after Suguru." It's all going to your messy cunt, getting off on being their slut. Hoping all three of them cum in your cunt leaving a mess to drip down your thighs when you head home.

Clenching Satoru's cock, gagging on Suguru's, stoking Toji. You're a mindless, cock hungry mess with spit dripping down your chin. Slick trickles down your thighs smearing onto Satoru's balls when they hit your clit.

Tears drip down your cheeks, Suguru buries his cock in your throat. Your cunt clenches Satotu with each gag.

Suguru croons "Awww she's crying!" Sliding his cock out, you gasp for air but nothing. Toji slides your hand off his cock when Suguru steps aside. Toji smacks his heavy cock against your cheek smearing your tears. Taking your mouth in slow deep thrusts.

Lying limp, trembling on Satoru's rocking desk. Your lungs are screaming for air. Toji's warm cock dragging along your wet tongue. Stuffing his head into your tight throat with a rough grunt.

Satoru holds your cheek with his thumb in your ass. “Fuck! Using her like this! She’s the perfect pussy sleeve.” Loosening the belt around your throat, Toji pulls his cock out giving you a moment to breathe.

Holding your hand out for Suguru’s cock, still slick with spit. Slowly sliding and swirling your hand along his cock. Staying close to his sensitive head, swiping your thumb every so often to smear his pre-cum.

Suguru asks “Do you think she will be ready for round two when we finish work?" Following it with a breathy moan when you pump your fist faster.

Cupping Toji’s balls take his cock in your mouth looking up at him. Your back is arched, cheeks jiggling. "Look at her, she a greedy cock hungry whore." Gagging you with his cock the spasming of your cunt has Satoru whining. As he tries to keep his pace steady, fucking you harder.

The soft twitching of his cock and the pulsing of his veins with his thumb inside your ass gets you closer. It's his hot thick cum spilling inside you that makes your squelching cunt cum.

Satoru tugs the belt wrapped around your neck like a collar with a short leash fucking his cum deep into you. Smearing some of it cum with sloppy slow thrusts.

Satoru's hips smack your ass one last time before he bottoms out. Stuffing in some of the cum that follows his cock back in with his fingers. "She'll be at the door kneeling in lingerie waiting to be fucked like the slut she gets off on being." Thick cum dripping from your cunt as Suguru takes his place.

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luveline · 2 months ago

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]

c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair.

He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please.

You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?

You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type.

Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?”

“Right there with you.”

You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers.

“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?”

You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mm-hm.”

He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?”

“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he��ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.”

“So you’re in need of company?”

You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?”

“What are you drinking?”

“Cherry spritzer.”

“Can I buy you another one?”

“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.”

“What’s that?” he asks.

You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much.

The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.”

Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference.

“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started.

“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”

His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast.

“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek.

You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest.

You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold.

“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”

He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side.

“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely.

“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.

“Spencer.”

“Yeah?”

“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over.

Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly.

“Just this.”

“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.”

So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything.

Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows.

He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.

“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear.

You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone.

You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back.

He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee.

It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are.

“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.

You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?”

He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “When did that happen?”

“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.”

“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.”

Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder.

“That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed.

How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone.

“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can.

“Nowhere.”

“So where have you been?”

He takes a breath. “Turn around?”

You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose.

“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek.

How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders.

—

You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs.

“You okay?” a voice asks.

You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face.

His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.”

You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes.

“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently.

“I’ll leave soon.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.”

“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving.

“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.

His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?”

He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?”

You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?”

“Just while I was waiting for you.”

“What do you do?”

“What?”

“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror.

“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.”

“Like, statistics?”

He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly.

Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.”

“And you’re good at it.”

“I’m good at math, yeah.”

“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?”

His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss.

You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away.

“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.”

“Me too.”

“And you’re okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing hurts?” he asks.

“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.”

“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb.

“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day.

“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.”

You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.

It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes.

For a pause, you just sit.

This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good.

“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask.

“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.”

”Really?”

“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.”

“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again.

You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?”

“We might have to stand very close.”

You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to.

—

Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were— and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride.

Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked.

Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other.

Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way.

When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details.

Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles.

“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”

“You’re never disgusting, let me–”

He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him.

“Spence, can you–”

“It’s going up your nose–”

“–stop, holy s–”

He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?”

“You wanna share?”

“Yes!”

“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.

He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly.

“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.”

He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand.

“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face.

“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?”

“No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.”

You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.

You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.

Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling.

“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says.

You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?”

“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”

“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”

“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.”

“You know what shampoo I use?”

“I deduced it.”

“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”

He smiles shyly. “I just can.”

“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?”

“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”

He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.”

“You distract me, too.”

You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”

“I don’t really want you to.”

You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend.

“I like you too,” he laughs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“Not just…”

“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing.

“Should we go out, then?”

“We do.”

“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.”

Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight.

“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly.

“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.”

“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.”

“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.”

“And if I don’t?” he asks.

“Then we get married in Vegas.”

“You could meet my mom.”

“I’d love to meet your mom.”

“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks.

“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.”

“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin.

You stroke his cheek with your nose.

Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough.

“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.

You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile.

“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks.

“I can’t remember.”

“I can remind you?”

“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.”

“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted.

“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.”

Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

5K notes · View notes

naughtyjjk · 8 months ago

Text

testing nanami kento’s self-control

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, riding, cock tease, edging, orgasm denial, begging, creampie notes: it's just so hot to see a man who's always composed start to break down hehe

whenever nanami comes home, his suit and tie are always in pristine condition, even after a long day of work. there’s never a strand of hair out of place or a speck of dust to be found anywhere. that’s just how he is—precise and focused and meticulous, almost to a fault.

even when you’re undressing him, kissing him, bringing your bodies together, he still manages to be so put together that it’s honestly a little frustrating. it makes you want to tease him to the point of torture and go slow enough that he falls apart. so slow that he begs.

you want to see him lose control. you want to ruin him.

pushing nanami down on the bed, you climb on top of him and grab the lube, slicking his cock with a few strokes. he’s already so hard, flushed red and throbbing in your grasp, desperate for more. when he bucks his hips to try and fuck himself in your fist, you let go completely and tsk at him.

“don’t move,” you say, coaxing him. “let me take care of you today.”

sighing, nanami lies back down, hips going still. you shift yourself so that your pussy is lined up with his cock, using a hand to brush the tip against your folds, never going further than that. this goes on for agonizingly long as you tease the both of you, feeling his hard cockhead poking at your entrance.

you push down a little, applying the slightest of pressure, and hold it there until you hear nanami groan, his cock twitching with arousal. he’s looking at you with lidded eyes, expression dark and hungry. “darling…”

but you only grin and move again, this time almost allowing his cock to slip inside you. almost. so close, but not quite there. you drag the head past your entrance, dipping barely inside, before you lift your hips again. nanami’s breath hitches, chest heaving. he swallows thickly, arms tense by his side, fighting against his instincts to keep himself still.

“ah—f-fuck—”

leaning forward to kiss him, you catch his bottom lip and flick your tongue over it. meanwhile, you spread your legs a bit wider and finally, finally sink down so that the very tip nudges inside you. only the tip. nanami is moaning your name in broken pieces, mixed in with a few curses and whimpers.

then you stop. again.

nanami groans in frustration and his hips jerk up involuntarily, but you were expecting it. you move with him, keeping just the tip of his cock in you, maintaining the position and refusing to let him go any deeper.

“wh-what did i do to deserve this teasing?” nanami asks, looking like he’s about to lose it.

you lick your lips and reply honestly, “you’re always so composed, kento. i want to make you desperate for it, see you completely wrecked for me.”

for a few more seconds, you stay in the same position, unmoving. the stretch of his cock is nice; he’s hardly even really inside you yet, but your pussy is already adjusting to his size, opening up for him. it’s so tempting to take all of him like you’ve done many times in the past, to ride him and bring him straight to the edge. but no. not yet. you have a plan to follow through.

lowering your hips just the slightest, you sink down further, taking more of his cockhead until the crown is almost fully inside. you can feel him throbbing against your walls, wanting more but never getting it.

nanami lets out a broken moan, breath stuttering. “you’re being cruel. how long are you going to make me wait?”

“that,” you say, “depends on how long you can hold out.”

as if to punish him, you raise your hips again, smiling wickedly as you pull away until all of him is resting outside your entrance again. it’s hard for you, too; you miss the feeling of having him inside. but you remind yourself that you’re going slow, as slow as you possibly can. slow so that you can watch nanami break.

nanami groans, low and needy. his hands clench and unclench the bedsheets by his sides. “fuck.”

without warning, you drop down again suddenly, less than an inch just so that you have the tip of his cock in you again. nanami gasps, throwing his head back against the pillow. you take in all the sensations: the messy feeling of lube and precum, the way nanami’s hard cock twitches with desire. how he’s struggling and using every ounce of his willpower to not buck up and thrust into you.

“good boy,” you lean in to whisper right by nanami’s ear, watching with delight as he shudders in response. he’s breathing hard, every muscle in his body tensed up.

you keep him there inside you for what seems like forever. every tiny shift of movement is agonizing and extra sensitive, sending waves of pleasure from where you two connect to the rest of your body. you can tell that nanami also feels it, by the way he’s losing control more and more with each passing second.

and that’s exactly what you want. it’s working. you’re going to break him down piece by piece until he’s nothing but a shaking, writhing, horny mess beneath you.

it’s such a fucking turn on to see nanami’s self-control slipping, breaths growing ragged, waiting in anticipation for whatever you’re willing to give him next. it’s getting hard for you to hold back as well. you let just a tiny bit more of nanami’s cock into your pussy so that all of the head is nestled inside and then you start the shallowest, most torturously slow rhythm you’ve ever done in your life. hardly moving at all, the most miniscule rolls of your hips to take only the tip of his cock over and over again.

up… and down…

“o-oh god,” nanami curses, and he can’t help rocking his hips to follow your rhythm, matching your pace. he knows better now than to try for anything more, knows that you could take it all away from him at any moment.

each time his cock nudges its way back inside you, your pussy clenches around him. tight, like it doesn’t want to let him go. and nanami moans, feeling your walls clamp down on his cock, wishing that he could feel your warmth along the rest of his neglected shaft, too.

he looks delirious now, so fucking aroused with his mouth parted and his eyes hazy and unfocused. his cock throbs and pulses inside you, making him dizzy with pleasure. the shallow thrusts are getting to him, slowly but surely, the sensation building up in tingling layers, bringing him closer to the edge.

honestly, you’re teasing yourself as just much as you’re teasing nanami. with only short strokes of his cock that barely manage to penetrate you, you feel empty, craving for him to hit your deepest parts. on one hand, it’s so fucking hot to drag it out like this, so arousing to see nanami at your mercy. on the other hand, you’re reaching your limit, too.

“beg,” you say. “tell me how badly you need it. let me hear you beg, kento.”

there seems to be an internal battle going on within nanami as he grits his teeth, trying to resist. but it’s futile; you simply keep moving your hips in that slow, steady rhythm until it becomes unbearable and nanami gives in embarrassingly fast, mind clouded with lust.

“hah—p-please, i can’t—fuck, please—”

“mm,” you consider his words. “please what?”

nanami chokes out a moan. “i wanna fuck you—ah, please, your pussy—” he looks at his aching cock, the precum spilling down the sides, the way his cockhead disappears into you. “let me come—i-i need—” then he gasps, “oh shit—”

it’s beyond arousing to hear him like this. in that moment, you don’t let him finish his sentence as something snaps within you and you give in to your own desires. your hips slam down on him without warning, burying all of his cock inside you in a single, rapid movement.

an intense wave of pleasure rushes through both of you, every nerve ending igniting at once. you moan, overwhelmed. you’re filled so deep and so fast that it takes a second for you to return to your senses. and nanami—fuck, the sound he makes, low and guttural, a stuttering, broken moan that should be illegal. his abdomen clenches, thighs shaking. it’s only one full thrust, but you can tell that he almost came right then and there.

“fuck.” his voice sounds destroyed, fucked out. chest heaving, he wants so badly to buck his hips into you until he’s spilling his release into you. it won’t take much more to get him there. but he very carefully doesn’t move, still following your orders, still being good.

“k-kento,” you whine, staying there, the sensation of his cock pulsing and splitting you open driving you dangerously close to orgasm as well. you don’t dare to move until the pleasure simmers down into something more manageable, until you’re sure that you’ve fallen away from the edge.

that’s when you draw your hips up again. still going slow, so fucking slow that it almost breaks you—but it breaks nanami too, and that’s what you’re aiming for.

by this point, nanami’s composure has completely crumbled. he’s resigned himself to the torture as you restart the aching, brutally slow thrusts. the tip of his cock dips into you, as far as the crown of his cockhead, and then pulls out almost all the way. again and again and again.

you’re dripping wet, the teasing against your pussy reaching an unbearable degree. there’s nothing you want more than to take nanami fast and deep, to feel him hitting your most sensitive spots instead of just playing with the entrance. but you almost have nanami where you want him and you’re betting on him to give in first.

“please—ah, m-more—” nanami cries out, breathy and horny and frustrated, trembling from the effort of holding himself back.

you keep the same pace, not giving him what he wants. keeping him just on the edge of satisfaction, waiting him out. and it’s infinitely worse now that you’ve both had a taste of what you could be getting instead.

your hips move up. then down.

then up again.

the crown of his cockhead catches and releases from your pussy, delicious friction causing your head to spin. nanami’s neck is arched, looking at you with narrow eyes, aroused beyond his limits.

“f-fuck, fuck,” he rambles nonsensically, body so tense. “please—let me—i’m—i need—let me inside you—i c-can’t take it anymore—”

“just a little longer,” you tell him, and nanami groans. “you can hold out for a few more minutes, can’t you? be a good boy for me.”

those words make a desperate, wrecked sound escape from his lips and his self-control is slipping, slipping, slipping. he’s turning wild under you now, squirming, writhing, frenzied and starved for his release. your own willpower is dissolving at the sight of nanami’s desperation.

your hips descend on his cock again, clenching tight around the tip. nanami sucks in a sharp breath.

up, agonizingly slow, leaving him throbbing at the loss of contact. this time, you let out a moan, feeling so empty. god, it’s not enough for you either, not nearly fucking enough.

“need you—n-need to feel you,” nanami pleads, whimpering, chanting your name over and over. “please, please, i’m close—fuck, i’m so—”

he’s panting, cock twitching madly, and this —this is exactly what you had been waiting for the whole time: nanami completely ruined, nanami undone by your actions, nanami looking at you with pure hunger and lust, overtaken by arousal. he seems to be right on the edge of pleasure, so close to tipping over, body burning with an orgasm held at bay. you’re sure that when you finally allow him to come, it’ll be ecstasy like he’s never felt before, coming harder than he ever has in his life.

and that’s the end of your limits. you can’t deny either of you any longer.

you slam your hips down all at once, plunging nanami’s hard, aching cock inside you.

“ah—!”

“f-fuuuck—”

nanami moans, loud and guttural and absolutely wrecked. it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. his cock splits you open, so hard and thick, and you fall forward on his chest as your pussy spasms around him.

the sensation is entirely overwhelming, your mind going blank, pleasure jolting along your nerves tenfold, having built up by the teasing and denial.

“o-oh god,” nanami pants. he bends his knees to drive his cock even deeper inside you, and the change in angle makes you fucking delirious. “good, so good—”

you’re all out of patience. there’s no more waiting, no more drawing this out.

looking at nanami, you say, “kento. take what you need. make yourself come.” you swirl your hips in a circular motion, feeling his cock hitting every corner inside you, and both of you moan at the same time. “fuck me.”

something sparks in nanami’s eyes, washed over by a fresh wave of arousal. before you know it, he’s flipped the two of you over so that you’re now lying on your back and he’s propped up above you. his eyes stare into yours, so intense, and that’s when you know: he’s going to devour you.

with a growl, nanami begins to move, pulling out his cock just enough to shove it back into you. hard and fast and so, so fucking deep. your mouth parts but no sound comes out. you can’t think straight; your pussy feels so full, stretched tight around his aching cock.

“kento—kento—”

but nanami isn’t listening to you anymore. he’s so wound up, so fucking turned on beyond reason, that he can’t hold back anymore. he starts thrusting wildly and unrestrained using short, quick rolls of his hips to drive his cock into you. each inch that enters you burns with pleasure and the room fills with the filthy sounds of your moans, of nanami pounding his cock into you again and again.

“this is payback,” he says, voice low and raspy. it makes you shudder to think about what he has in store for you. “i'm gonna—hah—gonna fuck you until you scream. fill you up with my come. shit, and i won’t stop until you’re coming on my cock like the naughty fucking girl you are.”

nanami’s hips are stuttering but his pace never falters. his next thrust hits that sweet spot inside you, making you arch off the bed and gasp, sparks of pleasure dancing along your spine. and now that nanami has found it, he aims there every time, knowing how sensitive it is, how it brings you that much closer to the edge.

moaning, it’s all you can to do keep up with the brutal thrusts. your stomach coils, orgasm building and building, threatening to take over your body. it feels so fucking good. nanami’s cock is pushing deep inside you, hard and fast, pulsing against your walls, stretching you open. he uses a hand to find your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub, and you cry out, hips bucking up to chase the sensation, clenching around his cock on instinct.

“oh—fuck, k-kento, i'm—i'm coming—”

the pleasure crests and your arousal spikes. you know that you won’t be able to endure it for much longer. and nanami is right there with you, thrusts turning erratic and desperate.

“m-me too,” he says, grunting. “come. don’t hold back. come for me, baby.”

one, two more thrusts and you’re moaning his name, body convulsing in waves. nanami fucks you through it, sending aftershocks to your nerves, and then he’s coming too, releasing everything that’s built up inside of him in spurts. he’s loud when he comes, mouth next to your ear; louder than you’ve ever heard him, riled up by all the teasing. his cock twitches inside you and his hips slow, eventually go still.

god, it’s so damn hot that it almost makes you want to fuck him all over again.

for a moment, both of you lie there, catching your breaths. then nanami pulls out slowly, careful not to overstimulate you. he holds you like that and you melt in his arms, all the strength leaving your body.

“next time,” nanami says, sounding defeated, “you’re going to be the one begging for it.”

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu

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#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk men #jjk smut #jjk imagine #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #naughtyjjk

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ch0llies · 13 days ago

Text

EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO

brothersbestfriend!matt x innocent!reader

You’re an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt’s best friend. Which means off-limits in every way. But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can’t ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don’t understand the fire you’re playing with- but Matt does. And he’s burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.

story warnings: heavy make out, lowkey corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, pet names (sweetheart, angel), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 7k

a/n: i didn’t go into this with the intention of creating a similar story but as i read it over I’m realizing it’s very similar to an @ariestrxsh fic with the same trope. click here to read the first chapter of that! it’s very good and I recommend strongly!

You stand in front of the hallway mirror, tugging at the hem of your navy-blue dress, smoothing the fabric with your palms. The dress fits snugly, a little more mature than what you’re used to, but tonight isn’t just any night. It’s the sports award banquet. Your brother and Matt’s banquet. And your dad only let you tag along under the condition that you “stay out of trouble.”

But it wasn’t exactly you who he was worried about.

A sharp knock echoes from the front door.

“Get the fuckin’ door!” your brother shouts from upstairs.

“Okay, okay!” You huff, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor as you rush to answer.

When you unlock it, the bitter January air bites at your exposed skin, sending a chill down your spine. Matt stands in the doorway, hand raised mid-knock, his dark brows lifting when he takes you in.

His smirk is slight but enough to notice. “Well, don’t you look all grown up,” he muses, voice low and teasing. Then, without warning, he reaches out and ruffles the top of your freshly styled hair.

You scrunch your nose but let him, even though you just spent the better part of an hour curling it.

“Jesus, Matt,” you huff, stepping aside so he can come in. The cold air follows him as he shrugs off his coat, revealing a navy-blue suit, just a shade darker than your dress. You swallow, watching through the mirror as he tugs at his tie.

“You coming with us?” His voice is lighter now, curious but knowing.

“Yep! Daddy said I could tag along if I behave.” You smile, turning back to your reflection, smoothing your hair again.

Matt exhales a quiet chuckle, stepping closer behind you, his presence warm despite the winter air still clinging to him. You watch as he adjusts his tie in the mirror, his fingers long and practiced.

“You gonna behave then, sweetheart?” His eyes flick to yours in the reflection, amusement flickering behind them.

You nod, standing up straighter, suddenly aware of the way he towers over you. It’s always been like this. Him looking down at you, you looking up. The age gap was something your brother had always made a big deal about. ”Too old for you.” “Off limits.”

But Matt never seemed to care about that.

Your breath catches when his hand moves again, messing up your hair on purpose this time.

“Matt!” you whine, swatting his arm as you twist away. “I just fixed that.”

He grins, tongue running along his front teeth as he watches you pout. “Relax, kid, you still look pretty.”

Your stomach flips at that.

Before you can say anything, your brother’s voice rings out from upstairs. “Matty B! Get your ass up here!”

Matt sighs dramatically, shooting you one last glance before jogging up the stairs. You watch him go, your fingers tightening slightly around the fabric of your dress.

The banquet hall is grand, chandeliers casting a warm glow over round tables covered in crisp white linen. The clinking of glasses and laughter fills the air as athletes and their families mingle, celebrating another season of victories. You follow closely behind your brother and Matt, your heels clicking on the marble floor as you take in the scene with wide eyes.

Your brother spots your dad near the head table and heads off with a wave. “Don’t get into trouble,” he mutters over his shoulder.

“I never do,” you chirp back, but he’s already gone.

Matt stays beside you, his hand hovering at your lower back in a way that feels protective, almost possessive, but he never actually touches you.

“You stick with me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes scanning the room. “Don’t need you getting eaten alive in here.”

You blink up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

But before he can answer, a familiar voice interrupts.

“Damn, Y/N.”

You turn to see Jackson, one of your brother’s teammates, grinning at you like he’s just won something. “Didn’t know you cleaned up this nice.”

Matt stiffens beside you, but you don’t notice, too busy beaming at the compliment. “Thank you, Jackson! You look nice too.”

Jackson smirks, stepping closer. “You should let me take you out sometime. We could grab dinner, maybe see a movie, head back to my place?”

Before you can answer, Matt shifts slightly, his broad frame stepping just enough into the space between you and Jackson to make it clear. “She’s not interested,” he says casually, though there’s an unmistakable edge to his voice.

Jackson’s smirk falters. “She can answer for herself, can’t she?”

You glance between them, feeling a little lost. “I mean… I do like movies.”

Matt exhales sharply, running a hand down his face before placing it firmly on your lower back, actually touching you this time. “C’mon, angel. Let’s find our table.” His grip is gentle but insistent, steering you away before Jackson can say anything else.

As you walk away, you glance up at him. “That was kinda rude.”

Matt scoffs. “No, sweetheart. That was necessary.”

You frown but don’t push it, too distracted by the sight of the massive dessert table at the far end of the room. “Ooh! Can we get something sweet?”

His jaw clenches, but he nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Before you even make it halfway there, another one of your brother’s teammates- Tyler- sidles up beside you, grinning.

“Hey, Y/N,” he drawls, eyes trailing over your dress in a way that makes Matt’s fingers twitch against your back. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”

“My daddy let me come,” you say cheerfully. “It’s so fun! I didn’t know it’d be this fancy.”

Tyler smirks. “Your daddy, huh? You look real good all dressed up. Bet you’ve got guys falling all over you tonight.”

You blink. “Huh? Oh no, I just came with Matt and my brother.”

Matt sighs, long and slow. “Yeah, and she’s leaving with us too. Right, sweetheart?”

You nod, completely missing the way Matt glares daggers at Tyler. “Yep! Daddy said I had to go home when they do.”

Tyler chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s a shame. If you ever wanna have a little fun after curfew, you know who to call.”

You tilt your head. “Fun? Like… Games or…?”

Tyler lets out a loud laugh, but before he can respond, Matt steps in front of you completely, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Walk away, Tyler.”

Tyler holds his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. “Relax, man. Just messing around.”

Matt doesn’t budge. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t blink.

Tyler’s grin fades slightly before he turns and disappears back into the crowd.

You tug on Matt’s sleeve, pouting. “Why are you being so mean tonight?”

Matt exhales through his nose, looking down at you with something unreadable in his expression. “I’m not being mean, angel. Just looking out for you.”

You huff but let it go when you finally reach the dessert table, distracted by a chocolate fountain. “Oh my gosh! Look at this!”

Matt watches as you grab a skewer and dip a marshmallow into the melted chocolate, completely oblivious to the attention you’re getting from half the room.

His jaw tenses as he glances around, making sure no one else even thinks about coming near you.

Your brother would kill him if he knew how he was feeling right now. But as you happily hum while licking melted chocolate from your fingers, utterly unaware of the way his entire body is locked up with restraint- Matt knows he’s in trouble.

Big, big trouble.

The banquet is in full swing as the night goes on, the energy in the room buzzing with excitement as awards are handed out. Your brother wins MVP, grinning as he walks up to accept his plaque, you and the rest of the crowd erupting in applause. Matt wins Best Defensive Player, and when his name is called, you clap so enthusiastically that he shoots you a look- amused but slightly exasperated.

“Calm down, angel,” he murmurs as he sits back down, placing his award on the table.

“I’m proud of you,” you say, grinning.

Matt shakes his head, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he nudges your knee under the table.

Throughout dinner, glasses of champagne are passed around, and even though Matt gives you a warning look, you take one anyway.

“It’s just one,” you assure him, lifting the flute to your lips.

“That’s not just one,” he mutters as you reach for another a little while later.

But you don’t listen. The bubbles tickle your throat, making you giggle, and before long, there’s a slight warmth settling over you, your limbs loosening, the room feeling lighter, happier.

Matt groans when you sip your third glass. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart.”

Your brother, too busy celebrating with his teammates, doesn’t even notice.

Matt does, though. Matt always notices.

By the time the banquet winds down, you’re giggling at everything, eyes bright as your dad rounds everyone up to leave.

The ride home is quiet, the hum of the car filling the space. Your dad drives, your brother is on your left, and Matt is on your right. Somehow, you’ve ended up in the middle seat, legs tucked under you, your body loose and relaxed from the champagne.

You lean against Matt’s shoulder, sighing dramatically. “M’so sleepy.”

Matt stiffens, his whole body going rigid.

“You shouldn’t have had all that champagne,” he murmurs, voice low, almost strained.

You ignore him, nuzzling into his arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “But it tasted so good.”

Your brother snorts. “You’re such a lightweight.”

You pout, shifting slightly, pressing even closer to Matt. You don’t realize what you’re doing, the way your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on his forearm, the way your cheek presses against the fabric of his jacket, how warm he is.

Matt notices.

His jaw is clenched so tight it aches. He keeps his hands firmly planted on his thighs, muscles tense as he stares straight ahead. You’re touching him like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t mean anything. But to him?

It means everything.

Your fingers graze his wrist, and he exhales through his nose, shifting slightly in his seat, trying to put some distance between you. But you just follow, draping an arm over his bicep, your cheek now resting against his shoulder.

“You smell so nice,” you sigh, voice hazy, drunk and sweet.

Matt swears under his breath.

Your brother doesn’t notice. He’s too busy scrolling through his phone, occasionally grumbling about some play he should’ve gotten more credit for.

But Matt? He’s suffering.

Because you’re all soft touches and sleepy sighs, completely unaware of the fact that every innocent little move you make is driving him insane.

You shift again, snuggling impossibly closer. “You’re so comfy, Matty.”

Matt groans so quietly only you hear it. “Jesus.”

You blink up at him, bleary-eyed. “Hmm?”

“Nothing.” His voice is tight.

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder again, your fingers still tracing those mindless little patterns on his arm. “You’re so nice to me.”

Matt closes his eyes briefly, inhaling sharply through his nose.

If only you knew.

When you get home, the house is quiet, the air thick with the lingering chill of the winter night. Your dad mutters something about heading to bed, your brother and Matt trudging up the stairs after him.

You follow, still tipsy, still warm from the champagne, your limbs loose and slow as you move.

Matt is staying over, just like he always does after big game nights or events. He and your brother disappear into his room while you shuffle to yours, sighing as you peel off your dress, trading it for an oversized t-shirt- one that falls mid-thigh, barely covering your underwear. You tug on a pair of thigh-high socks, cozying up against the cold air before slipping on your blue light glasses, needing something to steady your still-spinning vision.

You head to the bathroom, flipping on the light, humming softly as you brush your teeth.

The door creaks open, and Matt steps in, rubbing his face tiredly before freezing in place when he sees you.

His eyes sweep over you, taking in your messy hair, the oversized tee hanging off your frame, the way your socks cling to your thighs. His jaw ticks, but he says nothing, just clears his throat before stepping toward the sink.

“Didn’t know you were in here,” he murmurs, voice rough with exhaustion- or maybe something else.

You shrug, toothpaste foaming at the corners of your mouth. “S’okay. I don’t mind.”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, turning on the faucet to wash his hands. “You should be in bed, angel.”

You lean against the counter, tilting your head. “Matt?”

He grabs a towel, drying his hands before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah?”

You blink at him, expression slightly dazed. “Why were all those guys acting weird tonight?”

He stiffens slightly. “Weird how?”

You frown, thinking. “Like… they kept talking to me. Saying things that didn’t make sense.” You pause, then look up at him, brows furrowed. “What did they want?”

Matt exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “They were flirting with you, sweetheart. They thought you were pretty.”

Your nose scrunches. “Oh.” You tilt your head. “But you flirt with me too, right?”

His fingers flex against the counter. “Not like they do.”

You narrow your eyes. “You think I’m pretty too, right?”

Matt lets out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the sink. “Yeah, angel,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “I do.”

You blink, processing. “Then why does it matter?”

Matt turns, leaning back against the counter, arms crossing over his broad chest. His gaze is steady, dark in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

“Because they don’t just think you’re pretty,” he says carefully. “They want to sleep with you.”

You stare, heart skipping. “Oh.”

Matt watches your expression shift, your lips part slightly as realization starts to settle.

“They-” You swallow. “They wanted to… have sex with me?”

His jaw tightens. “Yeah, angel. That’s what they wanted.”

Your cheeks burn instantly, your fingers gripping the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “Oh.”

Matt studies you, the way your breath hitches slightly, the way your eyes flicker down before snapping back up.

“You really didn’t know?” he asks, voice gentler now.

You shake your head quickly. “No, I- I just thought they were being nice.”

Matt exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ else, sweetheart.”

Your fingers fidget with the fabric of your shirt, your face still warm. “I didn’t- ” You hesitate. “I don’t really… talk about this kind of stuff.”

“I know.” His voice is soft, understanding.

You shift on your feet, gnawing at your lower lip. “I mean… I know what it is. But I don’t-” You trail off, exhaling sharply. “I don’t get it.”

Matt tilts his head slightly, his gaze heavy but patient. “What don’t you get?”

You chew on your lip again, hesitating before blurting, “Why do they want to?”

Matt blinks. “What?”

You huff, flustered now. “Like… why do guys want to do that so much? I don’t get it.”

Matt runs a hand down his face, clearly trying to stay composed. “Because it feels good.”

You inhale sharply, your face burning hotter. “Oh.”

Your heart stammers in your chest, something thick and unfamiliar sitting heavy in the space between you.

You grip the counter. “Have you…” You hesitate, then force the words out. “Have you done it?”

Matt’s lips twitch slightly, amused despite himself. “Yeah, sweetheart. I have.”

Your stomach flips, something strange curling in your gut. “Oh.”

He smirks. “That bother you?”

Your face flames. “N-no! I just-” You fumble, shaking your head quickly. “I just… I didn’t know.”

For a second, neither of you move. The space between you is thick with something you don’t quite understand, something unspoken but heavy. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable, and it makes you fidget.

Your fingers play with the hem of your oversized t-shirt, twisting the fabric nervously. You don’t even realize that it hikes up slightly, exposing more of your bare thighs, the soft curve of them accentuated by your thigh-high socks. But Matt notices.

His eyes flicker down for the briefest second before snapping back up.

You hesitate, then softly say, “Matt?”

His jaw tenses. “Yeah?”

Your eyes stay fixed on the way your fingers pull at the fabric of your shirt. “Does it… really feel good?”

Matt’s breath is slow, measured. “Yeah, angel,” he murmurs. “It does.”

You shift on your feet, heat creeping up your neck. “Like… how?”

His lips part slightly, and for the first time tonight, he looks caught off guard. He drags a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose like he’s trying to gather himself.

“It’s- ” He stops, searching for the right words. “It’s different for everyone, but it’s… intense.”

You swallow, your fingers still gripping your shirt. “Intense how?”

His eyes darken slightly, his voice dropping a little lower. “It’s a kind of pressure. A build-up. And then… release.”

Your stomach flips, your whole body suddenly feeling too warm. “Oh.”

Matt watches you carefully, taking in the way your breath has gone a little shallower, the way your fingers fidget with your shirt again, lifting the fabric another inch before you even realize it. His eyes flicker down, then back up, something sharp flashing in them for a second before he schools his expression.

“Angel,” he says slowly. “You ever… thought about it before?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “Thought about what?”

His jaw clenches slightly. “Sex.”

Your breath catches, your entire body heating at the way the word rolls off his tongue so casually, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t make your knees feel weak.

“I- ” You shift on your feet. “I mean, I know about it.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Matt murmurs.

You feel like your face is on fire. “I don’t- ” You bite your lip, exhaling shakily. “I don’t think so.”

Matt hums, tilting his head. “You don’t think so?”

You frown slightly, trying to collect your thoughts, but your mind is a mess, spinning, hazy from champagne and the weight of this conversation. “I just don’t really-” You shift again, your thighs pressing together instinctively. “I don’t get it.”

Matt watches the movement, his throat bobbing slightly before he lifts his gaze back to yours. “What don’t you get, angel?”

You hesitate, feeling impossibly small under his gaze. “Why people want it so much,” you admit, voice softer now, almost unsure.

Matt exhales slowly. “Because it feels good, sweetheart. It’s the closest you can get to someone. And when it’s with the right person…” He trails off for a second, then looks at you intently. “It’s really good.”

You shiver, despite the heat curling in your stomach. “What does it feel like?”

Matt’s fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to do something with them but won’t let himself.

“You really wanna know?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher.

You nod, swallowing hard.

He leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “It starts slow,” he murmurs. “Your body gets all warm, all needy.” His eyes flicker down to the way you’re fidgeting with your shirt, how your thighs shift slightly where you stand. “You feel it everywhere. The pressure, the tension. And then when you finally get what you need-” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It’s like relief. Like every nerve in your body is completely relaxed all at once.”

You stare at him, heart hammering, your fingers tightening on your shirt as you shift again, a deep, unfamiliar heat curling in your stomach.

Matt notices. Of course he notices.

He tilts his head slightly. “You ever been kissed before, angel?”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

His lips twitch slightly, but his expression remains unreadable. “You heard me.”

Your cheeks burn. “I- I mean, yeah.”

His gaze sharpens. “Yeah?”

You swallow hard. “Once.”

Matt hums, like he’s not entirely convinced. “And did you feel anything?”

Your stomach twists. “I… I don’t know.”

His jaw clenches slightly. “If you don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, rougher, “then the answer is no.”

You press your thighs together again, your whole body suddenly feeling strange, tingly, like your skin is too tight. “Oh.”

Matt’s gaze doesn’t waver, dark and knowing, like he’s seeing right through you.

“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?”

Your breath catches. “W-what?”

He exhales through his nose, his voice dropping lower, slower. “The first part.” He tilts his head slightly, eyes dragging over you. “Warm and needy.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. “I- I don’t- ” You shake your head quickly, even as your skin burns, your thighs press together again, your grip on your shirt tightening.

Matt takes a slow step toward you, his presence impossibly big in the small bathroom. “You are feeling it,” he murmurs, eyes locked onto yours. “Aren’t you, angel?”

Your mouth opens, then closes, your face scorching hot. “How can you tell?” you whisper.

He smirks, slow and lazy, but his voice is still rough, still tight. “You’re not exactly subtle about it.”

Your breath stutters as realization hits you.

Your thighs- pressed together.

Your fingers- clutching at your shirt, pulling it tighter, twisting the fabric.

Your breathing- short, shallow.

You feel like your body isn’t your own, like every nerve is suddenly hyperaware of the space between you and Matt, the way he’s looking at you, the way you can feel the heat radiating off of him even though he’s still an arm’s length away.

He takes another step closer.

Your stomach flips, your heartbeat a frantic staccato against your ribs.

His voice is lower now, softer, but it makes your entire body tingle. “Where are you feeling it?”

Your throat dries. “What?”

His gaze flickers down, then back up. “Where do you feel it the most, angel?”

You swear the air in the room disappears. Your skin prickles with heat, embarrassment flooding you so fast that you physically shrink back.

“I- I…” Your voice barely works, breathy and unsure.

Matt hums, his eyes flickering over you again, watching the way your fingers still grip your shirt, how your weight shifts between your legs.

You do feel it. Everywhere.

Your cheeks burn hotter, your head spinning. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to say.

Matt watches you, his expression unreadable, his body still tense. His eyes flicker over your flushed skin, the way you’re gripping the hem of your oversized t-shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He exhales slowly, shaking his head slightly before tilting it, his voice dropping back to something softer, more careful.

“Tell me about that kiss you had.”

You blink up at him, still flustered, your brain barely catching up. “What?”

“The one you said you had. The only one.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I- uh. What about it?”

Matt’s gaze sharpens. “How did he touch you?”

Your stomach flips. “Touch me?”

He nods once. “Yeah. His hands. Where were they?”

You frown slightly, thinking back, but there’s nothing to think about. “He… didn’t.”

Matt’s brows lift slightly. “Didn’t?”

You shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed now. “I mean… he just kissed me. That’s it.”

Matt’s jaw ticks, his fingers flexing against the edge of the counter. “How long?”

You swallow. “Like… a second? Maybe two?”

Matt exhales sharply, shaking his head. “And what did it feel like?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “Nothing.”

Matt’s lips press into a thin line. “Nothing?”

You shrug. “I mean… it was just… a kiss.”

Matt takes another slow step toward you, his voice quieter now, rougher. “That’s not what it’s supposed to feel like, angel.”

Your breath catches, your fingers twitching against the hem of your shirt. You look up at him now, the air between you impossibly thick.

“…Then what is it supposed to feel like?”

Matt scans your body, his gaze dragging from the top of your head down the length of your frame- your messy hair, your parted lips, your bare thighs still pressed together slightly. He glances toward the open bathroom door, his jaw tightening before he reaches out, gripping the handle and slowly pushing it shut.

The click of the latch echoes in the silence.

When he turns back to you, his expression is darker now, his voice impossibly low.

“That warm and needy feeling?” His eyes lock onto yours, steady and intense. “It should feel like it’s on fire.”

Your stomach flips violently. “What do you mean?”

Matt steps closer, towering over you, his scent wrapping around you like something heavy and intoxicating. He leans down, just enough for his breath to brush against your lips.

“Like this.”

And then he kisses you.

It’s slow and intentional. His lips press against yours softly at first, like he’s giving you a chance to process, to pull away if you want to. But you don’t.

You can’t.

The second your breath hitches, he deepens it, his hand lifting just slightly like he wants to touch you but stops himself. His lips move against yours, slow and deliberate, and warmth spreads through your entire body. It’s thick and pulsing and burning.

Your fingers tremble as they clutch your t-shirt, your body melting before you even realize it. This is different. This is new.

This is what he meant.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless, dazed, your lips tingling from the weight of his touch. Your wide eyes meet his, your heart slamming against your ribs.

“…Oh.”

Matt’s jaw is tight, his breathing slow, controlled. His hand twitches at his side like he’s restraining himself, his eyes searching yours.

“Now tell me, angel,” his voice is rough, nearly a whisper.

“Did that feel like nothing?”

You swallow hard, shaking your head slowly. “…No.”

Matt’s lips twitch, his gaze darkening slightly. “Where did you feel it?”

You shift on your feet, feeling impossibly small under his stare. “I- I don’t know.”

Matt hums, stepping closer. “No?” His hands lift, slow, careful, fingertips ghosting over your cheeks as he cups your face gently. His thumbs brush against your skin, warm and grounding. “Did you feel it here?”

You inhale sharply, lips parting slightly, but shake your head. “Not… really.”

His hands move down, skimming over your shoulders, gripping them lightly. “Here?”

You shake your head again, heart pounding.

His hands trail lower, skimming down your arms, barely touching you. You shiver, exhaling shakily, but still, you shake your head.

Matt watches you, his movements slow, deliberate, as his palms skim over your waist, his thumbs pressing lightly into the soft curve of your stomach.

Your breath stutters.

His hands move lower.

Your fingers twitch against the hem of your oversized t-shirt as he settles them just above your hips, his touch firm, grounding. “What about here?”

You swallow, feeling lightheaded, but shake your head again.

And then his hands drift lower, fingertips grazing the soft skin of your lower stomach, right above where that deep, pulsing warmth sits heavy between your thighs.

Your body stiffens. Your breath catches.

Matt’s lips part slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, watching, waiting.

You nod, the smallest movement, barely even noticeable.

But he notices.

“Yeah?” His voice is softer now, rougher. “What’s it feel like, angel?”

Your thighs squeeze together instinctively, your skin burning under his touch. “I don’t know,” you stammer, breathless.

Matt hums, his thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. “You sure?”

You nod quickly, but your body betrays you, shifting slightly into his touch.

Matt’s lips twitch again, something knowing behind his dark gaze as his hands slide down, fingertips trailing over the tops of your thighs before dragging back up, slow, teasing.

You shudder.

“Does it feel like a pulse?” he murmurs. “Like a throb?” His fingers trace the sensitive skin just above your knee, then glide up, his palms warm as they press lightly into the soft flesh of your thighs. “Almost a little wet?”

Your entire body jerks slightly, heat flooding your face, your stomach twisting violently in the most delicious way.

“Matt,” you whisper, mortified, shaking your head quickly.

His hands squeeze your thighs gently. “Hmm?”

You shake your head harder, but your body is betraying you again, shifting into his touch, your knees wobbling slightly as warmth pools deep in your core.

Matt watches you, eyes dark and knowing. Then, after a beat, he pulls his hands away, stepping back slightly.

Your body feels cold without his touch.

His gaze lingers on you, studying every little movement, every breath, every tremble. Then he asks, “Do you like that feeling?”

You hesitate, lips parting, but finally, finally, you nod.

Matt exhales slowly, his jaw tight, his hands flexing at his sides before his lips twitch into something almost smug. “It can feel even better.”

Your breath catches. “It… gets better?”

Matt chuckles, low and deep, shaking his head slightly. “So innocent,” he murmurs.

You frown slightly, embarrassed, shifting on your feet again.

But then his hand lifts again, fingertips brushing against your cheek before sliding into your hair, tilting your chin up slightly.

His gaze flickers over you, slow, measured.

And then he whispers, “Wanna see?”

Your breath stutters. Your pulse pounds. Your stomach twists in the most confusing, exhilarating way.

And then before you can even think- you nod.

Matt doesn’t hesitate.

His lips crash against yours, hotter this time, hungrier. His hands cup your face, tilting you exactly where he wants you as his mouth moves against yours, coaxing you into something deeper, something that makes that pulsing heat between your thighs turn into something more. It turns into something desperate, something dangerous.

Your fingers lift, gripping onto his shirt, needing something to hold onto as your legs feel weak beneath you.

He deepens the kiss, pulling you even closer, his hands firm as they slide from your face down to your waist, gripping you like he doesn’t want to let go. His lips are hot, insistent, moving against yours in a way that makes your head spin, your entire body buzzing with arousal.

His hands tighten around your waist, and before you can even register what’s happening, he lifts you effortlessly, gripping the backs of your thighs and setting you onto the cool bathroom counter. The contrast between the cold surface and his warm touch makes you shiver, your legs instinctively parting just enough for him to step between them.

And then- asound escapes your throat.

It’s soft, barely there. Nothing but a breathy little whimper as he tugs you closer, his hands gripping your thighs.

But it’s enough.

Your entire body locks up as realization sinks in, heat rushing to your face as you abruptly pull away, eyes wide with embarrassment. “I- I didn’t mean to-”

Matt’s breathing is heavy, his lips swollen from kissing you, but his eyes- his eyes are dark, focused, hungry.

He tilts his head, his hands still holding you firmly in place. “It’s normal, angel,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly low, deep enough to send shivers down your spine.

You swallow hard, still mortified. “But-”

He shakes his head, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your thigh. “It just means you like it,” he explains, his voice warm, coaxing. “Means it feels good.”

You shift, heat curling in your stomach again. “Still-”

“And it makes me feel good too.”

Your breath catches.

Matt’s eyes flicker over your face, his expression unreadable for a moment before he adds, “Makes me feel warm and needy, just like you.”

Your stomach flips, your fingers tightening against the edge of the counter.

Your voice is quieter now, unsure. “Then… why don’t you make any sounds?”

Matt stills, his lips twitching slightly, but it’s not amusement- it’s something else. His fingers flex against your thighs before dragging slowly up, fingertips pressing lightly into the fabric of your oversized t-shirt, tracing just under the hem.

He leans in, so close that his lips ghost against yours when he speaks.

“You want me to?”

Your pulse stutters.

You should probably say no.

But you don’t.

Instead, you nod.

Matt exhales through his nose, his smirk finally breaking through. “Yeah?”

You nod again, slower this time.

His hands slide up, gripping your waist, and then he kisses you again.

But this time, it’s different.

It’s slower and deeper. His tongue tracing against yours in a way that makes your head spin, your body arching slightly toward him before you even realize you’re doing it. His hands slide over your thighs, gripping them, pulling you forward until your legs wrap loosely around his waist.

A low sound rumbles from the back of his throat.

It’s quiet, but it’s there, vibrating against your lips, making your stomach flip and your entire body heat.

You gasp softly, your fingers gripping his shirt as the sound sends something dangerous pulsing between your thighs.

Matt must notice, because he groans again, this time a little louder, his hands tightening on your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin like he’s holding himself back.

The tension is unbearable now, your skin hot, your breaths short, every little movement making your head spin.

His hands gripped you tight, pulling you flush against him. His fingers trace slow, teasing patterns against your thighs, sending shivers up your spine. Your entire body is warm, buzzing, that unfamiliar but intoxicating feeling creeping higher and higher until a soft, breathy moan slips past your lips.

Matt freezes for a fraction of a second, his entire body tensing like a live wire, his hands gripping you tighter. And then he groans, deep and low, like the sound did something to him, like he needed to hear it.

His hands move before he can stop himself, sliding up your sides, fingertips teasing beneath the hem of your oversized t-shirt, skimming your bare skin as he pushes the fabric up, his palms warm and making you skin tingle in ways you’ve never imagined were possible.

A sudden, sharp knock on the door.

You barely stifle a yelp, but Matt is quicker.

His palm immediately covers your mouth, his other hand gripping your hip as he tenses, his head snapping toward the door. His light eyes flicker back to yours, and he puts a single finger to his lips, signaling for you to stay quiet.

Your heart is pounding.

“Yo, Matt,” your brother’s voice comes from the other side of the door. “You seen my sister? She left her laundry downstairs, and it’s hogging the dryer.”

Matt exhales slowly, his hand still over your mouth as he tilts his head toward the door, his voice calm, casual, like he hasn’t just had his hands all over you.

“Nah, dude. No idea where she is.”

The doorknob rattles.

You flinch.

Matt’s grip tightens on you instinctively, his hand pressing a little firmer against your mouth, his other hand flexing against your waist.

Your brother sighs. “Bro, unlock the door. I gotta brush my teeth.”

Matt’s jaw clenches, his eyes locking onto yours, something sharp flashing behind them before he whispers, so low you can barely hear it-

“Fuck.”

For a split second, you don’t know what he’s going to do.

Then, without hesitation, he lifts you again, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, and moves.

You barely have time to process before he’s setting you down into the bathtub, your back pressing against the cool surface. He leans in close, eyes serious, his hand brushing over your cheek for just a second.

“Stay quiet,” he whispers.

You nod quickly, heart hammering.

Matt exhales sharply, stepping back, adjusting himself. You blink, watching as he tugs his waistband up, shifting awkwardly, like he’s hiding something.

Your brows furrow slightly. “What are you-”

Matt immediately puts a finger to his lips again, shaking his head. “Shh.”

You shut your mouth, still confused, still burning from everything that just happened.

Before you can think too hard about it, Matt pulls the shower curtain closed, hiding you from view just as he unlocks the door and swings it open.

Your brother steps in, rubbing his face tiredly. “Dude, what took you so long?”

Matt shrugs, leaning casually against the sink, like he hasn’t just shoved you into the bathtub to keep you hidden. “Was taking a piss.”

Your brother makes a face. “Long ass piss bro.”

Matt just smirks, crossing his arms, his body perfectly positioned to block any possible view of the tub. “Long ass piss for a long ass dick, what can I say.”

Your brother rolls his eyes, grabbing his toothbrush. “Whatever.”

You hold your breath, praying he doesn’t notice anything, praying he doesn’t hear the way your breathing is still uneven, the way your body is still buzzing from Matt’s touch.

Matt’s hand twitches against the sink, his knuckles flexing. His jaw is tight, his body still tense. Like he’s just barely keeping himself under control.

After a few minutes of tense silence, the sound of running water and your brother brushing his teeth fills the room. You stay completely still in the tub, pressing your lips together to keep yourself from making a sound, even though your heart is still racing from what had just happened.

Finally, your brother spits into the sink, wipes his mouth, and mutters, “Alright, I’m going to my room.”

Matt doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’m just gonna wash my face, I’ll meet you there.”

Your brother hums in response, the bathroom door creaking as he steps out. The moment you hear his footsteps retreating down the hall, Matt quickly shuts the door, locking it again before exhaling heavily. His shoulders relax slightly as he pulls back the shower curtain, his gaze landing on you, still curled up in the bathtub.

“Alright he’s gone.” he murmurs, stepping forward and reaching for you.

You let out a breath, still a little dazed as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. He sets you back down, steadying you on your feet before his hands settle on your waist.

You look up at him, eyes wide. “Oh my God.”

Matt chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Relax, angel. He had no clue.”

You exhale shakily, running your hands through your hair. The room is still heavy with everything that had happened, and while part of you is still flustered and embarrassed, the other part- the part that’s still warm, still needy- doesn’t want the moment to be over.

Matt watches you carefully, and for a second, you think he’s going to lean in again, that he’s going to pick up where you left off. But then, he sighs, smoothing his hands over your sides.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “We can’t go further right now. Your brother’s waiting for me, and he’s still looking for you.”

You sigh, deflating a little. You know he’s right, but still, the heat swirling in your stomach doesn’t quite go away. “Okay,” you mumble, chewing on your lip.

There’s a brief pause before something else pops into your head, something you don’t quite understand. “Matt?”

He tilts his head slightly. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, shifting on your feet. “What were you… doing? With your… you know…?”

Matt blinks, then raises an eyebrow. “My cock?” he asks bluntly.

Your entire face burns. “Matt!”

He smirks at your reaction, but instead of answering immediately, he reaches down, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants. You watch confused until he untucks himself, and suddenly, the thick outline of him is tenting out his grey sweatpants prominently.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You stare.

It’s… big.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, a deep, unfamiliar curiosity curling in your stomach. Without even thinking, your hand twitches forward slightly before you stop yourself at the last second, pulling your hand back quickly.

“Sorry,” you blurt out, embarrassed.

But Matt shakes his head immediately, stepping closer. “No, sweetheart. Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, coaxing. “Please do.”

Your lips part slightly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“It’ll make me feel good,” he adds, his eyes locked onto yours.

You swallow hard, hesitating just a moment longer before you slowly reach forward again, your fingers lightly wrapping around him through the fabric.

Matt exhales sharply, his head tilting back slightly. “Fuuuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Your fingers tighten slightly, gripping him a little more firmly.

His hands flex at his sides before one of them lifts to grip the counter. “This,” he breathes out, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, “this is another way of knowing that I like it.”

You stare at him, your breath short and quick. “I did this to you?” you whisper.

Matt groans quietly, nodding. “Yeah, angel.”

You blink, still gripping him through his sweatpants, still feeling the heat of him against your palm. You squeeze slightly, watching as his jaw tenses, his breath stuttering.

Your voice is quieter now. “Is it like… how i feel…wet?”

Matt exhales, his fingers twitching against the counter. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Just like that. When you get wet, my dick gets hard.”

Your cheeks burn. “Why does it do that?”

Matt leans in then, his breath warm against your ear, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s your body getting ready for me to be inside you.”

Your entire body locks up, heat flooding your core so intensely that your thighs press together on instinct. Your fingers twitch around him, squeezing his clothed length a little harder.

Matt groans, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath ragged.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice strained, “I’m gonna cum if you do that. You’re making me crazy.”

You freeze. “Wait- what?”

Matt lifts his head, exhaling heavily before he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll explain to you another time,” he murmurs. “But for now? Get to bed.”

You nod slowly, still reeling, still confused, still burning. “When will you show me?”

Matt smirks as he watches you hesitate, his voice softer now as he nudges you toward the door.

“Whenever you earn it.”

PT.2 HERE💙

MASTERLIST

for @mattsobvimyfav

tags: @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt (if u wanna be on the taglist, just comment)

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ch6rm · 17 days ago

Text

✧ ࣪˖ riding chris in his suit

˖ soph's note blurb about chris fucking u in his suit cause yeah

the venue's parking lot was now empty, with all the guests having already left. the faint hum of the engine filled the car, raindrops clinging to the windshield as you leaned your head back against the seat. the night had been unbearable, and not because of the event itself—but because of him.

chris sat in the drivers seat, his tie loosened and his sharp black suit fitting him perfectly—his signature silver bracelet peeking out from under his sleeve. his hand rested casually on the steering wheel, the other scrolling on his phone. his messy hair framing his face as he looked down at his phone, his jawline sharp in the dim light. he looked so calm, so relaxed, while you were sitting there feeling like you might explode.

you couldn’t stop staring at him. it was torture. watching him chat with everyone happily as if he didn't look like that—it had been driving you insane. but now, sitting here alone with him in the quiet, it felt even worse. you shifted in your seat, your dress suddenly feeling too tight, too warm.

“you’ve been weirdly quiet,” chris said, finally breaking the silence as he glanced over at you. “what’s up with you?”

you shrugged, trying to play it cool. “nothing.”

“nothing?” he repeated, leaning back in his seat, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “that doesn’t sound like nothing.” you rolled your eyes, turning to look out the window, but the faint blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

“come on,” he pressed, his tone teasing but laced with curiosity. “you’ve been acting off all night. did something happen at the event? did someone say something?”

you shook your head, shooting back a little too quickly as you avoided his gaze, “nothing happened and i'm not acting weird."

the gears turned in his head as a smirk crept up onto his face. “you’re terrible at lying, you know that?” you bit your lip, about to snap back, but then his hand landed on your knee, warm and steady, and you lost whatever resolve you had left. your breath hitched as his thumb brushed over the fabric of your dress. the air in the car felt suffocating now, and you turned to meet his gaze, his blue eyes dark. he could see right through you.

“thought so,” he murmured, his smirk turning into something more dangerous.

“thought what?” you challenged, but your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke, your cheeks now burning as you felt his hand inch further up your thigh. you shifted in your seat, your pulse racing.

“you could've just asked if you wanted something, y'know.” chris chuckled softly, his hand stopping just shy of where you wanted him most. he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek as your eyes flickered down to his lips. your lips parted to let out a snarky comment, but no words came out. instead, you grabbed the loose end of his tie, yanking him toward you. his lips crashed into yours, and the kiss was anything but gentle. his hand slid further up your thigh, his grip firm as he pulled you closer.

“you’ve been killin' me all night with this dress,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low.

your fingers tangled in his curls as his lips found yours again, hungrier this time. the kiss depended as the hum of the engine faded into a distant echo. you felt chris' hands curl around your hips, urging you to straddle him. the kiss broke as you shifted your weight, sliding your legs over his and settling onto his lap, your knees resting on either side of him. he started to trail kisses down your jaw and onto your neck, his hands gripping onto your waist before moving to your thighs, fingers tracing the outline of your dress. his hands slipped under—fingers finding the dampness of your panties, applying just the right amount of pressure as you let out a soft gasp.

"need you now," you said, your voice shaky as you felt chris grin against your neck before looking up at you.

"'y don't want me to finger you?" he teased, hands going to unbutton his pants, sliding them down just enough to reveal his black boxers.

"no," you murmured, your voice needy and breathless. you needed him inside you, now.

"say less," he said with a grin, tugging his boxers down as his erection sprang free. you quickly lifted yourself up, slipping off your panties before lowering yourself onto him. your hands found his shoulders as he let out a sharp hiss, his eyes fixed on you while you sank onto his cock. gripping your hips, he started to grind into you, not holding back as he picked up the pace.

the windows already began to fog up as the heat between you two grew. his grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements as you rode him, the soft creak of the leather seats mixed with your breathy moans filling up the car. "fuck, you're perfect," he muttered, his head tipping back against the headrest as he met your movements with sharp thrusts. your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped imprints on his skin.

his eyes were locked on where your bodies connected as his hips bucked upward. your head tipped back as a moan escaped your lips, feeling his hands slide from your hips to your thighs before one hand slipped under your dress, squeezing the soft flesh of your tits.

"fuck, chris," you mewled, your movements quickening, matching his rhythm as he thrust into you harder, the car rocking slightly with every motion. your nails scraped down his chest as you clung to him, the knot in your abdomen threatening to snap at any moment.

“'m gonna cum,” you whimpered, burying your face in his neck as he fucked you deeper, hitting a spot that made you cry out. your body tensed, the coil in your stomach snapping all at once. waves of pleasure washed over you, your nails digging into his skin as you clenched around him, drawing a guttural moan from his lips.

with a final thrust, his cock stilled inside of you as his head fell back against the seat, his lips parting to let out a groan. you felt his hot cum spill into you, the warmth spreading as it mixed with your own arousal. you laid your head against his shoulder, catching your breath as you felt him pull out.

you lifted your head, meeting his gaze, and he gave you a lazy grin. "i should wear suits more often."

#© ch6rm #writings. 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ #࣪˖ ִ ࣪ blurbs #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturiolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut

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flwrstqr · 2 months ago

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⌇ THE BOY 𝓲S MiNE : AGENT ENHYPEN ──𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋

( ✶ 𝓢) ⦂ 엔하이픈 + f ! r . 1OOOwc. ──kissing, skinship, petnames && agent au ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀fluff, slightly suggestive 𖥔 ARCHiVE⠀ ૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა

danielle msgs： agent enhypen is my life (> <)

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 he leans against the wall, his dark suit slightly wrinkled from the mission, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he watches you patch up a scratch on your arm. "careful, princess, wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours," he teases. you glare at him, your fingers fumbling with the bandage as his presence looms closer. “you could help instead of just standing there,” you snap, and he chuckles, stepping into your space, his hands brushing yours as he takes over. “relax, doll, i got you,” he murmurs, his touch lingering a little too long. your breath hitches as his fingers trace your wrist, and he tilts his head. “you okay? you’re staring,” he smirks, and you scoff, pushing him away, your pulse racing. “shut up, heeseung.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 he leans against the sleek black car, his tie loosened and hair slightly disheveled from the mission. "you gonna keep me waiting, sweetheart?" he drawls, a teasing tone in his voice as you walk up, rolling your eyes. "not everyone can look like they just stepped out of a magazine after getting shot at," you quip, but your words falter as he steps closer, brushing an imaginary speck off your shoulder. "relax, i’m just making sure my partner’s looking sharp," he murmurs, his fingers lingering as they smooth down your sleeve. the proximity sends a flush creeping up your neck, and he notices, smirking. "you’re cute when you’re flustered," he says, low and soft, his hand brushing your waist as he leans in, a little too close. "jay," you warn. he pulls back with a chuckle, holding up his hands. "easy, angel, i’m just messing with you."

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 your eyes narrow as jake leans casually against the bar, his signature smile in full effect as he charms yet another woman at the gala. you’re supposed to be blending in as a couple, but instead, he’s working his way through every pretty face in the room. “you know,” he murmurs, sliding up beside you moments later, his cologne lingering as he leans down, “you could at least pretend you’re jealous. makes us more believable.” his voice is low, teasing, as his hand brushes your waist like it belongs there. you roll your eyes. “jake,” you hiss, gripping his arm and pulling him closer, “shut up and let’s go back to the mission.” his grin doesn’t falter. “anything for you, sweetheart.” his laugh is soft as he lets you tug him away, clearly enjoying himself.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 you barely have time to react before sunghoon grabs your wrist and yanks you into a dark corner, his hand firm around your waist as he presses you against the wall. "what the hell, sunghoon—" you start, but he quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, leaning in close. "shh," he whispers, his breath brushing your cheek, "unless you want us both caught." your glare could burn a hole through him, and he smirks, removing his hand but keeping you pinned. "you could’ve just warned me," you hiss, your voice barely above a whisper. "where’s the fun in that?" he teases, his eyes dropping to your lips. "you’re impossible-" you mutter, about to push him away, but before you can, his lips crash onto yours, silencing you. it’s quick, enough to leave you stunned, and when he pulls back, he smirks. "worked, didn’t it?"

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 sunoo’s hand rests lightly on your waist as he leans closer, his soft lips brushing your ear like a whisper. “darling, they’re watching,” he murmurs. your heart skips as he cups your cheek, his thumb grazing your jawline. “relax, love, you look too tense for someone so used to this game.” his voice is honeyed, his gaze holding a teasing glint that makes it hard to focus on the crowd scanning the "power couple." when his lips graze your temple, you shiver. “sunoo,” you warn, barely above a breath, but he only chuckles. “what? just making sure they believe us,” he whispers, his grin widening. it’s impossible to tell if the blush creeping up your neck is part of his plan—or his charm.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 "you could’ve told me your shoes were killing you, sweetheart," jungwon murmurs, crouched at your feet as the orchestra’s music swirls around the grand ballroom. you feel the heat rush to your cheeks when his fingers brush your ankle, undoing the straps of your stiletto. “i was trying to blend in,” you mumble, biting back a wince as he pulls off the heel. jungwon chuckles, standing to his full height and offering you his hand, his dark suit perfectly tailored and somehow making him even more annoyingly attractive. “blend in? with the way everyone’s been staring at you? not a chance.” before you can retort, he sweeps you off your feet, cradling you against his chest. “won—!” you squeak, but his grin is downright smug. “relax, princess. i’ve got you.” and as the two of you glide past stunned onlookers, he whispers, “forget the mission anyways."

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 "you're unbelievable," you mutter, fingers flying over the keyboard as you hack into the system, riki lounging behind you like he’s got all the time in the world. “move faster, sweetheart,” he drawls, the nickname dripping with teasing. you whirl around to glare at him, miscalculating your movement, and suddenly you’re tumbling—right onto his chest. his arms wrap around you instinctively, holding you steady as his grin widens. “if you wanted to be on top of me, angel, you could’ve just said so,” he quips, voice low. “shut up, nishimura,” you snap, but your cheeks are flaming as his hands linger at your waist. “admit it, you love being this close to me,” he whispers, and despite your best glare, the way your heart races gives you away.

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mariasont · 17 days ago

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Need a bimbo assistant reader x hotch fic where the team is making fun of hotch for having no sense of humour until we say smth like "what are you talking about? Hotch is hilarious!" And everyone just turns to hotch like "wtf??" To which he immediately changes the subject. But surprise surprise he's only trying to be funny around us to be charming 😛

The Funny Thing About Him - A.H

a/n: obsessed with this request bc this is so canon, i just know mans is saving ever stupid pun he sees on his blackberry to tell bimbo reader lololo

but thank you so much for the request lovely!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, flirtiness galore, hotch being whipped and not knowing it yet, the team being a menace and lowkey bullying hotch, unintentional simping, bimbo!reader glazing hotch's sense of humor

wc: 1.9k

It was a rare thing for the team to spend time together outside of work, and even rarer to do so in a place like this. A dive bar that looked like it hadn't seen a deep clean since the Bush administration. But Garcia had insisted--no, demanded--that they all check out what she had referred to as her second office.

So here you were, crammed into a tiny booth with the team, surrounded by mismatched furniture, sticky tabletops, and walls that had somehow absorbed the faint tang of stale beer as if it were part of their structural integrity. But after a round of drinks, then appetizers, then more drinks, it had become kind of charming in a deeply questionable way.

Everyone had seemed to have loosened up. Hotch, naturally, was the exception. Seated at the edge of the booth, he looked almost hilariously out of place, like someone had photoshopped him into the scene. His posture was straight as ever, his suit jacket neatly draped on the back of his chair, and fingers loosely curled around a glass of whiskey.

He was listening, though, as he always did--dark eyes flicking to whoever was speaking, his small nods he only thing that gave him away.

You, however, were hyper-aware of Hotch for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with professionalism. The small booth had left you wedged between him and Garcia, and you couldn't decide if it was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, it meant you were close enough to feel the heat radiating from him, smell the woodsy, expensive cologne he always wore, and notice the little ways his expression softened just a hair every time you caught him glancing your way.

On the other hand, well, all those things were very distracting.

Like, very distracting.

Garcia was mid-story--something dramatic about a terrible date, an allergic reaction, and a wig--but you weren't really listening. You were trying, of course, but your mind seemed too busy cataloging the way your elbow accidentally brushed against Hotch's every time you shifted, or how your knees kept grazing under the table.

Each time, you'd mutter a quick, oops, sorry, and each time, you absolutely did not mean it.

You liked testing the boundaries with him, liked noticing his reactions. In fact, you liked being able to notice most things about him--the little details no one else seemed to catch.

Like how he had this funny way of pressing his lips together when he was reading something particularly dense, like he was silently judging whoever wrote it. Or how he always seemed to have a spare hair tie ready in his desk drawer because yours snapped at the worst possible moments--and somehow, he always had it ready right when you needed it, like he'd been waiting for you to ask.

Or how, right now, he kept subtly hovering a hand behind your head every time you leaned back in laughter, like he was ready to stop you from accidentally smacking the back of your head against the hard wood of the booth.

It made you feel warm and fizzy, like you’d downed one too many sugary cocktails. Which, honestly, you might have.

"Hotch," Garcia suddenly blurted, dragging you out of your thoughts. "Back me up here--there's no way this is the worst first day you've ever heard of."

He blinked, seemingly caught off guard. "I... I suppose it's up there."

Morgan grinned and shook his head. "Hotch, your definition of worst first date is probably someone not knowing how to file their taxes. You’ve got zero imagination for this stuff."

You glanced at Hotch, who just shrugged, not even bothering to defend himself.

No imagination, Morgan had said, and for some reason, you couldn’t help but try to picture it--Hotch on a date.

At first, the idea felt completely out of place, like imagining a celebrity shopping for milk. But then, the image started to take shape: he’d show up early, wearing one of those perfectly tailored suits that made him look like he belonged on the cover of GQ. He’d pull out your chair, open every door, and probably order something practical--like steak or chicken. And even if the conversation started stiffly, he’d listen so intently, like every word you said mattered. By the end of the night, you’d be completely smitten.

Not that you’d thought about it or anything.

“I think you’re underselling him,” JJ said with a knowing smile, glancing at Hotch. “He might not have the most obvious imagination, but he has a way of surprising people.”

Emily snorted. “Yeah, right. Hotch probably schedules his surprises. Like, plan to laugh sometime between 8:00 and 8:15 PM.”

Morgan grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Hotch doesn’t laugh. He probably just stares at people mid-joke, makes them uncomfortable, and calls it a win.”

Hotch arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware my sense of humor was under scrutiny tonight.”

“Oh, come on,” Morgan said, his grin widening. “You’ve gotta admit, Hotch, you’re not exactly cracking jokes left and right. Your idea of funny is telling someone they’re late for work when they’re actually on time.”

“That was funny,” Hotch deadpanned.

The table erupted into laughter, and even Emily shook her head, biting back a grin. “You’re proving his point, you know.”

“What are you guys talking about? Hotch is hilarious.”

The table fell silent. Every single person turned to look at you like you’d just claimed the sky was green. Even Hotch stiffened beside you, his glass halfway to his lips.

Morgan’s head tilted, his grin fading into something more incredulous. “What did you just say?”

“Hotch?” Emily asked, her face the picture of astonishment. “Did you… did you bribe her to say that?”

“No!” you said quickly, holding up your hands like you were defending yourself. “I mean it! He’s, like, really funny!”

“Hotch?” Garcia repeated, looking at you like you’d sprouted a second head. “Our Hotch?”

“How can you guys not think he’s funny? I laugh at his jokes all the time.”

Hotch, who up until this point had been composed despite the teasing, suddenly looked… well, less composed. His lips parted like he was going to say something, but then he clamped them shut, the faintest tinge of pink creeping up his neck and settling across his cheeks.

Emily smirked, glancing between you and Hotch. “Okay, now I have to hear these so-called jokes you think are hilarious.”

You turned back to them, still looking baffled. “Well, I can’t just, like, repeat them! It’s all in the timing. Hotch just… he has a vibe. You wouldn’t get it.”

The team erupted into laughter, but you just sighed dramatically, crossing your arms and turning back to Hotch. “Seriously, Aaron, tell them.”

Hotch cleared his throat, setting his glass down a little too forcefully.

“So, Garcia,” he said quickly, his voice normal but his ears tinged red, “about this terrible first date—”

Hotch shot you a quick, almost panicked glance, but you pretended not to notice. Either way, you popped the fry into your mouth and smiled at him like you hadn’t just completely upended his reputation in front of the entire team.

Eventually the bar had mostly emptied out, including your team, the once-loud chatter replaced by the occasional creak of chairs and muffled laughter from the remaining patrons. You stood by the door, fiddling with the zipper of your jacket as another rush of cold air blew in when someone left. The chill bit at your cheeks. It wasn't the warmest coat in the world, but it was adorable, which you felt was more important.

Before you could even complain, however, Hotch stepped forward, placing himself squarely between you and the wind.

"Did you have fun tonight?"

You beamed at him, fingers idly playing with the end of your scarf. You took a small step closer--partly to escape the wind, partly for reasons you didn't feel you needed to disclose.

"Always," you said, tilting your head to examine him closely. "Did you?"

He nodded. "I did."

You blinked up at him. "Really? Even with everyone giving you such a hard time? I mean, they were relentless tonight.”

“They can’t help themselves." He huffed out a soft laugh, his breath misting in the cold air. Then, with a dry edge, he added, “And to be fair, I think I handled it better than you handled the fries Garcia stole from your plate.”

You giggled, covering your mouth with one hand. “Hey! That was a crime! I had every right to be upset!”

Hotch chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“See?” you said, poking him in the arm. “You’re funny! You are! Why aren’t you like that around everyone else?”

Hotch glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly. “I think I just… read the room.”

Hotch’s vague answer left you with more questions than clarity, but you didn’t push him. The more you thought about it, the more certain you became—he was different with you.

Hotch didn’t crack jokes in the bullpen—not unless you were there. He didn’t tell silly stories during late-night case reviews—not unless it was just the two of you staying behind in the office, sorting through files. Like that time he told you about his college roommate, you’d laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe, and he’d chuckled softly, shaking his head like he hadn’t expected you to find it so funny.

Or the way he’d once walked by your desk and dropped a note on it that said, if it gets any colder in here, we’ll be solving frostbite cases next. You still had it tucked away in your drawer.

The thought made you feel a bit warmer, like you’d just downed a champagne flute in one gulp. Your cheeks hurt from how hard you were smiling, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“You know, you’re the best boss ever. Have I told you that before?”

Hotch turned his head toward you, one eyebrow raised. “What do you want?”

“Nothing!” you said quickly, your grin widening. “I’m just being honest!”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. "I hope you remember that next time you're twenty minutes late to a meeting because there was a sale at Bloomingdale’s."

You gave him your sweetest, most innocent smile.

“Well, maybe if you came with me to the sale, you wouldn’t have to wait twenty minutes for me to show up.” You leaned a little closer, your voice dropping into a teasing sing-song. “And I bet you’d look so cute holding my shopping bags.”

Hotch rolled his eyes, his expression impossibly dry. “I think I’ll leave the shopping bag modeling to Reid. He’s probably got the legs for it.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, covering your mouth with your gloved hands. “Okay, now you’re just messing with me!”

He exhaled a small laugh, finally relenting. “Alright, let’s go before you freeze.”

Still laughing, you looped your arm back through his and gave it a little squeeze as the two of you walked through the door.

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner @persephonestears @moonyxstars @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @imsonotweird @jungchloe @she-wont-miss @duchesz @may-machin99

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo assistant reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic

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corkinavoid · 1 month ago

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For @ladydoptera, to 'Pomegranate Lips' by Derivakat,

DPxDC Get a Taste

"Password?"

Tim swallows. The eyes in the narrow window of the metal door are plenty familiar, dark violet with black makeup. But knowing who is on the other side doesn't help him in the slightest.

"Going ghost," he says, keeping his voice low. The window slides back shut with a snap - metal over metal, Tim's ears hurt - and then, there's a click, a snap, and the door opens.

A girl in a creatively ruined but still somehow stylish gothic lolita dress is standing in front of him. She looks taller than usual, and when Tim looks down, he knows why - those platforms must be at least four inches, how does she even walk in those?

"Welcome, McFly," Sam's dark red lips curve in a smirk that looks just a bit too smug on her. Also, to this day, Tim has no idea why she picked that nickname for him.

He steps inside, and the heavy door slams shut behind him, leaving them both in complete darkness. Or, Tim thought so until he looks a little closer and notices how Sam's violet eyes are faintly glowing - not enough to light the way, but enough to raise a few questions.

Questions that Tim is not going to ask.

Yet.

"Follow me," the girl says, her voice on the brink between annoyed and amused, and starts walking away through the narrow hall. Tim does his best to follow; his eyes are adjusting to the darkness, albeit slowly.

However, the walk doesn't last long - ten or so steps later Sam pushes another door, and-

The closest thing Tim can describe it as is a rave, of all things. Loud, rhythmic music that thrums through his whole body, strobes and bright green lights everywhere, and people, hundreds of them, dressed in all kinds of things. Tim freezes in the doorway, struggling to take in the sight.

A woman in a Victorian dress is dancing with what looks to be a werewolf in prison robes. A child just threw a one-eyed parrot at a man in a black tie suit. A knight of plated armor is waving a sword around, seemingly arguing with-

"Keep your mouth closed," Sam's finger taps his chin from below, and Tim shuts it back closed with a snap. Right, he's got no time to gawk, he is here on a mission. But, when he looks back to Sam, his mind comes to a screeching halt yet again.

"How'd you-" he starts, looking at how the girl's skin, usually pale and almost white, is glittering with small lines of blood red runes. They are not tattoos, or at least Tim doesn't think so because they move, like tiny snakes or vines over her skin.

"Nope, not answering," Sam clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes, her perfectly sharp eyeliner getting a deep, dark red hint as well, "I don't owe you shit."

With that, she turns around and starts weaving through the crowd, leaving Tim no choice but to follow.

The music is nearly crushing his eardrums. The crowd should feel suffocating - Tim knows it usually does in places like these - but somehow it doesn't. What's more, it feels cold. So cold, in fact, that goosebumps run over Tim's skin.

However, just as he feels like they are completely lost in this freezing, neverending sea of faces and figures, Sam stops. Tim almost runs into her back, actually, but, just as he is about to ask her why, she steps to the side and gestures for Tim to go ahead.

And Tim... Tim can't move a muscle.

There's a corner booth in front of him, with red velvet seats and more than a few dozen drinks, empty and full, on the table in the middle. Some of the liquids are glowing toxic, unnatural colors, and in the back corner of his mind, Tim still remembers why he's here. He is investigating, right. Which includes meeting the owner of 'Afterlife' face to face, yeah. Something about a new drug on the streets of Gotham, probably.

Tim can't concentrate.

The guy lazily sitting at the table, with hair so white that it's nearly glowing and his pale skin shimmering with highlighter on his cheekbones, causes Tim's mind to completely bluescreen. Because the unbuttoned black suit with embroidered stars and an open white shirt underneath, the neon blue, faintly glowing cold eyes, and blood red lips stretched in a dangerous smile - that's thankfully is not directed at him - are all... Too much.

Not blood red, actually. It's a different color, but Tim can't remember the name.

He can barely remember his own name, to be honest.

"Oi, Danny," Sam snaps her fingers in the air, and the ethereal being blinks, tearing his unblinking gaze away from the man in a white suit sitting across from him to look at her. Then, his eyes slide to Tim, and, okay, he thought he was well past the gay panic stage of his life, but apparently not.

The guy - the god? because only divine fucking things have the right to look so otherworldly pretty, in Tim's opinion - tilts his head to the side slightly, a curious edge to him. And then he smiles, nice and a little sly, but Tim can't shake off the feeling of sharp danger that runs through his spine.

Pomegranate, that's the color.

Bite it once, and you will never leave the Underworld.

"Can I help you, little bird of crimson color?" The ethereal owner of the most mysterious place in Gotham asks without raising his voice, and yet Tim can hear him despite the loud music around.

...Maybe he doesn't mind never leaving, if he can get a taste.

~•~•~•~

When I put that song on for the first time, I was like, that's Sam. That's so Sam. But then I started writing, and things got weird, so it's both Sam and Danny now.

Tim is so gone, I'm sorry, RIP Tim. Funny thing is, he barely said a single word throughout the whole piece.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #tim drake #sam manson #dead tired #tim x danny #cork prompts #cork game #i dont know how #but every time i get distracted i end up writing smitten tim #this is getting out of hand #i dont regret shit tho

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mywritersmind · 2 months ago

Text

AT YOUR EX’S WEDDING - LN4

summary : Getting invited to your ex’s wedding isn’t ideal. Going with a douchebag from your highschool is even worse. But meeting a very attractive man in the deep of a garden? That might just make it all worth it.

listen up : suggestive comments! alcohol! wrote this forever ago and never finished but suddenly got motivated so here ya go! no part 2!!

words : 2621

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I wasted the prettiest dress I own for my ex’s wedding and a guy who’s staring at my tits. “You look upset…” His grubby little hands rub my arms, “We can leave.”

I eye the guy, blonde and pale. I shake my head and down my champagne, “I’d bet you would love that…”

I don’t look back as I walk away, just grab another glass of champagne and walk out into fresh air. My heels are hurting my feet and the setting sun is blinding me.

As soon as I get into the garden though, I feel like I can finally breathe. I can’t lie, this place is beautiful. The sky is pink and blue, the gardens are green and I can’t see them ending anytime soon.

I walk slowly, letting the cool air wash over me. I’ve got to hand it to him, his dream really did come true. He used to talk to me about a picture perfect wedding, big and white. Something that showed the value of his marriage.

We disagreed a lot after that.

I sigh and sip my drink, turning a corner to see a huge fountain. It’s surrounded by flowers, an array of colors that compliment the bright green and setting sun.

I walk slowly around it, listening to the water and faint music from the wedding.

I stop when I see someone sitting on the grass, his head leaning back on the stone of the fountain. I can’t see his whole face, just his side profile.

He’s got dark hair, curly and cut into a messy mullet. He’s wearing a suit, some buttons undone and his tie loose around his neck. In his hand lies a bottle of champagne and when he brings it to his lips, his jaw goes sharp.

I take another step and he clearly hears me because his head cocks towards me quickly. “Sorry.” I mumble as he stares blankly at me.

“Uh…” He stands quickly, looking disheveled and surprisingly attractive, “Don’t worry.” My gaze goes to the bottle in his hand and when his eyes follow, he laughs a bit, “Want me to top you off?” He eyes my own empty glass. He has an accent and I don’t know why it catches me so off guard. Maybe because he got instantly hotter?

I hesitantly smile, he’s oddly welcoming and when I step forward, he pours the sparkling drink into my glass, “Thank you. I did not want to go back in there just for a drink.” I joke but the expression on his face makes me nervous, “Shit, you’re not one of the groomsmen are you?”

He shakes his head, clearly finding this funny as a smile tugs at his lips, “No, Lucky for you, I'm just a plus one.” I nod slowly as he plops himself back down, sitting on the fountain's edge this time. He looks up at me, holding out his hand, “I’m Lando.”

Something about him feels familiar. His grip is strong and his ring makes a noise against mine. “Y/n.” I sit down next to him, sipping my drink and breathing out.

“Why are you so adamant on not going back in there, Y/n?” He says my name softly and with his accent it makes me want to melt.

I can’t help but laugh, “My ex is the groom, My date has tried to kiss me four times, and the groom's mother is drunk and won’t stop asking me why I broke up with him.”

He lets out a big laugh, “Fuck. Those are great reasons to not go back.” Shaking his head, he takes another swing of the champagne, coughing a bit.

“Why are you hiding out here?” I ask, pushing my hair behind my shoulder.

“My date knows the bride but has left me for a groomsman.” He shrugs, “Not too upset though, just wanted something to do tonight.”

“Very interesting. Normal people would go out and see a movie for entertainment, not go to the wedding of someone you don’t know.”

“Well, I've met you so it worked out for the best.” He gives me a little glance and I notice his eyes. The sun is almost down but the light still shines in them, green and a bit brown.

I shake my head, “You don’t even know me.”

He scrunches his nose, keeping eye contact, “Yet my nights looking up.”

I take the bottle out of his hand because my glass is empty, bringing it to my lips and letting the liquid into my mouth. “Something about you is familiar.”

He raises a brow, taking the bottle back. “Oh?”

I would have to remember him, he’s too pretty for me to forget. “I can’t figure out what. Maybe you just have one of those faces. But then again I think I would remember you.”

He laughs, “Well clearly not because you recognize me from somewhere.” I frown, looking at his face intently, “Come on… think about it.”

So he must know me then. Otherwise, where else would I know him from? “I definitely haven’t met you, the accent alone would stick. So what is it then? Do we have mutals on instagram?”

Lando just smiles softly, “I’ve never met you. I can say that for sure.”

“So what is it? God don’t tell me you’re a model-”

“You think I'm hot enough to be a model? I’m flattered.” I roll my eyes but secretly I bite back a smile.

“You’ve definitely got the attitude of a model. Are you famous?” A slight change in his expression gives it away. “You are! What do you do? Is it embarrassing that I don’t know you?”

Lando shakes his head, “Unless you know the sport.” So he’s an athlete. His build sort of gave that away, even under the suit I can tell. But he’s not very tall and I honestly hate sports so I don’t think I'm going to get this one.

I sigh, leaning back on my hands, “I give up.”

Lando laughs again, the type of sound that makes you feel accomplished because you made it happen, “Maybe i’ll tell you later.”

“Mysterious.” I look him up and down, “That’s hot.”

He gives me a funny look, like he’s trying to figure me out, “I like you.”

I laugh a bit, looking around at the now dark gardens, the moonlight shining and matching with fairy lights around us, “Probably because you still don’t know me.”

“Fine then, Y/n.” His eyes sparkle as they land on me again, scooting closer to me. “Tell me about yourself.”

“That’ll be easy, I love talking about myself. What do you want to know?”

“Why did you and your ex break up?”

“Getting right into it I see…” I take another sip, “I broke up with him because he was obsessed with our future, not even in a cute way like genuinely wanted me to drop out of school. We dated in college after being friends for all of highschool.”

“So… why were you invited? I mean, no offense, but I wouldn’t invite my ex to my wedding.”

“Who knows? I was drunk when I replied to the invite and clearly did not think it through. My ex is nice though, it’s not like I'm getting champagne drunk because I'm sad, I'm happy for him.” I drink more from the bottle.

“Where did you go to college?”

“Charleston. How about you?”

“I didn’t go, I barely finished mandatory school.” I pull my heels off as he says, “I’ve never been to Charleston, I heard it’s pretty.”

“Very.” A chill washes over me as the night seems to rest over us, “How do you know your date for tonight?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking sheepish, “Sort of a one time thing…” Hookup. Got it. “But she was talking about how she didn’t have a date and how it would be sad so I just said I could go. Got a bit awkward when she paraded me around just to ditch me.”

“Well it all turned out well didn’t it? Now that we’re here.” His eyes are so soft and endearing as he listens to me speak.

“Why do you keep swerving your dates kiss attempts? Bad breath?” I laugh and bury my face in my hands.

“God it’s so stupid. I knew him in highschool and he always wanted to hook up with me so I knew he’d say yes… But he’s a total tool!”

Lando thinks this is quite hilarious, “Well then,” He holds up the bottle, “To our shitty dates and weird ass night.”

He pours some into my mouth, misses a bit and swears before holding my jaw and pouring more in as I’m about to start choking on my laugh and champagne.

“Fuck.” He giggles as he tries to wipe my mouth but ends up just rubbing his hand over my face, “Sorry!” He drinks as I swallow and let out a much needed laugh.

“I should handle champagne better at this point.” I raise a brow at Lando’s words and it reminds me that I truly know nothing about him.

“Can I try to guess what you play?” A slow smirk tugs at his lips, turning to me and nodding.

“Go ahead, love.” I pretend I don’t hear the nickname and try to think.

“Well it’s not football.” I screw up my face and sit criss cross to look at him better, “Tennis?” He shakes his head.

“What’s your favorite color?” I guess it’s a sport for a question then.

“Green.” Looking into his eyes and saying that feels oddly intimate. “Volleyball?”

He makes a face, “No. Favorite hobby?”

“Reading.” I shiver a bit at the cool air, “Does it involve a ball?”

I think he’s going to say yes but when he shakes his head, I frown. “Skateboarding?”

“Nope. What do you like to read?”

“Romance and mystery. Is it swimming?” That could make sense, he’s fit enough but not exactly slim.

“No. Have you ever dyed your hair?” I laugh at the question because it’s so out of the blue.

“When I was really young I had blue and pink highlights.” His eyebrows raise at this, “Oh shut up it was a great phase!”

“I’m sure it was. And I can't judge because I had a buzz once.” I cover my mouth at his words. I can not imagine that. His hair is like the cherry on top.

“I will be needing photos of that later… My last guess is gymnastics!”

“Still no.” He smiles as I groan and take another drink of champagne, “I drive.”

I sit up straighter and I'm dead serious when I say, “Monster trucks?”

He laughs out loud again, “Formula 1 cars.” My jaw actually drops at this.

“I would never have guessed! I mean, I don’t know a lot about Formula 1 anyways… but doesn’t that mean you’re like really rich?” He looks a bit shy at this which means i’m 100% right.

“And humble.” I nod.

“You really didn't know?”

“Nope. My family is into soccer and soccer only, so I never really cared about anything else.”

“I like that.”

“You like that I know nothing about your job?”

“Absolutely. I hate when people know it… Especially women.”

“Oh? So I'm a ‘woman’ to you now?”

A little smile settles on his face while he looks anywhere around the garden but me, “I think I'm a good judge of character. And I like yours.”

I’ve never had a guy express his interest in me within an hour of meeting, especially one that I found in a garden like a fucking fairy.

“Does that usually work on women?” I decide to tease him a bit.

“Not sure, I’ve never tried it. Is it working on you?” I suddenly have the feeling that he’s being serious. I can tell he’s a flirt, that’s obvious enough with who he’s here with.

Yet I just stand up and take the bottle with me, walking away from him. He follows, a rustling of his clothes and the sudden warmth of his jacket over my shoulders surprises me.

I don’t thank him, I just watch him walk quietly next to me, his eyes scanning the night sky. “What’s your last name?”

“Trying to figure out how you’ll sound with it?” I roll my eyes, “Norris. Don't lie though, Y/n Norris sounds good.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I get that a lot.” We continue walking, my feet feeling the grass as I realize Lando’s holding my heels. I had left them with the intent to go back, but he just took them.

I turn to him, “So, Lando Norris.” I start walking backward, watching the way his eyes trail up and down my body. “You’ve got a good name.”

He nods, slowly walking with me, “Thank you, love.” His shirt is well fitted, his arms pressing against it and the sleeves rolled halfway up.

His eyes get wide as I'm checking him out, causing me to turn to see what he’s looking at. My jaw drops at the sight. “That’s-”

“My date!” we say in unison. I whip my head to him as he raises his brow. The two are in the midst of pulling off each other's clothes while their lips stay attached.

I slap my hand over my mouth as they turn to us. His date is very pretty and her lipstick is smeared over her mouth. My date doesn’t look embarrassed at all, just annoyed we interrupted.

“You two carry on.” I hear Lando say as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of there. We start running then, laughing and out of breath.

“I need to bleach my eyes!” I scream as Lando slows, his breathing labored.

“I think his hand was up her dress!” He looks scarred for life.

“Oh my god!” I stop, “Our dates!” I’m practically bent over laughing, “Lando, Our dates!”

“Fuck this weird ass day!” His hand tightens over mine, reminding me that he’s holding onto me still. “I need something stronger than champagne. Come back to my hotel?”

I raise a brow, teasing him, “Why Norris, I've just met you.”

His smile is slow and sexy, “I’ll save you from a one night stand and raise you whiskey and netflix. I promise I'll keep my hands to myself.”

“I weirdly have trust in you.”

He wraps his arm around me, our hands still attached as we leave the grassy area, “It’s not weird. We’re just two friends who happen to be very pretty and a tad bit drunk at an ex and a random wedding.”

Lando and I spent the night laughing over drinks, room service, and how to lose a guy in ten days. He didn’t touch me besides his arm comforting me as I fell asleep next to him, and even shook his head when I joked about it being a one night thing.

His promise was never broken… more like expired and loopholed by me. I kissed him in a bookstore and he gave me a new favorite version of his smile. Soft and romantic with his eyes focused on me and his hand in mine, “And to think… it all started at your ex’s wedding.”

He sighed as we walked into the elevator, I elbowed him, “Lando, that was yesterday.” His hands went to his pockets but not before slipping his arm around mine so we’re intertwined. I looked up to see him biting back a shit eating grin as if we’ve been married for years.

I just shake my head and stare at the silver doors in front of us. Yet still, I couldn’t help but smile.

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris fluff

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years ago

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The Urge [Loki x Fem. Reader]

A link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: [Oneshot] Loki's lack of magical contraception yields unexpected results. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Breeding kink. Smut. Language. Dirty talk. (w/ 1.8k)

"I can smell you." You stopped rinsing dishes, wiping your palms on your leggings before turning off the tap. He’s home early, you thought with mild interest. “What?! Two seconds...” you called. The sound of Loki dropping his keys into the dish by the door rattled. Metal on porcelain. You turned towards the noise, jumping as your husband’s broad shoulders suddenly filled the open kitchen doorway. “I said... I can smell you.” he repeated darkly, leaning against the frame.

Loki’s pupils were dilated, only a sliver of electric blue visible at the furthest rims. You ran your hands up the sharp angle of his jawline, trying to coax a smile. “Well I haven’t showered since last night but I didn’t think it was that -oh!” Loki stooped, hoisting your ass-cheeks with his huge palms. Your legs instinctively cinched around his hips, clinging on. It was a long drop to the floor. “I mean what’s between your thighs, wife.” he hummed menacingly. “You’re ripe.” Heat flushed your cheeks, a thrill thundering to the lowest centre of your sex. It was happening. “Are you sure you’re ready for the weight of my full load?” he snarled against the shell of your ear, the meaning in his words abundantly clear. You shivered. Loki had lifted the enchantment impeding his ability to impregnate you, and it had...side effects. “It will be four times what I usually spend inside that tight little slit of yours. I hope you can take it.” he murmured under his breath as he paced in long strides to the bedroom. He lowered you to the bed. You scrambled back on the mattress, running your eyes hungrily up his triangular torso. “And I hope you can keep it.” he spat, roughly yanking the knot in his tie. Loki had warned you that the tidal wave of god-level hormones would make him a little strange. A little less...sentimental. But even he wasn’t aware just how animalistic he would become in his mission to give you what you desired. What you both desired. He stripped the black suit jacket from his shoulders, unbuttoning the dark shirt slowly as he tilted his head. His gaze stalked over your body, breathless and flushed. He was hard already, his thick cock snaking down his thigh against the tight cotton. “How am I to make you fat with my offspring if you do not remove your clothes?” There was a venom in his voice that made you clench. “Oh, right- sorry.” you mumbled, tugging off your stained t-shirt. You lifted your hips, fumbling the waistband down. “Too long.” he scoffed impatiently, before leaning and grabbing the lowered nylon crotch. In one swift movement, the leggings ripped at the seams, half of the pair landing on the bed-knob. Your husband's stare smouldered with barbarism, his deep love hibernating as primal urges came to the fore. Loki ripped the belt from his hips, the coil of leather falling discarded with a loud crack to the floor.

You shuffled backwards on the martial bed as he unzipped his trousers, the perfect cock that had made love to you thousands of times looking different somehow. Harder? Bigger? you thought frantically, feeling your breath catch in your throat as his naked body descended. Loki’s hair fell wild around his collarbone, eyes narrowing as he tilted his chin to his chest. That smouldering gaze never left your own. “Don’t be afraid, darling." Loki nudged your knees apart gruffly. “You are worthy of breeding with a god, you should be grateful.” He wrapped his long fingers around your delicate wrists. “And I intend to thoroughly breed you tonight, pup. You can be sure of that.” You could feel the swollen tip of his manhood sliding against your entrance, the sticky mess of ovulation grasping against pre-cum gathered at the head. “Oh-my-g-god…” you gasped, unable to form proper words. You had never been more turned on in your life.

“That’s it. Praise me, little one.” Loki purred, before a long inhale made his eyes flutter closed in lust-drunk anticipation. “Such a well-bred cunt you have...” he hummed appreciatively, before licking a trail from your collarbone to your mouth. “Perfect for a god’s seed...” he rasped, releasing one wrist to palm the nearest breast upward. “... perfect for soaking in what I have to give.” he continued lazily. Loki nuzzled against your ear as his grip returned to the free wrist strewn above your head. “My prize breeding bitch.” You arched your back, feeling your pussy gape against the throbbing cock nestled tauntingly between your folds. Ready to burst. He released a ragged moan against your ear, pulsing between your open thighs. “I can’t keep myself out much longer, I can’t resist you like this – you have one final chance to stop before I fill you.” he panted quietly, a semblance of familiarity cracking through feral domination. You shook your head, murmurs of don’t stop passing your lips as a cruel smirk stretched his own. He snarled, mouth falling open as his wide tip squeezed past the tight opening. Loki swallowed, the veins in his neck straining. “Prepare for everyone in nine realms to know you have been fucked into this pathetic state.” he growled ceremonially. He bottomed out with a staggered groan as his grip on your wrists tightened. “And fucked by whom.” You squirmed beneath him, rocking your hips into the curves of his enormous muscular thighs. Waves of bliss soared as he grunted with every slow thrust, devastatingly measured. “Tell me I’m your slut, Loki-” you mewled, whining as he pressed the backs of your thighs mercilessly towards your ears. Loki's eyes fell to the sight of his glistening cock sinking into your swollen pussy, juices already leaking around the mess of twin flesh. He grit his teeth, curls swinging around his jaw as he watched himself disappear repeatedly into your ripe heat. “Remember who it is you have sheathed in your cunt, little one.” he grunted, balls slapping. “I only fuck my slut, I don’t breed her.” You whimpered, lost in a haze of unadulterated eroticism. It was filth. His voice. His hands. His cock. His words. “You’re so fucking t-tight.” he gasped, releasing a rasping moan that shook the Asgardian trinkets on the side-table. “I’m going to pound you so full of my...uhhh- sacred c-cum that you’ll be dripping from that pretty m-mouth.”

Your husband's voice vibrated around the apartment, the timbre so low you were sure it would sink through the floorboards. He was unhinged, the grip around your calves making halos of lightened skin appear beneath the dent of his fingertips. “Don’t-don’t stop...Loki” you gasped, frozen in place by his weight. The god snarled, his upper lip disappearing as his eyes flashed. “I said I would breed you, and I intend to.” he spat, suddenly pulling your wrists and flipping you to all fours. His slippery cock popped from your hole with a squelch as your palms hit the mattress. In a flash, long fingers grasped the nooks of your hips, sinking himself possessively back inside. The two of your groaned in unison as your ass hit the flat of his stomach.

“The way that ripe pussy is desperate to milk me, I won’t last…” he fawned, before placing a tight slap against your ass. “But then, pleasure is not the order of business. Not your pleasure, anyway..” The god muttered darkly under his breath, rhythmically pulling you tight against the base of his shaft before pushing you forwards. The fingers against your flesh would leave bruises. Animalistic grunts clouded the air like smoke as he railed into you like the beat of a drum. You could feel the veins in his cock swell. They pulsed, his body gearing to give you what you craved. Loki’s thrusts were becoming sloppy, erratic breaths scorching the air as he lost himself in the mission. Lost himself in the urge. Whines of his name leaked from your throat, your cheek lowering to the mattress- ass in the air like a bitch in heat. Loki’s hips juddered, the slap of his tight balls against your clit making you want to scream. And then you screamed. Loki chuckled, a choked laugh between stuttering, messy pumps. “That’s it. That’s.it - my breeding mare, taking the mount of your s-stallion as he fucks you full- f-f-fuck-” You and he moaned in unison, rising orgasm shuddering your bodies as Loki’s stomach folded against your back. You could feel the condensation of primal need on your neck from his breath, his cock tugging inside your needy pussy with shallow thrusts as he came undone. He needed this. He needed it just as much as you did. “Fill me p-prince- yes, give it...fucking give it to me-” you thundered. Your hips thrashed as you shoved you ass back to keep his cock steady against your wet centre. “All of it?” Loki choked, planting another smack on your ass with a broken moan. “Every fucking d-drop…” you managed through a strangled cry. The god roared behind you. You could feel thick cream spurt against clenching walls, hot seed sloshing and rising inside the deepest part of you. Loki's firm chest curled against your spine, hair sticking to the sweat gathered on your back. His hips juddered as he emptied himself inside your messy, fertile heat. Every drop. You could sense the clench of his perfect ass as he pumped several more times, milking himself in the slop of his own seed. Dwindling ragged grunts peppered the air, the tender slide of his palms over the curve of your ass telling you that his work was done.

“Stay still.” he murmured, carefully drawing himself from between your legs. Wet slurps filled the air, the light touch of his fingers grazing against your dripping slit. Inspecting. “Turn over-” he said gently, as if to a patient; “-slowly.” he added, before guiding you on your back. There was a broad smile on his face. “Legs up.” he quipped, still kneeling. You rolled your eyes playfully, manoeuvring your crossed ankles to rest on the curve of his neck. “I love you.” he said tentatively, placing a deep kiss on the calf to his side. A blissed-out smile fluttered on your lips. “I love you too.” you replied, reaching for his hand. Loki squeezed. “Based on that performance, we should probably make the most of the next few days.” you sighed, resting back against the pillow. Loki scoffed. “Have you so little faith in my ability to-” He trailed off, seeing the twitch of your eyebrow. “Oh.” he smouldered, pushing his hair back with a conspiratorial smile. “Yes. Indeed, darling. Very wise.” He placed another kiss on your ankle, the tip of his nose inhaling seductively down your calf as his words made you shiver with anticipation. “Better safe than sorry.” he whispered darkly against your skin.

Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @infinitystoner @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf

#loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki smut #loki x yn #loki x yn smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki x fem reader #loki breeding kink #loki marvel #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader smut #loki laufeyson x reader #lokismut #loki x you #loki laufeyson smut #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki oneshot

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arminsumi · 2 months ago

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YEAH, PSYCHO BOYS DO IT BETTER

Your co-worker, Aki, jus' wants to bump off your lousy boyfriend so he can show you that heaven exists on his tongue... 'n maybe he also wants to dumbify you on his cock until you tell him you love him.

ㅤ★ requested by anonymous

ㅤ★ warnings; strictly no under 18s/MDNI, infidelity, Aki is *ahem* unwell/kinda yandere, possessiveness, alcohol/drunk fling, drunk s*x, oral (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x/cr**mpie, sum breeding kink, sum dumbification

It's a front — it always has been. Aki's not normal about you.

Underlining his every move, every word, every thought, is this sensual super psycho scorpionic energy.

He singes you with his hot looks some days in the office. Goes over to your cubicle and lingers for too long, biting his thumb and coolly flirting with you — "You look good today." leads to "Are you free later? No, no just as friends..." leads to shots after work with your co-worker Aki...

No, Aki's not normal about you at all; he follows every syllable you speak, follows your shadow like a dog, thinks about bludgeoning your boyfriend in his bed, and eats your attention like he's been starved of it for his whole life.

It's just a pity that you had a man. And a lousy one at that. One who can't even kiss you right, as a drunk Aki grumbles to you after a quick four shots of liquor.

"Your boyfriend can hardly kiss you right, can he even fuck you right?" he whines. It's shocking that these kinds of words are coming from a voice so feathery and quiet.

Your eyes widen. Your heart beats quicker. You tense your thighs together. You stutter.

"Aki... I think you've had too much to drink. Let's get you home, hm?"

He sighs.

You just don't understand him — that's what he's thinking while you help him walk home, your tiny frame tucked under his 6'2 stature.

That small rush of insanity comes over him, and for a split second he doesn't care that you have a boyfriend.

He just puts his drunk, smoky mouth on you and kisses you hard. You can not only taste the cigarettes and alcohol, but all the little psycho feelings on his lips.

Humming into the kiss, Aki feels dizzy. He's melting. Knees buckling. His hands come to cup your cheeks. He turns his face this way and kisses you like that, then turns like that way 'n kisses you like this.

"Aki, we shouldn't do this." you pull off his lips and he still chases after yours.

He looks like a psycho mess. Grazing his lips against yours. Breathing hard. Hair disheveled.

"You could do so much better." he admits right there against your face. "Y-y'know I meant what I said back there..." he breaths heavily before adding, "I could fuck you so much better than him."

He spies you rubbing your thighs together and his whole body runs hot. Leaning into you, he tries to stir you up some more.

"... come on... come inside, 'lemme show you."

"Aki, I'm a good girl. I don't do stuff like that..."

"But he doesn't even treat you well. Tell me, what do you owe him?"

You inhale deeply. "It's not right..."

" 'n that just makes it better..." he mutters under his breath. He pulls back, shakes his head and does a full 180. "Sorry... I'm just drunk."

He looks so pretty in this dim light.

The corridor of the apartment complex in which he stayed was so poorly lit, but right now? It lit up his dark, brooding features... black hair, blue eyes, and that overbearingly large frame; he really had that look going, hm?

His suit tie dangles deliciously before your eyes, and right then you feel a little surge of craziness yourself — oh and Aki just whimpers in surprise and delight when you yank him down by the tie to kiss him hard.

Hot, quick breaths, and small whimpers... yeah, it was a no-brainer where this was going.

Surely enough, it's three minutes later and you two are bursting inside his apartment, lip-locked like teenagers, his hands are all over your waist and squeezing places that you've always daydreamed of him squeezing.

"Nn!" you squirm at the friction of his leg coming between your thighs.

"L-l-let me I feel you, please." he whines with this need you've never heard in a man's voice. His long fingers are hesitantly tickling up the hem of your skirt. His knees are bent — tall boy problem; he can't kiss you without lowering himself significantly.

"Mhm!" you hum, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand to your pussy.

Letting out a low groan and eagerly feeling over your clothed pussy, Aki gets intoxicated on the smell of your perfume, just inhaling your neck like a vampire 'boutta bite.

He's multitasking just like he does in the office, the poor boy — trying to keep your lips entertained with his lips and trying to rub his middle finger up and down your clothed slit while trying to lure you into his dark bedroom.

You giggle all over his neck when you and him stumble into the bed like clumsy drunks, and that sound for some reason goes right to his cock.

Hand coming down, you squeeze at his bulge, "Aki, I didn't even know you liked me this much before tonight..."

"Then you're pretty oblivious, huh?" he murmurs, biting hard at your bottom lip.

*****

Aki's a sloppy eater between your legs, letting your slick run down his chin while his tongue wiggles inside.

"You taste so fucking good." he presses a twisted grin against your pussy lips, looking up at you momentarily, "Oh, baby, don't hide your face... I wanna see the expressions you make when you cum.

"A-A-Aaaki, nn!" you nest your fingers in his dark hair, pulling at it and eliciting a groan out of him that you feel all over your clit as he goes to suckle at it.

Soft lips puckered, tongue swirling, Aki shines his pretty blue eyes up at you and you don't even catch the devilish light in them because you're too blissed out — eyes pinched shut, a little drool escaping the corner of your mouth, head thrown back on the pillow of your co-workers black satin sheet bed.

"Can he make you feel this good, huh?" he asks.

"No!"

"Yeah? He doesn't make you cum on his tongue, does he? Need a real naughty boy to show you how it's done?" he asks in a taunting coo.

You're deliciously stuffed up with his long fingers, clenching around them tight and drenching him 'till your juices run down past his knuckles and get all over the palm of his shaky hand.

"Aw fuck, baby, you really like me don't you?"

"A-Aki, I'm not gonna tell you those kinds of things." you whine, feeling his fingertips rubbing somewhere deep in your gummy walls. Your eyes flicker into the back of your head as he just thrusts his fingers harder and meaner into your tiny hole.

"... 'guess I need to make you cum 'till you're dumb then, huh?"

****

He's crazed, up in your face, sticky damp sweaty forehead pressed against yours and eyes boring up into yours like he's gone crazy now after tasting your pussy. Aki's been mercilessly rubbing his thick cock back and forth through your folds, groaning each time he feels you cum — which has been how many times? More times than your boyfriend has made you cum in the last three months, that's for sure.

"Baby, tell me you love me." Aki begs, cock twitching as he intently watches your reactions to each thrust of his heavy cock. "Come on, y'love me yeah? You love me?"

"Aki! Nn... I can't say that... I have a boyf— ahh! Mnn!"

"Fuck, shut up about him already..." he groans.

He's perfectly stroking your clit like this, running through your folds, slicking up his cock 'till there's a sticky strand connecting from the base of his cock to your hole.

It's taking all his self-restraint not to plunge inside you. He's already accidentally poked his tip inside, each time immediately pulling out and profusely apologizing. But god it sent a shock of pleasure through his body to feel his tip squeeze through your tight ring of muscle like that.

Again it happens; he pulls back, accidentally pokes his leaky cockhead inside — just the very tip of the tip.

"Nn! Fuck!" you drool, giving him heart eyes, "Sh-shit, you're jus' trying to frustrate me now..."

"I'm sorry..." he bites his bottom lip, keeping his tip poised at your entrance. You can feel his throbbing heat against you, driving you crazy to breaking point.

"Sh-shit... jus' give it to me, then..."

"Are you su— fuckmeohmygodnnn!"

You've snaked your legs around his hips, locked 'em snug and tight and pulled his cock into your eager pussy yourself — trying to get as much of him into you as you can.

Aki's melting. He's literally falling to pieces when he feels your warm walls hugging his cock. He's stuttering. Trying to piece together a thought but your pussy is squeezing all logic out of his head.

"Y-you're s-s-so fucking tight..." he whines, sinking inch by inch out of you, then back in, rubbing his needy cockhead against your contracting walls. "Sh-shouldn't we use a condom?"

"Nooo! Gimmie your babies!" you lock your legs around his waist, giving him a crazed look. "Nn, please, 'm ovulating... it feels so good, I jus'... I jus' wanna..."

"Huh...?" his hips stutter and his cock throbs. "F-fuck... and here your man was always calling me the little psycho..." Aki smiles.

His head prods against your G-spot as he picks up his pace now that you've adjusted to his size. Even in his hazy state, Aki's so careful. Eyeing out your expressions for any discomfort, asking you if you want to keep going, wailing and whimpering when you just pull him into a hot and nasty kiss.

You should have expected it, because it's always the quiet psycho boys, but his thrusts destroy you.

He doesn't know what to obsess over. Your glossy lips? Your glossed-over eyes? The way his cock plunges into your slippery pussy and makes a bigger mess each time?

"Nn! Gonna cum... don't stop!" you whine, clawing at his back.

His ears perk up. Oh, you're gonna cum? Well, allow him to just...

"Good girl... fuck... cum for me. T-tell me you love me, 'n I'll cum too. Aw, please please please... I'll give you every last drop. I'll give you my babies — nn! Fuck! Please!"

He's shivering. His abdomen muscles twitch and flex with each pounding thrust into you. His cockhead is bullying a deep spot inside you, drawing out your orgasm and intently watching your eyes flicker as you cum all over his cock.

"I-I-I love youuu!" you whine, totally blissed out and dumbed by the feeling of his cock stimulating your sensitive walls, "Nn, I love you! Aki!"

It's your words and the milking contractions of your sweet orgasm that draw out his own orgasm.

"Fuck, good girl... m-mine forever, yeah? Fffuck 'm cumming... ahah, I love you so much."

He hides his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a harsh groan, and shoots a thick load — pushing himself deeper as he cums, pressing his cockhead up against your cervix, just to make sure that he's got you pregnant so you can never leave him now.

He's panting, coming down from his high with you. You feel him hug you tight, his bicep muscles twitching at your sides.

"Aki... I need help cleanin' up..." you whimper softly under his weight.

"... of course, baby."

"Don't call me that..."

"Baby."

You giggle and swat him. "You're a bad boy... now help me out, will ya?"

#tw: smut #tw: yandere #aki #aki smut #smut #aki x reader #aki x reader smut #aki x you #aki hayakawa #csm #csm smut #chainsaw man smut #csm x reaer #aki hayakawa smut #chainsaw man #csm aki #csm x reader #female reader

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munsonhoneybaby · 11 months ago

Text

Three's Company | Eddie Munson X F!Reader X Gareth

Summary: When Gareth accidentally interrupts your typical evening with Eddie, the night takes a turn that none of you were expecting.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, alcohol consumption and heavy marijuana use so automatic dubcon, smut, mostly pwp, p in v (unprotected), voyeurism, fingering, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), daddy kink (used a total of 5 times), hair pulling, choking, little praise, little degradation, honestly just a touch ‘a everything yk how it goes

A/N: it’s not specifically stated but gareth is about 21-22 and eddie is 23, about to turn 24. this is honestly just one big filthy mess i can’t lie, so just brace yourself. and i did throw in a lil action with gareth right at the end for all my gareth girlies out there <3

started with this idea | part two

Smoke hung densely in the air, thick clouds drifting lazily through the small bedroom. The three of you were working your way through your third joint, the windows sealed and trapping the hot, heavy air inside. Empty beer bottles sat scattered on almost every surface, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s still two-thirds full on the nightstand beside three miscellaneous coffee mugs. Yours was white with a picture of a crab and said ‘Don’t bother me I’m crabby’.

You watched your boyfriend as he tapped the joint against the rim of the ashtray before leaning over you to pass it to his drummer. The openings of the cut-off sleeves of his Led Zepplin tee flashed you the dark ink crawling across his ribs. His rings clinked against Gareth’s in the handover, just loud enough to hear over the mixtape that you’d made for you and Eddie. It wasn’t exactly designed to suit the usual mood when the guys were over– Jeff would usually be there, too– but the two of you had started the evening alone together.

Eddie had been rolling up for the night at his desk when his friend called him. Apparently, Jeff had plans with a friend from work, leaving Gareth woefully bored and lonely; on a Saturday night, no less. It had you both feeling a little sorry for him, so you told Eddie to invite him over. After grumbling under his breath– something about ‘just wanting to fuck his girl in peace’– he begrudgingly did as you suggested and your party of two became three in less than thirty minutes.

You didn’t mind, though. Whoever said two’s company and three’s a crowd must have never spent two hours sitting, drinking, smoking, and talking with Gareth and Eddie.

“Sorry again for crashing your date,” Gareth apologized to you. “If Ed told me you were here, I wouldn’t’ve come.”

Eddie stood to pour a finger or two of whiskey into his Campbell’s Soup mug and you stretched your leg out, using your sock-covered foot to nudge your own mug closer to him. “Oh, so you don’t wanna hang out with me anymore?”

He scoffed, “C’mon, you know I think you’re cool as shit.” After topping off all three drinks, Eddie handed Gareth his. “I just don’t wanna third-wheel you guys too much. ‘S a little rude and pathetic, don’t’cha think?”

The boy took a swallow with a faint grimace, then rolled the desk chair he was sitting in about a foot closer to offer you the joint. “It’s not pathetic, Gare. You’re just hanging out with friends.” The music faded out and your head lolled towards your boyfriend with a lazy grin as “One of These Nights” by Eagles began. He just shook his head at you with a little smirk, biceps flexing as he raised his arms to tie his hair back in a low ponytail. Settling himself on the bed, he let his back rest against the wall as he sat between you and where Gareth sat in his desk chair.

You took a long drag, eyelids drooping as your head tilted against Eddie’s chest. His eyes roamed your body as it fitted to his. Your shorts were a little shorter than you’d normally wear in front of Gareth, but he couldn’t find it in himself to complain as he eyed your bare legs curling over his lap. Smoke billowed slowly from your mouth and the feel of his friend’s gaze on the two of you wasn’t enough to stop him from leaning down to breathe the rest of it in for himself, lips slotting familiarly between your parted ones. From your knee, his hand crawled slowly up the outside of your thigh to your hip. Your own fingers wandered to his exposed ribs, stroking lightly over the small date forever etched into his skin– the date you’d gotten together, almost three years ago now.

He didn’t tell you he was getting it; he knew you’d tell him not to, that it was a bad omen, but he didn’t believe that. Maybe you’d only been together for a year at the time, but you were a part of him. In fact, he’d wanted to have your name done, but after seeing your reaction to Rick getting his girlfriend’s name tattooed he’d worried you’d tear him a new one for it. Though you had to admit, it had grown on you. Maybe after ten years, you’ll let me add your name, huh babe, he’d said when he first showed you. Now the thought had your thighs squeezing together, the way you both knew you belonged to each other– the way everyone knew.

Gareth certainly knew, unable to tear his eyes from the scene before him though he knew he’d been staring for far too long. Watching Eddie’s teeth tug on your lower lip had him gnawing at the inside of his own. A glimpse of his tongue slipping into your mouth had the younger boy’s palms sweating. It wasn’t until his breath hitched at the sight of his friend’s hand sneaking between your thighs that you finally seemed to remember he was there.

Swatting Eddie’s hands away, you passed the dwindling joint to him and fixed an apologetic look in Gareth’s direction. “Sorry, I’ll make sure he behaves.”

“It’s okay, sorry I uh- interrupted–” He cleared his throat a little awkwardly and cracked his knuckles. “You want me to roll another one?”

“Go for it.”

While he turned around at the desk, Eddie’s mouth was meeting the sensitive flesh below your ear. His tongue grazed your skin and you let out a small gasp before pinching his thigh in warning. He hissed, but that smug little smirk of his remained.

Meanwhile, Gareth’s shaking hands were struggling not to rip the paper. He could hear all of it, even the occasional wet smack of his best friend’s mouth on your skin. Knocking back the rest of his drink, he shook his head a little and focused on finishing the task at hand. When he finally turned back around, his mouth went dry at the sight before him.

You sat comfortably between Eddie’s legs, back against his chest and head tilted to gaze up at him. He stared back at you with the same adoration, breathing in the last hit and ashing it in the tray on the nightstand. His free hand was halfway up your shirt and Gareth tried not to imagine the way his fingers must be teasing along your ribcage. He could see the blooming spot of red in the crook of your neck– which definitely wasn’t there before– slowly growing darker. So much for making sure he behaves.

He handed Eddie the joint and lighter which earned him a crooked grin and a “good man.” He watched him place it between your lips instead, lighting it for you as the shape of his other hand moved higher beneath your baggy t-shirt. Still, he could make out how the older boy kneaded at one of your breasts beneath the fabric until you swatted at him yet again. His throat grew tight and he could only hope and pray that neither of you noticed his pants doing the same.

The two of you had always been a little handsy, and he couldn’t deny that part of him always had some trouble keeping his eyes away, but something was different tonight. Maybe you were acting a little more intimate, maybe it was the heady music you’d been playing all night– hell, maybe he was just too fucking crossed– but it was different. He was one second away from having a nervous breakdown or busting in his jeans.

Suddenly, he was struck by the deep twang of “I Want You” by The Beatles beginning. Eddie’s head fell back against the wall with a thud, “Mmm, I fuckin’ love this song. Y’know that, Gareth? She loves this song too, don’t you, sweetheart? S’that why you put it on here?”

“Shut up.” You weakly elbowed him, but both boys still caught the way your thighs squeezed together.

He chuckled, his nose dragging along your cheek as he murmured, “Yeah. My sweet girl wanted me to fuck her to this song tonight, didn’t you, baby? This one always makes her shake.” Your stomach flipped nervously as your wide eyes were forced to meet Gareth’s, your bewildered expression mirrored on his face. He went on. “Maybe we should show him, hm? I mean, since he feels so guilty ‘interrupting’ us and all. What d’you think?”

Gareth was starting to think the dream-like quality of the night was because he actually was dreaming. This is Eddie Munson. The same Eddie Munson who almost knocked a middle-aged man’s teeth out for whistling at you three months into your relationship. And now, what? He wanted to–

“Y’gonna let me fuck you in front of ‘im, sweetheart?”

By your deer-in-the-headlights expression, Gareth would assume you were just as shocked by this turn of events as he was– which you partially were. You and Eddie had mentioned once or twice the idea of letting someone watch, Gareth’s name had even been thrown around when discussing the subject over a packed bowl, but you’d had no idea he had been considering it so seriously. Still, you couldn’t deny the way Eddie’s words made the heat between your legs throb. Glancing up to meet his eyes with uncertainty, you bashfully whispered, “I-I don’t know if Gareth wants that, Eds.”

Your boyfriend’s smirk only grew, fingers teasing at the waist of your shorts. “Don’t worry, babe, Gareth’s a dirty little pervert just like me. I mean, he’s been hard for twenty minutes.”

Finally, you glanced over at the boy in question whose face was now redder than you’d ever seen before, and his eyes immediately shot to the floor. He looked like a little boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Knock it off, you’re embarrassing him. S’okay, Gare. You’re allowed to look.”

Hesitantly, he lifted his head and his heart could’ve stopped. Eddie was tilting your chin towards him for a kiss with one hand as the other worked its way into your shorts. The glimmer of his rings in the low light caught the younger boy’s attention, eyes following them down your throat until they disappeared beneath your shirt once again. Lips leaving your boyfriend’s, you turned to him and held out the joint that had apparently stopped burning. “Wanna come get this?”

He hoped you didn’t hear the shaky breath he let out as he willed his knees not to give out and stood from his seat at the desk. “Y’sure you don’t just want me to l-light it for you?” The faint tremble in his voice matched the one in his hand as he took it from you, embarrassment warming his cheeks.

You must have noticed as you replied, “S’okay. You clearly need it more than I do, honey.” His face only grew hotter as he clocked your eyes lingering on the obvious tent in his jeans.

Finally speaking up again, Eddie chimed, “Seriously, man. Relax a little.”

In disbelief, Gareth faintly laughed out, “Right.” Dropping back down into the desk chair, he watched you and Eddie exchange a long look, almost like some form of confirmation. A check-in. He’d always admired how the two of you communicated so effortlessly. Frankly, he admired many facets of your relationship. He and Jeff had talked more than once about how they hoped they’d be lucky enough to find a connection like yours and Eddie’s. Still, he couldn’t believe you trusted each other enough for this– that you both trusted him enough for this.

Brain still cloudy with shock, he briefly glanced around his friend’s bedroom. Almost like he had to make sure he was really there. This was really happening. While Eddie was already attempting to peel your shorts off, you refused to assist him. Gareth’s fingers clutched at the arms of the chair as you graced him with your soft gaze instead. “You sure you’re not uncomfortable, Gare? You’re okay with this?”

Simply nodding dumbly in response, he was shocked when Eddie corrected him; “Use your words, Gareth.” He said it casually, but there was a subtle firmness behind it— one he wasn’t sure he had ever heard Eddie use before, especially toward him.

What shocked him more was the way he found his body tensing in response. Afraid the words wouldn’t come out, he sheepishly cleared his throat. “Y-Yeah, I’m good. Swear.” God, could his face flush any redder?

Your boyfriend finally forced you to lift your hips from the bed, allowing him to shove your shorts down your legs. His hands eased along your inner thighs, spreading your legs and hooking one of them over his to keep them open. Gareth was just barely able to make out the faint wet spot beginning to form on your underwear. He had to resist the urge to lean in for a closer look like some teenager watching his first porno. Eddie’s ever-wandering fingers eased over that wet spot, rubbing in soft circles around your clit.

Puffing out a soft breath from your nose, you sank further into his chest. “Feels good, huh, baby? All worked up already ‘n I’ve hardly even touched you. That excited to show off your pretty little pussy?”

“Eddieee,” You grumbled, trying again to hide your face in his chest.

“Don’t be so embarrassed, Gareth is even more excited than you are.” Hooking his thumbs into the sides of your underwear, he asked, “How ‘bout we give him some more to work with, hm?” Taking them off, he tossed them to his friend. Said friend was a goner. He blamed his crossfaded state of autopilot for the way he instantly lifted the material to his nose and took a deep breath. Eddie chuckled, “Told ya he was a perv.”

Gareth subtly palmed at his length, practically gnawing at his lower lip as he fought not to make a sound– God forbid he interrupt as Eddie spread your legs wide, giving him an unobstructed view of your dripping pussy. Fuck, he might as well have been drooling on the floor. He could hear your wetness as your boyfriend slipped his fingers between your slick-covered lips, easing around your clit a few times. Stuck in his glassy-eyed stare, he didn’t mean to let out a broken whimper as Eddie sank two fingers inside you.

Just as he was afraid of, the older boy instantly narrowed his gaze in his direction. “Oh, we’ve got our boy on the edge of his seat right now, baby. It’s okay, Gare. I know you’ve never seen anything like my girl before, you can take your cock out. Just keep your hands to yourself.”

The way Eddie spoke to him made his whole body blaze with shame, but he still found himself doing as he was told. When he looked at you again you were watching him fumble with his belt, button, and zipper. Finally freeing himself from the confines of his jeans, his cock twitched in his hand at the sight of the intrigue in your eyes, your tongue grazing across your lower lip. You clutched at Eddie’s bicep with a soft moan, walls clenching around his fingers.

“Oh, you like that, huh? Gettin’ all wet for my best friend’s dick?” His free hand grabbed your face, your cheeks squishing under his grip. “Didn’t know my sweet girl was that fuckin’ filthy.” You whined at the sudden emptiness as Eddie withdrew his hand from between your thighs, patting your leg with a soft murmur. “On your stomach, babe.” Obediently, you rolled over and he followed, kneeling behind you to grip your hips and lift them from the bed. “‘Atta girl.”

Your face warmed as you and Gareth looked at each other– you on your knees with your chest flush to the mattress and him with his pants just below his hips, his hand fisting his cock. Then Eddie’s fingers were knuckle-deep inside you again, curling into spots that only he had ever been able to find. Your hand shot back to grab at his thigh and you let out a surprised, gasping moan. “Daddy…”

While Gareth let out a quiet groan, Eddie just gave a low, condescending laugh. “Aw, sweetheart. I wasn’t even gonna tell ‘im. I didn’t wanna embarrass you too much, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Letting out little puffy breaths, your eyes welled with tears. Normally he would take this as an excuse to tease you further, but he didn’t want you getting too worked up with the added pressure of his friend’s presence. His hand rubbed soothingly over your back, “My little crybaby. It’s okay, Daddy’s here.” Your body relaxed, spine sinking deeper into its arch as his touch warmed your skin. “Would ya look at that?” Not that he had to ask; Gareth couldn’t stop looking. “She’s just such a sweet girl for me. Ain’t that right, baby? And so pretty. One of a kind, my girl.”

Taking in the scene before him, Gareth could only hope that wasn’t true. Because he wanted you– no, he wanted this. This thing, this passion and love that you two have for each other. Even as obscene a display as it was, he felt like he was witnessing something sacred, something holy. He was blessed further when Eddie brought you back to stand on your knees, your back to his chest as he lifted your shirt over your head.

Completely bare for both of them to gawk at, you were pointedly aware of your boyfriend’s fully clothed form behind you. He pinched teasingly at your nipple, making you arch further into him and grab at the hem of his shirt. Clawing for the skin just beneath it, you finally pleaded, “Take your clothes off.”

His eyes narrowed playfully; he just couldn’t help himself. “What do you say?”

“Please, Daddy,” You whined quietly with a pout.

With a quick wink and a crooked smirk, he crossed his arms to pull the ragged material over his head. You didn’t hesitate to seek out any inch of skin you could touch, a tremble licking down your spine as the soft warmth of his bare chest molded to it. Hands still pawing at your tits, his mouth worked its way down the length of your neck. “I love you,” He murmured against your shoulder, tone playful but still drenched in adoration.

“Love you more, Eddie.”

“Impossible,” He whispered in return before leaving one more kiss. “Now, back down.” Goosebumps erupted at the touch of his rings on your back, guiding you down until your chest met his bed once again. “Isn’t she such a good listener?”

Gareth was almost nervous to say anything– like any answer he gave could be the wrong one, and the wrong one might get the shit knocked out of him. So, why did his stomach tighten when Eddie looked at him expectantly for an answer? “So good.”

“Just wait til you hear how she sounds.” Eddie finally pushed his sweatpants down to his thighs, rubbing the head of his cock through your wetness and drawing a surprised gasp from you. “You ready for me, baby?”

“Yes,” You breathed out impatiently.

Finally sinking inside, he didn’t stop until his hips were flush with your ass. Gareth’s hand stilled, fingers tightened around the base of his length to keep from coming too soon. Each slow thrust pushed your hips forward, emphasizing the perfect arch of your back. Your eyebrows were furrowed slightly, but he could still hear your moans from behind the pillow you were clutching. That didn’t last long as your boyfriend laced a hand into your hair, pulling your head back just enough to uncover your mouth. “Don’t hide those pretty sounds, babe. We wanna hear ‘em.”

Eddie. His best friend, his brother, his mentor, his frontman, his dungeon master. He had never thought of Eddie like this. He had never seen Eddie like this. His frizzy curls falling out of the messy ponytail at the nape of his neck, tattoos on display, muscles in his arm flexing as he gripped your hair. Sure, he’d always thought he was a pretty good-looking guy, but now Gareth was beginning to wonder how he hadn’t thought about this before.

And the two of you together? Christ, you were a work of art. He wanted to frame this moment– capture it, bottle it, sear it into his brain so he’d remember every detail exactly as it was. The way the flesh of your thighs trembled with every movement, how Eddie’s sweat mixed with yours to make your skin glisten in the dim glow of the lamps, all of it made his body burn with need. Then Eddie was speaking again.

“God, you always feel so fucking good. My girl, made just f’me, huh?”

“Yes, Daddy,” You breathed out with a whimper. “Fuck, you’re s’deep.”

“I know, baby. I know,” He cooed sympathetically. “You c’n take it, though. Always do, don’t you?”

Gareth could see how your wetness further matted the dark hair around the base of Eddie’s length with every thrust, how the slick was just beginning to reach your thighs. Each moan you let out was more broken and drawn out than the last. That was until Eddie’s hand settled around your throat, urging you to lean back into him once more, and your moans turned to shaky, gasping whines. The ringed fingers of his other hand squeezed at your breast before mapping a path directly to your clit, circling it with practiced precision. With the way your stomach trembled in response, the boy didn’t think you’d last much longer.

He almost thought he’d spoken his thoughts aloud when Eddie asked, “Aw, you gettin’ close already? C’n feel it, baby. Having an audience really working you up that much?” He grasped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Knew you were my little freak, sweetheart, but c’mon. You’re just as dirty as me and Gare.” Gareth himself felt guilty with how your face crumpled in shame, but Eddie only smirked as he kissed your temple and inched his hand lower to squeeze at the sides of your throat. “It’s okay, baby. You’re bein’ such a good girl for Daddy. So, so good f’me. Just need you to come for me now.”

Red lines and crescent-shaped indents littered his arms as you uselessly pleaded for exactly what he was already giving you. Your head fell to the side only for you to lock eyes with Gareth, though he didn’t seem to be in much better shape than you were. The pale sliver of his chest that was visible had turned the same vibrant red his cheeks had been all night. His hand, fisted tightly around his cock, was moving in time with Eddie’s thrusts as arousal all but dripped over his knuckles. The sight ripped another shuddering moan from you.

Darkness encroached on the edges of your vision as Eddie finally felt your walls spasm around him. Your nails bit into his skin so hard it nearly broke, but it only encouraged him to hold you tighter as you tensed in his arms. “Fuck yes, there it is. Feel so fuckin’ good when you’re comin’ around me, sweetheart.”

“Eddie,” You cried, “Please. Come inside me, I need it.”

Though he tried to hold it back, a ragged groan tore itself from Gareth’s throat. Spurts of come stained his shirt as he fought to keep his eyes on the scene before him, but he couldn’t help but let his head fall back against the seat. He’d never felt so good. His veins were thrumming with weed and whiskey, so much so that the room still spun when he closed his eyes. But the pleasure still throbbing dully through his body like an ache wasn’t from the booze or the joints.

The blurriness cleared from his vision just in time to watch Eddie pull you in for a messy, desperate kiss. One hand cradled your jaw while the other clutched at your hip, pressing himself as deep inside of you as possible as he came.

Quiet sighs and pants filled the room as the three of you collectively caught your breath. Gareth just watched as you both melted into one another. Eddie’s palms soothed over every inch of your skin he could reach, and he whispered one last crazy idea in your ear– one that was somehow even crazier than the idea that had brought you all to this moment. Though the suggestion made your eyes widen and your stomach tie itself in a knot, the way you clenched around him in response compelled you to agree.

Carefully pulling out he planted one last kiss on your shoulder, allowing you to lay back against the pillows as he fixed his sweats and turned to his friend who still seemed to be recovering. “How ‘bout you come ‘n help me clean her up, Gare?”

The boy froze in his seat, length twitching where he’d tucked himself back into his unzipped jeans. “W-What?”

“Before I change my mind,” Eddie singsonged simply in return.

Limbs weak, he quickly stood from the desk chair, sending it knocking back into the desk. Hesitantly, his knee met the edge of the mattress and he looked between the two of you for reassurance.

“It’s okay, Gareth,” You murmured softly. “As long as you’re okay.”

“Did so good for us,” Eddie cooed in agreement. He stared as his drummer slowly knelt between his girlfriend’s spread thighs, fingers winding into the boy’s hair encouragingly. “Thought you deserved a little treat.”

Gareth’s heavy eyes fell shut when he finally had the taste of you– of both of you– on his tongue, lapping up your shared mess before sinking inside. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips and thighs as he mouthed urgently at your wetness. “Tastes so good,” He panted into your skin.

“What does?” Your boyfriend asked, giving his unruly locks a little tug. “Her come, or mine?”

He only moaned in answer, tongue laving over your abused clit.

It felt wrong, looking down and seeing someone else’s head between your legs, but it only made that coil in your stomach grow even tighter. “Fuck, Eddie.”

“Ah, ah, don’t be rude, baby. It’s not me this time. Let ‘im hear you say his name.”

A humiliated whine escaped you, as though admitting it aloud was more shameful than inviting him to do it in the first place. “Gareth,” You finally moaned out pitifully, your hand winding into his hair alongside Eddie’s. “You’re gonna make me come again.”

“Oh, he’d be fucking honored, babe,” Eddie chuckled smugly. Leaning over you, he left a slow, deep kiss on your lips before dipping lower to your breasts. His tongue teased at your nipple before his lips wrapped around it completely, calloused fingers finding the other. He only pulled back briefly to murmur, “Go on, sweetheart. Come for us.”

The feeling of two mouths, two sets of wandering hands, was overwhelming. Your thighs closed around Gareth’s head as your hands wound into both his hair and Eddie’s. He could feel your walls clench and your clit throb against his tongue and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. He would’ve happily stayed there forever, drunkenly licking up every drop of tangy arousal that you released, but as your muscles began to twitch, Eddie gave one final pull to his hair that let him know his fun was over.

For a moment, it was quiet save for the low, bassy thrum of the music still playing. Then Eddie was up, grabbing a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweats and pressing them against Gareth’s chest for him to take. “You did good, Gare. Real good, alright?” He rubbed a hand over the boy’s shoulder comfortingly. “Go ahead to the bathroom ‘n get cleaned up, ‘kay? We’ll get you settled in for the night.” Cheeks warm from the praise, Gareth just nodded, heading for the hallway while you and Eddie finally got a second alone. Gazing down at you, he brushed your hair back from your face, trying to read every facet of your expression. “Are you okay? I didn’t push you too hard, did I? That wasn’t too much?”

“No, Eds, I’m okay. I liked it, it was good.” You nodded reassuringly. Still, he raised an eyebrow questioningly, holding out his pinkie which you locked yours with. “Promise,” You whispered. “Are you sure Gareth’s okay, though? Things won’t be weird with him from now on?”

“No, baby, I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry.” He pressed a long kiss to your forehead and grabbed you a bottle of water from the nightstand. “‘M gonna go make him a bed on the couch, alright? I’ll be right back.” You pouted out your lips for one last peck but let him go out to the living room while you gingerly got up to put clothes on.

Eddie was spreading a blanket over the couch when Gareth finally came out of the bathroom. On the table beside him sat a bag of chips, a bottle of water, and a couple of Tylenol. Sitting down, he patted the space to his left and asked, “You okay? I should’a talked to you both more before I dove into all that, I’m sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologize–” He took a much-needed drink of water and shook his head. “Trust me, I-I had…I had a great time. And I won’t make things weird, or like– tell anybody, I swear. I’m sure it’ll all be fuzzy in the morning anyway. Did you guys…?”

“We had fun, man, don’t sweat it.”

“Oh, we definitely had fun,” You agreed as you joined them. You settled on Gareth’s other side, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Thanks for being so cool about everything, I don’t think we could’ve trusted the other guys with something like this.”

“Well, thank you for trusting me,” He answered gratefully.

“My right-hand man,” Eddie reminded him as he stood, clapping a hand over his shoulder.

You playfully rolled your eyes at the sentiment, but kept a good-natured smile as you leaned over to peck the boy’s cheek. “Get some sleep, alright? Sweet dreams, Gare.”

As if anything could be sweeter than the taste of the two of you still lingering on his tongue when he closed his eyes and drifted off.

part two

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